#((I rewrote so many parts of this so many times over)) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hyukascampfire · 2 months ago

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𝒯𝑂: 𝑆𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑂𝑁𝐸 𝐹𝑅𝑂𝑀 𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐶𝐿𝐼𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐸 ༉

𝓘N THIS STORY 〃 a life lived as a human among the fae is one hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.

you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.

wc ➳ 23.2k

pairings faerie!taehyun x human!reader, faerie!yeonjun x human!reader

warnings angst, unprotected sex, voyeurism, orgasm denial, jealousy, angst again, dubious intentions of multiple main characters... poor mc has no idea who to believe

playlists ⑊ yeonjun ˒ taehyun ˒ series

…🪶ashlynn's note this part, i put my heart and soul into! i rewrote so many parts and agonized over following the path that i most wanted the story to go down—i hope it shows! xoxoxoxo, love ya! again, this is a long one, so pls let me know about spelling mistakes :,)

← ⑊ →

You had hoped that learning of Yeonjun’s relationship with the same crowd who have made attempts on your life would be enough to rattle your brittle heart into sense. You really had. As you watch Taehyun, bent over the war strategy table, though, you wish you had more time to sort it out in your head. You hate the thought of settling on half-baked answers and information all for the fact that time is not on your side. When had time ever really been kind to you, though? It had not made exceptions when you were small and innocent in your cradle, had not slowed down to allow you to at least cherish your final moments a normal child with her human parents. You can only fantasize who you would be if you had been given just enough time to know that gentle love. Even now, time makes your choices for you.

Taehyun looks over those metal figurines as if searching for something in them. There are more of them stood and strewn out on the map. It reminds you how you are now faced with a plethora of newer, more powerful players.

You miss when this had been a simple spying mission—when your path forward had been unobscured and clear. You envy that version of yourself: able to believe that bad things presented themselves as such. The world had been clean-cut. Evil had jagged teeth and foul breath, and good had soft edges and sweet smiles. You’re not sure where that distinction lies anymore.

“How’s your shoulder?” you say, making your presence known. You’re sure he had been keen to your presence from the moment you’d entered the estate, though; not only thanks to his better hearing, but also because Taehyun is constantly assessing his surroundings. The smallest insect could hardly sneak up on him. You push off the doorframe and enter the room.

He nods his head once in greeting, but he doesn’t tear his gaze away from the table’s ensemble. “It’s doing fine.”

Sighing, you decide not to push it. The sight of that puncture had been ghastly, and it wreaks havoc in your belly every time you replay it, but the tick in his jaw when you mention it tells you enough of how he feels about disclosing whether or not anything might hurt him. How many times in the past few weeks had you forced him to do just that? It’s no wonder that the two of you butt heads so terribly. Allowing you to stitch him up must’ve been the extent of how far he’d let you see him in need of help.

You gesture toward the table. “Have you decided when we leave?”

Taehyun answers you with a strained sigh out through his nose: a testament to how he’d been mulling it over. He levies those figures a few more moments of his gaze as if they might speak an answer for him. They don’t. He concedes to their lack of direction and turns to you. “Every moment we spend here, we risk our identities further,” he starts, crossing his arms over his chest.

You wince. He still believes that you’d at least contained some of your identity by taking out those three faeries. You know better. Even the bard in that tavern had known what had happened; it’s why Yeonjun ended up finding out in the first place. Even if not all of them had been a part of that rebellion, it’s reckless to assume that there were no more than that.

Continuing, he says, “And judging by what we’ve picked up, we need to get it all back before the solstice.” He doesn’t pace as he thinks. Only the faraway look in his eyes betray the noise in his head.

You hate the way it sounds like he’s going to demand that you leave immediately, and you hate how it sieges your tongue and makes it dance into a pitiful ploy to stay. To give yourself some credit, it’s better that Taehyun knows every bit of information you have. This moment is desperate for informed decisions.

“I saw Yeonjun this morning,” you blurt. The words bubbled and bubbled behind your lips until they’d found the tipping point and spilled out. You’d agonized over what to make of it all for hours: that Yeonjun had been as deceitful with you as you’d been with him, that you are a sorry human girl that had wedged her way into the cross-firings of a war much beyond yourself, that you still have the gall to consider your own feelings despite its grandness... None of that worrying had led you to a conclusion that both your heart and mind would agree on.

Taehyun’s gaze snaps to you, contained and remote aside from the twitching at the corners of his lips. The intensity of it makes you waver, but you have no time for wavering.

“He’s... been made aware of our purpose here. He knows that we’re spies,” you say. As you watch him try to piece that together, you add, “He’s part of their rebellion.”

Now he laughs, barbed and full of mock and disbelief. “The prince is rebelling against his father? He thinks he’ll find the throne like that? What’s his plan for when this falls through? For when his father hears of his mutiny? The prince will lose his head.”

The thought makes you nauseous, despite how Yeonjun’s image has grown to be something murky. You don’t know what Yeonjun’s intentions are in aligning with the rebellion here. You hardly know anything about his relationship with his father and the High Court aside from the fact that he feels suffocated by his life back there. You’d assume that there’s a lot more to his reasoning, but you’ve learned your lesson about assuming that you know who people are. The inability to lie comes with the need for secrets. The thought that perhaps Yeonjun is only making a shady attempt for power crosses your mind, but either your own reasoning or your own stubbornness shoves it down. Nobody in faerie would hand their fealty to a prince who’d taken the throne of a long-standing king by those sorts of means. He’d be a king with no denizens to preside over.

You interject Taehyun’s parade of scoffs. “He told me that war is coming, that it’s been coming.”

His face drops, and he straightens up. “Of course it is. It’ll begin the moment we return with what we’ve found.”

Your lips go a bit numb, and then your fingers follow. You know that this is your duty—it’d been this all along. It should come as no shock to you that he intends to relay this all to The King. But that was before you allowed your heart to make its home here. How simply he demands that you return to those lands with information that would kill Yeonjun... it has acid crawling a path up your throat.

You make your best effort to ensure that your voice doesn’t falter as you speak. “He offered us protection as long as we stay here,” you say. “We don’t have to leave now.” You try to catch his gaze as you add, “We don’t have to leave at all.”

You know that Yeonjun plays a part in the rebellion, but you don’t know how deep his devotion goes, and you also don’t know to what ends you can trust his intentions. How far do his loyalties to the rebellion go? And, where do his loyalties to you stand? The thought that he may have never loved you at all... it’s been a plague to your heart and mind from the very moment he’d revealed the truth to you this morning. Your guilt has chipped away at you without mercy—you’ve spent so many awful nights wishing you could unload your deceptions in front of him. How had it ended up so trivial in the grand scheme of things? How are you the one left feeling betrayed?

You really, really cannot imagine having Yeonjun’s blood on your hands. He is one of them—a creature deception, and yet you still cannot shake those stolen nights from your bones. He had been your first. He’d made this place a home for you, where you had never had a home. It’s pitiful to search so deeply in someone else for your own strengths; even you can see that. Nevertheless, you do it. You suppose that a pair of warm arms and sweet words will do that to someone, no matter if you know that they could rot you like sweets do the tooth. It’s not unlike drunkards who find their day’s comfort in their drinks, even as it rots their body and mind away. Anything for a stretch of belonging and bliss. You're desperate for it.

Taehyun’s sinewy words rattle your wandering mind back to reality. “He tells you that he is a member of the same group of people that have tried multiple times to kill you, and you believe him when he says he’s going to protect you? Still?” he spits, shaking his head. “What makes you so sure that he’s not just keeping us from running? That he isn’t handing us on a platter to his rebel friends? You’re going to get us fucking killed.”

Blood roars like frothy-white rapids in your ears, warring with the echoes of his honey-glazed exclamations of love. To some capacity, he had to have meant those words. Faeries can’t lie, and he had said it so plainly. He loves you.

“We can’t leave yet,” you say, stepping toward him on legs that you fear might collapse beneath you. “You said it yourself; we can’t return without the whole story. If we return now, we could be missing something.” You study the frosty set to his face and suck in a stabilizing breath. “Please, Taehyun. Please trust me on this.”

You sound desperate and pleading, but you don’t reel it in at all. You are desperate and pleading. You have no intent of returning as some successful spy and continuing a life of deception and violence. It’s not who you are; it’ll never be who you are. Maybe this world tries to ask it of you, but you refuse to concede to it.

“Part of our job is staying alive,” he says, his body rigid. He doesn’t like where you’re going with this, you can tell that much.

“Is that what you want? To be a pawn of war? Isn’t that what we are if we bring this information back?” you challenge. “Don’t you think that if the prince of all people has turned against him, then serving at his hand is the wrong choice? I don’t know The King—I’ve never even seen him! Why should I be excited to serve him?”

“The prince has more reason than anybody to want his father off his throne.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you say, stepping further toward him. Though, it does make you revisit those thoughts. If vying for the crown is really Yeonjun’s intention, you suppose he’d have no problems pleading with you to stay in order to tie off loose ends. You wish you could see it all from somebody else’s untainted eyes. “What I’m saying is, do you want to be a spy? What has The King ever done for you to earn your loyalty?”

Taehyun looks at you with disbelief, the corners of his mouth tilting down. “I don’t care about the damn king,” he snaps, and then gestures down at the table with all those figures. “The Queen operates on necessary evils. Where she can find a string to pull, she will pull it. My father was her general for a reason. Do you think she would keep him unless she approved of his violence? There is no good side to this war—just sides. If you’re suggesting that we stay here and try to forget that we came as spies, then you can forget it.”

You glance over at the war table and wonder how you’ve become a moving piece in ancient faerie politics when all you’d set out for was a purpose. You’d been so warped by your bitterness with your upbringing that you’d failed to see how anything could be worse than that. You’d been so excited that you jumped willingly into dark water without knowing how deep it was, and now your feet can’t touch the ground. Is this the purpose you want?

“Leave, then,” you say, stepping back. “You can leave. Just let me stay here. Please.”

Something in Taehyun’s expression flips, so subtle that you can’t name it. It unsettles you, your hair standing on edge. There is something in his eyes that you do not like.

“So, that’s it?” he says, his voice odd too. “That’s all it took for you to hand your future over on a leash to him?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you stammer. The only ones with a collar around your neck are the spies. They’re the ones who insisted on that geas—the ones who needed to compel you with their faerie magic to ensure your obedience.

“It means that you got all the way here, uncovered a whole rebellion, and made a life for yourself, not handed to you by a prince, and you’re going to trade it in. It means that you’ve let him convince you that you are weak and need to be coddled.”

Your fists curl tight and dig your nails into your palms. “I never wanted to be a spy,” you grit out. Yeonjun is not the reason you want to stay here. He may be part of it, but you’ve come to be utterly unwilling to return to that spy den like it’s your home, or something. It’s not. You’d slept there for one night. Beyond just your word and that geas, what reason do you have to return?

“You didn’t? And yet, it’s what we are, isn’t it?” he says. “Do you think that I dreamed of being a spy? That I do it because I love it? Actions have their consequences.”

“Then, what do you do it for, Taehyun?” you say. “When do you begin living your life for you? Doing what you do because it’s what you want?”

Taehyun seems to consider your words for a few long heartbeats before settling into something in his head. You allow yourself to let go of some of the tension in your shoulders as you watch his expression morph into something much less poisonous.

You hadn’t expected him to react like that.

“Do you have any weapons on you?” he says.

Faltering, you sputter out, “What?” You look over the room. The last time you’d been in here, you’d sparred. Does he intend to properly fight you in here now? Had you pushed him too far? Shaking your head and feeling at all the places you usually tuck your blades away, you say, “No... I don’t.”

“Get some. Where we’re about to go...” he trails off, as if reconsidering, but then he continues, “I’ll get you a hag stone.”

You furrow your brows, not taking off to do so. “A hag stone?” you echo, thankful that he isn’t trying to duel you, but wary at the need for such a faerie ward. Hag stones are of the more serious class of wards used to protect humans from faerie enchantment or glamour. Most often, humans would string theirs up with a bit of thread through the hole of it and wear it around their necks as a pendant. Unlike turning one’s clothes inside out or taking red berries on your person, hag stones protect against the more devastating faerie magic. You shudder simply wondering what you might need a hag stone to protect yourself from.

He nods a bit solemnly. “Kelpie do not let a meal or trick pass them by when they wait so long to have them.”

You look at him with wild eyes, hoping to see him laugh or play his words off as a joke. He does not, but of course he doesn’t. Taehyun doesn’t waste his words on jokes.

“Why... Why would we be going to a kelpie?” you ask him, laughing around the ball of fright in your chest.

He lends you a wretched look. “I have old debts to call on.”

❆

The forest in which Taehyun leads you is untamed. At some point, the sound of nature’s buzzing tapers off, and you know that you’ve entered a deeper forest than you ought to be sticking your nose in. When the forest goes silent, it’s only for one reason.

You’d grown up here. Maybe you’d been born elsewhere, but that does not negate the fact that you had grown up scared every day of the powerful creatures that inhabit this world. Your fear has ruled you for your whole life, and you let it. You’d be a fool not to. It’s how you survive in this world. Your limbs tremble; they plead with you to listen to everything you’ve ever known—do not mess with what is bigger than you.

You step around frost-capped puddles and dance between briars, careful not to snag yourself on their claws. It unsettles you further that this part of the forest is so untrodden and overgrown. With no folk coming through, you fear how the kelpie might behave when you make an audience before it. Will it climb straight from its frosty swamp and drag you back down with it? Is the hag stone you clutch at your chest enough to keep you safe?

“I don’t understand why we’re doing this, Taehyun,” you say, delicately avoiding any tumbles as you speed up to gauge his feelings by his face. You’re not fond of the remote blankness in his eyes, nor the staunch determined set to his jaw. “That thing might kill us, and your shoulder is hurt. You shouldn’t be out here; you should be letting it heal.”

“I know my limits,” he says.

Grimacing, you return his curt tone. “Taehyun.” You grab at the material of his sleeve with urgency. When he stops to look at you, you continue. “I want you to actually listen to me. You’re being unreasonable. Yeonjun said he’d use his pull to protect us. Both of us. We have no reason to be out here, you’re just putting us in danger.”

He lets your words stew in the air for a moment before saying, “I’m the one putting us in danger? Me?” He scoffs. “We are about as safe dealing with a kelpie as we are living off his promises. I’m doing what’s best for us. Trust me.”

You’re winded by his choice of words. You’ve become wary of dealing out your trust so frivolously. Those two words ring alarm bells.

“But where is this coming from? You didn’t want to stay.” Your breath furls out in a plume of white smoke in front of your face as you speak.

He looks as if he doesn’t want to answer that. It only makes you more apprehensive. Your limbs fill with lead, planting you where you stand. “Taehyun, I’m scared,” you say. “Isn’t finding help from a solitary faerie a bit too far? How is trusting Yeonjun any more dangerous than that?”

Taehyun steps toward you. “He is going to kill us. It’s not if, it’s when. That bastard is going to hurt you. This... This is for us. We are self-sufficient; we don’t need his protection shit.” A bitter tang colors his words. “I know that you’re scared. I won’t let it hurt you; I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise that you’ll be okay. You want to stay, don’t you?”

You nod. You would even make deals with a kelpie for it.

“Okay, then, let’s go,” he says, taking off with those words, effectively punctuating the conversation.

You follow him.

You grow more anxious the deeper you trudge into the forest without any consolation as the daylight begins creeping away. Following behind Taehyun, the wind whips at the perfect angle so that his form takes most of its terror, allowing you a respite from at least some of the brutal cold. You don’t feel any remorse using him as a shield against the elements—frost runs through his veins. He doesn’t shiver or wince at it.

Taehyun stops a few feet before a wintry mire framed by crystallized cattails and reeds. Your heart stutters as he looks around to ensure that this is the right spot. The water is dark and deep. You stay a healthy distance away from it. You do not want to find out just how deep it is.

“Where is it?” you say, keeping your voice low as if the beast might lunge from the water and snatch you up if you don’t.

Taehyun surveys the forest surrounding you and then the body of water as he always does, and when he looks to you, you already know he’s calculated and planned. He doesn’t face a situation without thought—that notion soothes you, even if it’s to the slightest degree.

“It won’t come until I call it,” he says, gesturing at those murky and horrible watery depths. Swallowing hard, you consider how close you stand to it. You take a shuffled step back. “When you see it, you need to stay calm. Don’t let it see your fear. It’ll find it amusing and latch onto you. Do you understand?”

A rush of heavy dread spreads from your core and seizes your lungs at his words. You’ve made it this far. You want to stay. You want to stay, bad. If this thing outsmarts you, you will not go down without swinging this time. You have your daggers, and you know how to wield them. Bravery is most of the battle, isn’t it?

You muster a nod, trying to give yourself a brave heart, but Taehyun shakes his head. Your eyes must betray how stricken you are. “Do you understand?” he repeats, his voice sharp and grave.

“I do.”

He accepts your words, pressing on. “It will try to trip you over your words and spin you into a trap with tricky words. Do not entertain it, even as it tries, okay?”

You’ve been terrorized by faerie tricks your whole life. You can handle their schemes just fine. “Okay.”

Taehyun frees a blade from its hiding place and brings it to his palm. He slides it there, slicing it open. Crimson creeps from the slit, running in between his fingers and trickling onto the snow. He’d cut pretty deep.

“Why are you—Taehyun?” you say, stepping toward him as he curls his wounded hand into a fist over the water, shaking it so as to let the droplets down into the black water. You regret those steps you’d made toward him as something comes crashing through the surface.

No, rather than emerging from under the surface, the beast is born from the water, manifesting from it as something gangly and wretched. From its pointed ears to its hooves, it pushes up from nothingness until it is standing there, real and terrible before you. Its skin glistens with a thickness like oil and its hair and tail hang in heavy, seaweed-like tendrils, plastered against its body. The scum floating on top of the water clung to its hair and pelt as it rose, twigs and the like poking from its withered body. A bridle cages its head, leather reins dangling down. Of all its awful things, you believe that its eyes are the worst—bone-white and piercing, they send a terror down your spine that solidifies in your bones. You know you will not soon forget the ancient soullessness that lives there. The folk do sometimes resemble the places in which they hail from; you suppose that the kelpie bares striking resemblance to the swirling water that sits at its feet.

You try not to choke or gasp or react in any way at all, but it isn’t easy. You focus your adrenaline on keeping your breathing as even as you can manage.

“It has been a long time since I’ve found a human at my doorstep,” the creature says, steam blowing from its nostrils as it snorts. How long might a long time mean to a faerie, especially one you know is so ancient? You hope that your presence does not intrigue the beast at all.

Taehyun swoops in before you can speak, and you are boundlessly thankful for it. “I’ve come to call on the debt you owe me,” he says. He doesn’t leave any room for any familiarity or playfulness.

“Is it that time?” the kelpie says, placing one hoof down onto the snow. It had looked so incorporeal and liquid that you half expect it to burst and turn to water as it does, but it climbs out just fine. Very real.

Taehyun eyes the kelpie as it makes land, dribbling with water and its kelp hair swinging. You swallow hard as it disregards his presence to observe you. You’re used to the folk disregarding you, not this. How many years had you yearned for their attention? Right now, you scare under it.

“For what do you need my help, boy?” it says, voice gurgled, “And why do you bring this human along? Is it for her? Or, rather, have you brought her as your peace offering?”

Your legs tremble beneath you.

“I don’t owe you any peace offering, kelpie,” Taehyun says, his head held righteously high. “You’ll offer me what I ask, or you’ll suffer for it.”

Shifting under the tense atmosphere, you still don’t speak. In Faerie, debt is law. The folk live by a law that is, like many other things about them, foreign to you. Whatever natural laws by which they govern themselves are vastly lost on you—but of keeping promises and respecting debts, you are very aware. They hate to be indebted—you’re sure it’s why this kelpie is so peevish. You hope that the folk’s need to balance their debts is enough to keep it hospitable.

The kelpie makes a rumbling and throaty sound that mimics that of a laugh. It rumbles the ground below your feet. “Just as rigid as the last time we met like this,” it says. “I wonder if it's because you’ve inherited your father’s stone heart, or because you fear me?”

The kelpie remains playful with its intonation, but tension lies thick and dangerous beneath both of their words. You know well enough that the beast is not being light-hearted.

Taehyun holds his face firm. He refuses to give an inch. “Do not try that with me. You have your word to upkeep for my help.”

Shimmering under the moon’s light now, the beast treats us with a long moment of hostile silence. You can feel its malintent despite how hollow those eyes remain.

“What do you ask of me?” it finally says, whipping its drooping tail behind it.

“There is a rebellion here,” starts Taehyun, shoulders relaxing to the slightest degree as the kelpie defers, “The north is uneasy. I’m optimistic that you’ll lend us your protection and hand, whenever I call on it. Regardless of it being in my interest, I’m sure that you aim to keep your lands peaceful, no?”

“Rebellion? For what would anything of the courts be in my interest? Of their rebellion or even just their ridiculousness, I do not care. I’ve left your gentry to you, leave me to mine.”

Taehyun’s nostrils flare. “I’m not asking you to care about the courts, I’m asking you to lend me your help when I ask of it,” he grits out, “Or, rather, I’m not asking. I am informing you that I am expecting you to uphold your debt to me, and you’d better be ready to do so. This is just courtesy.”

You feel the kelpie’s offense in the hollow quiet that follows Taehyun’s demands. Among many things, the fae are prideful creatures. Your stomach is in terrible knots. Taehyun is just trying to regain the power in the situation. You know that. It doesn’t make you any less scared for your life. With an ancient creature like a kelpie, it is paramount to earn its respect, or else it will push you around.

Worse than that. It will drag you down into its waters and make your soul into a meal.

“It’s a pity you think that hag stone will save you from me, human.” The kelpie turns its attention back on you. You bade your knees not to crumple. “It takes much more than that to protect you in places like these. Perhaps you’ll be safe from petty enchantment, though.”

Taehyun shoves his words in before you can give the kelpie any sort of reaction. Not even a tremble. “Understood?”

“You’ve made deals with our kind before. The magic reeks on you. It’s lousy enchantment, I could dissolve that geas for you. All you’d have to do is climb up on my back, and I’d grant you your freedom.”

You can’t help but perk up. The prospect of ridding yourself of the geas placed over you is a painfully delicious one.

Bristling, Taehyun steps between you and the kelpie. Whether he does it to fight off the beast should it lunge at you or to prevent you from approaching it, you’re unsure. “Do not,” he says.

“Wasn’t going to.” You say it, and of course it’s true. The kelpie is poking around to see what will most entice you. Regardless, you can’t deny how awfully you wish that geas were gone. It’s the one thing that you fear will tether you to The King’s bidding. No matter how you armor yourselves from the rebellion here in the north, what’s to stop the spies from tugging on the enchanted leash? One command from Cricket, and your body would betray you and walk the whole way there itself.

Though you don’t verbalize your interest, the kelpie no doubt sees the interest alight in your eyes. It pounces accordingly. “Unless you’d prefer that I give you a whole other enchantment. Protection against any of our kind’s glamours? Permanant true sight? A touch to my pelt would be all it would take for you to make yourself free.”

Taehyun clicks just the hilt of his sword free from the sheathe. “Stop with the tricks. You can find your fun elsewhere.”

Like the swampish water behind it, the kelpie stands there totally still, studying Taehyun. You really wish this altercation could wrap up at any pace faster than it currently is. You’re itching to escape those white eyes. They’re much more intimidating as night settles in. What sort of thing had Taehyun even done to indebt a creature like this to him? Once again, you’re left confronting how little you know of him and his past. By the time you’ve come to terms with the last thing, the next arrives to remind you that the folk lead much longer lives than you do.

It finally speaks again. “Why have you brought this human with you, Lord?” Its furls out the term like a weapon. This bitter intonation that you’ve seen be used multiple times to speak of Taehyun’s title sticks with you. The title is a taunt. In this case, the you know it comes from the kelpie’s place of utter indifference and lack of obeisances toward whatever sovereignty the Courts may claim. The kelpie only answers to the land.

“Because I needed you to know that your protection will extend to her. Know her face, learn it so that when I call on you, you’ll play your part correctly.”

“I fail to see why you dote over her safety. Who is the human to you?” The kelpie takes a step forward, its powerful muscles rippling with the moon’s white light on its ink pelt. You mirror it with a step back. Taehyun stays put. “I owe her no help. That’s not how this works. I concede that I am bound to your help, but I do not repay double. You overestimate my generosity.”

You watch as Taehyun takes on a posture that you’ve come to recognize as his offensive posture, potent adrenaline twisting up your stomach and sending your heart into a fit so fierce that you feel it in all your pulse points. You’re sure that swords are a laughable matter to the kelpie. Iron, though, you’re sure would still burn. Turning your hands to fists, you make a conscious effort not to find your iron weapons. If the kelpie were to see that, it may escalate things. You do not want to escalate.

It’s only smart for you to consider your disadvantages: Taehyun is wounded. He had literally been struck by an arrow last night. You’re so far into the woods that running would consist of stumbling over roots and avoiding thorny bushes. Taehyun might know them, but you’re fully unfamiliar with a kelpie’s weaknesses, or if they even have any at all. You’re better off appeasing the beast.

“Taehyun,” you warn.

He pays it no mind. “I said,” he snarls, “stop with the tricks. You owe your very ability to draw breath to me, and beyond that. It was my neck on the line to grant you that. What I did for you was worth many debts. If you want to settle it all to even, you’ll do it. Don’t play this like a fool.” He doesn’t address the kelpie’s first question.

Taehyun creeps toward the kelpie. You’re not sure where he sources all that fearlessness from inside himself. He’s way too close for your comfort. “What are you doing?” you hiss, quiet and meant for just him. There is no way he intends to fight this thing right now. You’d prefer taking the risk of trusting Yeonjun’s word over this any day.

“Even the general”—the kelpie spits that word with a similar distaste as he had Taehyun’s title—“knew when he was in over his head. Ask a more respectable payment of me.”

You suck in a breath. “Let’s just go,” you tell Taehyun. “We don’t need to do this; we didn’t need to in the first place.”

As Taehyun takes one last step toward the kelpie, he reaches a sword’s distance from it.

Really? Is this happening right now?

“I’m giving you grace right now, kelpie,” he says, his voice pure warning, “My father is the one who landed you like that. It’s humorous that you’d even speak of him while we’re sorting out the debts that you incurred because of him. I suggest that you give up the sly act.”

Once again, a charged and meaningful pause rings throughout the forest. The silence speaks volumes of how the kelpie takes his words.

It’s a flash of movement, the two dark figures like blurs as Taehyun’s hand flies out to grab a hold of the reins that hang from its head and the kelpie rears back with a bone-piercing, harrowing whinny. He braces himself on its side and uses its flank to push off of. The creature bucks fast, but Taehyun is faster.

The rage that it bellows with guts you. The forest ground trembles with its frantic clambering, hooves battering the snow.

The kelpie’s frenzy ends as Taehyun takes the reins in both hands. It doesn’t make any more attempts to send him off, nor does it stumble about wildly. It settles. The kelpie bows its head. Your hands cover your mouth. They’re ready to muffle your scream. You wait for Taehyun to become one with the beast’s figure and for it to drag him down to the depths of its water that don’t see the sun’s light. Nothing happens. Instead, he slips off the back of the kelpie without any trouble, landing with a thud back on the ground.

“Fix your appearance,” Taehyun commands.

You allow a sound of surprise to slip as the beast melts down, shedding water to the ground and crumpling over. You watch it shrink all the way down until, where once the gangly beast had stood, the form of a faerie man stands. He unfurls from the forest floor to his full height, taller than Taehyun and reedy in his limbs. His hair cascades down from his head in shaggy, damp brown locks with twigs and leaves tangled in. Sharp faerie ears protrude from it. It confirms to you that this is just another form of the kelpie, not someone else entirely.

“You’re a fool,” the man says, turning on Taehyun with wild eyes.

You join his confrontation on Taehyun. “What the hell is going on?” you say. You’re still jittery with the urge to run.

Taehyun entertains only you, saying, “I hoped that he’d just make things easy in the first place.”

The man, dripping with water from his tattered, sopping rags for clothes, sneers. “I would not serve you if you fucking killed me. Of course you had to take my bridle.”

You give Taehyun an expectant look. You’re in dire need of being filled in.

“His bridle,” he says, grabbing the reins that still hang from the man’s face even in his human form and tugging him into a walk into the forest, “I grabbed it. He serves me, now. He can hate it all he wants, but he’ll do what I ask.”

The thought makes you deeply uncomfortable, but you can’t pin exactly why. It lives somewhere around the place inside you that loathed the way the folk made your kind into their glamoured servants.

“We’re just going to bring him back with us?” You trail them tentatively back through the woods that you had arrived from. “Like a prisoner, or something?”

“Exactly like a prisoner,” the man says, excited to get a hit in on Taehyun. Of course, he’s unhappy.

He stumbles as Taehyun tugs him forward by his bridle. “Shut your mouth,” Taehyun says. It’s more commanding than angry. “What’s your name?” he asks him.

The man looks as though he wants to deny him that knowledge. Names are a powerful thing to a faerie. They spend their lives hiding them away—to give away their real name would make them totally vulnerable to the whims of whoever knows and uses it. However, you assume that whatever hold Taehyun has over him now works in a similar way, and his lips move despite his revolt.

“Beomgyu,” he answers, eyes full of bite.

You climb between a pair of close-resting, gnarled trees. “Does he have to keep that thing on, Taehyun?” you say, struggling with the sight of him being dragged along. It’s unsettling. “Like, does it work without that?”

Stopping, Taehyun reaches up to pull the bridle off and around from Beomgyu’s head. He lets it fall to the snow. “You can use his name if you need to command him and I’m not around. He’ll have to do what you say.” Pushing Beomgyu into a walk, he says, “You’re going to protect us if in any case we need it. That includes her. You’re going to stay within my estate, unless one of us brings you somewhere. You won’t try your hand at any escape, and you won’t make any attempts to harm us either directly or by omitting something you are aware will do so.”

You rub your hands together to generate heat as he lists his commands. Why would he even need those precautions, if Beomgyu is supposed to be his compulsory servant now? Would that not mean that he’d be unable to harm him? Either Taehyun is being extra precautious, or the command he has over him is weaker than you had thought at first. Beomgyu scowls the whole way through. Perhaps if Taehyun had not spoken those exact words, he would have lunged at him.

As the kelpie stalls, Taehyun urges him forward once again with a shove. “Walk,” he snaps. “You did this to yourself. If you’d been a respectable man, I’d have only asked for your help when we needed. Now, you’re following us everywhere.” He allows him to stew on that for a little before saying, “You do your job well and I’ll let you return to your waters. I’ll forget I even made you my servant, and you’ll live knowing you’re no longer in my debt. You’ll not have to worry that someone might tame you again, because I already had, and I won’t even utilize it. We’ll never even make each other’s acquaintance again. You’ll be free to toil in your forest, and I will stay far away. All I need is for you to keep us alive and unharmed.”

At least he doesn’t intend to keep him forever as an eternal servant. Most faeries that fall into debts work their long lives as living servants. Your years as Nut-hatch's worker taught you how that life whittles your soul down. Hundreds of years of just that is unfathomable. Maybe that is the cost of betraying honor here, though.

“So be it,” Beomgyu says, teeth gritted.

You continue to trudge through the forest behind them.

❆

Once you’re within the walls of the estate and Beomgyu is given a place to stay, you turn to Taehyun. “What part of that was safer than trusting Yeonjun?” you say.

His eyes drop closed and he sighs. “It was worlds safer,” he grits out. “I knew what I was doing. You had that hag stone, and I’d have cut him down if he tried anything.”

He stretches out his shoulders, shifting them uncomfortably under the fabric of his tunic. You know that his sewn-up wound bothers him. Could it be getting infected? You hope not—an infection this early on would most definitely mean it would be a nasty one. If only he weren’t insistent on pretending that it’s nothing. “I don’t think you could”—you gesture at your own shoulder—“you’re going to infect your shoulder. I don’t know how to treat an infected wound that big.”

“I wouldn’t have even gone there if I thought I couldn’t handle it. I had a plan. I can protect us just fine.”

Us. You’ve been wondering what your purpose here might become once you abandon returning to your duties. Would you be staying with Yeonjun? If he betrays you, and Taehyun were to push you out now that you’re no longer partners in duty, where would you go? Crawl to the doorstep of some random faerie to place yourself in their services, just to find yourself a warm place to stay? Taehyun now makes it clear that he still sees the two of you as a pair, but why? You still can’t understand why he’d suddenly switched up the moment you said you’d stay here even if he left. Realistically, he should’ve killed you for being a traitor to the king that he serves. You know that his intentions are more complex than that, but you fail to grasp where they lie. His actions and his words clash.

“And when Yeonjun doesn’t betray us? What will all of this be for?”

“This doesn’t stop at the prince,” he says, “there are more players than just him and The Queen. Any one of them could determine that we’re liabilities. Don’t you think that we should prepare for that? We came here as spies infiltrating their court from the very king that they rebel against; of course they’ll have plans for us. It’s still best that you stay your distance from the prince from this point on, regardless, unless you bring the kelpie.”

Your mouth drops open, brows pinching. You don’t like the thought of being chaperoned at all. If Yeonjun is to betray you, then it’ll be your own fault. You can take the consequences of your actions just fine. “I think I can make that decision for myself,” you say, voice low. “And I can protect myself, too. Are you saying my skills aren’t up to your standards? Well, I didn’t spend that time working on them for nothing, and I don’t plan on stopping. I know I’m not perfect, but I think I can at least use a dagger adequately.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Taehyun says, eyes flat with frustration. “You can protect yourself well. I know that. What I mean is that you shouldn’t rest your life on his integrity. I have no doubts that you’d be able to protect yourself from him alone. He’s delicate. The King doesn’t pamper his children, but I have no doubt that the prince hasn’t wielded a sword anywhere other than in sparring. But you don’t know if you’ll ever truly be alone, and you don’t know whether or not he’s setting you up. I think you can at least agree that it’s best that you can acknowledge that and behave accordingly, no?”

“I rested my life on your integrity today. Am I supposed to trust you blindly, too? What if you’re just stringing me along until you kill me for my treason to The King? You were his spy, no? How many years did you serve him? Why have you given it up so easily? Why are you staying here? None of it makes sense to me, but I still trusted you. Was I wrong for that? Are you a liar, Taehyun? Does your tongue tell lies?”

His eyes crystallize, a few degrees colder than you’d seen them all day. “I can lie,” he says. “But would I have done what I did today if I intended to kill you? It’s time that you see that actions tell you so much more than words ever will.”

Again, he treads around your questions about his intentions. “Why are you staying here?” you repeat, studying him with your suspicion.

He’s quiet.

“Answer me,” you demand.

“Is this not my home?” he says.

Unsatisfied, you press more. “I thought you hated this place. Why would you want to stay here? Don’t you have an awful reputation here?”

His eyebrows shoot up, but his face stays hauntingly blank. You’re used to his blank mask, but this feels different. “If you think that I left here because of my reputation, then you’ve fooled yourself.” He begins making for his quarters. “I have obligations to fulfilling my father’s role as Lord of this estate,” he says before turning and ending the conversation on his terms.

That leaves you just as confused. If he cared about his responsibilities here, he would’ve never left them in the first place to become a spy under The King. It makes no sense. Whether or not it’s true, you’re positive that you aren’t getting the whole story. You sigh and drag your feet bed-bound. You hope to never have another day as unending as today again.

❆

You dodge Beomgyu for the entirety of the day, not sure what to make of a new presence around the estate, even if it’s an indebted servant beast of a presence. You’d half expected Taehyun to rope him up in the horse stalls outside, making that his permanent residence, but he’d given Beomgyu a place somewhere in the servant’s quarters. You’re glad of it—you may be wary of him, but you don’t wish anything like that for him. Now that he has a more human form, you find yourself able to empathize with him more than you were when he was a hulking, killer water horse. He doesn’t necessarily run around much—without a doubt because he’s not the happiest about being forced into Taehyun’s servitude. You don’t blame him.

Despite your efforts, he enters the kitchens while you’re alternating between chomping on a slice of bread and a platter of dates. He eyes you. Though in this form his eyes are not as piercing, they’re still heavy.

You offer him a slice of the bread and push the platter toward him. “Hungry?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t eat the way you do.”

Then why’d he come to the kitchens? Either he’s exploring, or he came looking for you. “Not even like this?” you ask, gesturing down to his form.

“I eat when someone is foolish enough to come to my waters,” he says. “I thought I’d be eating yesterday, but the Lord subverted those plans, didn’t he?”

You laugh a bit, though it’s absurd to laugh about being eaten with the same creature that had intended to do so.

“I sometimes go for more years than the entire span of your human life without eating,” he says, tilting his head to one side. Shaggy locks of hair follow his head with it. It’s unkempt and in dire need of a washing to rid it of dirt.

You gesture at his dirt-smudged cheek. “Do you want to clean up? I’m sure Taehyun has some clothes to spare for you. There are some pretty nice bathing quarters, here, too. The kind that makes you reluctant to get out.”

A wry smile cracks across his face, a bit feral like the rest of him. “I’m not afraid of some dirt. These are my clothes. I’d go naked before dressing myself in his.”

“Okay, then,” you snort, shrugging. “No baths.” You rip a bite out of the wrinkled fruit in your hand. “How did you even end up... in debt to Taehyun?” you ask, eager to fill yourself in. If Taehyun insists on not telling you anything, you’ll find it in other places. You’d picked up that it had something to do with his father, but you need to know more. The more you’re able to piece together, the better you’ll be able to make sense of Taehyun’s behaviors. You hope so, at least. He holds is truths very close to himself, and almost everybody else seems to harbor a poignant distaste for him.

Beomgyu’s face sours up again. “I had a dispute with his father. The General was going to raze my forest and kill each one of us. I’d called on him and asked for his help. I’m not sure what he did, but The General never came. If I knew it’d land me like this, though...” He grimaces. “I’d have just let him make me history.”

Reigning in the laugh that bubbles in your chest at his resentment, because you’re positive that you finding humor in his misfortunes would ruffle him, you nod and pocket that information. “Then, why didn’t you just agree to help when he tried to collect your debt in the first place?”

“I was going to,” he snaps. “He’s just a prideful creature. No patience. If he’d waited a few moments, I’d have agreed.”

Humming, you don’t tell him that he’s definitely the one who wound himself up like this. Taehyun had made it clear multiple times that Beomgyu needed to stop playing around.

Taehyun’s voice comes from the doorway, cutting into the conversation with its matter-of-factness. “Speaking bad on my name while I’m away, kelpie? Should I amend your list of commands to include watch your mouth?” His tone is bare and humorless.

Beomgyu bristles beside you, about to rebut him before you spy the weapon at Taehyun’s hip and interrupt before they can come to verbal blows. “Where are you going?”

Taehyun rips his icy gaze from Beomgyu to you. “To Court,” he answers, plain and as if it were obvious.

Furrowing your brows, you say, “Court? Why didn’t you tell me we’re going? I don’t want to get ready in a rush.” Your mind turns. You weren’t even sure what you’d be doing now that you’re no longer here as spies. There’s no need to infiltrate Court, now. Would you just be attending as revelers? Not to mention that Yeonjun no doubt has no clue that you’re even staying. You hadn’t seen him since you’d ran to him yesterday morning and had your world thrown for a loop as he revealed his truth. How had so much happened in one day?

His mouth hardens. “You’re not attending with me,” he says, knuckles turning white over the pommel of his sword. “You’ll stay here with him today.”

Your heart thrums in your chest; not with fear like it had been doing so much over the span of the last few days, but with anger. “What?” you say, shock straining your voice. “No. I’m getting ready; wait for me, or don’t. I don’t care.” You spin on your heels to do just that, gritting your teeth. He thinks he can tell you what to do? Is that it? You don’t care what he’s done for you, or what power he thinks he has over you because of it. You’d left your life of taking commands behind for a reason. This was supposed to be new beginnings, not just your past life under a new skin.

He catches your upper arm frantically. Whipping your head to him, you rip yourself away from him and back off. “I said, no,” you grit out, lips twitching into a heavily emotional scowl. It’s not just that he’s telling you to stay back today: you know that what he’s doing is much bigger than that. It sends memories of a life in a seamstress’ cottage flooding back. You struggle to keep your head afloat, to keep yourself from drowning in it, but they’re old and deep wounds.

“Oh, look at that,” Beomgyu croons. “You are just like him. Except, your father was a general, so at least he had some reason to believe that folk would obey him. You? Not so much.”

Taehyun’s head snaps to him. He barks a command. “Leave.”

His eyes flash and he reels against it, but Beomgyu’s body moves against his own will. There’s a spark of ravenous hate smeared across his lips and in the glare he gives Taehyun as he leaves.

“So, you’re just going to hand out commands and expect them to be followed now, huh? Because you’re suddenly just... taking up this role as Lord? Well, you’re not my Lord. You’re not his, either.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “Stop that.”

Laughing a bitter laugh, you spit, “Stop what? Oh, I’m sorry. I should just obey you like a good human does, huh? ‘Cause that’s what we’re for, right? My bad, I’ll get a head start on working around the estate—what would you like for dinner, my lord? Or, do you need me to press your clothes? Go ahead and place your glamour over me, so at least then I won’t have to serve you consciously.” Your words are angry, but you choke toward the end around the lump of emotion in the back of your throat.

He takes both your arms into his hands, his brow furrowed hard. “Stop it,” he snarls. “Stop it, damn it. Don’t do that. You’re not a servant here. Don’t you try to cry to me, I expect better than this from you. That’s not it at all.”

You shove back on his chest, putting some distance between you. “I’m not crying,” you say. “And, so what if I was? There’s nothing wrong with it. Really, I think it’d do you a little good to cry some time.”

“It’s weak,” he says. “Pitying yourself just ends up making you into a fool. If you just sit around and wallow, you’ll stay where you are. The only thing you can do is act.”

That sounds about right coming from his lips. “Is that what your father taught you?” you ask. “Well, he was wrong. You can cry and try and take care of things at the same time. Crying is not the weaker emotion.”

“I’m just asking you to stay back today,” he says.

“Why?” you say, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “Tell me why? It’s not like we’re spying around or have some sort of mission to keep secret. Why can’t I just go enjoy it like that for once?”

“Can you just do this for me?” Taehyun says, jaw tight. “I just need you to stay.”

You’ve become sick of him not telling you things. Being in the dark never feels good, but it especially feels like shaky ground now. If he thinks you’ll be attacked, so what? You’re the one who wanted to stay here. Let you come. You’re better off being attacked as a group of three than he would be by himself, no?

You decide to lean into his own concerns to appeal. “What if they’re waiting for you? Wouldn’t it be better that Beomgyu and I are there? Isn’t that why you did that whole thing yesterday?”

He shakes his head. “If they are, then it’ll be easier for me to slip out if it’s just me.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you determine by the solemn lines to his face that he’s not going to give. “Fine,” you say. “I’ll stay here today. If it’s so necessary, I’ll stay here. Do you want me to stay inside the estate, too? Could I go see Yeonjun?”

“I’d prefer that you stay here,” he says, slow and measured and veiling tension.

You shake your head, pairing it with a tired laugh. “Yeah, right, I forgot. He’s a threat too. Well, you have fun then.” Turning and departing from the kitchens, you leave behind your bread and dates. So much for lunch.

❆

Reaffirming Taehyun’s ability to lie, it was not just that one day. The next day, Taehyun slipped out for Court, sword on hip and pleading with you to stay in the estate on the terms that he believes they still might have an attack planned for you. It turned into a week that you were cooped up in the estate, and then two. The same walls you’d once looked at in wonder for their beauty became the ones you stared at mindlessly during the most boring of hours.

You spend most of your time listening to Beomgyu drone on and on about the ways he’d tricked faeries and humans. He’s quite odd, but it’s not like you can blame him for it—most of the folk are odd to you, and he’s an ancient beast among them. You feel like that warrants a spunky personality like his. He’s nice company, anyway. Such a long life lends you an impressive wealth of stories.

You can’t help but think about Yeonjun. He’s got to have seen Taehyun at Court by now. If there haven’t been any incidents at this point, doesn’t that mean that he doesn’t intend to betray you? The images of him thinking that you’re avoiding him makes you want to slip out to see him. You not sure why you don’t. Maybe the lies that sat between you affect you more than you thought they did. You’re quite the hypocrite, though. You’d kept secrets just as much as he had.

You miss those stolen nights you two had shared. A knot, queasy and pessimistic, sits in your belly each time you lay in your bed and remember them and tells you that you’ll never see anything like that again. You’d allowed a girlish part of you to blossom beside him—a part of you that could throw caution to the wind and melt into the fun things in life.

As you rot your days away in that estate that has become more like a dungeon than an estate, you allow yourself to miss him only a little. Once it begins transforming into a certain impending doom about how you’d thought that staying here would be everything you’d ever wanted, you find something else to do. If you aren’t toiling around by yourself or listening to Beomgyu drone, you’re practicing your combat skills. The times that Taehyun stops in to help you, it ends with you insisting that you’re fine to make appearances in Court by now, or at least see Yeonjun with Beomgyu in attendance. He never agrees. Each time, it’s the same awful excuse: Tensions are worse. He doesn’t know if they’re planning something. When you ask why he demands that he can attend, but you and Beomgyu can’t join: He’s a lord. It’s his duty to attend Court.

The solstice is nearing, too. You’d looked forward to it, honestly. Hopefully Taehyun will let you attend by then.

You sit crisscrossed on the hardwood flooring, running your fingers through your hair. Beomgyu is stood a couple feet away, and makes big gestures as he explains the one time he’d been called to attend Court as a solitary faerie. Moments like this have kept you grounded over the weeks.

“And the stupid crone tried to say that I was wrong for catching him,” he exclaims, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head as if the ancient memory were still as fresh as day one.

You laugh. “What did you even do to end up there, anyway?” you ask. You can hardly picture Beomgyu in the setting of Court, even more so meeting with The Queen and her council. Moreover, you’re intrigued to know what he’d said to talk himself out of trouble. You’re amazed that he managed to make a sufficient enough case to save his life.

“They said that I’d been taking too many of their folk—hah! I must eat too, you know? Oh, the pretention! Do they expect me to starve? If a fool lands themselves on my pelt and then in my waters, it’s only natural that they’re eaten. I’m simply freeing them from one more mud-brained fool. The Courts are full of those, too. It’d take me a millennium to eat them all. What are they so worried for, I wonder? They do the very same to their own people.”

“Aren’t they ridiculous?” you say. Like you, he’d been an outsider in Court. Though you’re sure that it’s just as, if not more, intricate to those well-versed in it, to the ones like you two... It’s odd to see. You had grown used to it in the time you spent there, but you still know what the first day had felt like. Anyway, you hadn’t spent as many days there as you feel you had. All that had happened had bloated that time in your memories. “To be quite honest with you, your kind are all so odd to me. I grew up among you, but still... my instincts are always kinda at odds with my surroundings, you know?”

Beomgyu considers that for a moment, as if trying to view the fae from a human’s eyes. “Even when we look so similar?” he asks you, grabbing at a lock of his hair and making a round gesture over himself.

You nod. “Even in this form, you just... I don’t feel like I’m looking into the face of another human. Maybe that’s because I watched you turn to this from a horse, though.”

“A kelpie,” he corrects. “What gives it away?”

“Sorry, a kelpie,” you snicker. You look over his face. It’s so close to right, but somewhere in your mind you can decipher that something is not right. Like all of the fae, though, there’s an unspeakable beauty there, beyond explanation. It demands your human attention. Even the most terrifying are beautiful. “Well, for starters, your ears. They’re pointy. All of you have that, and none of us do. And then... I guess”—you narrow your eyes—“your eyes? They’re just different. And your limbs are pretty lanky, too.”

He frowns as if he’s unable to see it. “You don’t sound so sure,” he says, joining you on the floor. “I’ve had quite some time to look at myself in my life. I don’t think I ever saw any of that when I was in this form...”

“I’m sure you did,” you say, lips turning up in a playful mock. A water creature no doubt has an eternity to stare into the water at themselves in its rippled reflection. “Did you do a lot of that?”

Scowling, he huffs. “No. But I’m sure you would, if you looked like this, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.” His face morphs from dismay to careful concentration. Frowning, you look around and ask, “What?”

“I hear somebody,” he answers, pushing off the floor.

Your spine tingles, but you search for the logical explanation. “Like... Taehyun?”

“No... the walk is definitely different.” He strains to listen. “He’s usually pretty quiet. This one... they don’t conceal their footsteps.”

Neither of you can get to a window to scope anything out before there’s three heavy knocks from the door, the metal knocker ringing. You shoot him a wary look and tilt your head toward the door. You mouth the word, answer?

He considers for a moment and then nods. Well, he’s the one able to hear their approach. You trust they’re at least not imminent danger. You pull the door open. A breeze of frost comes rushing in as you do, blowing your hair and as jarring as a hit to the face might be. You’ve been cooped up in here for so long you’ve forgotten how bitter the cold here is.

Behind the door your eyes lock with a pair of inky ones, settled into a pinched and snooty face. “Letters from the palace I have for you, my lady,” she says, her voice mousy. She holds out a stack full of letters to you, all held together by some twine.

An errand runner. You furrow your brows down at her and accept them. The little hob wrings out her long fingers. “From who?” you ask her.

She bows her head to you hurriedly. “Oh, from the prince, my lady! He sends these for you!”

You look down at the stack in your hands, and your heart begins to run amok in your chest. He’d sent to you? You thank her. She scurries off in the snow and you close the door, sharing a look with Beomgyu.

“The prince?” he says, brows shot up. “Meaning, The King’s son? He’s sent letters for you?”

Nodding, you hold the stack close to you. Your feet ache to find your quarters and to begin tearing into each one; you’re ravenous for any sort of word from him. Does he hate you? Does he miss you? At least he still thinks of you. You’d worried that he might’ve found another lady of the court to dote on in your absence...

“Yeah,” you say over your shoulder, more interested in tearing the letters open than explaining to him why the prince would be sending you letters. Curiosity sits in his furrowed brow. You hadn’t exactly prattled on about Yeonjun to him. Had you even mentioned him at all?

He tags along as you head to your room and plop onto your bed. You don’t tell him to leave you; opening these letters alone... You appreciate his presence in some odd way.

Unstringing the pile, you pull the first one out and run a thumb over the wax seal that identifies it as definitely from the High Prince—a fine silver dusted over white wax and branded with the image of Yeonjun’s insignia, the fox. It’s uneven and dribbled, clearly sealed by Yeonjun himself with the insignia ring he often wears on his finger. You pry it open and then unfurl the parchment inside.

𝒟𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝓊 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝒹 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝐶𝑜𝓊𝑟𝑡? 𝑃𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑝𝓈 𝑤𝑒 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑚𝒾𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝑇ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝒾𝓈 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒. 𝐼𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒𝓈 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘. 𝑀𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟𝓈 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝓊.

𝒯ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝓈 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛.

𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑛𝒿𝑢𝑛

Beomgyu’s gaze burns holes through you as you read this first one. You sigh, pressing your lips into a thin line as you reach for the next one. This one twists a hot knife of guilt into your belly and up into your heart.

𝐻𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔?

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙'𝑠 𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝓃𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝐼 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝓈𝑖𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑠, 𝓎��𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝓇 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝐼'𝑚 𝑢𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝓈 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒. 𝐴𝑙𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ, 𝑝𝑒𝑟ℎ𝑎𝑝𝓈 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝓎𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑎𝑏𝓈𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑤𝑖𝓈𝑒.

𝐼𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝓈𝑒 𝐼 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝒾𝑑𝑒𝓃𝑡𝒾𝑡𝓎? 𝐼𝑠 𝒾𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝓊 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝑢?

𝐴𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝓊𝑡𝑚𝑜𝓈𝑡 𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟: 𝐼 𝒹𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡. 𝐼 𝒹𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝓊𝑙𝑑 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑. 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝓇𝑒 𝓆𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝒶𝑟𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑒𝓇.

𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝐼 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑟𝒾𝒹𝑖𝑐𝓊𝑙𝑜𝑢𝓈, 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝓇 𝓈𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔. 𝐼 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝒶𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑏𝓇𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝓇𝑡, 𝑟𝒾𝑔ℎ𝑡? 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑡. 𝑁𝑜𝑡 𝑢𝓈.

𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑚𝒾𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝓎 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝓊𝓃𝒹 𝑠𝑜 𝑒𝒶𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝒾𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝓈𝑡. 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝓈, 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑖𝑡.

𝒟𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝓇 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝒾𝑡 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝓉 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝓈 𝑚𝑒𝑡, 𝑡𝑜𝑜? 𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝒹�� 𝑖𝑠 𝒾𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝓈𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜 𝒹𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝒾𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝓎𝑜𝑢, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝓈𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝓇 𝑏𝑒𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝓎𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝓉 𝒶𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝓊𝑟𝓈𝑒?

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝒶𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑒, 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝓉𝑦. 𝐼𝑓 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒, 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝓉 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝑘𝒶𝑦.

𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑛𝒿𝑢𝑛

“What do they say?” Beomgyu asks, timbred voice whipping you from the words that had settled a quaking ache in your chest.

You’re not entirely sure how to tell him that they’re desperate letters of the High Prince’s love for you, a worthless human girl that had avoided him on purpose. He probably wouldn't believe you, anyway. Leaving behind your old life, you had pleaded with the sky to make your life something worth note. It seems that it had answered. Fate works in odd ways like that, granting your wishes in the last way you might expect.

“A lot,” you say, brushing him off. Your voice cracks with it, though,

Hearing the veiled emotion, he frowns, inching forward to take a peek. “Why are you upset?” he pries, and then gasps as a thought formulates in his head. “Have they called you to be tried by the council?” He considers his own suggestion for a long moment and then shakes his head. “You hardly have gone anywhere enough to cause that degree of trouble, though.”

You let your face drop into your hands. Is the tremor in your chest from laughter, or from crying? You couldn’t say. Maybe it’s both.

The kelpie makes an unsure sound, clearing his throat. “I... uh, I jest...”

Collecting yourself, you say, “No. I’m not being called in for trial.”

Dried up rose petals come fluttering out with the next letter. The flower of love.

𝐻𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝓉 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝓇𝑡ℎ? 𝐶𝑜𝓊𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝓈𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑎𝑡 𝓎𝑜𝑢𝓇 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝓈𝑜? 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑐, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑚𝓎 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒𝓈𝑜𝑚𝑒. 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑒'𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒. 𝐻𝑎𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝓎𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝓈𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒?

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝓈𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝓇𝑒𝑠𝑖𝒹𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝒾𝑠 𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶𝑡𝑒, 𝐼 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼'𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝓊𝑟𝑒 𝒾𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑙𝑙 𝓇𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝓎𝑜𝑢, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑜, 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼'𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝓎𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔?

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝑚𝑒. 𝐼 𝑏𝑒𝑔. 𝐿𝑒𝑡'𝑠 𝓉𝑎𝑙𝑘. 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝓈𝑡 𝑤𝒶𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑤𝓇𝑜𝑛𝑔.

𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑛𝒿𝑢𝑛

Why hadn’t you at least gone and told him that you’ve stayed? How had you allowed yourself to feel fear when you think of him? You don’t deserve his love. You don’t even know if you deserve love at all. All it would’ve taken was one night of slipping out. He deserved to know that you’re okay. You don’t remember being this selfish. When had it happened? Maybe selfish is what becomes of you when you’ve wasted a lifetime expected to serve others before yourself and then are granted the freedom to consider yourself first. You don’t want to be selfish, though.

The one you pull open now is more raw. Hurt. The paper, scrawled in writing that becomes less elegant and more frenzied as you read down it, crumples in your hand.

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝐼'𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝒶𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑙𝓎 𝑓𝑜𝓇𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒'𝑣𝑒 𝓈ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑑, 𝐼 𝑎𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝓊. 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝓈𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝒶𝑟𝑚𝓈. 𝒯ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝓇 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝓈𝑜𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑡.

𝐷𝑜 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝓈𝑎𝑦 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝓇𝑒?

𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝓊, 𝑑𝒶𝓇𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑚𝒶𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒 𝓈𝑖𝑐𝑘

𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑛𝒿𝑢𝑛

You stuff the letters back in their envelopes and shove them into a box in your wardrobe. If you don’t, you’ll read them over until you’re ill. Once over was enough for you.

❆

“The Lord would have my pelt if I let you leave,” Beomgyu, crossing his arms firmly over his chest, says. “Let alone by yourself.” Realizing that his words insinuate that Taehyun holds any true power over him, he backtracks. “If it weren’t for the harness, I’d be unconcerned with his anger, but... Of course, you know, I’m obligated by my imposition to his word, so...”

Tugging your boots on, you say, “So, tell him I commanded you to stay. You’ll be fine.”

You had waited for Taehyun to leave for Court, anyway. You have hours of the night to sly-foot your way around him.

You’d moped around for a few more days, your gut heavy with stones each time you remember Yeonjun’s letters. Stuffing them into a box, no matter how deep into the corner of your wardrobe, still could not wipe those words from your mind. You’d turned them over and over until you couldn’t handle imagining him writing those letters with a hopeful heart any longer.

The solstice is only a few days away now, too. You’d been bound to the estate for weeks. Although you’re unsure what Taehyun’s real intentions are in boarding you in, you can no longer even care if leaving will end up getting you attacked. You’ve become a bird with clipped wings.

Even if your wings are out of order, you’ll walk your way to your freedom. Hell, you’d crawl there. It just so happens that Yeonjun’s doorway feels like freedom in this moment.

Like he’d always said, the doors remain unbarred. You don’t even have to use the metal knocker; you just push through the doors of swirling white engravements. Just as if nothing had changed. He’d been waiting for you.

Instead of Yeonjun in his quarters, you find a brownie diligently working on doing up Yeonjun’s bedding. When she turns to you, her hands continue their efforts.

“The prince is not here right now, dear,” she says, snout twitching. Round eyes recognize you before you can introduce yourself. “He’s only just made for Court, though. You should catch him quite quickly, if you mean to.”

It seems he hasn’t given up searching for you in Court, either. You offer her your gratitude and slip out from his room. Picking up the hems of your dress, you race to catch Yeonjun before he’s arrived at Court. Once he does, things get more sticky—if Taehyun spots you... Pushing down the anxiety that bubbles up at the thought, you cross your fingers. Let luck be on your side.

Your Court dress, though heavy, feels nice on your skin. Although you often look down on court goers for their pompousness, you can’t deny how good it feels to fit in. That’s perhaps the reason you cling to Court the way you do; you’re beyond desperate for belonging.

On the plush, snow-dusted bits of the forest’s floor, you spot a set of footsteps. They’re quickly being filled with the flurries. You clasp your hands in an overwhelming bout of gratitude—luck had listened, this time. Those tracks are as fresh as can be. You double your pace.

Around a bend, you’re overjoyed to see his figure walking there. Finally hearing you coming over the roar of snowfall, he spins. His face pinches and then drops as he recognizes you.

“You... You came?” he says. Disbelief flips his lips into a frown. “You got my letters?”

“I did,” you answer, catching your breath. “I’m so sorry.”

A few feet float between you, the space not yet closed but so magnetic. His cheeks are tinged pink with the cold. Yours must be too.

“I’d thought you left. I thought I’d never see you again.”

Your chest caves in a little at the hurt in his voice and the way it clashes with the longing in his eyes. He wants to be angry; he wants to yell at you. He can’t do either when he’s just thankful to see your face. You had missed his just as much.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. “It shouldn’t have happened.”

Yeonjun approaches you and takes your face into his hands. His fingers are ice on your skin. He swallows in your face, soft black eyes darting from your eyes to your lips and around the rest of it; just like he’d begged you to let him do in his letters.

“Why?” Yeonjun asks you, brushing your hair back with his fingers like he’s just testing the feel of it.

You don’t know how to answer him. You could tell him a lot of things: Taehyun told me to stay away. He had told me that you’d hurt me. I’d started to believe him. I became scared of you. We had lied to each other. None of them feel adequate in this moment, so you shake your head.

His eyes harden to a degree as you don’t answer. “Why wouldn’t you come talk to me, pretty?” he urges. “If something was wrong, why couldn’t you come to me? We can’t leave things broken. I sent you weeks of letters. Weeks.”

Weeks? You’d only seen four.

“Finally, I got smart enough to send them when he’s at Court. And then you show up here. Tell me, how am I to think that you’re okay? When he won’t even let you speak with me?”

You blink once. Twice. Taehyun had been intercepting letters. A pit of anger flares in your belly. Whatever this protecting thing he’s doing really is, you’re sick of it. Since when had he become your keeper? He’d demanded that Yeonjun was trying to do just that, but here he is, and you have no clue why he’s doing it.

“I didn’t know you’d sent letters until yesterday,” you tell him. “I should’ve come and seen you.”

Running his thumb over your cheek, he murmurs, “You’re not going back there. Please, tell me you’ll stay with me. If you’re to stay here in the north forever, let it be with me. We can’t slip around like this forever.”

Shaking your head in his hands, you pull back. You can’t decipher the dread that washes over you at his suggestion once again. Your heart is wary with the need to do just that—to not return to the estate where you’d become some sort of prisoner. Something washes over you and tells you that it won’t go the way you’d wanted, just as most things in your life hadn’t.

Seeing the way you retract, Yeonjun becomes more desperate. “Please,” he says, hands finding your shoulders to hold you as if you’ll leave him there.

“We’ll figure it out,” you say. “Just give me a few days to think about it, okay?”

His face stays drawn as if he wants to argue it, but he relents. Taking your frozen hands into his own and wrapping them up in attempts to warm them, he says, “Okay. Okay, let’s get away from this blizzard, then. I’ll wait for you, love.”

Your chest sizzles. The cold isn’t so bad, today. In a way, you’d missed it. You nod.

Yeonjun brings you to his chambers and urges you to settle into a plush seat. You run your hands over the embroidered whorls of thread on the cushions as you watch him rummage through a chest. “What are you looking for?” you ask him, drinking in his figure. He’d switched his Court shirts for some more comfortable wear, but even in those he looks princely. He’s so pretty. Your heart flutters as he fishes out what he’d been searching for and turns to you with a smile. He settles beside you carrying a leatherbound book and a miniature wood sculpture of a girl.

“These,” he says, setting them down on the cushion between you.

You pick up the wood thing, looking over its painted pink cheeks and feeling the carvings that make its face. It’s fitted with a dress; one unlike any you’d ever seen. Your brow furrows. “What’s this thing?” you ask.

“It’s called a doll,” he says explains. You feel his eyes on you, watching your reaction, not on the thing in your hands. “Human girls carry them around to play with. They change the dresses and stuff. They even make things for them to hold, but... I couldn’t get ahold of any of those.”

Heart stuttering, you look at the wood-carved thing. “Human girls?” you ask, imagining a life where you too could have worried only about what dress your toy would wear. You revere the resilience your younger self had to have. At least you didn’t know any better; you didn’t know how you could’ve had it. That ignorance saved you. The painted eyes of the doll stare back at you.

“Kinda cute, huh?” he says, smiling and scooting closer to fiddle with the thing’s hair. “They even do their hair up all pretty.” Looking back up to you, he says, “It’s a shame that no human who has ever grown up here knows of things like these. Simple joys.”

You nod, a little choked up. “Yeah. I wish I had. It would have been nice to have something like this as a girl.”

He tucks some hair behind your ear to get a better look at your face from the side. “How did you ever end up being a spy?”

Tearing your gaze from the doll to meet his, you find a sadness there despite you not even having told him yet. It’s as if he knows it’ll hurt him already. You fiddle with the little doll’s dress as you recount. “I was a servant to a seamstress,” you start. “A royal seamstress, too. She was favored well by the gentry. She brought in hordes of clients and made dresses and Court clothes for them—but, really, her work mostly ended at being there to hear what they’d want and inlaying the dresses with her magic when they’d ask for it. The rest was my work. Taking their measurements, making their dresses... I worked her shop as soon as I became able to.” Memories of cruel and wicked faces that snickered at your expense or those who found it entertainment to scare you come back, as fresh as ever. Those memories never leave you; the ones so early on that they’d calcified into permanent parts of your personality. That terrified little girl will always be somewhere in your mind. She surfaces quite a lot, these days.

“There was this one time...” you say, trailing off to trudge up a more awful memory. “A Lady had come in to have a dress made. She brought a guard along with her. He was this massive troll with grey skin like a toad.” You’d recall his details without any trouble for the rest of your life, you think. “I’d ran off to grab some fabric for the Lady, and he followed,” you say, voice wavering just how your little heart had wavered as you had turned around from the bolts of fabric to see the goblin stood there. “He yanked me around by my hair until I sobbed, and then he had me get on the floor and beg him to let me live.” You know now that of course he wasn’t going to kill you—he wouldn’t want problems with Nut-hatch—but you hadn’t known it then. You thought you were dead. “When he had enough of his fun, he let me go. When the other two saw how hysterical I was, all I got was being asked why I’d left them waiting so long.”

Yeonjun asks, voice soft and tender, “The seamstress allowed that?” His eyes are heavy with a mixture of emotions. You see sadness and anger there, but also something a bit more.

“Nut-hatch?” you say. “Of course.” They’d known what he was doing in there, of course. Even a human could have heard it. As long as you served your purpose, the folk could not care less.

He looks taken aback at that, recognition turning his brows up. “Nut-hatch? You worked for Nut-hatch?” he asks.

Nodding, you hum. You had no doubt he’d know her name. Her work was well-renowned in his father’s court and beyond. “I did.”

His eyes rake over you for a long few beats before he turns your face up. “Their names?” he asks.

“Huh?”

“The goblin and the Lady. What are their names?”

You try to tug at the threads of that old memory. “I don’t remember,” you say. Much of it is fresh, but you hadn’t committed their names to memory. Inconsequential in the grand scheme of it. “It’s okay. It’s passed now.”

He doesn’t look very convinced, mind wheeling behind his eyes. You don’t want to stay on this memory for too long. Pushing it back into the dusty corner where it stays, you continue explaining. “I accepted that as my life for a long time, but... At some point, I just wanted more. I imagined all the ways I could find a new life as a human here. There are so many other things I’d preferred, but the only one I could manage was that. Even that, I was wrong about. I’m not really made for that, you know?” You lighten your tone in hopes that it’ll make your chest feel lighter as well.

He listens intently and then leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. Pulling you into his chest and keeping you notched under his chin, he says, his voice smooth to your ears, “I’m so happy you’re here now, pretty.”

Letting out the weight in your lungs in a long, meaningful sigh, you melt into his touch. It’s difficult not to when his body is so warm against yours. You revel in it for some time, just letting him smooth over your hair and rub your back. You try your best not to let any old, sad emotions pour out through your eyes; this is a happy moment. You’ve made it. Perhaps things had been harder than you imagined they’d be, but you knew it’d be a long journey when you escaped that sewing cottage anyway.

Peppering a few last kisses to the top of your head, he releases you to pick up the book he had also grabbed from that chest. On the front it reads: Pride & Prejudice.

“A book?” you say, looking over the brown leather and gold printing. It’s an unfamiliar name to you, but you never read much anyway.

He nods and pries it open. The spine crackles with age. “It’s also from the human world.” Thumbing through the pages, he adds, “It’s a story. I read it often, it’s quite a nice one. I want to give it to you so that you can read it too; it’s a beautiful love story.”

You lean in to take a look at the words, too perfect to be handwritten. “Where do you get all this stuff?” you say. It reminds you of he’d brought you to that market for human goods. He seems to be interested in things that are human. Perhaps that includes you. Either that or he continues to show you these kinds of things for your sake.

“I lived in their world for some years,” he says, flipping through the pages. “It’s quite different. Though... I found myself not wanting to leave. When the time came, I brought these back with me to remind me of that time.”

Lived? Not just visited, but Yeonjun had lived in the human realm? Your heart flurries with a lifetime of wondering what your true home was like. How ironic is it that he knew more of humans than you? That you’re the one asking him questions about your kind? “How long?” you ask first. “And why were you living there?”

“Just for something my father wanted me to do,” he answers, “Somewhere around a decade, I believe.”

He’d spent ten years there. Multiple things click into place—no wonder he’s so able to understand your human emotions. No wonder it feels as though you’ve been seen to a different degree by him than you’d ever known before. He’d spent years with your kind. “What is it like?” you say, not sure where to begin with your questions.

He smiles fondly. “You wouldn’t even be able to believe me, pretty. You’ll just have to see it.”

See it. “You’d take me there?” you say.

“Of course,” Yeonjun says, frowning. He takes one of your hands into his, pressing a kiss to it. “You deserve to see it.” He presses another kiss to your skin, now at your wrist. The hair on your skin raises at the contact. His eyes find yours as he begins a slow ascent of kisses up your arm. Each is warm and sends your spine blazing. Once he reaches your shoulder, he slows down, leaving a long moment between kisses. He continues this pace—one that both makes you wish he’d slow down and that he’d hurry and quell your want—right up the juncture of your neck and up the column, too. His controlled breaths puff out like fire on your skin where his mouth lingers. You let your head back to help his path up. He places one final kiss at your jawline before his lips land on yours, drunken and in no rush at all.

You can’t help the visceral urge to run your hands over his soft skin, to check if the warmth there was real or if you’d manifested it in your longing. Yeonjun breaks this lethargic kiss just to laugh, but he’s quick to recapture your lips. He meets your hand and brings it under his silken shirt, guiding you up the soft planes of his abdomen.

Pushing you back, he whispers into your mouth, “I missed you so much, pretty.”

You rememorize the gentle muscles of his stomach beneath your palm. “It was only so many days,” you tease, “you’re just horny.”

He lets go of your hand to begin slipping down your dress from the shoulders. “Yeah?” he hums, gobbling up each inch of skin that he reveals. “I suppose I am. It’s a gift to be able to love you in this way.” Once the fabric is clear of your hips and he’s tugging it down your legs, his face turns sly. He studies your wettened core. “I think you missed me too, though, love.”

You drag your bottom lip into your teeth. You had. Your chest thumps rhythmically in your chest, syncing like symphony with the throb between your thighs.

Blood sings in your veins when he places his palm right on the boundary between your lower belly and your cunt. Your stomach soars, too, so excited by his touch so near where your body craves it. He runs it up, feeling the curves of your body, up to your breast. You expect him to stop and pay attention to your chest, but he presses his hand down right over your heart and feels its beating against his palm. His eyes flutter to a shut, and he leaves his hand there for a few moments, relishing in it.

“What other purer form of love can I show you?” he says, tapping on your hip. “On your hands and knees, baby.”

You flip, your limbs a bit clumsy in anticipation. Once you’ve found your way there, he dances his fingertips on the small of your spine.

“Did you think of my touches while we were apart?”

“Mhm,” you hum. Especially on the nights when the estate seemed the emptiest. Some nights, your fingers were just not enough to save you, and you’d contemplate making a big escape to find him.

“Well, I shouldn’t make you wait too much longer then, huh?” he coos, running that hand down to ghost touches over your slit. Though minimal, you jolt. You’d been so ravenous for this. He’d worked his shirt off so that when he leans forward to meld his chest to your back, it’s his skin that touches yours, not fabric. His hand stays ghosting touches that leave you softly gasping.

He teasingly pinches your clit, laughing in your hair at the sharp hiss it draws from you. “So reactive,” Yeonjun muses. His fingers find their way to your hole. He dips the middle two in. “Just like the first time we made love like this. Your lovely face is burned into my mind, pretty. You have such hungry eyes.” As he pushes his fingers in, he uses his free hand to tilt your face against the cushion so that he can better see your eyes.

You sigh, shuddering and breathy, as he begins to curl his fingers. It only takes him a few curls to rediscover that spot that has sparks flying behind your eyes.

“There?” he asks, chin on your shoulder. “That feel good, darling?”

Your muscles tremble at their own accord, rendering your huffs trembled as well. “Yes,” you answer. Each meaningful curl hits its mark, knees unsteady pillars that dig into the cushions. “So—so good. Please don’t stop.”

He maintains a sickening pace—your muscles twitch around his giving fingers, just enough so that your entire body buzzes and your stomach twists, but not enough to send you shaking yet. You collapse down from your elbows, chest in the cushions. He brushes back the hair that obscures your face with the movement, adamant to see your face.

He eggs you on by curling deeper; faster. Your answering groan is shaky and tense—you can’t get enough of the knot he curates in your belly, but at the same time, it’s daunting. He sits back, but his fingers don’t falter. His free hand explores, feeling your body up for all the time he couldn’t.

Stomach taut and brimming on your peak, you suck in a breath. Your orgasm sits so close, running a line of electricity from between your legs up to your spine, raising goosebumps on your skin.

Your eyes fly open, mouth ready to scold, as Yeonjun pulls his fingers from you. Your chest bubbles up with frustration, your orgasm drifting off to somewhere else. “Why?” you ask, cheeks burning. It slips and slips away from you, hole twitching around nothing as if seeking out just enough stimulus to bring it crashing back. “I was so close.”

His hand soothes the loss ever so slightly by circling your cunt, but he does not make the mistake of offering you any touch where you most need it. It only prolongs the float down, keeping you suspended. You abhor it.

“Please,” you whine.

He doesn’t entertain your whines. He only continues to deliver just enough to torment you until he’s sure that you’re not so wound up that you’ll cum the moment he touches you, and then he slides his fingers back in and begins building up a more tense knot with pointed curls. Your insides delight in the return of attention, falling almost instantly back into a brutal climb. Yeonjun doesn’t bother with languid, teasing strokes now. He aims for your ruining.

You writhe against the cushions. Your heart is a fluttering bird in your chest, trilling at the prospect of your release. It’s so close—so close that you might be able to just touch it. It tastes like honey on your tongue, painting your words sweet. “Love you,” you tell him. “Love you so much.”

Yeonjun rewards your sweetness with his free hand on your throbbing clit, sending your hands gripping at the cushions. You wiggle your hips helplessly in search of just the right amount of friction that it’ll finally give you want you’ve been wanting. “Yes,” you mewl. “Yes, so close—”

“Wait, baby,” he commands from behind you. “It’ll feel so much better. I promise. Hold it back.”

He reins in his touches once again, not stopping like last time. It’s not enough to put a stop to the orgasm rippling right under your skin, right at the edge of ripping through you. You can’t hold it back; it’s right there.

“No,” he says, once again ripping his touch from you. It doesn’t stop anything—you go rigid just before it crashes over you, and then you’re shaking without his hands even on you. You cum with a vengeance—body reclaiming twofold what he had denied you.

“Holy shit.” Yeonjun groans watching you come unraveled without his help. “So riled up that you’re cumming by yourself, pretty,” he says, running a hand around to feel your belly muscles twitching and the way they roll along with the twitches of your hips. He eggs on your orgasm with gentle touches at your clit, sending you jolting, until you’re a panting mess and he can tell that you’ve had enough.

You attempt to push yourself off your chest, but he gently guides you back down with a palm against your back. “Stay there, pretty. You can handle a little more, right? You did so well, I know you can. Let me make love to you, darling.”

The cushions are awfully warm against your skin and you’re still dealing with the waves of pleasure that drift up from your cunt, but you nod your head for him. “’Kay,” you say.

The rustling behind you tells of how he’s slipping out of the rest of his attire. You lay boneless as he does, focusing on the waves running down your thighs. It’s ecstasy in its purest form. It floats through your veins, addling any consciousness and breaking you down into what you are at your core.

The familiar prod at your entrance jolts you back to life. As he presses in, he presses a hand to your flushed cheek. It’s a welcome temperature difference—you feel set ablaze in some sort of languid flame, one that takes its time to consume you. He laughs softly. “You’re burning up,” he says as he bottoms out, as if the feeling of him filling you up isn’t rendering you jittery in anticipation. “Ready for me, pretty?” he teases, taking your hips into his hands. “I need you to make those pretty sounds for me. I want to know that they’re just as sweet as I remember them.” He punctuates his sentence with deep rolls of his hips, aiming where he knows will have you singing.

You’re helpless to the chorus of ‘Oh's and ‘Yes’s that he draws from you, the smacking of his hips and your sweet moans much too loud for you. You dread the thought of his servants hearing you and push your face into the cushions, muffling the array of sounds that bubble over. It’s all you can do—you could hardly contain your sounds.

Your scalp strains as he tugs your head back, tugging your face from the cushion. “None of that, love. I waited too long for that. Don’t hide your pretty voice.”

You shake your head. “Too loud,” you pant. “They’re gonna hear.”

“I don’t care who hears you. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel, or I’m going to stop. Do you want me to stop?” His fingers cling to your soft hips, betraying how much this is affecting him. You know that he hardly wants to stop.

You’re turned to mush, though. In this moment, being heard feels nowhere near as awful as Yeonjun ceasing those dizzying thrusts. You shake your head, scalp aching against the movement. “No,” you say, breathless.

“That’s what I thought,” Yeonjun taunts, letting your cheek drop back into the fabric. “Let them hear our love. Let them hear how real it is, darling. Louder.”

You tentatively let your sounds out into the thick air, but he decides that it’s not enough for him. Taking his hand off your hip to brace himself on the seat’s plush armrest, he doubles down his thrusts, feverish and desperate to guide you both to a beautifully explosive end. Your mouth drops open, unfiltered words and sounds spilling out from your chest as you grab at the cushions for help. With the hand that he doesn’t use to deliver those wild thrusts, he encases your hand in his own, threading his fingers between yours.

For a few more incandescent moments, Yeonjun’s room only consists of your unabashed cries, his alternating grunts and whines, the rhythmic and hollow smacks of his hips to your skin, and the musk of your passion. Frantic bodies dance against each other, skin against skin in the purest way. Your thighs tremble pathetically, his cock brushing against your sweet spot until you squeeze your eyes shut and ride out the quivering of your cunt around him. You squeeze his hand as you shake.

“Yes,” his pretty voice whines, “Just like that.”

Picking up his pace, he chases to join you in your orgasm. He pants behind you, desperately fucking into you until his hips stutter and he stills, falling into your shoulder to deliver needy rolls and shooting warm spurts of his release into you.

You two stay like this for some unhurried moments. You focus on his heartbeat; feeling it thudding against your back reminds you that he is real, and he is love. You hold his hand in yours a little tighter.

❆

“I doubt that this will go exactly as you believe it will,” Beomgyu says, watching you do your hair up. Your eyes meet his in the vanity’s mirror.

Arms burning as your hold them over your head, your words come out clipped with the ache. “It worked yesterday, didn’t it?” you say. You push a filigree comb into your hair to secure it up. “I got back hours before he did.”

“I’m not saying that Taehyun is right,” he says, “but I think that it would do us both a favor if you practice a bit more precaution.”

“What, are you afraid of Taehyun?” you ask, raising your brows at him in the reflection.

Your taunt hits its mark, Beomgyu shifting in your bed and scowling. “Of Taehyun, never,” he parries, “of the fact that he could ask me to do anything and I’d do it, yes.” He shakes out his lightly matted tresses, a habit you’ve noticed over the passing weeks. “I played a little too closely to the fire with him once, and it landed me like this: no longer the owner of my being. I’d sooner chew off my own fingers than become his obedient dog, but I believe you also know that it’s best to soar low with this, no? Are we not together in this?”

You press your lips into a thin line. In a way, you’d come to an alliance of sorts with Beomgyu. Despite his being a kelpie, the two of you are not so different now. Both confined to these walls, listening to Taehyun when he commands it. You don’t want any of your actions to snap back on Beomgyu, though. With you attending Court today, it’s almost definite that Taehyun will see you. You turn to face him. “Why don’t you join us, then?” you offer. “I’ll tell him myself that I commanded you to come with me. I’m sure he’ll be less upset if I have you there with me.”

He gives it a thought, his eyes looking as tired and sunken as they always do. “I’m not one for Court,” he says.

“But I’ll be there,” you plead, unable to help the twitching of smirk on your lips. “If we do it together, it can’t be so bad.”

He frowns, but you can see that you’ve won. “I grieve for how the forest left me to my own,” Beomgyu grumbles.

You surge up from your seat, eyes bright. “You’ll go?” you say, giddy to return to the thrill of faerie revelry and also to see the strange kelpie in the center of it.

Grimacing, he answers, “I will join you.”

You take his hands into yours and press a cheeky kiss to his forehead. “You’re not so scary as you try to paint yourself,” you tell him, watching as he catches bait. You laugh as he glowers.

“Don’t push it.” He climbs off your bed. “I’m scarier than you should imagine, girl. I do this for my own reasons.”

You pull a patronizing frown and nod. “Of course, I know.”

You don’t have to wait for him to get ready to any capacity; he tells you that he has no intentions of making any impressions, and you’ve seen faeries in far more drastic states of disarray. Many show up for their reveling in just their skin.

Beomgyu drones on about how he detests the audaciousness of the gentry folk while you make for the hall. The forest around you is as quiet as you remember it being when you’d first met him. It reminds you that, no matter how used you become to him, he is a creature to be feared. The little folk are right to hide away. For you, though, his might is a relief: should Taehyun be right, you’ll be safe. He moves at your beck and call. Though, the thought of forcing the kelpie to carry out your will is an uneasy one that you do not strive to fulfill.

Once the buzzing of Court comes into earshot, wonderful faerie music along with it, you breathe it in. “First time in... how long since you’ve shown your face here?”

“Perhaps four-hundred-something years,” he answers, looking over the scene with as much distaste in his face as his voice. “We solitary folk don’t make ourselves known here unless to bow to a crown. I do not bow to any crown.”

Itching to find your prince, you gesture toward it. He should be fine—Court is supposed to be an insouciant place. “Don’t they host anybody who decides to come? Faerie hospitality, and all that? You’ll be fine.”

“It’s all hospitality until you step foot from those trees,” he says. “And even hospitality is sometimes betrayed. You know how capricious we can be, I’m sure.”

You approach the warm lights, but his words remain with you. It beckons you to remember that their minds are fickle and fundamentally different from yours. However you think they may act, they might act in the complete opposite way. You should at least let that guide how you conduct your actions a little bit.

As you breach the pillars of trees and are finally surrounded once again by their pinched faces and gangly limbs, you search for both Taehyun and Yeonjun. You see neither, and so you make your way to the tables to seek snacks. You scour them for something sweet to chew over as you wait for him to appear. He’d said he’d be coming around this time, right? You surely hadn’t mistaken the time he’d told you?

Beomgyu speaks from beside you, observing a hag that loiters nearby. “Is he not here?” he asks.

Shrugging, you say, “He’ll be here soon.”

You watch the hag inching closer, bent over with age; though, you assume that’s she’s been old for the entirety of her life. Her pointed ears droop from her thin tresses of silver, cuffed with gold.

Turning from her, you gesture over the cavorting crowds, more frantically chasing their merriments than ever before. The solstice arrives tomorrow; they welcome its presence with their excitement. “This is all for the solstice?”

He offers you an affirmative nod. “Just some excuse to entertain themselves like this,” he explains, “the solstice will arrive whether they encourage its coming or not. I believe that they just enjoy this debauchery too much.” His hollow eyes rake over the throngs. “Anyway, many of them are just here because it’s the only time that they’ll see Court. Otherwise, only the gentry gather here.”

“What makes you any different than them?” you ask. “What makes you so averse to offering your allegiance to the High Courts? Would it not be nice to have their protection, and to keep them off your back?” You seek Yeonjun once more in the crowds, but still, he doesn’t appear. “You know, so they don’t call you in for things like eating too much?”

“I do not surrender my sovereignty to any. Come they to my doorstep and demand that I do, I could not care. I’m content with the way I make my life.”

His refusal to do just that must be why Taehyun’s father had come to claim his life. You’re sure that it’s also why the coming of the General’s son to steal his autonomy must’ve made him so angry. You don’t blame him.

Why would The Queen demand fealty from the solitary folk? You’d thought that, like the High King, she’d leave them to their forests. If they’re all as adamant as Beomgyu, it seems like a lost cause.

“Well,” you say, “I’m glad that—”

A gnarled hand, fingers knobbed against your skin and skin about as soft as tree bark, tugs your arm. You spin to find who owns it.

The hag’s eyes remind you of Beomgyu’s, piercing and dull with the weight of a long life. Though, hers are much more unsightly than his mud-brown ones, saggy eyelids drooping over a pair of eyes with ink-black where the whites of her eyes should be. She pulls you toward her by your skirts.

You tug yourself back, pinching your brows. “Who are you?”

She points her clawed, grey hand out at you, bangles of gold and chunky beads jingling as she does. “You, girl,” the hag says, urgent. Her voice is harsh and it crackles as she speaks. She reaches inside of her furry robes and produces a wood trinket from it. In her palm that she shoves at you lays a bit of wood carved into the shape of a wolf, painted in black. Its shaggy black fur reminds you of the kind Taehyun would sometimes wear over his shoulder.

“I don’t need that,” you say, rejecting her hand. Nothing in faerie comes for free—the hag just sees a human girl that she can offer free things to in hopes that you’ll know no better and take. Then, you’d be in her debt, and she’d demand something from you. You do know better, though.

“Oh,” she says, shaking her head as she draws out the word. “You do, girl. Take it, take it. You need it, I know it. Take it, I won’t hold it to you, girl, just have it.” Razor teeth appear behind her curled lips. “It is dormant with me. But, in your hands... Take it.” She shakes her jousted hand out at you each time she demands that you take it. “It offers you protection. It would do no good in my possession. It beckons me to give it to you, its pleas are so loud—loud, loud, loud! Take it off my hand, won’t you?”

Her urging unsettles you, but so do her words. You assume that it’s inlaid with some sort of protective enchantment. Why would you need protection? Although, she could also just be fooling you. She could be holding a perfectly plain hunk of carved wood in her palm for all you know. You shoot a look at Beomgyu. If she were any trouble, he’d tell you.

He looks about as lost as you do, shrugging.

“Oh, sakes!” the hag grumbles, clutching her robes to her body. She takes Beomgyu’s hands and places the thing there. “There. I have no reasons to be here fooling humans. Useless debts, what could you give me? Nothing I need.” She points a sturdy, twiggy finger at you. “Keep it on you, girl, else it won’t do its work.”

With those final ill-boding words, the hag hobbles off, her curved back disappearing between the gaps in the crowd.

“Here,” Beomgyu says, regarding the trinket with his observation. “That hag really wanted this to be yours, so I think it ought to be in your hands.” He tries pushing it off to you.

Laughing, you don’t reach out to take it, darting his hand with your whole body. You hang your hands in the air. “I’m not taking that thing,” you say. “She handed it to you, so I really think it ought to be in your hands.”

He deadpans. “I’ve just been collecting myself a heap of debts, haven’t I?” He closes it into his fist for his lack of pockets. “What’s this one to add?”

“Does it... feel like it has anything bad on it?” you ask, remembering how he’d identified your geas. “Like a curse, or a bad enchantment, or something?”

Shaking his head, he says, “No. I feel it does have a protective purpose, but the magic there is... odd. Hard for me to decipher. Probably that hag’s.”

You purse your lips, nodding. Regardless, whatever protection that thing might have offered you, you’ll be fine without it.

Shaking off the odd interaction, you resume perusing the snack platters in your wait. You skip over glazed pinecones. Those would be terrible on your human stomach and teeth. You can only imagine how they’d jab at your gums. You opt for a helping of braised fiddlehead ferns. Chewing on the furled thing, you entertain yourself with the revelers. Littler folk dart in and out of legs. Long-limbed gentryfolk with flowers in their hair spin with interlocked hands at the center of the clamor. Sharp-eyed faeries with even sharper mouths speak in clusters, no doubt scheming. In all its oddness, you’d missed it.

A silk-smooth voice steals your attention. “A kelpie?” Yeonjun says, regarding Beomgyu beside you. “Now, how did you manage to befriend a kelpie? Even better, how did you drag it here?”

Your chest lights up. “Long story,” you say, brushing his curiosity off. “What took you so long?”

He’s dressed in his Courtly best—cuffs made of ruffle and an array of rings decorating his fingers. They catch light as he brings his hand up to run a hand along the expanse of your collarbone. He hesitates to answer for a split second. “I ran into Kai on my way,” he explains. “He’s performing here today and for tomorrow's solstice.”

Accepting his answer, you go to tell Beomgyu that you’re going off, but he’s not even there as you turn. He must’ve wandered off as Yeonjun had arrived.

“Want to join them?” he asks, tilting his head toward the dancing bodies. Soft black strands drift over his eyes.

Shaking your head, you offer him some of the sweets you’d been eyeing, knowing that he’s got a knack for sweets. “Not today. I think I want to remember all of tonight, and, well...” Memories of the way you’d danced uncontrollably until it’d fade to black lick at your mind. You want to revel in your return to normalcy fully, not with a buzzing mind. You can’t deny the allure of that tingling in your bones as you hear the faerie music, though. It curls a wild finger at you, beckoning.

An uncomfortable look passes through his eyes, gone as fast as it had come. “All right, darling,” he hums, accepting the sweets. “Does the Lord know you’re here?”

Lips tugging into a faint frown, you say, “Not yet, I think.” The quick expression doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Unlike the ice the Taehyun offers you, Yeonjun wears his feelings all over himself. It’s just one way that they are fundamentally different. “Is something wrong?”

Yeonjun looks taken aback at your asking. “I’m doing just fine,” he says. “Why do you ask?”

He does not say nothing wrong. You know it is because he cannot lie. You look him over. What had happened? And, why is he averse to telling you the truth? “Just thought you looked a bit upset.” You shrug. “Did you want to dance?”

His nose crinkles with a laugh. “No, pretty. I’d be in your presence doing nothing and still be content.” He takes your hands into his, the metal on his fingers biting cold against your skin. “How about we go listen to Kai play?”

He leads you to where the musicians work at concocting their works, claiming a chalice of some drink from a table on the way. Kai, of course, stands away from the rest, back to a tree while his fingers dance on the strings. You look around for Taehyun from here, but still, you don’t see his face.

Yeonjun holds the chalice’s neck between his middle two fingers, sipping from it. “It’s nice to know that even as this season ends, I won’t be forced to go back there.”

His pretty lips wrap over the edge of the chalice as he drinks from it. “Won’t your father know something is up when you don’t return?”

Nodding slowly, he grimaces. “I suppose that time has finally come.”

You squeeze his hand in yours. “We both sacrificed things to be here, huh?” you say. You don’t know a lot of what Yeonjun’s life back in his home court was like, but you know that it would be hard to revolt against your own family for anybody. Even for the prince of Faerie.

He captures your eyes, his soft brown ones making crescents with his gentle smile. “We did,” he muses.

“Remember our first night in Court?” you say. You’d been so uneasy, searching for a place to fit in. Then, from the crowds of overwhelming faces, he’d appeared, all charm and welcoming smiles. How couldn’t you have let your heart fall?

Another flash of disconcertment, his smile faltering. He hides it behind another sip of his drink. Swallowing, he nods, laughing off-kilter. “I do. I think watching you dance that time was the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Odd, but you don’t push the issue. If he says that he’s fine, it must just be something to little effect. “What made you come up to me that night?” you say, remembering how confused you’d been when such a pretty gentry boy had taken interest in you. You’d agonized over why he’d done so for long, and sometimes you still, but you’ve made some peace with it by now.

His lips are tight. “I... It’s hard to explain.”

You accept that answer at face-value and let your head fall into his shoulder while you watch Kai dutifully work at his songmaking. Among those making the music for Court, his contributions stand out as the most enthralling. Faerie music is too elusive for you to decipher why, but perhaps it’s just his lazed passion. “I understand,” you say. His shoulder is tight and less cushy than you expect it to be. Looking up to him, you frown to see how he’s looking down at you, eyes stormy. He looks like he’s sick to his stomach. You go to ask if he’s going to be okay, but he speaks before you can.

“Pretty, I... I have to tell you something.” He pulls you off of him to look into your eyes. He’s always been so steadfast and sure, but now his gaze wavers. “I’m so sorry.”

Your stomach drops. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. “What?” you say, a tingle in your spine telling you that something isn’t right; that you’re not going to like what he’s going to say. “Yeonjun, you’re making me nervous. Is something wrong?”

You know it’s awful and you’re not sure why you do it, but for a split second, you inspect the hall for possible attackers. A terrible bout of potent adrenaline makes you want to run or cry. Beomgyu is here, right?

He swallows hard, face a ghostly pallor. “I can’t keep doing this,” he says, voice trembling. “I need to tell you the truth, it’s... it’s been eating me alive. I can’t look into your sweet face and know...”

Acid climbs up your throat. Your heart joins it, thick in your throat and choking you. “What? Know what Yeonjun?” you ask, lips trembling. Your skin prickles, hair raising. You may throw up. He looks stricken in place, not answering you. “What?” you demand.

“I didn’t come up to you for no reason that day.”

Your heart, still caught in your throat, bursts. It’s a horrifying, bloody affair. “No,” you say, shaking your head. You feel so removed from your body that you can almost envision how your blood-drained face might match his.

“I knew that you were the spies the moment I saw you. It was....” He sucks in a breath. Your world spins around you as you wait. “I was supposed to determine who the spies were. I was supposed to have them killed, but pretty, I knew I couldn’t do that the moment I saw you. I thought it was just going to be some... some random faerie that I’d...”

If your world was spinning before, it’s now flipped upside down and inverted. “No,” you repeat, a guttural plea that you know won’t change anything. It’s the only word that your mouth will make for right now, though.

You’re hurt. You’re scared. You’re angry. You’re frozen.

Yeonjun grabs for your hands, but you rip yourself away from him, your glaring eyes so at odds with your wobbling lips. “It doesn’t change anything,” he says. “It doesn’t change how I love you now. You know I love you. You know I love you, right? I’m so sorry. I would never hurt you. I did my best to protect you. Please, I never wanted to hurt you,” he rambles, frantically grabbing for your arms as he falls down to his knees before you.

A few faeries around you gasp, and a blur of their commotion forms around you. The crowned prince of Faerie just went to his knees. Your eyes dart wildly around their guffawing faces, and between a space you spot a familiar face: cold eyes and a cracked mask of indifference. He looks right at you.

What on earth is going on? How is this life right now? You snap back to Yeonjun in front of you.

“Please, don’t look at me like that, pretty,” he pleads. “Please.” His voice cracks, eyes frantic. “Slap me. Tell me you hate me for it. But please, don’t look at me like you’re scared of me.”

Tears scald your cheeks.

“I know that it’s selfish of me to ask you that; I know, I know it—but please, I can’t handle it, love. I was never going to let anything happen to you, I knew it the moment I saw you. I felt it right here”—he gestures to his beating heart, the one your hand had felt and cherished so only last night—“I knew that no matter how big my ambitions were, they would never be bigger than that.”

You can’t listen to any more. His words pour out onto your skin, but they all slip off like rain upon a beast’s winter pelt. None can penetrate the ringing in your ears.

Yeonjun sees how retracted you’ve become. “Pretty, please,” he says, slower and more dire now. “Say something."

You don’t know what to do. Your feet are rooted fast to the ground, but you know that you have to leave, or else you’ll start creating excuses for him. You know yourself too well to let that happen.

Picking up your skirts, you manage only a few words to part him with. “Though your kind can’t lie,” you say, “you have been the biggest liar I have ever known. You said you loved me.”

“I do,” he says, shaking his head, eyes twinkling. “I do.”

Maybe love is a different thing to a faerie.

You take off. He calls for you, but it’s muffled by the restlessness of the folk around you and the still-playing music. You dart between openings and bounce off bodies, lights and angry faces a blur in your frenzy. Most folk don’t spare you even a glance; nothing could pull them from their merriment. But others gawk at you like you put on a performance, greedy eyes drinking in any amount of fanfare. Their eyes itch under your skin. Crossing the expanse of the hall has never felt so arduous.

You’ve become their spectacle.

Breaking into the cold night air, you don’t run home or collapse to your knees in a sob. You hold your dress hard in your hands, the one he’d gifted you among so many others, its fabric bunching in your fists, and stand there as if frozen staring into the tree line ahead. You don’t move and you don’t think; both would remind you that this is real and that you are a fool. You just allow the bitter air to swaddle your skin.

You don’t even know if you doubt that he loves you. You don’t even know if he actually never intended to hurt you. Had there been times where all you’d done was look at him with starry eyes, and he’d look at you deciding whether or not to have you killed?

Why are you even here? There is nothing left for you. Whatever simple joys you thought you’d found, they’re gone. You’re so far away from home, and you’ve nobody to call home. You’d left behind your beginnings of a purpose, and now the only purpose you serve is to rot away in Taehyun’s estate because you demanded that you stay here.

All that time you’d spent worrying, and still, you walked yourself into this. You’re a joke. And now, you’re fully serving your purpose as one—to be laughed at.

White breaths unfurl into the night air before you, floating off to join the snowflakes and heavy fog. You just watch those fluffy flakes fall for a while.

Snow creaks under a few footsteps behind you, someone letting you know that they’re there. “You’ve gotten awfully good at sneaking around,” Taehyun says.

You let your head fall back, sighing slowly out through your nose. Turning to him, you spit, “I understand. You were right. I got it, okay? I don’t need you to come here and rub it in.”

Beomgyu approaches from behind Taehyun.

Taehyun doesn’t say anything for a bit, ice-hard eyes darting all over your face. “Take her back to the estate,” he tells Beomgyu.

Glad to escape him, you begin your way on your own. You know that he’s only looking at your break down as pathetic. Perhaps it is, but recognizing that doesn’t make it hurt any less. Wind lapping at your wet cheeks have them stinging as you walk.

Beomgyu awkwardly trails behind you as you follow the path that had become trodden in the time that you and Taehyun have been here, foliage and shrubbery broken down to make somewhat of a path.

He doesn’t speak; you don’t expect him to. Instead, you break the quiet yourself, unable to stand only the sound of wind twirling between trees. “I should’ve taken that ridiculous charm thing,” you say, laughing through your tears. That hag had absolutely been able to feel what was coming with you with whatever intuition that the magic in her bones lends her.

“But then,” Beomgyu says, “you wouldn’t know the truth.”

That’s true. Not knowing the truth doesn’t make it untrue, but at least it spares your fragile heart. “I don’t know if I’d mind that,” you tell him. “I think I’d prefer it.”

Ignorance is bliss, as the saying goes.

❆

You don’t remember falling asleep. You remember climbing into your bed, dreading that you’ll be in your head all night, but to some mercy, you’d found sleep not long after that.

You’d pulled yourself from bed, no matter how it had grown a gravitational pull and insisted that it’d hold you warm while you weep. If you hadn’t, you might not have gotten up at all. As a girl, you’d force yourself into the day’s routine when you had your worst days. It’s the only way that you live through it. You’d also made an effort to walk past your wardrobe. It carries so much of him: the lovely things he’d gifted you, his letters, and that book he’d lent you. It’s not that you don’t want any of these things; to wither away in your bed, to go through his things and wonder how someone who’d showered you so had meant to be your killer, to drag your feet... It’s that you can’t.

You poke your needle through the fabric. On the cut of white fabric stretched inside the embroidery hoop, you’ve embroidered a dozen woven wheel stitch flowers of different colors and types. Your bottom aches against the hardwood flooring and your lower spine strains, but you don’t pay any mind to their complaining. You just continue to embroider the little flowers. Some are poppy, some rose, and some you’d made up just to have more to stitch.

A knock resounds through the war room from the doorway. You look to see Taehyun there. He’s dressed in his Court attire.

“You should get dressed,” he says. “It’s almost midnight. If you want to make it in time, you’ve got to get ready now.”

Since when had he decided that you’re okay to go? It’s as if this elusive threat that’d he’d been so careful has up and disappeared. “You can go. It’ll take me too long to get ready.”

Truth be told, you’d go sick seeing Yeonjun’s face, and you know without a doubt that you would.

“It’s the solstice,” Taehyun says, stepping into the room. He looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t.

Despite how much you had wanted to see it, your heart is too apathetic for it to be worth anything now. Returning to the same faces that had seen your demonstration and no doubt now talk of it... You’d rather finish your fifth rose. “I know.”

He hesitates, studying you while gears turn in his head. “Hadn’t you thought that something would happen on the solstice?” he says. “Come on. It’s worth seeing how this unfolds.”

“Why? We aren’t spies anymore. I don’t care what happens in their conflict. It’s well beyond my control as a human here.”

He grimaces, but you don’t recognize the look there to be anger, more a rigidness. He rests his hand on his sword as he always does. “Then we’ll stay here.”

You furrow your brows. “Huh?”

“We can celebrate the solstice here,” he elaborates. “We don’t need to do it there. Plenty of folk celebrate on their own.”

It dawns upon you that this is his stilted attempt at comforting you. It’s the only way he knows how. You push off the ground. You couldn’t ignore this sliver, however little, of tenderness. You’re not sure if you’d ever see it again if you did. You’ll take anything to distract your mind, as well. You can’t escape the image of Yeonjun’s eyes as he’d pleaded with you from the ground. “I’m not sure Beomgyu will join us, though. He doesn’t believe in the need to celebrate the solstices.”

“He will if I command it,” he says.

“What, you’re going to command the poor kelpie to sit and watch a bonfire with us?” you say, imagining how he’d brood.

The north is wickedly cold at all times, but it’s especially so after night falls. You shuffle closer to the bonfire that Taehyun had built. It’s multitudes smaller than the bonfire you’d sat around with Yeonjun, but it’s warm enough for just the two of you. You quickly shove down those tainted memories before they sting. A lump of emotion forms in your throat before you can, though. You clear it. “Is there anything special that you’re supposed to do?”

Feeding one last log into the flame, he watches it catch. “We started this really early,” he says. “The fire is supposed to keep you warm and represent the sun’s warmth until sunrise...” He trails off, sliding the cuffs of his shirt that he’d slid up to his elbows to tend to the fire down and sucking in an awkward breath. He looks between the fire and you as though he’d not fully thought out his offer when he’d made it.

You face your palms to the orange flame, letting the roiling waves of heat warm them. “It’s nice like this.”

The flame sizzles and pops, spewing sparks and eating up the wood, for a few long moments. You’re not in a talky mood, and Taehyun doesn’t seem to know where to begin on conversation with you that isn't functional. No snow falls around you, and any wind is cut by the estate. This—a place to lose yourself to your mind—is both the thing you need and what you most should not have.

Taehyun stands watching the fire twirling, his arms over his chest.

“Is your shoulder healing fine?” you ask, once the air starts feeling a bit heavy with the weight of the prolonged quiet. “Are my stitches holding up fine? No infection, or anything?”

His gaze flicks up to you. “You stitched it up pretty well,” he answers. “I saw the flowers you were making. You’ve got a good hand.”

Frowning, you say, “You didn’t say it’s not infected...”

“It’s not infected,” he says.

That could be a lie or the truth, you know. But... this sort of deception, you’re more comfortable with. Your human mind can pick up on these subtleties, can catch the careful intonation of somebody trying to hide something behind a lie. “Could I see it?” you ask him.

He hesitates, expression flat as his eyes convey the extent of his consideration. “You can.” He grabs at his tunic, the fabric the only thing his frost blood even needs to wear out in the cold, and pulls it over his head.

You swallow hard and fight the flush to your cheeks at the sight of his scar-flecked flesh, his muscled abdomen disappearing as he turns around to show you his back. When you’d last seen his bare skin, you’d been so high on your fear and adrenaline that you’d barely flinched.

Blinking, you focus on the arrow puncture at his shoulder blade. It’s done some healing, but tinged by an angry red and visibly swollen around the stitches. You curse.

Of course, he’d rather let his shoulder rot away than admit that he needs any more of your help than he’d been forced to allow. That would require admitting that he’s not just an impenetrable wall of ice. “That is definitely infected,” you say. “Were you just going to let that kill you? Infections like that are beyond help once they get in your bloodstream.”

“I’ve had infected wounds before,” he says, preparing to put his shirt back on. “This one is nothing. It’ll take a bit longer, but... It’ll heal up fine.”

You grab his arm. “Just let me clean it a bit,” you insist. “It’s not that big of a deal. You’re not scared that it’s gonna hurt, are you?”

Sighing, Taehyun says, “I thought you wanted to enjoy the solstice.”

The hopeful girl you’d been had wanted that, but now it’s just a reminder of everything you don’t want to remember. You wave your hand in the air dismissively. “We did. Come on.”

You find a bucket to fill with water and cloth along with some stash of ancient spirits in the kitchens, their containers lined with a layer of dust so thick that you know they’re left over from Taehyun’s father. He watches you gather it all.

You beckon him to turn and show you his shoulder again. He does, bracing his arms on a counter and letting his head hang. You spill out some of that strong liquor into the wound. You’re not really sure if it’ll work as a disinfectant, but as a girl you’d seen an older woman pour it over her wound once, and it’s all you know.

Gently dabbing at his shoulder now with the water-soaked rag, swollen except for where the stitches sinch it, you say, “You should’ve been going gentle on this thing.”

Taehyun doesn’t make any fuss as you prod at the wound. “I had more important things to concern myself with,” he says plainly. You press the wet rag to the wound and hold it there, and he begins to try and redirect the conversation to anything other than about himself. “What did the prince say to you at Court?”

Your stomach drops. “It was nothing.”

“I know that’s not the truth,” he says, picking up his head to try and look over his shoulder at you. “Tell me the truth.”

You take the long, torn strips of cloth and begin wrapping it around the expanse of his broad shoulders in a sloppy and amateurish wrap. As long as it shields the wound, it’ll work. “That’s rich coming from you,” you say. “There’s plenty that you lie to me about. You even lied about this.” You tap his shoulder.

Turning now that you’re done, Taehyun eyes you. You don’t know if he’d been able to hear anything over the sounds of Court or if he’d heard it all with his better hearing ears. You can’t tell which it is.

“I’ll hear it from some Court gossiper anyway. I think you’d prefer to tell me it yourself.”

The thought of that scene being a topic of Court gossip makes you ill, but you know that it’s true. The folk love the show, especially one that includes a prince of Faerie on his knees in front of a human. Red-hot embarrassment takes a leisurely stroll up your spine. Your biggest fear has taken flesh in the cruelest way possible.

Well, if he’s going to end up knowing anyway... You’d prefer it’s from your mouth. You don’t know what sort of conflated half-truths the folk might come up with, since they have no more idea what happened than what they saw. “He was supposed to kill us,” you say, chest too tight to explain it in any depth. “Or, at least, find out who we are, so that we could be killed.”

Taehyun doesn’t look shocked. He nods. “So, they anticipated our arrival, then. The odds had been stacked against us from the beginning.”

You nod. Would you have been able to escape? If things had never become entangled between you and Yeonjun, would you and Taehyun lived beyond the first day? Taehyun is strong and you know that he’s no doubt survived plenty in his life, but you’d have been caught completely unaware. “Yeah.”

“I told you that he’d show you his colors eventually.”

You want to fight him on that, but you can’t. You have nothing to say. He’d been right.

What’s left for you now that he has?

…🪶 ashlynn's note RAHHH! like i said, this part gave me a bit of grief because part 3 was left so open ended—i had so many options and paths i could follow, but ultimately, i chose this one! how do we feel?

﹙🏷️ ﹚ @lvrs-street2mmorrow , @soohashits , @f4iryfever , @arcturus444 , @linqed , @serenityism00 , @immelissaaa , @luv4cheol , @lickingan0rchid , @20-cms , @hhoneylix , @beestvng , @sanshiningstarhwa , @hyucktapes if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

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speakergame · 9 months ago

Text

Progress Update - 3/4/24

Hello and happy March!

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 😅 Well, I finally have some good news for you this time: I have some actual news!

I'm happy to be able to announce at last that an update is on its way! I’ve still got some assets to make and code cleanup and testing to finish, but I should finally have something to show you soon.

I’ll put a cut at the end of this and go into more detail about the what and why of what I’ve been working on during this long and unintended hiatus, but the tl;dr is that I hope to have an update out by the end of the month, and that said update will break any saves made in Chapter 4. Unfortunate, but unavoidable, since Chapter 4 had to be recoded from the beginning 😞

I just want to thank all of you once again for sticking with me through my extended silence! Especially to my patrons who’ve put up with me putting everything on pause month after month while I dealt with my real life shit, and to everyone who’s sent me kind and supportive messages to let me know Speaker hasn’t been forgotten. It really means a lot to me.

Okay, enough of that sappy shit! I’m gonna get back to work finishing this up 😁 I’ll put out another update later this month once I have a more definite release date.

Thank you all for reading! I hope you’re having a fantastic 2024 so far, and that the rest of the week treats you kindly. See y’all soon! 💙💙💙

(For those who want a more detailed breakdown on what’s been happening and what to expect, hit the readmore)

I won’t go into the personal life stuff I’ve been dealing with this past year that has slowed down my work, but as far as the actual game goes:

To put it simply, I just wasn’t happy with it. Some of it could be because of how many times I had to reread the same section while I was coding the scenes that would’ve taken place after the last update, but no matter how much I edited or rearranged it, I didn’t like how that scene turned out. There was something… formulaic that had been happening with the way I always laid out scenes, and a bit of stagnation in the story, character, and relationship development that bothered me.

So I rewrote it. And when I still didn’t like it, I rewrote it again. And I still didn’t like it. I thought about scrapping the whole thing on more than one occasion as I struggled to get out of the corner I’d written myself into.

Inspiration finally struck at the beginning of this year, thanks in part to another interactive novel I follow, and I really like the direction I’ve taken it now.

Instead of the RO split scenes happening where the last one left off, Speaker, Seer, and Gavin are gonna have a chat about Things™ to move the next story arc forward. Then Speaker will get some downtime, by themself at first and then in an extended scene split with the RO of their choosing.

All the Big Plot Things that were going to happen in Chapter 4 will be moved to Chapter 5 instead, and 4 will be a bit more of a filler episode. A deep breath before the plunge, as it were.

This split won’t just be a quick conversation/reaction from the RO, but a full on different direction for the rest of the chapter based on who you choose. Most of them will involve leaving the house; all of them will involve actual one-on-one time (or one-on-two time, as the case may be) away from the others. And though romance isn’t required, all of them will have the potential to really move the romance forward if you so choose. One or two might even have a lock-in choice (maybe. I’m not 100 percent on that, so don’t hold me to it)

These scenes won’t be in the next update, because they’re all very complex, but the update will definitely have the Seer chat and at least some of the by-yourself stuff. The update after will have the rest of the alone time stuff (including the clothes/body CC you’ve all been waiting for), and then the one after will start the RO scenes. I think.

I may actually split the RO scenes into separate updates, and let my darlings over at Patreon vote for the order they’re released. That way I can focus on one at a time instead of trying to split my attention six ways at once.

Okay, that’s enough rambling for me today. Time to get back to work! Still got a lot to get done before this is ready, but it’s so close now.

#speaker game #progress update #so happy to finally have some progress to update about XD #maybe I can finally start answering some asks again too and fully resurrect this poor blog

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zosin-ya · 2 months ago

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 10 - ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇ?

summary: This day should have been special, with you and Law celebrating your academic milestone together with friends and family. Yet, Laws private and closed off personality shots back at him, causing you to break down.

tags.: Law x Reader, Modern AU, Laws parents, Drama Mama (i love drama), n.sfw, mirror sex, Laws ex being back

a.n.: I'm basing the ceremony off the European (or my countries) medicine degree, since that's the only thing I am familiar with. I rewrote the last part so many times, hope you enjoy ;; ♡

>>[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]<<

After Yuki’s little stunt, you and Law decided to play it cool. Letting her believe her plan had failed was more satisfying than giving her the reaction she wanted. You figured ignoring her attention-seeking behavior was for the best. There were more important things to focus on, like getting through the first half of university and preparing for the upcoming white coat ceremony.

While the ceremony was a big deal to you, a sign that you were officially moving from pre-clinical studies to clinical work, Law couldn’t care less. In his eyes, it was just another way for the university to inflate egos. Sure, it meant hands-on experience in the hospital, but exams weren’t going anywhere, and that white coat was just for show.

Considering that Law was aiming to be a cardiac surgeon, the coat didn't mean much to him. He wouldn’t have to deal with the coat—or much small talk with patients, either. His grin widened slightly at the thought of working in the OR, his patients unconscious while he was hands deep in their bodies.

You caught his expression as he lounged back on your couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, with an almost crooked grin of his.

“What you thinking about?” you asked, glancing at him in the mirror while fixing your hair. A towel was still wrapped around you from your shower.

His eyes flicked lazily toward you, the grin still playing on his lips. “Nothin’.”

“Mhm, sure,” you said, unconvinced. “Anyway, aren’t you going to get ready? Maybe shave?”

“Don’t like my beard?” he teased, a smirk still there as he rubbed over the faint stubble on his cheeks.

“With those dark circles, you’re starting to look like a junkie. Go on, hop to it.”

He sighed dramatically, and gave in. “Yes, ma’am.” Dragging himself off the couch, he brushed past you on his way to the bathroom, clearly not in a hurry.

Even though neither of you had made anything official, Law had started leaving a few things at your place—spare clothes, his shampoo, a razor, toothbrush. It was clear you were more than just casually dating now, but neither of you felt the need to define it. Things just were.

As you joined him in the bathroom and slipped into your underwear dropping the towel, he leaned over the sink, applying shaving cream to his face.

“Any of your people coming?” he asked, washing his hands before starting on the shaving.

You hummed and clipped your bra closed at the back “Just Bonney and Nami, how about you?”

He let out a long-suffering sigh, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Unfortunately, yes. My parents and Rosi.”

“You don’t want them to come?”

He paused, staring at his reflection for a second before dragging the razor across his jawline carefully. “They’ll just... make it a thing.” He grimaced slightly, wondering if they would have been just as proud if he didn't pursue medicine. He knew Rosinante would, but he wasn't too sure about his parents..

"Well," you said with a smile, "it's kind of a big deal."

"For you, maybe." He smirked at your reflection in the mirror. "I'm just here for the surgeries."

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Fine, fine. But you’re still shaving, so I win this round.”

“Only because I don't want to look like a 'junkie,’” he muttered, wiping his face with a towel and checking in the mirror again if he did a proper job. He let his fingers run over his face, while you watched him with a little smile, taking in how handsome he was. Even with that rough stubble he just removed, your heart still skipped a beat whenever you admired him.

You stepped closer and pressed a gentle kiss on his neck. Law watched you through the mirror, a faint grin tugging on the corners of his lips. As much as he liked the sweet moment, he couldn’t help but tease you. His hand sneakily found its way to your rear, suddenly grabbing your ass cheek and making you gasp in surprise.

Before you could protest, he walked you against the glass door of your shower. You pressed your hands against his chest, knowing well where this was heading. “Law, we don’t have time,” you protested, a chuckle leaving your lips as he started to dip his head down to your throat, peppering it with gentle kisses.

Your breath caught at his touch, each kiss sending a shiver down your spine. His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he murmured, “Who cares…” against your neck. The shower door pressed cold against your back, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Law’s body.

“I do,” you insisted, trying to keep your voice steady despite the way his proximity was making your heart race. “I still have to get dressed.”

At this point you really questioned if Law was actually in the mood or wanting to waste precious time.

It was probably both.

Law chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours where your hands were placed in protest. “Do you?” he challenged, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. Without giving you a chance to respond, he skillfully snapped your bra open, the straps slipping off your shoulders and the fabric dangling loosely over your breasts.

You gasped, more in surprise than objection, and couldn't help but laugh at his antics. “I just put that on, Law,” you exclaimed, trying to cover yourself with your arms while you kept one hand on him, gentle pushing him off. But it was no use. You could tell by his smirk that he wouldn’t let you go.

“Never heard of a quickie?” Law teased, stepping even closer until your bodies were flush against each other. His free hand slid down to your waist, pulling you tighter against him.

“Please explain that to your parents, once we are late,” you retorted, though your resolve was weakening with each passing second. His touch was insistent, his kisses on your throat relentless, and the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—was intoxicating.

“None of their business…” Only a murmur escaped his lips, brushing them against yours now. His breath was hot against your mouth, tempting you to give in. It was getting harder to resist with every second, and you couldn’t deny that you were getting in the mood slowly, the heat in your body radiating to your core.

"…Alright, but make it quick." you sighed with a smile, giving Law the approval he needed to hear from you.

Law stepped back to pull you towards the sink. Facing the mirror, you saw him standing pressed against you, watching your reflection with a thirsty glance.

“Law…here?” you started, but his fingers found the waistband of your panties, hooking under the fabric and tugging them down your legs until they pooled at your ankles. You honestly didn't expect to have a quickie in the bathroom, considering the bedroom was right next to it. Neither did you expect to be watching how he would fuck you.

“Why not?” he mumbled, knowing that you wouldn’t protest anymore and challenging you to do so. He knew how to seduce you, and you cursed yourself for giving in, even pushing yourself against him to feel his hard cock against his jeans. Somehow the mirror in front of you made it more exciting.

Law’s smile was approving once he felt you grind at him. He let his finger run between your folds, making you sigh in satisfaction. There had to be time to get you properly wet before indulging in the quickie. You quickly tossed your bra to the side, giving his free hand more room to play.

He nipped at your earlobe before trailing kisses down your neck, slowly putting pressure on your clit as he captured your chest with his free hand. The cold air in the bathroom gave you goosebumps, stiffening your nipples which only perked up even more once his skilled fingers pinched them gently.

“Law, please…” you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper as you leaned back against him, completely at his mercy. Your hands gripped the edge of the sink as you moved against his fingers, already feeling the heat pooling at your core.

“Please what?” he whispered against your ear, his voice low and soothing. He moved one hand to your hip, guiding you to spread your legs slightly. With his other hand, he continued to massage your clit, his fingers sliding in slow, deliberate circles.

“Stop wasting time, for god’s sake. Fuck me already.” You voice was demanding, which made Law grin at you amused through the mirror. If the time wasn’t short, he’d lecture you not to command him around, letting you know who was in control. But he gave in, just this once.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers worked their magic. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel your body responding eagerly to his touch. Your hips began to move on their own, grinding subtly against his hand and spreading your juice on his fingers.

Law’s grip on your hip tightened, and he shifted behind you, positioning himself. The sticky wetness on his fingers told him he could continue. He reached down and unbuckled his belt, the sound sharp and loud in the quiet bathroom. The rustle of fabric followed as he pushed his jeans and boxers down enough to free his throbbing erection.

You felt the head of his cock press against your entrance, your body trembling with anticipation. Law held you steady, his hand returning to your hips as he guided himself inside you, luring a sweet moan out of you.

The initial penetration was slow, almost agonizingly so, as he filled you inch by inch. You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, desperate for more. The feeling of being stretched around him was incredible, and you couldn’t help but call out his name.

"Law..." you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. Your eyes locked with his in the mirror, and you saw the same hunger reflected back at you. The way you arched your back, pressing your ass against his hips in desperation, was just perfect. You wrapped an arm around his neck from behind, pulling him closer, feeling the heat of his body seep into yours.

Law began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, allowing you both to adjust to the connection. He watched your face closely, not being able to pull his eyes from the sight in front of him. "You’re so beautiful," his voice thick with desire and almost affectionate, contrasting with the rough pace he was picking up.

You cried out his name, not being able to hold onto him anymore as the room filled with the sound of skin clapping, letting yourself fall forward, gripping the ceramic of the sink. Law grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled your head up, forcing you to look back at the mirror. As he kept moving, he leaned down close to your ear, never separating his eyes from your reflection. "Let me see that pretty face of yours."

You couldn’t properly respond, moans slipping through your lips as you rocked against the sink from his rhythmic thrusts. Your eyes locked with his, now admiring him while he fucked you. His lips were parted, letting out low grunts as his eyebrows furrowed each time he snapped his hips against you. Seeing him like this clouded your mind, causing your thighs to shake in pleasure.

"You like this, don’t you?" he grunted with a grin, grabbing your chin and turning your face away from the mirror, now facing him. With a swift move, he pulled your body up again, causing your back to arch once more. Law had a tight grip on you, as he thrust relentlessly with a pace that made your tits bounce along.

His hands traveled up your body, cupping your breasts and squeezing them roughly. You gasped, your back arching even further as he continued to pound into you. The sensation was overwhelming, leaving you breathless. You could feel your orgasm building, your core tightening with each thrust.

"Law, I’m… I’m close," you panted, your voice broke as you tried to keep up with him.

He didn’t respond with words, only a growl of satisfaction as he picked up the pace even more. His fingers dug into your flesh, leaving marks that you would no doubt feel later, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the overwhelming need to come, to let go and surrender to the pleasure he was giving you.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice hoarse with need.

You obeyed, your eyes meeting his as he continued to drive into you. The intensity of his gaze was enough to push you over the edge, and you felt your walls clench around him as you came. You called out his name shamelessly into the room as you body tensed up. Law followed right after, his own climax hitting him hard as he buried himself deep inside you, his low moans echoing off the walls.

For a moment, everything was quiet except for the sound of your ragged breathing. Law slowly pulled out of you, causing his load to spill and run down your inner thigh. You collapsed forward, grabbing old of the sink once more to steady yourself. Law leaned above you, kissing your cheek ever so gently, as usual after he ruined you within moments.

You slowly looked up, looking at him through the mirror. You hair was a mess, your cheeks flushed and your breath was going quick.

Law wanted to admire you a bit longer, but suddenly got scolded.

You turned around, slapping his chest and the lecture began. “Great now I have to shower again! You made a mess!” You pointed at your naked body, his cum down your inner leg and dripping on the bathroom tiles. Law could only chuckle as he tucked his dick back into his jeans and closed his belt. “Haven’t looked more beautiful.” He leaned down, cheeky grin on his lips which made you almost melt right at the spot. But you held you stance and rolled your eyes, with a smile cracking your lips.

“Get dressed or I will tell you parents.”

With your last words being said, you stepped aside to shower once more, while Law cozily walked into your bedroom, seemingly satisfied. The ceremony didn’t seem so bad after this.

Law stood in the living room, checking his outfit in front of the mirror. He dragged his shirt on, clearly being uncomfortable in it. The hem hung loosely over his belt, untucked, and he wasn’t going to bother fixing it.

He’d much rather be in his usual jeans and hoodie, but today, there wasn’t much of a choice.

You glanced over at him as you finished getting ready and stepped out. He was adjusting his collar with a half-hearted effort, but his gaze quickly shifted to you.

His eyes swept over your figure, lingering for a moment, before a faint smile tugged at his lips. To him, you were stunning no matter what. But seeing you all dressed up, made his heart skip a beat. You looked stunning, it almost took his breath away. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this.

While he was silently appreciating you, you leaned against the door frame with a teasing grin. “Looking fine, Trafalgar.”

His smile dropped instantly as he looked back at his reflection in the mirror, adjusting his shirt again. “Stop that.”

But you weren’t about to be convinced otherwise. The black button-up shirt stretched slightly across his shoulders whenever he moved, highlighting the muscles beneath. The top buttons were left open, revealing a glimpse of the tattoos on his chest and collarbone. He paired it with black dress pants that made his long legs look even more refined compared to his usual tight-fitting jeans.

You'd never seen him like this before, and the change caught you off guard—in a good way. Even the watch on his wrist, a gift from Rosinante, added an unexpected touch of sophistication.

“Seriously,” you said with an approving nod, “you look hot.”

Law grumbled something under his breath, but there was no hiding the faint flush creeping up his neck. “Don’t get used to it.”

Chuckling you stepped closer and adjusted his collar. “Too late.”

You arrived together in front the ceremony hall, students dressed in the same formal attire were already gathering outside, standing around small cocktail tables with drinks—most holding glasses of champagne. People were chatting with family and friends who had come to witness the event. It was all very proper.

As you and Law approached the crowd, it suddenly hit you—you’d be meeting his parents today.

How did you completely forget about that?

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. You weren’t even sure what you were to him. His…friend? That didn’t fit at all. His girlfriend? Maybe, but was Law ready to use that word?

While you spiraled in your thoughts, Law was the picture of calm, casually spinning his bike keys around his finger. He clearly wasn’t fazed. To him, it wasn’t a big deal at all.

“Law?” you stopped walking for a moment, causing him to glance back at you with raised eyebrows.

“Mh?”

“Do your parents know that... uh, you know...” You gestured awkwardly between the two of you, unsure of what to call this. You hoped he’d get the hint without you having to say it outright.

Law just stared at you for a beat, processing your question. “That we... you know, are a thing?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, waiting for his answer.

“I never felt the need to tell them,” he said casually, his tone nonchalant.

You felt your chest tighten at that, and not in a good way. You knew Law was private—he didn’t share much with anyone—but hearing it still stung. Was this... you... not important enough to him? Your mind raced, and despite your best efforts to push it away, you couldn’t help but think of the pictures you’d seen on Yuki’s social media—the ones with Law’s family, her standing there like she belonged.

He must’ve noticed the shift in your expression because suddenly, his hand rested on your back, gentle but reassuring. “Hey,” he said softly, “don’t overthink it. I barely tell them anything.”

“Okay...” you mumbled, but it didn’t quite convince you. You forced a smile, but inside, doubts lingered.

As you walked into the crowd together, your mood had taken a sudden dip. Your thoughts spiraled, clouding over the excitement you’d felt earlier. Law, never the best at emotional support, glanced over at you but wasn’t sure what to say. He hoped that once you met his parents, things would shift. To him, it didn’t really matter what they thought. He liked you—well, more than like you—and that should’ve been enough, right?

“Hey, Law!” Rosinante’s booming voice snapped both of you out of your heads. He stood at a cocktail table, dressed in a suit that was unmistakably his own style—loud and unique. Beside him were two people who could only be Law’s parents.

Your heart raced as you approached them, and your throat felt dry. You suddenly wished you could reach for Law’s hand, to hold it for some kind of comfort. But his hand was buried deep in his pocket, leaving you feeling strangely vulnerable.

When you reached the table, you forced a nervous smile. Law’s parents eyed you curiously, surprise flickering across their faces. It stung, realizing they hadn’t known about you. You had been hoping, even if just a little, that maybe Law had mentioned you in passing.

“My little baby, I’ve missed you! Come here!” His mother, Lea, wrapped Law in a tight hug, squeezing him affectionately. Law’s posture stiffened, clearly not the biggest fan of the physical affection, but you caught a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. His father, Matheo playfully ruffled his hair, the pride in his eyes unmistakable.

“And who is your friend?” Matheo asked, turning to you with a warm, friendly smile.

You swallowed the knot in your throat, relieved by their kindness, though the nerves still fluttered inside you.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” you said, shaking their hands, doing your best to keep your voice steady.

“Lea,” his mother said with a smile, squeezing your hand lightly. “And this is Matheo.”

Matheo broke the ice with small talk, making you feel a little more at ease. “So, you met through university? Rosi mentioned something about that.”

You nodded, relaxing slightly. At least someone thought it was worth mentioning. “Yeah, we met while studying for an exam.”

Lea smiled warmly, glancing at Matheo with so much love it warmed your heart. “Oh, that’s how we met too,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she looked at her husband, who chuckled softly.

But then, Lea’s expression shifted, her enthusiasm rising as she asked, “So, which part of the North are you from?”

The question caught you off guard. Had Rosinante mixed something up? Before you could respond, you sensed a shift in Law’s mood. You could hear the faint jingle of his keys as he fidgeted with them in his pocket. Something was off, but you couldn’t quite figure out what.

“I’m actually from the East,” you replied, feeling a bit shy. “Just a small town.”

For a brief moment, you noticed something shift in his parents’ expressions—was that disappointment?

You felt a pang of unease. You knew the East wasn’t prestigious or well-known for much, but you’d never felt ashamed of where you came from. Still, their reaction stung.

You were pulled from your thoughts when Bonney and Nami approached your table, both flashing wide smiles, true to their word about attending your ceremony. They were dressed to impress, each in tight-fitting dresses and heels, the daringly low necklines drawing more than a few glances. The moment they wrapped you in a warm hug, some of your nerves melted away—you were grateful to have your friends by your side in what felt like an awkward situation.

“Thanks for being here you two,” you greeted them, the relief evident in your voice.

“Of course! How could we miss our favorite doctor getting her lill' white coat?” Bonney teased lovingly, giving your cheek a playful pinch. Meanwhile, Nami offered Law a friendly nod and a quick smile, a much quieter but no less genuine greeting.

“And congratulations to you too, Law,” Nami added.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” Law replied, his smile small but sincere. Despite the headaches your friends had given him at their first encounter, he was starting to warm up to them. Their genuine support and friendliness were hard to resist, even for him. It reminded him, in a strange way, of his own two overly enthusiastic friends.

“Is this your family?” Bonney asked, glancing over at Law’s parents and Rosinante, who was quick to step forward with a broad grin, extending his hand.

“Proud uncle of our little Law! So nice to meet you,” Rosinante beamed, shaking hands enthusiastically.

You couldn’t help but notice that Law’s parents—especially his mother—seemed to force their smiles just a little. Lea, in particular, kept casting subtle, judgmental glances at Bonney and Nami, her eyes flicking to the cleavage on display. The tension was palpable, and you shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to feel.

Nami, ever perceptive and clearly used to these kinds of looks, wasn’t about to let it slide. As she reached out to shake Lea’s hand, she leaned in a bit closer, purposefully emphasizing the very thing that had drawn Lea’s attention. Rubbing it in—literally, almost under Lea’s nose—she smiled sweet and unfazed. “It’s great to meet you. Guess Law got his eyes from his beautiful mother.”

Her casual confidence and charm caught Lea off guard for a moment, a small smile formed on her lips. “Oh, please, that’s too kind.”

Law shot you a quick glance, clearly picking up on how Nami had defused the tension with his mother. He had to admit, her response was sharp—turning the obvious judgment into a compliment. It was a clever move, one that he could appreciate. And, it worked. His mother, who had been cool and a bit standoffish, seemed to soften under Nami’s charm.

You couldn’t help but smile slightly, feeling a sense of pride in how smoothly your friends were handling the situation. They didn’t just blend in—they took control of the moment with grace. Bonney, in particular, was in her element, chatting with Matheo like they were old friends. Her laughter was infectious, and she’d already managed to crack a couple of jokes that had him chuckling.

For a brief moment, Law caught your eyes again, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at his lips. Your friends really knew what they’re doing.

As people began to trickle inside, the soft buzz of conversation suggesting it was time for the ceremony to start, you and Law made your way toward the stage. Your friends and family settled into the audience, ready to watch the proceedings. Names were called one by one, and when your name echoed through the hall, you stepped up to receive your diploma, marking the completion of the pre-clinic stage. The head of the medical department gave a long, somewhat dry speech, but even you had to admit it was inspiring in parts.

Bonney and Nami were your biggest cheerleaders, erupting into loud applause that made you feel like a star on your big day. Law’s family, seated nearby, clapped just as loudly when his turn came, though you could see from a distance that Rosinante was the one shedding tears of pride. It warmed your heart to see how much this meant to him.

Once the ceremony wrapped up, you rushed to your friends, falling into their arms as they hugged you tight, bursting with pride. Law endured a similar treatment from his family, although his awkwardness was clear—he wasn’t one for big emotional displays. You could tell he thought the whole ordeal was a bit much, already counting down the minutes until he could go home and relax.

As everyone drifted outside, Bonney and Nami split off to grab a round of champagne, eager to kick off the celebrations. You watched them walk away, but the familiar judgmental look from Lea caught your attention. It seemed Nami's charm hadn't quite been enough to change her mind completely.

And just as you thought you could finally relax and enjoy the celebration, the person you wished to never see again approached your group.

Your heart sank the moment you saw Yukis confident smile.

“Ah, Matheo! Lea! I thought it was you!” her overly sweet voice rang out as she greeted Law’s parents with far too much enthusiasm. Your stomach twisted as Lea and Matheo welcomed her rather warmly, while Law clenched his jaw in visible annoyance. Rosinante, standing nearby, looked equally displeased, his frown deepening as Yuki ignored him entirely and turned her attention to Law, acting as though you weren’t even there.

“Congratulations, Law,” she cooed, her voice so sugary it made your skin crawl. “You’ll be amazing in the clinic phase. No surprise, being the son of such great doctors.” She lightly touched Law’s arm, but he quickly pulled away, the whole scene making you feel nauseous.

“You’re just as prestigious,” Lea chimed in, her chuckle sickeningly sweet. “I’ve heard wonderful things about your internship at Lvneel. If you ever need a spot, let us know—we can help you secure one.”

Yuki’s face lit up with fake gratitude. “Thank you so much! I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Before you could even process how frustrating this exchange was, Bonney and Nami returned, carrying trays of champagne glasses. The moment they saw Yuki standing there, chatting away as if she and Law were still together, their moods shifted instantly.

Bonney didn’t hesitate, cutting right to the point. “Sorry, this is a family table. And you are?” Her tone was dripping with hostility, clearly not caring to hide her disdain. Lea looked taken aback, quickly stepping in to defend.

“It’s fine. She’s family,” Lea said, as if that settled the matter.

Nami looked genuinely shocked, exchanging a bewildered glance with you and Law before turning back to Yuki, who smiled innocently. “Yeah, no,” Nami said firmly. “I’d much rather she wasn’t here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yuki, please…,” Law sighed, his voice thick with frustration. Rosinante crossed his arms, standing ready to intervene if necessary, nodding in agreement to make it clear she wasn’t welcome.

Lea and Matheo looked at each other, a bit confused and conflicted.

Yuki’s expression twisted into one of hurt, her performance impressive in its own right. “I just wanted to say congratulations,” her voice shaking as if her heart had just broken. You could barely believe the scene unfolding in front of you—Bonney and Nami were equally shocked, while Law looked beyond fed up, his irritation boiling over.

You had a strong feeling that Law's parents were missing out on something about their sons past relationship. You couldn't quite pinpoint any other reason. Something just felt off.

Rosinante finally intervened, sensing how close things were to spiraling out of control. He placed a gentle hand on Lea‘s shoulder, speaking with a gentle authority. “Can we talk? Just for a moment, please.” His voice was steady but firm, completely ignoring the venomous glare Yuki shot his way. Law noticed it too, and for a second, he wanted to knock that smug look off her face.

Lea and Matheo exchanged glances once more, realizing Rosinante wasn’t giving them a choice. They nodded and agreed to step aside for a private conversation. As they walked away, you exhaled sharply, feeling the tension shift but not fully dissipate.

The moment they were out of sight, Bonney locked eyes with Yuki, her protective instincts flaring up. The intensity of her gaze could’ve cut through steel. “Listen here, you little bitch,” Bonney spat, her voice low and dangerous. “You better leave before I ruin your face with my fist.”

Yuki didn’t even flinch. She eyed Bonney up and down with an air of arrogance, then scoffed dismissively. “Sure,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. Then, without missing a beat, she turned to Law with the same smug expression. “Enjoy yourself with your loser friends.”

Bonney lunged toward her, fury radiating from her, but Nami grabbed her arm just in time, holding her back. Nami’s eyes, however, were locked on Yuki, her calm demeanor doing little to hide the fire in her gaze. They both watched as she strutted away, her confidence nauseating. Every step she took felt like another jab, but you knew in your gut that she was just putting on a show to make you feel small.

Bonney shook off Nami’s grip but didn’t pursue Yuki any further, though the desire to do so was clear in her eyes. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, her knuckles white as she clenched her fists.

“I can’t believe they let her get away with this,” Nami added quietly, her voice filled with frustration.

Law's gaze softened as he looked at you, his attempt at reassurance falling short, even though his words were sincere. “Sorry Y/N, didn't expect her to come over,” he sighed, but the truth was, it didn’t ease the knot in your stomach.

“Why didn’t you mention me to your parents?” Your voice finally broke, a mixture of hurt and frustration seeping through. You had been holding it in for too long, and now, standing in front of Law, you couldn’t help but confront him.

Law blinked, clearly caught off guard by your question. Nami and Bonney exchanged glances but stayed quiet, sensing the tension thickening around the table.

“Why would I do that?” Law asked, genuinely puzzled. His tone was cool, almost dismissive, as if it hadn’t even occurred to him that this might matter.

But it mattered to you.

“Are we not serious?” Your voice rose, cutting through the heavy silence. “What is this to you, Law? You're acting like it's some casual fling. And now I meet your parents before you even tell them about me?”

Law’s expression hardened, his irritation rising to meet yours. “If I wasn’t serious, I wouldn’t still be here,” he shot back, his voice low but tense. He didn’t feel like he had to explain himself—he was the one who’d decide when and how to introduce you to his parents. Why were you so hung up on it? Wasn't it enough that he liked you?

“Oh, but your ex is somehow still part of the family, huh?”

“She isn't.” Law fired back, his irritation clear in his voice. “She’s not a part of anything anymore.”

“Oh, really?” you countered, sarcasm dripping from your words. “Because it sure seems like she still is!”

“Are you dense or something?” Law snapped, the sharpness of his words cutting through the air. It stung, but you refused to back down.

Nami shifted and Bonney opened her mouth to say something, but it was too late. The argument had already ignited, and there was no stopping it now.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, cold and unforgiving. “Am I? Or are you?” You took a step closer, eyes narrowing as you searched his face for any crack in his facade. “You didn’t think to mention that you have a toxic ex who still seems to have feelings for you? Or that your parents still love that ex? What’s next, Law? Is there something else you’re hiding? Do you have a kid you forgot to mention?”

Law’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His eyes flickered with something—maybe guilt, maybe realization—but he didn’t speak.

"You’re leaving me alone in all of this." Your voice cracked despite your best efforts to hold it together. Tears brimmed at the edge of your eyes, but you blinked them away, determined not to let them fall. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped your lips as you grabbed your bag, slinging it over your shoulder with a sharp movement. "This is ridiculous."

Law's eyes widened slightly, as if realizing too late where this was heading. He took a small step toward you, his expression a mixture of guilt and frustration, but he didn’t say anything.

You shot him a glance, one filled with hurt he didn’t know how to respond to. “Thanks for nothing, Law.”

The words stung, hanging in the air between you like a blade poised to strike as you left. He stood there, silent, his usual calm exterior cracking just enough for you to see the turmoil beneath.

You felt the tears threatening to spill over, but you kept moving, your feet carrying you away from the event.

taglist: @mars-mizuko, @tadomikiku, @hopelesslover06 , @loraleiii, @mwhahahalasagna

(Let me know in the comments and I’ll add you 🖤)

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sweetsaladpainterranch · 3 months ago

Text

The Rival (Chapter 2)

(Summary: Alastor sought to possess one of the only does in Pentagram City for the rut season, however, you wanted a mate, not a master. But what happens when a handsome new buck shows up one day and tries to capture your attention away from the Radio Demon. Who will you choose?)

Hey, so here is part two as promised (I rewrote it like 40 times 😅) please continue keep in mind that it's just practice for a beginner's writing class

***

Alastor POV

GOD, DAMN HIM ALL OVER AGAIN! How dare this bastard come into HIS territory and make eyes at HIS adorable doe. And how could Charlie, the naïve ninny, allow this…this interloper into their hotel as a guest? Going as far as to prevent him from watering the front lawn with the other male’s blood (and perhaps impaling his head on the entrance gate) in warning for any other foolish would-be usurper. He felt that the spice garden could use some Canadian reindeer mulch.

Alastor couldn’t help but feel he was behind the eight ball thanks to his agreement with the Princess to not lay a finger on any who sought the hotel’s services; however, she even placed the rake next to your room. It seemed like she expected you to show him around and ensure he acclimated to the new environment without issue. To be a friend to this new guest. Was there no end to Charlie’s flagrant disrespect?!

You had had to walk him down to breakfast once because he had gotten “lost” in the hallways and ended up “accidentally” darkening your door asking for assistance. However Alastor knew it was intentional on the misguided reindeer’s part. It was as if James thought he could capture your heart within the span of a five-minute walk to the lobby. Nonsense. But, Alastor noticed how you sported a slight blush when you rejoined the others, with the newest guest in tow by the hand, in response to whatever inane attempt at charm he had thrown your way.

If the flannel fiend wished for a duel, Alastor would gladly oblige.

He had made certain that his precious doe’s hotel door frame was properly marked with scoring from his antlers and his shadow insisted on being posted on guard at night in case of any “lost” reindeer. This didn’t seem to bother you, as your instincts most likely told you to let the males fight it out, so he continued his pissing contest. For instance, no matter where you were, so was Alastor. He continuously shirked his hotel duties in favor of gluing himself to you and if he wasn’t (very publicly) rubbing against your neck or hair to leave traces of his heavy musk, and attempting to jump-start your heat with his pheromones, he was feeding you from the same plate as himself or whispering sweet words into your sensitive ears.

Oh yes, he saw with satisfaction how your ears twitched in contact with his warm breath and how you shivered slightly at his honeyed words of love. He also didn’t miss the glare that the Canadian continuously shot towards him, and aimed a shit-eating grin of his own right back, as you once again unconsciously relaxed into Alastor’s side.

***

Oh yes, The Radio Demon was absolutely certain that HIS doe would choose HIM as the superior mating option like she did every season over the trash that begged for a mere glance from her direction. HE was the one who always provided protection for her during this fragile time. HE always saw to her meals and ensured her nutrition as is the responsibility of the courting male. And HE was the one who you harbored romantic feelings for.

…Those same warm feelings that slept within him as well…

Alastor tried to shut the thought down before his mind strangled itself in a black cloud of doubt. To say that he was wholly unfamiliar with genuine romance, even throughout his many decades in Hell, was an understatement.

He huffed heavily through his nose.

Carmilla better have a good reason for dragging him away from his territory at such a time. As he begrudgingly made his way to the overlord meeting, Couldn't look weak during a season now could he? Alastor reflected on the last time he had allowed his heart to open itself for another long ago. It ended in his technological "friend" nearly voiding him to make a quick buck.

…Never again…

It certainly didn’t help his mood that the start of the rut season was ever hot on Alastor’s heels, but he could only wait for his pheromones to trigger his doe’s heat so every second away from you felt frustratingly wasted. He wondered if your body was taking longer than usual in response to the multiple suitors.

…What if she’s with him…

He shook his head as if trying to forcefully repel the vision of you accepting the other male’s advances. Laughing at James’s crude sense of humor turning into allowing him to drift ever closer to you and eventually seizing his chance to- no, his doe would never betray him.

...She's not mine...

It felt like a stone had settled in the pit of Alastor’s stomach at the thought of you being moved even emotionally by another. Ok fine! He was not the most romantically inclined during the rest of the year, but it wasn’t like you weren’t well aware of this relationship's transaction.

…What if she throws me away too?...

Alastor’s grip nearly broke his cane in half, but he didn’t notice in his shock at such an intrusive thought. She’d never reject him. He remembered how it felt like the whole of Hell suddenly stopped spinning the moment he found you hunched and bloody from defending yourself after an entire herd of bucks had stalked and cornered you in an alleyway. He normally never went out during a rut (can’t let anyone see his body’s weakness) but, even from the hotel, he had smelled something too alluring to ignore. A doe in heat.

Alastor thought you were magnificent in your demon form; legs bent like an actual cervid, claws sharp as knives, and covered in the blood of those filthy bucks who tried to take you by force. Even now the image continues to take his breath away.

…I know her heart needs more…what if I …

No, that is not what this agreement is. You used him and he used you. Just like every other lost soul in Hell, you were leveraging your Satan-given circumstance to better your situation under his powerful allowances. Romance was merely a tool at best and a distraction at worst (Alastor tried to convince himself).

…What if her body chooses the other male’s pheromones…

He stopped dead in his tracks, just a short distance from the Carmine compound, as the surrounding windows shattered, and nearby demons fled from the intensity of his sudden static outburst. He felt his antlers grow and his bones shift in the fury that overcame him at the image of you held under the other man. Keening and gasping James’s name in your desperation to find relief from your heat. A loud snarl escaped him. Dammit! He never should have left her!

…What if his name is on her lips right now??!...

Alastor had never phased through the shadows so fast in his afterlife.

***

Your POV

The kiss ended as quickly as it had begun once you felt yourself suddenly pulled into a suffocating nothingness, you opened your eyes to see that James was being violently shaken around in the air like a ragdoll. Only then did the blood in your ears stop pounding long enough for you to hear the sharp screeching of a ruined record and the overwhelming sensation of staticky pinpricks uncomfortably all over your body. Your instincts kicked in and you immediately scanned the yard for the cause of the disruption though you already knew its source as Alastor’s shadow was winding around your body protectively, but also in a restraining manner.

Your eyes searched for Alastor and found him, standing in between you and the flailing reindeer, to be almost unrecognizable in the most demonic appearance you have ever seen him and it broke your heart. Shit, he must have seen James kiss you and maybe even heard what you two had discussed. His body was completely stretched out and bent at impossible angles as he laughed manically at his rough treatment of James and snarled wildly, “HOW DARE YOU LAY YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON MY MATE!!!!”.

“ALASTOR! STOP IT!”, you cried out in hopes of capturing his attention away from James, but it seemed as though your voice had only made things worse as Alastor flung his prey high into the air with another laugh before turning his attention towards you.

Heavy footsteps rumbled through the air as Alastor stomped towards you menacingly slow like a predator taking his sweet time in devouring its next meal and you pulled at his shadow with all you were worth to free yourself of its confining hold. “Please wait!”, you pleaded with the Radio Demon (this wasn’t Alastor anymore). Surely he was about to kill you just like every other demon who he felt had crossed him and their screams and lifeless eyes danced in your memory, but, until now, you had never felt fear of the same fate. You knew hot tears were pouring down your cheeks and you tried to look as small as possible as the giant deer finally made his way towards you with the most strained smile you had ever seen split his face. It seemed like the green stitches that lined the smile were about to pop and you saw the black void of The Radio Demon’s eyes that were pinpointed by fastmoving golden dials.

You could only continue to sob and whimper out pleas for your life, quickly losing your voice in desperation, as Alastor kneeled down and bent his neck to look into your eyes before growling fiercely in your face. It wasn’t really understandable, but it sounded like the accusation that you could see in his twisted face and your heart sank even further. Of course, he must be feeling betrayed and angry, however, he also looked a bit…hurt? It was only for a moment but you were sure of what you saw and it made you wonder if this was really because he felt mating competition from the other male. You couldn’t ponder this any further, though, because you were suddenly whisked away from the hold of Alastor’s shadow in a vice of muscled arms, a firm chest, and white fur.

The fuck?!

“GIVE HER BACK TO MEEE!!!!”, Alastor roared so loud that your ears began to bleed and tighten even further against your skull.

You were quickly placed onto the safety of the hotel’s nearby back porch and looked up to your new kidnapper, only for your mind to completely blank as you took in James’s transformed body and the eerily powerful aura that radiated from his very soul. He walked in a circling motion towards Alastor as the two sized each other up. James now had two sets of strong, bent deer-like legs that attached to the abdomen of, what you assumed to be, a huge reindeer. His humanoid torso connected to the deer body and his shoulders to his head was adorned with spikes of thick, black antlers that grew more massive and curved as they reached the crown of his hairline. You recognized this form.

Dude was a freaking cervitaur? Wait…are DxD characters actually real??!

You noticed that thin vines lined his antlers with small, colorful flowers growing on them and that with each powerful step he took new plants sprouted from the contact of his hooves with the ground. James’s expression was marred with a threatening look towards Alastor and he began to kick out his back legs into the dirt as he twisted his, now thicc neck, from side to side in a warning display of his impressive but deadly rack.

The Radio Demon didn’t back down, however, returning the gesture as he coiled his body before both demons sprinted directly at each other as two harsh cervid howls rang out through the air like a thunderclap.

***

I really hope that you liked reading this! I enjoyed focusing on Alastor's side of things and James's demon transformation that is actually inspired by a DxD character. The cervidtaur, though James's powers will differ a bit, I believe that the fight of the next part will show off how awesome of a character design it is. 😊(See the pic below) I think I spent like a week researching reindeer aggression signs and how to write in a dude's pov 😂

Taglist: I hope I did this right!

@Xalygatorx , @songbirdpond , @bitter-rabittt, @sakuraluna2468, @cinnamon-galaxies, @speedycoffeedelight, @diffidentphantom, @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this, @eris-norwega, @anngray1369, @ladyadrasteia666, @wends, @prime-in-time-and-space, @supeersimpeer, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @type-ink, @fantasyhopperhea, @martinys-world, @apad-ravya, @galaxywolf3, @thoughfullovercreator, @Boogiemansbitch, @helluva-simper, @alastorsgirl48, @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog, @need-a-life-or-grass, @michi-keinz, @milkissesx, @ari42, @valerie-is-in-the-cupboard, @lil-glum, @amariskygal, @strawberryoverlord1893, @cherry-cola-100, @noellebellq, @lettuce-frog16, @junieshohoho, @phoephan-123, @dreamraven13

#hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x reader x oc

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ma1dita · 1 year ago

Text

without a doubt

part one can be found here -> it will pass

words: little under 3k

summary: James has a lot of questions, but he quickly finds out Peanut is the answer.

warnings: none! angst–hurts before things get happy, peter (since some of yall might need a warning), all the marauders are alive and happy, lily is too smart for this, peanut and jelly 4 ever

a/n: thank you for all the love (and tears shed) for it will pass! i genuinely rewrote this about four different times and almost lost the plot, but please let me know if it meets your expectations!

(posted 9/11/23)

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 4

I know it will pass, it’s just heavy. You’re all I know.

There’s something about the noise in your brain as you move around your silent apartment. It overpowers the fear that hasn’t quite left your body after he let the front door fall shut. Being paralyzed in the aftermath of the truth that left your lips…It’s maddening. And you can’t even talk to the person you want to hear it most. You love him.

I do love you (Y/N), just in a different way.

Those 10 minutes were a fleeting moment in the life you’ve shared with your best friend thus far. But now, he’s stopped writing, stopped calling, and you’ve never heard him be so quiet in the past few days after the fact. There’s a knock at the door, and the sound interrupts the way you breathe, dishrag in hand, and James’ sweater still on your body.

I know that, James. I just don't know how to stop.

“What a vision you make, (Y/N).” Remus jokes in an attempt to try to make you smile. He’s leaning against the doorframe as you pop your head through the opening and he slowly moves to follow you into your home. Why does it feel like you have to explain yourself this time? But Remus is deeply understanding in nature, and he opens his arms for you to burrow yourself in.

“Get yourself fixed up. Not taking a no for an answer, love. You’ve been MIA for long enough and you know how Pads is about his birthday. He’ll want you there, broken heart be damned.” Remus is rubbing your back, and you groan.

“Ever the fucking diva.”

His chest rumbles with laughter, but both of you know that you say it lightly. Years ago, when Sirius moved into the Potter’s, it was understood that every birthday was to be as great as he was to his found family.

Nothing has to change, Peanut.

Remus sniffs you lightly, nose crinkling, “Place is spotless. Your turn for a deep clean and then off we go.” A horrified noise leaves your throat as you push yourself out of his embrace.

As the steam from the shower slowly suffocates you, you realize that Remus innately knew the reason for your emotional sabbatical from James and the rest of your friends. You wonder if everyone’s known that you’ve been in love with James Potter, and scrunch your face at how oblivious you both have been. The cold water washes away the grief that’s had a handle on your being this past month. Out of all the pranks they’ve played, this tops it. What a sick joke for the both of you to be left out of.

I think you should go now. Please.

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 3

All of Sirius’s birthdays are spectacular, but you really can’t fight the hurt crawling up your chest. There are too many memories here at Potter Manor, too many familiar faces asking where you’ve been, and James looks petrified, eyes following your figure around the Manor like you’re a ghost he can’t touch. You walk up the stairs like you have many times over the years, finding a hideaway in the west wing. You and James used to gaze at the stars here.

“So why the hell are you moping on my birthday? No one’s allowed to be sad today.” Sirius grins, breaking the silence as he walks across the balcony to throw his arms over your seated figure.

“Happy Birthday Padfoot.” you smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. You clink your glass against his as he takes a seat next to you on the bench.

“Trust me when I say you always look stunning, (Y/N) but there’s this look in your eye that you get when you’re around Prongs nowadays. Might I say it’s why you dropped off the face of the Earth?”

Your face instantly drops at his words, and you’re glad he can’t see much in the dim light.

“How long have you all known, Pads?”

“I don’t know about much when it comes to love, (Y/N). But what I do know is that I’m his brother, and you’re his best friend. There’s a lot of responsibility being those two things for someone like that idiot. You love him like humans need air.”

“I just… I don’t know what to do with it.” The elderflower wine glides down your throat, its taste sweet on your tongue. Sirius sits with you, knowing what’s coming next. As an older brother, he also knows you’ve been waiting for someone to listen.

“What do I do with all the love I have for him? Where does it go now that he doesn’t want it?”

“I’ll take some. It sounds lovely.” Peter’s voice almost echoes in the silence as you both turn your heads to see him and Remus in the dim light of the hallway, a bottle of firewhiskey in hand and it makes you genuinely smile for the first time in days.

“Yeah, pass it around. Godric knows Prongs doesn’t appreciate you enough.” Remus says bluntly, and you hit his stomach when he ruffles your hair.

“Honestly, what a prat! Makes you plan his proposal and doesn’t want you at the afterparty? The nerve.” You choke on the remnants of your wine as you laugh at Sirius’s outrage for you, and all four of you are giggling in the dark like idiots as Remus pours you shots. If anything else goes wrong in this life, you’re glad that you have the Marauders to live it with you.

The laughter reaches the hallway, and in walks Lily, who teasingly asks “Did the party move in here without us?” James is as still as a statue behind her, watching you laugh with his boys. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen you happy and acknowledges that he’s to blame.

“You shouldn’t be surprised, Lils. There’s always a party when Padfoot’s around,” you remark, and everyone gets up to go back to the party. Lily looks around as if she’s missing something, then looks at James.

“I’m glad that (Y/N)’s back from whatever’s been keeping her busy. Looks like everything’s falling back into place.” she muses, and James can’t help but watch his best friend, no, his best girl, walk away, thinking that everything must be falling apart.

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 2

It’s morning now, and a lot of the crowd has gone home or fallen asleep in the many rooms of Potter Manor. You decide to stay to help clean up for Mr. and Mrs. Potter, who were always like second parents to you as well. They had a thing for taking in kids who needed love. With your best efforts, you can’t seem to escape James, who has incessantly trailed behind you into every room you walk into. You dodge him again as you walk down the hall, but James, who has always been a chaser in more ways than one grabs you by the arm and pushes you into his childhood bedroom.

A shriek leaves you as he closes the door and has you up against the wall.

“What the fu—”

“You’re avoiding me. Why are you avoiding me?” his face is panicked as his breath hits your face.

“You told me to leave you alone. That’s what I’m doing now, James. What else could you want from me?” Your hands are on his chest, crinkling the dress shirt that you once helped him pick out at the shops, and you feel breathless, angry at knowing him too well, and angry at what he’s insinuating.

James is at a loss. He loves you. He’s never gone more than a weekend without you and now it’s been ages…. And he loves you. He’s looking at you differently now, in the sunlight that floods through his old bedroom. He loves you so much that it hurts.

His hands slide from the wall behind you, until they reach your shoulders, and trace down your arms. Intertwining your fingers together, James speaks.

“I didn’t mean…” he exhales. “I just…”

“Did you not want me here too? Because unfortunately, my friends are also yours, so maybe we can clarify exactly the terms you want me to follow next time, James.” you seethe, getting in his face.

You push him away, his arms chasing after you, pining for your touch. Your heart is racing with hurt, with anger, with love, all for the man standing across the room.

“Peanut…”

“No.”

“I never want you to leave me alone, okay? It’s been agony without you and I can’t even put into words how—”

“I can, James. How long have I been so oblivious to the fact that I’m in love with you and how long have you just let it happen? You can’t just… please don’t pretend that you don’t know that I’ve been waiting all my life for you to let me fill the empty spaces in your heart.” Your voice wavers as you pull yourself away from him, sitting on his bed.

“Just tell me what’s happening, Peanut. You’ve always had the answers. I feel like I can’t breathe when you’re not there and I….. my heart feels like it’s going to combust… I… I just feel…. so intensely. I miss who I am when I’m with you.”

James throws himself down onto the bed, hyperventilating with his head in his hands. Your hands are shaking as you reach for him. You’ll always reach for him.

He raises his head, as you delicately grab his face into your hands. Your fingertips brush his tears away, loving him for the mess he is.

“My life has been so quiet these past few days and I’m so scared to live life without you. Did I fuck it all up for us?” You whisper.

James licks his lips, and he’s playing with your hair in his hands. Your knees are touching on the patterned bedspread. The space between you diminishes as you realize that he’s about to ruin everything.

Your best friend is going to kiss you.

He’s holding your jaw so gently and for a second, you wonder if this is what it would feel like to be loved by him in the way that you do. With every single ounce of control, you turn your head away from what you’ve been craving most. James’ lips land on your cheek, and he’s chasing after you again, muttering apologies as he looks into your eyes and sees everything he’s been wanting. He sees his whole life with you through the split second your eyes connect. Pushing him away again, you stumble away with a sob.

“What was that?”

“I just… “ He’s gasping for air, feeling like his heart has exploded, and the silence is so loud that he feels like his heart must be in pieces, and you’re picking up the wreckage to take home. He’s in love with you. His heart has always been yours.

“You what, James? Don’t do that!”

He’s lived in a mansion his whole life but Godric, is this room suddenly feeling too small? You get on your feet, stepping away from him and he’s following you.

“Do what?”

“Don’t make me hate you, Jelly. Loving you has been painful enough.” Tears are blurring your vision as you hiccup, and maybe it’s better to not see him right now. Maybe you really shouldn’t have come.

“I just wanted to know. I know now, love, I…” James whimpers at the sound of his nickname. Your nickname for him alone has this man wanting to drop to his knees.

“No. Don’t you know how cruel you’re being right now? To me? To the love of your life? I would never do that to Lily!” Your voice is getting louder by the minute, and James is stoic in his silence, steps away from your blaze.

“But you told me you’re in love with me. Are you saying this is because of me?”

“Everything I do is because of you, James. And if you don’t know that by now…” Then maybe you don’t know me at all.

The words go unsaid but the both of you are hit with the reality of it. Your hands jangle the doorknob to get away from him, to be anywhere but here.

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 1

Lily listens intently as James tells her everything he's been wanting to say for the last eleven years. She's not surprised, in fact, she knows this is the truth, but she's still heartbroken. Lily Evans and James Potter are both people who like to chase things, people—but after all that’s said and done, the thrill wears off. They’re more alike than they’ll ever know.

He tries to apologize, but Lily cuts him off and tells him there's no need. She's always known the truth, and even though it took him this long, she's glad he finally figured it out. Smartest girl of their year, after all.

“I mean, I always felt like she should’ve been dating you, but then we happened and I fell too hard and didn’t stop to ask questions. I tried to be blind to it, but…it was nice, wasn’t it?” Lily whispers, holding James’ hand for the last time. He looks like he’s about to pass out.

“I’ll be okay, Potter. I was before you, and I will be after you. So thank you for being honest. You’ve always been honest with me.” A small kiss on his cheek renders him breathless. Once upon a time, he would stay up all night at the idea of Lily Evans loving him. But his heart has always belonged to you. Without a doubt, James Potter is in love with you, his best friend.

He doesn’t tell Lily he was planning to propose tomorrow, since the situation is already as messy as it is. But Lily Evans always knows.

—

JAMES HAS A PROPOSAL

James is pushing boxes back into Potter Manor, and Mippy helps flit the rest of his belongings up the stairs with magic. The least he could do is give Lily their apartment after their breakup. He looks around, rubbing his fingers of dust as his mother calls him for dinner. How humbling, he thinks, to start all over because he was too stupid to realize he’s in love. Starting over in a place he calls home is absurd. He looks out towards the courtyard where you had your fairytale wedding, walks by the hallways you used to race training broomsticks in, and back to his room where he used to whisper hushed lullabies to help you sleep. Everything reminds him of you, and your love consumes each memory that flickers through his vision. The feeling shocks him like ripping your head out of a pensieve. He’s so utterly in love with you.

What the hell is he doing at his parents’ house? He should be getting his girl! James apparates to your apartment, knocking on the door like a madman. He knocks so loudly the wood is bruising his knuckles, red blooming under his touch.

The door rips open, and he’s never been so glad to see you angry.

“You literally have a key, James. You don’t have to be a dick every—”

“You’re wrong.”

Your frustration gives way, lines on your forehead wrinkling in confusion. It’s like there’s a glass separating the both of you, and you’re scared to touch him.

You shake your head as he continues, “You’re wrong, by the way. I don’t know if Lily’s the love of my life. I haven’t lived it with her, nor will I. What I do know is that I’ve loved you for most of mine.”

“What are you saying, Jelly,” you utter, and James’ is grinning so largely you want to punch his face in.

“I love you. As in I’m in love with you. Without any doubt, or excuses, or anyone holding me back, my heart is yours, if you’ll have me?”

He rushes to catch you, his proposal hitting you hard as you fall into his embrace, hands feeling as much of him as you can. His broad shoulders, his strong neck, the dimples on his cheek, the glasses on his face—all of him is in love with you.

Your blubbering is muffled as he finally pulls his lips to yours, finally feeling, finally… James’ kiss lays out all of what he’s been holding in, and without words you both understand that this wreckage in your beating hearts, the destruction of everything you’ve set together as best friends, is love. He’s clutching you to his body, moving you backward into your apartment, feet moving in sync like an orchestrated dance. You both fall onto your couch in a fit of laughter and tears. Finally.

“How foolish of me to be with another, Peanut. I’m a married man, after all.”

"Not bad for a second kiss, Jelly." You laugh at him.

James looks at your smile like it’s the answer to every question he’ll ask in this life.

—

“We give those we love nicknames, because love requires a word that belongs to us alone.” Fredrik Backman

tagged: @prongs-moon @alltheotherkidss @anehkael @princessprongs

#made by ma1dita ♥︎#marauders x reader #mischiefmoons iwp #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader angst #marauders era

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euniveve · 11 months ago

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(𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐱 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐇𝐢𝐬) 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 - zhongli

pairings: zhongli x reader tags: angst & fluff (mainly fluff tho with sprinkles of angst), wife! reader, mentioned xiao w.c: 946 a.n: happy birthday my darling husband here's your birthday gift, the drabble that i rewrote; my fellow sibling spouses, enjoy

Your lashes flutter as you look down, your lips carefully pressed against the red paper to leave a cherry-red stain. A soft breath escapes your lip and your gaze shifts back to the jade mirror. Scenes such as this, remind you of your duty to your husband, to your nation– and yet as you glide your fingers, carefully blending the stain to your natural lip colour; your husband, Morax stood behind you and began parting your hair, his fingers already braiding it and arranging into an elaborate updo.

This is a maid’s job – but the lord of geo has always insisted on doing this task himself; and how could he not? Another minute in your presence and feeling your being under his touch is another minute well-spent. His beautiful wife, his only love.

You watch his thick finger take one of the many golden hairpins on your jewellery box, the intricacies of the designs complimenting the placement of your bun– and your husband’s amber eyes gleam from the light cast by the metal, a soft smile sitting on his lips as he hummed a familiar tune.

Your heartbeat skips, and you relish sight of his majestic form; his toned arm that’s dipped in gold, his glowing antlers that resemble the warm sun, his rich brown hair that so elegantly drapes against his shoulders and frames the sides of his face–

'Mirrors,’ you thought, breathless and lips parting, ‘really are great inventions',

"Dearest?" His deep, sweet voice says; vibrating down your spine with warmth, hypnotizing you further into his hold. Ah yes, Morax, the man standing behind you, the god watching over you, is everything he is supposed to be and more.

"Not- Nothing!" You manage to say, flashing him a nervous smile before you shake your head, trying to save face in front of him– a wife should maintain some dignity after all.

Morax chuckled, his calloused fingers finally placing the last hairpin as you reached to take a brush from your vanity and dip it in the porcelain pot of red-stained beeswax. A personal gift from Morax's anemo yaksha, one he so offhandedly gifts after you flick your finger on his forehead, warning him to not take his duties too far. You worry over that boy– the more times he comes to the palace, the more scars riddle his body.

And yet he fights anyway.

You could only hope that one day, the sweet yaksha will learn to smile again. A smile he once held, a smile like your husband's.

Morax's golden fingers soon find their way to yours, breaking your thoughts and submerging you deeper into his warm comforting embrace.

"Let me help you, darling," he whispered into your ear, his hot breath hitting the tip, making you shudder from the sensation. Feeling your cheeks heating up from his declaration, you shyly nod and turn your back to face him.

His finger makes contact with your face and you are instantly reminded of his domain. Like it, the colossus on his fingertips is rough; his hold unmoving despite being so gentle. But you close your eyes and with no hesitation, you place your face safely in his grasp. Morax, the God of Contracts, is capable of many things, but hurting you isn’t one of them.

You feel a cold touch on your forehead, knowing that with careful precision – your husband is drawing a plum blossom, your favourite flower.

"There," he said softly, planting a gentle kiss on your red-stained lips, making his appear to have a slight tint. You stifled a giggle at the sight, brushing your fingers against his lips, moving them slightly and forcing his smile to grow wider.

Morax raises his brow, thinking that you are trying to play with his face – he opens his jaw and tilts his head, breaking out a burst of unexpected joy-filled laughter from you.

"Here,” you giggled, remembering how Xiao too, acts like this when you try to force a smile at him, “lǎo gōng."

The brown-haired man hummed, watching as you tried to tell him what to do with just your face, urging him to mimic your movements. He surprisingly understood, fitting his face on the palm of your hand and closing his eyes; trusting you completely when he felt your fingers taking the brush from his fingers.

‘Xiao,’ you recalled, ‘could really be his son..’

‘Bright golden eyes… same stubbornness…’

You giggle again, carefully painting the edge of the stone lord’s eyes, the same way as his warrior has his painted.

‘Same behaviours… same selflessness…’

"Open your eyes," you whispered and Morax instantly obeyed, his piercing amber gaze taking in your face inches from his. You smile, shifting from your seat and allowing him to see both of you in the jade mirror.

And there it was, the both of you. Rex Lapis and his wife. You couldn’t help but widen your smile, blinking slowly as you whisper underneath your breath; "Xiao would love this.”

Then you snickered to yourself, already imagining the look on the yaksha's face when he had seen what you had done. It would probably hold horror and awe, yet still accompanied by subtle gratefulness he would display in between quiet murmurs. Indeed, you should probably talk to Morax about adopting him…

The geo god lets out a small chuckle as he wraps his arm around you, enveloping you back into his warm embrace. His lips kiss your neck, his face buried on its crook. With a nostalgic sigh he takes in the bliss this scene emits. A short pleasure in the inevitable long life of the Geo Archon.

"He'd have to thank you for that, my precious wife."

#☁️◝ the holy codice: little musings #zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin x reader #zhongli fluff #zhongli angst #morax x reader #rex lapis #morax

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tyttamarzh · 7 months ago

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Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter.

This will probably be very long, so if you want to read it, go grab some popcorn and get comfortable.

I have to talk about this because it's eating me up inside. I think I shouldn't give so much importance to comments coming from sewers like Twitter and much less Tiktok, but it makes me so sick (and I'm such a masochist that I even spend time looking for the shit they say to make me angrier and debate them xD).

I am very happy that it was finally made official, with papers certified by the federation, that Tallulah is the daughter of Philza and Missa, I think that was not entirely necessary for them, because they had assumed it for a long time (let's assume that Tallulah needed the pappers to end her W arc), although I suppose that more than anything it was done for those people who still cannot accept it or who deny the paternity of Phil and Missa (With Missa, although it bothers me, I can even understand it, he He hasn't been as present and many people don't know him, but god, it would be a crime to deny Tallulah's paternity to Phil, the man who has kept her alive and given everything for her throughout her life).

I'm glad that, although I have seen negative comments, the majority have been positive (even if it hurts them, it doesn't matter, it's official, screw them). Mainly, the negative comments have been from defenders of W and their arguments are so poor and weak that they are easily refuted. It is obvious that these people do not know Tallulah and have never met her, many do not even know how things turned out and say nonsense like that the current Llulah is an imposter, that it is not fair that they "rewrote" history and erased W (which It is false, Llulah's words make it clear that history was never changed, she simply moved on and that person remained in the past).

I refuted all those arguments on Twitter but screw Twitter, I hate the fucking character limit. So I'm going to expand (I have a lot of poison to get out of my skin). I have some points:

1- "That's not Tallulah" Of course it is her, those who witnessed her life and her growth during the year that passed, can realize that this was her natural evolution. She is the same girl who grew up overcoming her limitations, who suffered, who felt alone, who had abandonment problems, who everyone saw as a poor abandoned girl and who found comfort next to someone who has always loved her like a father and a brother who gave everything for her.

2- "They erased all her lore" No. Tallulah's lore is the one she built with Philza and Chayanne over the course of the year they lived together. Her relationship with W and her longing for him was only part of her story (although people made a lot of emphasis on that), but it was not the only thing that defined her, it never was and only people who never got to met her think that. They see her like an extension of that other person, as the only thing that kept him on the server, but did not see her as an individual character and definitely did not watch Phil's Vods and they never really knew her lore.

3-"How do they explain this in the lore?" Simple, there was someone in her life, someone who was her first father, but who spent very little time with her, who left a long time ago and who is currently no longer part of her life. She learned to let go of the past and focused in the family she has in the present, the family that loves her, that watched her grow up, that makes her happy and gives her security to believe in herself and that is the Death Family, Chayanne, Philza and Missa. Time passes, not all people stay, treasure those who are by your side and let go of what never brought you anything but pain.

4- "They should have created another egg and replaced her" Why replaceher? It has no sense or reason. She is a character who built her own story with her family, a story that never really involved that other person other than with one or another sporadic mention, why eliminate a character that evolved by itself? Little by little she separated herself from what she was at the beginning and that bond that she had with that first father was practically non-existent. What would be the point of eliminating it or replace her with another new character?

5- "No matter what other parents and appearance give her, she will always belong to W because she still carries the name he gave her" No. She never belonged to him. She lived with that man for 2 days and apart from leaving him the promise of a reunion, she did not contribute anything else to her life. She formed her own path, her passion for music was not because of him, it was something she already had before, her love for nature, for animals, everything was built in the days she lived with Philza (even with uncle Bad). She suffered for her first father but she moved on, she matured, she discovered her link with death and her powers as a medium, she acquired her own personality and little by little she built the Tallulah she is now.

She never belonged to anyone but herself and she always fought to prove that, but people insisted on dumping trauma on her and reminding her that she was an abandoned child waiting for someone who at a certain point was nothing more than an idealized dream, because There was never a real relationship between them, they never lived together long enough. She little by little made her decisions and chose the people she wanted to be her parents (and it's not that she had few options, Quackity, Bad and even F wanted to adopt her at the time and asked them to, but she was not a girl who was looking for parents). She could choose and she chose Philza, the person who had always been there for her and later she chose Missa, someone who despite not knowing her very well gave her his love unconditionally and gave her security when she needed it. Then she was able to feel the warmth of being part of a complete family.

6- "They should change her name because W gave her that name! That impostor is not Tallulah!" Why? Her name is not anyone's intellectual property, at the time it was given to her, it belonged to her for better or worse and yes, in some way it will always be a tie to her past, but a past she has already left behind and managed to overcome by creating new memories and dreams.

To a certain extent I understand those who became attached to her because she reminded them of that other person, but if they couldn't see her as her own character, it means that they never cared enough to make the effort to get to know her.

It would shock us all if a character we liked suddenly changed drastically and left behind what like us in the first place. But if they had really watched her, they would have realized that the change was not sudden, it was gradual.

She found in Phil a protective and understanding father who always put her and her brother before anything else, who suffered with her her pain and outbursts of frustration due to the depression caused by the absence of her first father. She found in Missa a cute and loving father who always showers her with love and helps her to have confidence in herself. She doesn't lack anything with them. She has closed a cycle of pain in her life and now she can heal.

She chose the look that makes her feel finally free to be herself, whatever the external reasons that led to that, she finally has a future ahead of her unbound by the past and prefers to be more like the people she considers her family now. If you can't see what all of this really meant to Tallulah and her evolution, it's because you never cared to see even 20% of her story. Well, since the middle of last year she began her journey to break away from a name and be herself, fighting to be seen for who she was.

If those people decide to continue supporting someone despite his shit, that is their right, but the server and the admin were also within their right to decide to kick him out and want to distance themselves from a person they consider unpleasant.

7-There were comments of another type, mainly from people who are really very lost with the lore, people who consider her the daughter of Quackity, even confusing her with Tilín (saying that Q didn't know if she was the daughter of W or Luzu and that she should get a DNA test), when we all know that from the beginning she was W's daughter as a single father and that the only reason Quackity could have become Tallulah's father was if to marry W, but that never happened, W didn't come back and Quackity was never able to develop that relationship with Llulah, she considered him a possible father because she knew W loved him, but Q always being kidnapped or something, they never really related much. There are people who, even with a certificate, continue to insist that Tallulah should have been given to Quackity to raise with Luzu (she had a tender interaction with Luzu and people were already asking him to adopt her, saying that she was alone and had no parents, I seriously hate them!) I shouldn't take seriously people who obviously haven't seen Philza even once and I know that many of those people are hispanic and are limited by the language barrier but if they don't have the slightest idea They shouldn't give their opinion… Tallulah is not an object to be passed from hand to hand, she chose and in order to do so she had to go through a very long and painful arc.

8- I firmly believe that it is a great win to now have a certificate that endorses who the people she considers her parents are, but I insist, it was not necessary, because that has been known for a long time and I am sure that if it was created it was to close the mouth mouth to all those people who are not capable of accepting that.

Tallulah is the daughter of Philza and Missa (and no one else), she is part of the Death Family, that is her story, it is not a whim, a whim is continuing to link her to something she is no longer a part of or wanting to make her a part of a lore that never happened or wanting to give her other parents different from the ones she grew up with (Quackity already had Tilín, Richas and now Pepito, I don't think she needs more children and Tallulah doesn't need any more shitty drama in her life).

Tallulah is a beautiful being, both with her old look and with the new and as Missa says "She deserves only the beautiful things in the world"

Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! And I can shout it a thousand times because it's true and she always was, but now it's certified by the government and no amount of complaining or tantrums can change that fact.

Sorry for my bad english. See you!! jajaja ando re agresiva, pero es que nadie se mete con mi familia xD

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prythianpages · 1 year ago

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Stuck On You | Part Four

cassian x reader | Cassian can't seem to forget about you since the night you met seven years ago. he thought he would never see you again but when he does, he's determined to make you his. this time for good.

“Don’t worry. She likes your butt and fancy hair. I know, I read her diary.”

[series masterlist]

A/N: this was supposed to be the last part but I felt like it was becoming too long so I split it in half. I rewrote so many scenes from this so many times because I wasn't too happy with them but I think I finally am now. you can find my masterlist here.

Warnings: angst with mentions of violence/abuse/choking/death/killing

Closing the door behind you, you leaned against it, the dam of your emotions breaking through. You allowed the first tear to slide down your cheek. It was quickly followed by others and they burned, each one a painful reminder of the damage you had done. Trembling fingers pressed against your forehead, attempting to soothe the throbbing pain while your other hand found its place against your chest. Your actions were crushing your heart, making you feel like you couldn’t breathe.

What have you done?

Pushing Cassian away seemed necessary. For his safety. For yours. For Seraphine’s. It was for the best, you had to keep telling yourself. Yet, the ache in your chest betrayed that notion because if that was the case, why did it hurt so much?

There was a soft knock at your door. “y/n?”

You took deep breaths and wiped at your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt. A futile attempt to compose yourself. You didn’t want your little sister to see you like this. You were now the matriarch of your family. You had to be strong… or at least appear to be.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the sight before you upon opening the door. Seraphine stood on the other side, her shoulders slumped and eyes glistening with tears. “Cassian left.”

“I know.”

She looked up at you. “Why does everyone leave?”

It seemed as though the shards of your broken heart had found new, more intricate ways to splinter. The weight of responsibility bore down on you. A burden you never intended to place on Seraphine’s shoulders.This was all your fault.

You drew in a steadying breath and crouched down to meet her at eye level. You gently wiped away her tears. “Not everyone,” you reminded her softly. “I’m still here. We’ll always be together.”

"You promise?" she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of a fragile hope.

Your eyes locked with hers. “I promise.”

The abrupt sound of a door slamming open startled you both. You jumped to your feet and Seraphine hid behind you. As you clasped her trembling hand in yours, the both of you cautiously walked to the living room. Aerik stood in the middle of the room. His features contorted into pure anger, filling the atmosphere with tension.

His eyes were scanning the house, chest heaving in anger. “Where the fuck is he?”

“He’s not here.” You replied, your voice a breathless whisper. “He’s gone.”

Aerik stormed over to you both. His hand wrapped around your arm, right where your healing bruise was, and he pressed harshly on it, prompting a cry from you. You looked up and were met with the white rage within Aerik’s eyes. His nostrils flared as he looked down at you, lips curled in disgust.

“Was Kallon’s warning not enough?” Aerik glared, intimidating you. “Should I inform him of your treason?”

He was grasping you by your other arm, yanking your grasp from Seraphine’s and forcing you closer to him. When you didn’t answer, he growled and tightened his grip. “You answer when spoken to.”

“Please don’t hurt her!” Seraphine cried as she darted toward you, coming to stand in between you both. She wrapped her arms around your waist, her back to her uncle and tiny wings wrapped around you as a shield.

“Please don’t.” You managed to say. “I’m sorry for defying your wishes.”

Aerik stared at you, contemplating on what to do with you. Upon shifting his gaze to Seraphine, he realized he destroyed all the effort he had made with her the past days. There was a look of betrayal in her eyes, her lips quivering with fear and she tightened her hold on you when she met his gaze. The facade was gone. There was no purpose in keeping up pretenses anymore.

With a snarl, he yanked Seraphine away from you, not caring that his force sent the young girl stumbling and falling to the floor. She let out a cry and raw anger shot through you, flooding your veins.

“Don’t you dare touch her!”

Aerik scoffed as he turned his attention back to you. He stepped forward, prompting you to take a step back. He continued until your back hit the kitchen table and he had you cornered. “You are in no position to tell me what I can’t do.”

“Seraphine is my responsibility now.” He reminded you in a taunting manner, tightening a hand around your throat. He squeezed, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. He leaned down so close to you, you could feel his disgusting breath fan your face. Your fingers grasped at his, a futile attempt to pry his grip from you.

“Please stop hurting her, Uncle Aerik!”

“This is my house.” Aerik ignored your little sister’s cries and you dropped your hands, one of them falling behind your back, reaching for anything as the desperation to breathe and run to your sister overtook you.

“I want you gone.” He seethed, his grip on you tensing. “Now.”

Azriel had noticed the change in Cassian lately, the heaviness in his steps, and the shadows lingering in his eyes. Despite the night hour, he invited Cassian to spar with him on the training grounds of the house of wind, hoping that it’d allow him to work out his pent up emotions and lift his spirits. Even if only temporarily.

The two Illyrians circled each other. Azriel's movements were fluid and precise, a stark contrast to Cassian, who appeared to be lost in thought. Cassian's punches lacked their usual force, and his defenses faltered. Azriel furrowed his brow, a deep concern for his friend settling in. Cassian was typically energetic and enthusiastic during training, reveling in the thrill of besting his opponents. Azriel had once remarked his haughty demeanor to be annoying, but now, he longed for one of Cassian's vain remarks, missing the spirited energy that usually defined their sparring sessions.

In a swift move, Azriel feigned a strike, and Cassian, too distracted to react properly, lost his balance. He stumbled and fell to the ground, his frustration evident in the way his jaw tensed.

"Enough, Cassian," Azriel urged, crouching beside him. He knew why Cassian was so defeated, so disheartened. But he asked anyway. "What's going on?"

Cassian sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair that had come undone from the elastic tie you had given him. "I just don’t understand why she’d push me away. I thought we were making progress…”

You had shattered Cassian’s heart. Yet, as promised, he continued to love you with all the fractured pieces left behind. He always would. No matter how much it hurt.

It required every ounce of his strength to resist turning back the last night he saw you. He would’ve begged on his knees for you. For you to not marry whoever Aerik had picked out for you. For you to come back with him to Velaris, where it would be safe for you and Seraphine.

Then there was poor Seraphine, whose wounds from losing her parents were still fresh and apparent in the way she clung to anyone who offered her comfort. It dawned on him then–the reason for your protectiveness and hesitancy concerning your sister. The heart-wrenching look on her face when he was leaving haunted him.

He should’ve begged on his knees, should’ve dug deeper into the distress reflected in your eyes. Gods, had he made a mistake in conceding to your wishes and not fighting for you? In letting you slip away?

“Then keep fighting for her, Cas.” Azriel told him, sensing where his thoughts had headed. He extended his hand out to Cassian, helping him up to his feet.

Cassian felt Azriel’s hand briefly stiffen before letting go. The shadows clinging to Azriel seemed to stir and come alive, swirling around him. A dark tendril emerged in the distance, curling against Azriel's ears before merging with the swarm of shadows, who eagerly welcomed the dark tendril back. By the way Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he could sense whatever his shadow had whispered was urgent.

“What is it?”

“It’s Kallon.” Azriel said, meeting Cassian’s gaze. “He’s sent some of his men to go look for y/n. Her and Seraphine are missing.”

The revelation seemed to jolt Cassian out of his emotional haze. Without another word, he unfurled his wings and soared into the sky, determination gleaming in his eyes. He was going to find you.

The air in the Inn was thick with the scent of burning wood from the fireplace, its warmth battling against the chill that seeped through the cracks in the walls. You and Seraphine found solace in a corner, sitting at a worn wooden table that creaked under your every move. It reminded you of the tavern back at Ironcrest, the familiarity of it filling you with a sad twinge of nostalgia.

Outside, the world was blanketed in a thin layer of snow. A promise of a strong winter to come. The winds howled, carrying with them the secrets of the desolate mountains that surrounded the humble establishment. It was your second night at the Inn located around the Illyrian Steppes. You were well familiar with it as it was a place you and your mother often frequented.

You adjusted the scarf around your neck self consciously, wanting to keep the evidence from two nights ago well hidden. Despite washing your hands until the skin was raw, all you saw was dark red. Blood. Aerik’s blood pooling around his head after you knocked him out with a vase. You had run to your sister to shield her from the gory scene, praying to the cauldron that she hadn’t caught a glimpse. If she had, she pretended as if she didn’t.

Your hands trembled as you helped Seraphine with her dinner, the memories of that night resurfacing again and again.

“Listen to me, Sera.” You had whispered, gently cradling her cheek in your hand and coaxing her worried gaze from your burning neck to meet yours. “I need you to pack some clothes, a few essentials—just the things you can't bear to leave behind–and do so quickly.”

Her eyes widened even more, confusion settling on her features. You understood the look on her face. At her age, you had been put in this position so often. It struck you now that the roles had reversed. “Why? This is our home. Uncle Aerik should leave.”

“It’s not safe here anymore. We have to go somewhere else, somewhere far away.”

A frown creased Seraphine's forehead. “Is that why you told Cassian to leave?”

“Yes and now it’s our turn.” You nodded solemnly, heart aching at the mention of his name.

You blinked, your sister’s gentle touch pulling you from the sea of haunting memories that threatened to engulf you and drag you down into its dark abyss. “Yes?”

You met her worried gaze as it flitted from your face to your untouched plate. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“Yes,” you said again, forcing a smile onto your face as you picked up a spoon. Seraphine watched you carefully with a concerned look on her face. She only relaxed once you had brought a spoonful of soup to your mouth. With a subtle smile, she returned to her own dinner. She hummed softly to herself, casting wary glances your way to make sure you were still eating.

As you and Seraphine finished your dinner, the doors to the Inn swung open. A gust of frigid air roared in, causing the flames in the fireplace to flicker momentarily. Your gaze shot toward the entrance, as it did every time you heard the door open, heart skipping a beat when you recognized the sigils the males who had entered wore on their leathers. They were from Ironcrest. You watched them carefully as they approached the Innkeeper and panic set in as you overheard snippets of their conversations. Their inquiries directed toward two specific individuals. A small winged girl no older than a decade accompanied by a young female with no wings. You and Seraphine.

This place was no longer safe and you felt your stomach sicken, your dinner wanting to come right back up. The walls seemed to close in as the gravity of your situation became apparent. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, chest growing extremely tight. You watched as some of the males made their way upstairs, knowing exactly where they were headed and when the ones that had remained began to disperse, you knew you had little time. You had to run and you had to run now.

You quietly instructed Seraphine to put her coat on, grateful that she hadn’t left it up in the room you were staying in as she would need it for the relentless weather outside. You were also grateful that your bow and arrow remained secured to your back. Seraphine barely had enough time to grab Scrumps, her plush, before the two of you were slipping and sneaking out through the back door of the Inn.

“Why are we running?” Seraphine said, wincing as the cold winds bit at her cheeks. “I left my coloring books in the room!”

“I’ll buy you more.” You reassured her, urging her to keep her pace with you as you ran into the forest.

You paused for a moment once you were deep into the forest to catch your breath, instantly regretting it. Your blood ran as cold as the wind whirling around you as you heard it. The crack of branches under the weight of heavy footsteps. Those approaching steps grew closer, and suddenly, an arrow whizzed by, narrowly missing your ear.

Seraphine’s frightened cry pierced the air and you swiftly scooped her into your arms. You held her close to your chest as you ran, determined to shield her from the impending danger. The bitter chill of the night bit through your worn boots as you raced through the unforgiving forest, the frosty tendrils of snow creeping into every crevice. Seraphine clung to your chest, her small form shivering against the cold and the fear that gripped you both. The haunting echo of arrows whistled through the air.

Suddenly, pain seared through your leg as an arrow found its mark, sending you sprawling to the ground with a desperate cry. You propped yourself up on your hands, sparing Seraphine the weight of your body. The harsh reality of your vulnerability struck, but there was no time to dwell in the pain of it all. Your life was daring to flash before your eyes.

“Sera, you need to run.” Your voice strained with urgency as you came to the decision that you would distract the men to allow your sister a chance of escaping. A chance of living.

“No,” she cried, shaking her head desperately.

Summoning every ounce of strength, you brought yourself to stand and helped your little sister up to her feet. “Sera, please.”

But Seraphine didn’t run. She stood by your side, frozen in place by both fear and loyalty. Her eyes betrayed her bewilderment at your request. “You promised we’d always be together.” She murmured in defiance.

Another arrow pierced your shoulder from behind and you let out a sharp gasp in pain. You fumbled for your bow and arrow, wincing as the pain seared through you at every movement of your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the inky darkness for the men who were chasing you.

“There’s nowhere left to run.”

A male stepped out from the shadows, teeth flashing with a wicked grin. You recognized him as the one who had spoken with the Innkeeper. He casted a glance toward your sister, his eyes roaming over her body in a way that disgusted you. “You have something that belongs to us.”

“Sera, get behind me.” You instructed, not wanting her to witness what was about to unfold. She listened to your request this time, burying her face into your back. Her hands gripped tightly onto your uninjured leg.

The way the male continued to approach you and Seraphine hinted that he didn’t think you were capable of shooting at him. Your throat tightened. Your gaze fixed on his chest, right where his heart was beating. You’d never shot someone before. Your bow and arrow had only been used to hunt out of necessity, never for sport. But your hands were already stained red and if you wanted any chance of surviving, you had to. If not for yourself, then for your sister.

Pretending that you were hunting and the male in front of you was a deer, you drew the bowstring back, muscles tensing. You didn’t leave room for another moment to pass, for doubt to cross over your mind. You released and your arrow swiftly met its target.

More Illyrian males stepped out from the trees, coming to a stop once they saw you. Unlike the first male, they were heavily armed and upon seeing their companion bleeding out on the snow, the look they sent you had you shaking. Their siphons began to glow, their eyes following shortly after with a primal, savage anger that wanted to consume you whole. There were three of them. You only had two arrows left.

You notched another arrow onto the taut string of your bow, praying to the Mother for a miracle.

It seemed as if she answered you right away as a sudden burst of crimson light illuminated the darkness around you. The ground beneath you trembled. Cassian emerged, a formidable force, his powerful presence radiating strength as he stood between you and the males. His back was to you, his membranous wings extended, protectively blocking the males from you.

“This is none of your business, bastard.” One of the males berated, attempting to assert dominance. He spat on the ground. “Stay out of it.”

“Oh,” Cassian said, his words cutting through the tension like a blade. The richness of his voice added weight to each syllable, delivering a strong message with resonating intimidation. “But it is my business.”

“All this for a murderous and thieving whore?” The male chuckled, having the nerve to challenge Cassian, despite his friends taking a step backwards. “Come on, you poor bastard. Even you can do better than that.”

Each of Cassian’s siphons ignited, radiating an overwhelming crimson cascade of power and he let out a low, guttural growl. The sound reverberated through the chilling air, carrying an innate power so profound that it seized attention and instilled fear in its wake. Even you felt the urge to bow down. Seraphine’s grip on your leg loosened but you urged her to keep her head pressed into your back, shielding her ears with your hands.

He reached for the sword strapped down his spine, taking pleasure in the flicker of fear in the male’s eyes. The snow crunched beneath his feet as he charged forward, killing the male who dared to challenge him with such ease that it filled him with disappointment. He didn’t have time to linger on it or turn to you as an arrow was soaring at him.

He caught it with one hand, crushing it between his fingers. He turned to the two remaining males, who looked at him in horror. They fled like the cowards Cassian knew they were and he chased after them, hoping that they’d at least grant him the fight his Illyrian blood yearned for.

Your skin was cold and clammy, your heartbeat quickening as you willed yourself not to fall. The world around you began to blur. There was another thunderous sound and you could make out a flash of purple and obsidian…was that the High Lord’s voice? What was happening?

“y/n?”

“M’okay,” you murmured to your sister but your voice was weak as the blood continued to seep from your wounds. You were caught in a disorienting whirlwind, where the world was spinning around you in a chaotic dance. The ground beneath you was becoming unsteady and you fell to your knees.

“y/n!” Seraphine’s voice was calling your name again but this time more frantic. You felt her tiny hands press against your wounds, a desperate attempt to keep your blood from escaping further. “You can’t leave me. You promised, y/n. You promised.”

The dizziness wrapped around you in its embrace and you gave in to it, wanting the world to stop spinning. Your eyelids fluttered shut, despite your sister’s cries. You didn’t want to leave her but you couldn’t help it. You were falling forward but instead of your face plummeting to the cold, hard ground, you found yourself falling into a warm and familiar embrace.

“I got you, Sweetheart.”

"Cassian."

You uttered his name as if it were a sacred invocation, a response to a cherished prayer, and then the world faded to black.

A dull ache permeated your body. Each breath, each movement was accompanied by a protesting soreness. The effort to open your eyes was met with resistance but when you finally fought through it, your surroundings were blurring in and out of focus.

Your senses gradually tuned in to the gentle embrace of the mattress beneath you and as the haze lifted from your vision, a realization unfolded. This wasn’t your room. It struck you then. Everything that had happened, a cascade of memories rushing back.

“Sera,” you rasped, your body jolting forward and head whipping around. A searing pain shot through your shoulder but you ignored it as your eyes frantically searched for your sister, your breath catching.

“You’re awake.” A familiar voice exhaled with relief.

Warm hands cupped your face, guiding your head toward the source of the voice. Your eyes met a pair of warm hazel eyes and you allowed yourself to breathe again.

“Cassian.”

Cassian smiled at you, cherishing the way his name sounded coming from your lips.. You spoke his name as if it were a breath of fresh air, a tender exhale that swept through his soul like a gentle breeze. He’d never grow tired of it.

“Where are we?” You asked and then your eyebrows knitted together when you spotted Scrumps beside you. “Where’s Sera?”

“We’re in Velaris.” Cassian replied and at your blank stare, he added: “The City of Starlight. A hidden city in the Night Court. You and Sera will be safe here. Only the citizens and the High Lord’s closest friends know about this place.”

“And Se–”

“She’s with Azriel.”

You shifted forward and Cassian dropped his hands from your face to place them on your shoulder, carefully avoiding the area around your injured one to keep you from moving. Although Madja had taken care of you, the arrows the Illyrians from Ironcrest had used were laced with poison and while you were stable, it would take longer than expected for the puncture wounds on your shoulder and thigh to properly heal.

“It’s okay, she’s alright.” Cassian reassured you. “You were out a whole day from your injuries. She wouldn’t leave your side at all. I was able to convince her to go eat breakfast but she would only go if I stayed by your side. She didn’t want you to wake up alone. Azriel offered to take her down for breakfast. She’s perfectly safe with him.”

You met his eyes again. “It’s not Azriel I’m worried about.”

Cassian shrugged his shoulders, waving off your concern. “Nothing he can’t handle, I’m sure.”

You sent him a look and then the two of you were bursting into laughter.

You missed being with him. The first night you met, things had been so simple and easy flowing between you two. It was a stark contrast to the complexity that had since seeped into your relationship. A complexity you blame yourself for. You thought you were doing what was best but instead, you felt like you had ruined everything.

As the laughter subsided, a wave of remorse swept over you, turning the light moment heavy. Tears welled up and you gave in to them, not holding back. You were finally releasing all the emotional turmoil that had been building within that started with the loss of your mother.

Cassian responded instinctively. His strong arms enveloped you, offering a comforting refuge from the storm of emotions that raged within. This time, you let him. You buried your head into his chest, flooding your senses with his scent that soothed you and he nestled his in the crook of your neck. He held you close. So, so close. He could sense you were breaking within and wanted nothing more than to keep you whole. To wrap you in the safety of his arms until the storm within you subsided.

“Kallon,” you began as you pulled away just enough to speak. “He found out about your visits–he found out about what I was doing. Then, he found Aerik and they both came into the tavern one night. He threatened to hurt you, hurt Seraphine, and then me if you came over again…–”your voice broke as you sharply inhaled and the tears were coming down again. “--He said he’d save me for last so I could watch.”

“I’m so sorry for lying to you. I should’ve told you. But I–I couldn’t.I asked you to leave. Not because I wanted to but because I was scared and I didn’t want you or Sera to get hurt. And then Aerik came home after he saw you. He wanted to take Sera away from me. He wanted to–he–he was–oh gods. I–I killed–”

“It’s okay,” his voice was a soft murmur, not needing to hear more. He saw the bruises littering your neck earlier. He steadied his breath, resting his head on top of yours. “You’re safe now.”

“I’m sorry.” You cried against Cassian’s chest, tears flowing freely and staining the fabric of his shirt. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he told you, his voice soothing amidst the discord of your emotions.

“I pushed you away. I hurt you.”

“You were only trying to protect your sister. I understand.” Cassian reassured you. It tore him apart to see you like this and it destroyed him even more that he had unintentionally played a role in it. If he had just stayed, if he had refused to leave, Aerik wouldn’t have been able to lay his hands on you. Those Illyrian males wouldn’t have been able to harm you.

“I don’t deserve your kindness. Your hospitality.” You said as your regret continued to pour out. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Nonsense.” Cassian was quick to respond, his arms holding you tighter as if trying to shield you from your own self-doubt. You could hear his steady heartbeat, a rhythmic reassurance, yearning to steady the erratic cadence of your own. “You deserve everything and so much more.”

As the tears subsided, Cassian tilted your chin upward, meeting your gaze with a tender intensity. “I meant what I said,” he whispered softly. “I loved you then and I love you now. I will always love you.”

“If there’s even the slightest chance that you feel the same, I’ll wait for you. I’ve waited seven years to have you by my side. I’ll wait seven more or however long it takes. And if you can’t open your heart to me, that’s okay too. I’ll be your friend. But please,” he said, his voice a soft plea as his eyes fluttered shut. “Please don’t push me away. I'd rather be your friend than nothing at all because I don’t want to let you go. I can’t let you go.”

Your eyes still glistened with traces of your emotion and he wiped them away, his nose brushing against yours.

“I don’t want to let you go either.”

Silence fell as the two of you looked at each other, locked in a gaze overwhelmed with yearning and longing. You were willing to let him in again. There was hope. A soft, shared breath of anticipation passed through you both. And then Cassian was bridging the small distance between you.

He cupped your face as he kissed you, his lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency. He moved to deepen the kiss. A delicate balance of passion and restraint. His chest pressed against yours and you could feel his heartbeat. It was quicker now and as it met yours, you surrendered to it, your heartbeat matching his in a timeless rhythm.

series masterlist

tagging: @kemillyfreitas, @wallacewillow0773638 @justdreamstars @63angel @fightmedraco

a/n: if you asked to be tagged and I didn't, I'm so sorry. Please let me know so I can tag you for the last part! thank you so much for reading and your comments. I love reading them! the next part should be up soon, I just need to finish one more scene <;3 you'll get to see another fun scene between Azriel and Seraphine in the next part lol, I debated on whether including it here but decided to save all the fluff for the next part

#cassian x reader #cassian imagines #cassian imagine #cassian angst #cassian fluff #cassian smut #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian acotar #acotar imagines #acotar imagine #acotar fanfiction #acotar angst #acotar fluff #acotar

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narryffdreaming · 3 months ago

Text

A TOAST TO THE FUTURE — FIVE

Summary: Aurora and Harry used to be friends, but life happened and they grew apart. Now, 6 years later, they meet again.

Rating: +18

WARNINGS: The story contains explicit language and mentions a past abusive relationship (mostly the consequences of psychological/emotional abuse). Some chapters also contain explicit sexual content.

PART FIVE: 15,3k words. Author’s note: Hi! I'm so, so sorry it took me this long to update. I rewrote this part so many times it's embarrassing, and now that it's done I'm low-key freaking out that it will end up disappointing after such a long wait lol. Anyway, part 5 is here. I hope you're still around to read it and that you enjoy it :) only 3 more left now!

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR (I) || PART FOUR (II)

When Aurora wakes up, the room is dark, empty and unfamiliar.

She bends her arms by the elbows and perks herself up, leaning on them to scan the space as best as she can — taking in the small window to her right, the faint reflection on the TV in front of her, and the dim light flickering under the bedroom door.

Recollecting her memories feels like a process, and it isn’t until she hears the seabirds crying out and the waves crashing nearby that everything comes back to mind.

She’s on a yacht.

In Italy.

And all of her friends are there.

A smile grows on her lips as Aurora falls back into her pillow, and she closes her eyes just to recall the last moments of the day before—the way she kissed Harry on that floating mat, the way they walked back inside hand-in-hand, and the way they sneakily kissed again before pulling apart to join their friends. Like two rebellious teenagers who couldn’t get caught whilst living a forbidden love.

Except they weren’t teenagers, of course. Nor rebellious.

And except what they had wasn’t love, much less forbidden.

And yet…

Damn.

Joy rushes through her chest, causing her to bring her hands to her face just so she can giggle to herself.

Everything feels so silly, but also so exhilarating. The stolen glances during dinner. The unintentional and unstoppable smiles. How she kept listening to her friends even though she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Or how he ran after her when she left the group behind to go to bed, kissing her goodnight and taking her breath away one last time before she officially put an end to that eventful day.

A sigh leaves her mouth, and Aurora drops her arms to her sides. Kissing Harry had never been an option before, nor even a curious thought of her mind. And yet there was a certain level of desperation when it happened. A sense of fucking finally that ran through her veins as soon as their lips met, and that put her skin on fire every time he spread his hand open and squeezed his fingers around her. As if she’d been waiting for it her entire life, and not just less than a day.

Isn’t that… Weird?

Aurora stares at the ceiling, aware that her emotions are too over the place for her to fall asleep again.

What time is it, by the way?

And why is she still all by herself?

Is Maddie still outside?

Is everyone still outside?

Is Harry still outside?

Full of energy, Aurora turns on her side and stretches her arm towards the bedside table, reaching for her phone and bringing it closer to her face. When she unlocks the screen, though, brightness strikes directly into her eyes, making her wince and quickly give up. She groans, then, forcing herself to sit on the bed and curling her legs closer while she rubs her eyelids.

It only takes her a couple of seconds until she tries again, blinking and squinting as she lowers the brightness and Noah’s beaming face takes over the background.

Aurora bites her lip and stares at the screen, admiring the picture she took just a few weeks ago during one of their walks around the park. A thumbs up on one hand and a pink flower on the other, a huge smile spreading from cheek to cheek and the sun warming up his entire face.

He looks a lot like his father, there’s no way to deny that, but his kindness and sensitivity sets him far away from him—something she deep down is grateful for.

It’s hard to believe that something so beautiful and innocent came up from such a complicated and unpredictable relationship. It’s hard to understand that the same man who treated her worse than anyone has ever treated her, is also the same man that gave her the biggest and most honest love she’s ever felt. And it’s hard to comprehend that even though she sometimes wishes she had never met Zack, she would actually never wish she hadn’t married him. Or had a kid with him.

She brushes her thumb up and down the side of her phone, almost as if she could caress her son. She’s never spent this long without him, and she misses him. She truly does. Even if her latest thoughts have failed to show that.

Heaviness sets deep into her belly, and her chest tightens up.

Shit.

What the hell is she doing?

A make-out session with an old friend wasn’t on the schedule. It isn’t even something she ever imagined it would happen. She just… Went with it. She listened to her friends, she had a couple drinks, and she let whatever she was feeling back then take full control of her actions.

She put a pause on her doubts and, for a moment — for how long that moment lasted — she didn’t think about the consequences. She didn’t think about tomorrow. She didn’t think about next Monday. She didn’t think about her son, who was spending the first weekend away from her. And she didn’t think about her ex-husband, who was taking care of their child while she took a weekend off on a luxury yacht in the Amalfi Coast.

She didn’t think about anyone, or anything.

She didn’t question. She didn’t wonder. She didn’t overthink.

Just like everyone said she should do.

Just like her friends told her she should do.

Friends who don’t have kids yet. Friends who don’t have ex-husbands yet. Friends who haven’t failed in life yet. Friends who don’t wonder who they are, or why everything crumbled down around them. Friends who aren’t worried about how they’re going to make it by themselves from now on, or how they’re going to find new dreams for a future that’s nowhere to be seen.

A toilet flushes somewhere, and Aurora jolts. She drops her phone on her lap and looks up, listening to the heavy steps that seem to get closer and louder each time, as if crossing the same floor she’s in and walking directly to her room.

Through the tiny gap under her door, she sees sounds turn into shadows, and then she hears the mumbling. The soft laughing and the shushing, until everything goes quiet and the handle finally moves.

Light from the hallway cracks in while Maddie walks in, carefully and slowly. It’s only a tiny bit, but it hits directly on Aurora’s face, making her raise one hand and cover her eyes.

“Oh,” Maddie whispers, stopping on her tracks. “Sorry. Was trying not to wake you.”

“‘s okay.”

Aurora clears her throat, getting rid of the sudden dryness and soreness.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I don’t know… Why are you sitting in the dark all by yourself?”

“Oh.” Keeping her chin down and one hand up to block the brightness from her face, Aurora shrugs. “Nothing.”

“Right…” Maddie says, dragging each letter a little longer than she normally would.

With a roll of her eyes, Aurora shifts on the bed and drops her body to lay back on the mattress.

“I just woke up, Maddie. Don’t be annoying.”

Maddie laughs and steps inside, letting the light from outside guide her whilst she walks towards the wardrobe and rummages through her clothes.

Aurora takes the opportunity to place her phone back on the nightstand and get comfortable under the covers.

“Have you been awake all this time?” Maddie asks. “We thought you were sleeping.”

“I just said I just woke up.” Aurora turns on her side and smashes her hands between her cheek and the pillow, catching the moment her friend freezes for a second while pulling her dress over her head.

“Okay?” Maddie murmurs, fully removing the item and throwing it into the wardrobe. “My bad. Did we wake you or something?”

Aurora sighs. She watches as Maddie puts a t-shirt and some shorts on, but she’s not really paying any attention to her movements. Her mind is foggy, thinking about how caught up in the whole kissing thing situation she was that she didn’t lose sleep over Zack never returning her texts. Or that her mind wasn’t flooded by Noah’s thoughts until she saw a picture of him.

“Hey,” Maddie calls, and Aurora blinks. She’s already facing the bed, hands loose by her sides while a frown takes over her expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head and looks away, settling her sight on the darkness out the window. “Sorry. ‘M just tired.”

“You sure?”

No.

“Mhm.” She closes her eyes and nods. “Just need to fall asleep again.”

“Okay… Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Mads.”

Aurora hears the soft click when her best friend shuts the door, and also her light steps as she walks around the room. She then feels the moment Maddie pulls the blanket from her side of the bed, and also when she gets under the covers and makes herself comfortable with a sigh.

There’s a beat of silence, in which Aurora shuffles and turns her body around to face the wall. Maddie moves as well, and it’s easy to tell they’re both laying back to back now. Aurora feels it.

She also somehow feels the water outside. The darkness. The birds flying above and around. She feels when her best friend drifts into unconsciousness, when her breathing changes, and when her body gets heavier on the mattress. She feels time going by, although she can’t tell if it’s only seconds or also minutes that are flying past her.

“Do you know what you want?” Harry’s voice echoes inside her brain, and images of them laying on that mat take over the darkness in front of her. His pinky around hers, the way he looks at her, his skin underneath her foot when she moves it up and down. “I think about this a lot, y'know? About you.” His confession puts a smile on her face, and it makes her heart skip a couple beats. She wants to kiss him, and she knows he wants to kiss her, too. So she waits for it to happen. And she waits for him to do it. And she waits. And she waits.

Why isn’t he trying to kiss her?

What is he waiting for?

Something is off, and she isn’t so sure anymore.

Was she wrong all along?

“I want you to make a move,” her voice pathetically begs while Harry laughs, and Aurora’s body jolts in bed. Eyes flying open while her muscles tense up and relax all at once.

I want you to make a move.

Is that what she actually said to him?

Her heart beats heavily, and her belly stirs uncomfortably. She wiggles her feet and rearranges her arms and legs, adjusting her sight until the empty wall becomes clear in front of her.

When she shifts her eyes around, she notices there’s no brightness under the door anymore, meaning all lights are off and everyone finally went to bed. And that she missed when it happened.

“I want you to make a move,” flashes again inside her mind, and blood rushes through her cheeks.

Shaking her head, Aurora grinds her teeth and stretches her arm, reaching for her phone one more time.

The concept of time feels even fuzzier now, so she doesn’t distract herself like she did before — Noah smiles at her, she misses him, and it’s 4:15.

Aurora sighs. Without too much thinking, determination guides her body off from bed, blindly searches for her flip flops, and takes her straight to the door.

Upstairs, everything’s quiet.

Quiet, empty, and dull.

It isn’t pitch black, though, allowing Aurora to confidently move from one common area to the other as she makes her way to the kitchen.

All she wants is a glass of water, but she knows the galley is considered exclusive for the crew, so a quick apology and explanation rests on the tip of her tongue as she slides the door open as discreetly as she can. Just in case.

Once inside, dim lights cover one side of the ceiling, turning the painfully white kitchen into washed-out yellow. She shuts the brown sliding door again and crosses the small passage-way, walking past the freezers and fridges, then around the island counter.

She follows her instincts while rummaging for a glass, half-smiling to herself when she finds one and then placing it on the counter so she can look for a bottle of water next.

Back around the unbelievably clean island, the French door refrigerators are just as fancy as everything else in that yacht. Aurora takes a moment to gawk at the perfectly organized shelves inside, but it only lasts a second or two until coldness crawls through her hands and arms.

It ends up being an awful reminder of how little she’s wearing right now, and that she should hurry out of there before the crew shows up for breakfast. So she grabs the labeled bottle of water and closes the fridge, then steps towards her glass and watches as she fills it up to the top.

“I want you to make a move,” her mind repeats for the tenth time, and Aurora sighs.

It’s hard to tell why those words are bothering so much, or why they’re hunting her in the first place. She was happy when she woke up, so why can’t she get rid of the uneasiness that’s settling in her chest?

Shaking her head, she places the bottle back on the counter a little harsher than she should, wincing when the sound echoes between the walls. She brings the glass to her lips, then, drinking her water whilst looking out through the window and indulging her messy thoughts.

Because kissing Harry felt right in the moment, it felt right when he chased her down the stairs for a quick goodbye, and it felt right when she snuggled her cheek against her pillow. And yet, the more she thinks about it now, the more she’s questioning the whole thing. As if there was something off about it. As if her perceptions and memories from that moment weren’t safe enough to trust.

Despite the turmoil inside her brain, the galley is so peaceful that the moment a door slides open everything seems to tremble around her.

And Aurora jumps.

And gasps.

She places the half empty glass on the counter and turns around, one hand on her chest whilst she gapes at the passage-way with widened eyes and parted lips.

Her entire body system stops while she waits, and then Harry walks into view, looks at her, and freezes on the spot.

“Heyyy,” he slowly and huskily drags out, his entire face lighting up as he takes one hand up to rub his eye. “You’re up.”

“Jesus.” Aurora closes her eyes and places one hand spread open on the counter, leaning her weight on it while she exhales heavily through her mouth. Underneath her other palm, the one that’s still on her chest, she feels her heart come back to life. Twice as fast. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Oops.” He laughs, shortly and calmly. “Sorry, love.”

Rough and raspy, the sounds echo from the back of his throat and speak directly to her brain, sending a shiver all the way down her spine and waking up all the butterflies.

She’s never heard his morning voice before. Not like that, at least. Not when it acts like a magnet and pops her eyes back open, then draws all of her attention straight to him.

“Damn, I’m knackered,” he says, stretching his arms over his head and then yawning loudly.

Aurora silently watches him.

Unlike her, Harry’s clearly barely awake, his puffy cheeks and chaotic hair inevitably giving him away.

Also unlike her, Harry’s properly covered from neck to toe, a black sweatshirt and some black sweatpants making him look the coziest she’s ever seen.

The idea of wrapping herself inside his arms isn’t subtle when it crosses her mind, even leaving behind a vivid picture of what the embrace could look like before Aurora kicks it out the door.

“That was probably one of the worst sleeps of my life,” he adds next, dropping his arms down and slightly shaking his head. When he flutters his eyelashes to glance at her, a soft smirk grows on his lips, and he tilts his head to the side. “Auri?”

“Hm?”

“You okay?”

She blinks and nods.

“Yes. Sorry.” Stepping away from the counter, she waves her hands up and down to remove the tension away from her. “You were saying?”

Harry chuckles and steps forward, then makes his way around the island and closer to her. “What’s on your mind? Why are you looking at me like—”

He freezes on the spot once again, however now with his eyes wide open and stuck on her silhouette.

Aurora doesn’t need to look down to figure out what he’s staring at. She feels the burn on her chest, and then on her thighs. She also feels his green irises wandering attentively, moving in such a bold and straightforward way that it would be impossible for her to doubt he’s checking her out.

“Harry…” she calls him out, but she also chuckles, sounding just as nervous as she feels. “You were saying what, exactly, about me looking at you?”

“Uh, sorry.” He shuts his eyes and clears his throat, then firmly shakes his head side to side. As if getting rid of his thoughts. “Shit. Yeah. Sorry. That’s… Yeah. My bad. Sorry.”

Aurora laughs again, turns to her glass of water and shrugs.

“‘S fine,” she says, bringing the cup to her lips and drinking what’s left in it. To be honest, she knows her navy silk pajamas expose all of her cleavage and just barely cover her legs, so it’s not really a surprise that her tiny outfit didn’t go unnoticed by him.

Besides, she isn’t exactly bothered by it. It’s nice to see she can still get such a genuine reaction out of someone—it’s been a long time since anyone has made her feel wanted and desired.

And probably just as long since she’s felt confident enough to believe she could be wanted and desired.

“Where did you get that glass?” Harry asks, suddenly closer. Too much closer. “Need some water, too.”

She puts the glass down and turns her head to the side, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Want this one?”

“Yeah, can be.” He nods. “If you’re done with it.”

She shrugs one shoulder and focuses back on the bottle of water, refilling the cup for him.

Their whole interaction it’s too formal. Kind of mechanical. And weird. Aurora can’t decide if there’s too much going on, if there’s absolutely nothing going on, or if what’s going on should be enough.

“There you go.” She turns slightly to the side and stretches her arm, offering him the cold drink. Before he can grab it, though, she pulls it back to her chest and frowns. “Actually, I put my mouth here, so maybe you just wanted a clean one? In that case they—”

“I’ll take this one, thanks.” Harry laughs, getting close enough to grab the glass from her hand. “You put your mouth on my mouth, too, anyway.”

Aurora gasps, but her lips curve into a smile and laughter quickly buzzes out of her chest. “Harry!”

Harry laughs, too.

“Just saying! In case you forgot about it.”

She rolls her eyes, the playful tone in her voice matching her wrinkled eyes and the big smile on her face. “What a smooth way to remind me, then.”

“Trust me,” he says with a shrug, then looks at the glass in his hand and smirks, almost as if sharing an inside joke with himself, “it could’ve been worse.”

Out of words, Aurora leans her hip against the counter and crosses her arms, watching him tilt his head back and drink the water down.

The glass almost disappears behind his fingers, and the scruff on his neck looks just as messy as his curly hair. Underneath, his throat moves heavily, the muscles popping out with each gulp and his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

Aurora drifts her eyes to the fridges, noticing a new and erratic beat inside her chest. It’s not like she forgot how attracted to him she felt last night, or even during the day, but she definitely didn’t know this is how she’d feel when she saw him again. How easy it would be for her to want him again. How quickly she would crave for more of what they had.

I want you to make a move.

She bites her bottom lip and looks down, closing her hand onto a fist only to entertain her brain with something else. Something that doesn’t involve self embarrassment and silly thoughts.

“Hey,” Harry calls, followed by the clicking of the glass against the countertop. “Are you going back to bed now?”

Aurora shrugs, then tilts her chin up to meet his stare once again. “I mean, I was planning to, but…”

He curves his lips up, a genuine smile quickly growing on him.

“Same,” he says. And then, “Can I show you something, then?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Ok, great. I just need a minute to wash my face and all that, yeah? I’ll be back tho. I promise. Wait for me?”

“Sure.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” she chuckles.

“Ok. Yeah. Thanks. One minute, I swear.”

“Okay,” Aurora laughs.

And Harry nods. And turns around, and glances at her over his shoulder, and nods again. Ok, he murmurs. One minute.

And then he walks away.

“One minute!” he whisper-yells, right before he disappears through the door.

It takes him way longer than a minute to come back — of course it does — but Aurora doesn’t mind the wait. She doesn’t want to be caught hanging in the galley by any crew members, though, so she takes it as an opportunity to step into the living-dining room area and snoop around a little.

There’s not much to do, but at least she distracts her mind with minor thoughts, like the fact that all lights are off and all windows are closed, or that everything’s so quiet that she can hear the waves crashing against the hull. Or Harry’s feet when he climbs up the steps.

She goes back through the door, then, meeting him halfway and saving him an unneeded walk to the kitchen.

“Hey,” he whispers and smiles. “Thanks for waiting.”

“Of course,” she whispers back.

He’s short-winded, as if he ran to get there, but he also looks refreshed and determined, stretching his arm and offering his hand for her to hold.

“C’mon then,” he adds in another whisper, “let’s go upstairs.”

As she links fingers with him and follows him outside, she mentally notices a pillow under his armpit and a blanket on his other hand. For some reason, the simple gesture brings a smile to her face, but she’s good at looking the other way and keeping it to herself.

He guides them kind of calmly, then, but also slightly rushed. He is polite enough to say ladies first and let her walk up the stairs in front of him, but then also cheeky enough to stay behind and unashamedly watch her as she moves all by herself.

The thing is, though, that Aurora only catches him when she’s already a few steps ahead and absently glances over her shoulder. He’s practically drooling and doesn’t even notice she’s looking at him, which only makes the whole thing worse — or maybe better.

“Harry!” She mouths with a gasp, mindful of being quiet and not waking anyone up, but also unable to stop her laughter from coming out of her mouth. “Stop staring!”

He blinks a couple times and shakes his head, then immediately climbs two steps at a time.

“Oops,” he says under his breath, catching up with her and smirking sheepishly.

He seems the least regretful or ashamed for his actions, but she’s not exactly bothered by it, so she doesn’t hide the smile from him. Or how amused she is. She simply rolls her eyes and chuckles a bit more, facing forward and going up the rest of the way.

She only stops again when they finally get to the sun deck, knowing it’s the highest part of the yacht and therefore they can’t really go more ‘upstairs’ than that.

There are no walls or roof shielding them from the weather, so she’s instantly met by a breeze from all sides, causing her body to tense up and forcing her to take her hands up to hold her hair away from her face. Still, Aurora takes a deep breath in and bites her lip, filling her lungs with ocean air and her ears with crashing and loud waves.

That deck looks just as dark as all the others — if not even more. And yet, somehow, it also feels the brightest she’s seen since she woke up.

Most lights are completely off, except for the required ones, but half of the moon is up in the sky, casting the way. It allows her to see the shadows of the table and chairs where they spent half of the day before (the only covered area), and far behind, on the opposite side, the barstools with perfect view to the back of the boat.

“Was talking to Niall about this place last night,” Harry says, stopping so close behind her that she can feel the warmth of his clothes. He keeps his voice as quiet and soft as before, matching the delicacy in which he places his free hand on her bicep as he speaks again. “Told him he should bring Megan up here to watch the stars.”

Aurora pulls her lips into a thin-smile and nods, still needing another minute to assess the space.

Harry doesn’t seem to mind her silence, nor her astonishment, simply shortening the distance and pressing his chest to her back while respecting her needed time.

That is, for a moment or two, until she shivers.

“Ok,” he chuckles with a squeeze of her arm, then slides his palm down and easily finds his way to her hand, “let’s move now.”

He walks past her, using their intertwined fingers to guide them as he steps to their right, across from where she’s been staring at.

Next to the stairs, it’s the jacuzzi — the same one she saw the day before and freaked out about. She remembers seeing it, but she definitely doesn’t remember noticing there was also a large, wide sunbed right behind it.

Which there is, obviously, since it’s the only thing she can see once they walk around the hot tub.

“I brought you a blanket,” Harry says, “but if you want I can get you a jacket. Or you can wear my hoodie… I don’t mind. I mean, I wore this to sleep and I’m not wearing anything underneath, so I don’t know how you’d feel about that.”

He chuckles, but Aurora is only paying half-attention to what he says. She’s distracted by how huge the white leather cushions are, how they seem to sparkle under the moonlight, and how much space they take. They’re presented as three sets, as if individual loungers were put together, but in reality it ends up being one big and comfortable daybed.

“We can also go back inside if you want,” Harry speaks again, however this time the louder tone of his voice brings her to look back at him. “I’m not—I don’t want you to feel cold, so that’s totally—”

“It looks great,” Aurora offers, squeezing her fingers around his hold. “That’s why I’m speechless, actually.”

Harry brushes his thumb on the back of her hand and smiles, not even once removing the stare from her eyes as he speaks again. “In that case… How do you feel about watching the sunrise from up here?”

Excitement bubbles from her belly to her chest, and to her throat. Suddenly, it’s written all over her face—in her smile, her widened eyes, and her parted lips.

“Oh my God, yes! I’d love that!”

“Yeah?” Harry mimics her reaction, taking their hands to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. “Let’s get you warm then. C’mon.”

Aurora blinks and nods, murmuring a soft “okay” even though he’s already dropped her hand and turned away from her. She watches him place one knee on the edge of the sunbed, drop the pillow and the blanket, then quickly crawl to the middle cushion and take a seat.

“Ok,” he murmurs, taking off his worn-out shoes and tossing them next to her. “Almost there…”

She smiles to herself, entertained by how endearing he looks. By how endearing he is. How he scooches backwards to make sure he’s sitting fully against the backrest, how he coughs into his fist as he puts the pillow behind his shoulders, and how he spreads his legs open and bends them by the knees before finally looking at her again.

“C’mon now,” he murmurs, patting his hand on the spot between his thighs. “Sit with me.”

For a moment, and for as short as that moment is, Aurora considers playing hard to get. She considers making a joke about his demanding tone, or even about how acquainted with the whole scene he seems to be.

And yet when she thinks about it again, she can’t find a single reason why she would do that. She’s too tired to pretend she doesn’t care, doesn’t want, or doesn’t mind — if Harry’s offering, and if she’s feeling it, then wouldn’t she?

So in the end, she simply sits down and takes off her flip flops, then skitters backwards with the help of her own hands. Legs stretched out in front of her while she pushes and pushes herself.

Harry meets her halfway, his hands finding her waist and guiding her until her back touches his chest.

“There we go,” he says, pulling the blanket and throwing it over their bodies.

And just like that, easy like that, they’re molding and curling around each other.

Harry makes sure their legs are properly covered, then leans on his pillow and waits for her to drop her weight on him. When she does it, and as she crosses her arms on her stomach and waits for Harry to do the same—as she waits for him to hug her and hold her close against him—he busies himself pulling the rest of the fabric up to her shoulders. And then he sighs, wraps his arms around her midsection, and nuzzles into her neck. Humming while his curls tickle her skin.

His body relaxes underneath her, and she finds herself mimicking him. Letting all the air out of her body, loosening up all of her muscles, and going numb against his chest.

Comfortable. Warm. Satisfied.

Relieved.

In front of her, under the handrail, the glass is so transparent that it’s almost nonexistent. Darkness is out there, all around them, but not to the point where she can’t distinguish the horizon. The moon, even though distant to her right, works everywhere, highlighting a few clouds and also reflecting its beauty on the water.

To that same direction, it appears to be nothing but ocean, and as far as she can see the same goes to what’s in front of her.

On the other hand, above her, wherever she looks, stars are still easy to spot, and to her left the coastline is all lightened up. Blurry, small, and far away, but shining gold still. A reminder of where they are, but also a reminder that, despite how it might feel, they are not alone right now.

The whole experience brings a weird feeling to her chest.

The view, Harry’s presence, the sounds coming from the water…

It is just… Weird. Somehow also scary, but mostly — and oddly — comforting and peaceful. Hopeful. It makes it easy to forget about the world that’s waiting for her, about all the problems and all the pain. It makes it easier to pretend she doesn’t have to go back to London and keep looking for a job, or that she doesn’t need to worry about paying her own bills.

It makes it easier to pretend she isn’t trying to start a new life. A new life with Noah, but also a new life completely by herself. A life of her own. A life where Zack is only there because he’s the father of her son, and not because she can’t make it without his help.

In the end, it makes it easier to believe that she’ll get through it. That things will get better. And that she will be okay.

Which, truth be told, is the scariest feeling she’s ever had in life.

And the hardest to embrace.

“I wonder which one is Saturn,” Harry murmurs, bringing her out of her inner thoughts. “Or what constellations we’re seeing right now.”

She licks her lips and drifts her eyes above them, then to their sides.

The way she scans the sky is more attentive this time, not randomly taking in whatever’s out there, but focusing on finding specific information just for him.

The easiest to spot are always Saturn and Venus, but since only one of those can be found right now, she doesn’t think twice before resting her chin on her own shoulder and pulling one arm out from under the blanket.

“See the moon?” she asks, raising her finger to the sky and pointing to the three-quarter-white-circle that shines distantly on the horizon.

Harry turns his head, too, then presses his lips on her hair and murmurs, “Yeah?”

“Well, that brightest spot next to the moon is Saturn.”

“Shit. Really?”

“Mhmm…” She lowers her arm, but doesn’t bother hiding it under the blanket. “The Aquarius and Capricorn constellations are there, too, but we can’t properly see them right now.”

“That’s so cool…” he mumbles, seemingly too distracted by the new information he received. “What else? Do you know any other?”

She faces forward, feeling Harry follow her lead and remove his lips from her hair, then rest his cheek on the side of her head.

“Okay,” she says, once again lifting her arm and pointing it to the sky. “See that red spot around here?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s Mars.”

“Shut up!” He tightens his arms around her, and a soft chuckle leaves his chest.

Aurora chuckles, too, then moves her arm an inch down and to the side.

“And see this other star shining next to it?” she asks.

“The brightest one?”

“Yeah… That’s actually Jupiter.”

“Damn…”

“And I know the Pisces constellation is somewhere around there,” she says, pointing up and down next to the two spots she just referred to. “But most of the time I can’t tell exactly where… Then… Hmm… Well, I think that’s it. That’s all I— No! Wait. Actually, lemme just…”

She turns her head from one side to the other, and when she knows she’s looking at the wrong place, she leans forward and twists her upper body, trying to see behind them, too.

“Nuh-uh,” Harry groans, pulling her back to his chest. “No leaving.”

She crashes against him with a smile, settling into her spot and letting him cover her body again. Including both of her arms.

“But I can’t spot the bears from here… I think they’re back there…”

“The bears?”

“Yeah, y’know, Ursa Minor and Ursa Major.”

“I actually don’t know about those.” He chuckles. “And I also had no idea you knew about any of this.”

Aurora rolls her eyes, but her lips curl into a smile anyway. She cozies up against his chest, settling her arms on top of his and tilting her head slightly to the side.

“It’s not a big deal.” She shrugs. “I’ve just shown you, like, three planets. That’s nothing.”

“Ok, then show me more.”

“I don’t know any others.” She laughs, and from the corner of her eyes she can tell he’s smiling along with her. “I mean, there are a few that we can only spot during winter, and others that we can’t spot now unless we walk to the other side.”

“Hmmm… Well, I really don’t wanna move from here, so I’m happy with the ones I’ve learned.”

“Okay…”

“Unless you want to move, then we move.”

She wriggles her bum to scooch down a little and sighs, settling even more onto him. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Then we’re good.”

He places his chin on the top of her head, and Aurora faces forward with a smile on her face. Reconnecting with the ocean view and also with the sounds she apparently tunes off whenever they start talking.

Silence. Quietness.

Comfort.

“Y’know,” Harry eventually says, “now I’ll always think of you when I look at the stars.”

A beat of silence goes by, and then…

She laughs.

“Oh my God…” She stretches her spine and throws her head back, landing on his shoulder. “You’re sooo cheesy.”

“I know.” He tightens his arms around her waist, playfully squeezing her while turning his head to press his nose on her neck. “I am. And I don’t care.”

She shakes her head, still smiling and staring at the sky.

It’s like she can hear the happiness in his voice, and it blows her mind how easy he makes it seem. Or how contagious he is.

“Wanna know something else?” he asks.

“Hm?” Tilting her chin to the side, she rests the side of her face on his temple and closes her eyes. Focusing on the way he warms her skin as he stays hidden on her neck.

“I don’t think I’ve smiled this much in a really long time.”

“Really?” She raises her eyebrows, her lips never coming down from the upward curve they previously formed. “Well, a yacht on the Amalfi Coast can do that to you.”

“Actually… You are doing this to me.”

Silence settles around them. A heavy silence, but not an uncomfortable one. It gives time for his words to linger between them. Making her stomach flutter and her mouth break into this big and genuine smile.

“Damn.” She chuckles, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

“What?” he asks, lifting his face from her neck and kissing her cheek. Quick. Loud. And full of joy. “Gonna make fun of me again?”

She opens her eyes and lifts her head from his shoulder, holding onto his forearms as she turns to look at him.

“No, c’mon… ‘M not making fun of you,” she says, because she feels the need to explain. However… The playful smirk on his face indicates she doesn’t need to. He’s not mad. He’s not disappointed. He’s just teasing her back. Because he knows. He knows her, he gets her. And so, she sighs. “Okay, maybe I am a little…”

Harry laughs, his lips touching his dimples as he throws his head back and then looks at her again.

“But only,” she adds, a little bit louder so the smile on her own face doesn’t get in the way of her words, “because I think it’s really sweet and I don’t know how to react.”

“Hmm… C’mere,” he says, pulling her back into his chest and pressing his lips on her bare shoulder.

It’s a gentle kiss. Sweet, but calculated. Not too long, but also not too short. Just wet enough to linger on her skin when he pulls away, but also quickly to forget when it’s followed by another one, slightly to the side, and another one, even further to his right.

“You don’t—”

“Do you—”

They both speak at the same time, and they both also freeze at the same time, turning silence into giggles just a moment later.

“Sorry,” she says. “You were saying?”

“Nothing important. You go.”

“My thing wasn’t important either.”

“Wanna hear it anyway.”

“But—”

“Say it.”

“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes and chuckles. “Fine. I was just about to ask if you want me to show you where Venus is.”

“Venus?”

“Yeah, the planet.”

“Oh, right,” he says, breathing hotly into her skin before he kisses her one last time and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Of course. Show me, please.”

“Okay, so… Remember Jupiter and Mars?” she stretches her arm in front of them, pointing to the sky. “They’re higher now, right? So if you look closer to the horizon,” — she lowers her arm, trying her best to give short and objective explanations — “you can spot another bright star.”

“Mhmm… And that’s Venus?”

“Yep.” She nods, then drops her arm and grabs the blanket, covering herself from the early morning breeze. “That’s Venus.”

“Amazing. And she’s just showing up now? When it’s about to be over?”

“Yeah…” Aurora smiles. “I always associate Venus with the sun, because we can only see it right before sunrise or right after sunset. Never like, in the middle of the night. And in the evening it’s the easiest to spot because it’s usually the first one to show up… Or the brightest.”

“That’s really cool… I had no idea. So we got Venus, Mars and Jupiter right in front of us, and to that side” —he shrugs his right shoulder, indicating what direction he’s talking about— “we got Saturn near the moon. Got that right?”

“Yep. Perfect.”

“Ha!” He smiles, sounding all proud of himself. “Tonight we gotta do this again. Wanna see if I can find them myself.”

Aurora smiles, too. “Okay. I’ll test you.”

“Deal.”

Her smile turns into a joyful beam, and as their happiness nests in silence, Aurora feels herself somehow melting into him. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. And even maybe mentally, if that’s possible.

She isn’t really sure of what’s going on — and she can’t really explain it when she doesn’t understand it herself. What she knows, though, it’s that it’s nice to share that moment with him. And that she’s happy to be there with him. She knows that it’s nice to be wrapped inside his arms while the sky turns into lighter shades of blue and leaves its heavy darkness fully behind. That it feels good when he places his chin on her shoulder and watches how a new day begins right in front of them—how things change right in front of them.

Because things are always changing and things will always change.

Although…

Even when constellations officially start to fade off, there’s a reminder of their existence still flickering from time to time. Letting her know they’re still there, and that they can still be found. That just because they’re about to stand behind and let others shine, it doesn’t mean they won’t get another chance to try again. To show up again. To be themselves again.

And, yeah, maybe she’s taking it too far, maybe she’s reading too much into it. But Harry’s consideration and enthusiasm bring comfort to her heart, and as the horizon burns with flames and is draped with layers of honey, words fly out of her mouth before she can at least think about them first.

“This is actually something Noah and I do together pretty often… Watching the sky.”

“Yeah? He likes it?”

“He does, yeah… He never showed any interest, but one time he woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and he just wouldn’t stop crying… So I took him to the living room and sat with him next to the window… I mean, I was just trying to distract him, y’know? So I started pointing out the ones I knew and telling stories about them.”

“What kind of stories?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs and chuckles, aware of the lies that she would probably have to explain as soon as he got older. “I was just trying to calm him down, so I was improvising… Told him how there are two bears protecting the other constellations, about this dog that’s their best friend and helps them sometimes, and that when we see the brightest stars twinkling it’s because they’re watching out for us, too… I don’t know. Silly things like that. I’m not really creative so…”

“Those are not silly things,” Harry says, and she can feel his jaw move on her shoulder with every word he lets out of his mouth. “I mean, at least I don’t think so. I remember when my grandma died and I was struggling to understand the concept of not seeing her ever again, and then my mum told me Nana had turned into a star, so she would always watch out for me and that I could talk to her every night. And that was nice.”

Aurora feels the way he shrugs behind her, but it feels almost forced. As if he’s just trying to prove he doesn’t think too much of his own vulnerable words.

And yet, that doesn’t stop him from talking again and sharing even more with her.

“Sometimes I would look at the sky and pretend I was talking to her. Say hello, or goodnight, or things like that. Of course later I figured out it wasn’t real and I stopped, but deep down it kinda stuck with me, y’know? So now when I look up and see the stars, I like to… Y’know. Just think that my mum is up there, too. Y’know. Still around. Watching out for me. Hanging out with Nana. Stuff like that.”

Aurora bites her lip, taking in everything he just said. Aware of how hard it must’ve been for him to say that, and how even his voice and the words he used carried along that uneasiness, sadness and longing that comes with losing someone we love.

She doesn’t want to make the silence too long or turn it awkward, though, so she doesn’t search for the perfect thing to say, she just slides her hands to his wrists and tries her best to twist her upper body and look at him, then says whatever it’s there for her to say.

“That’s so beautiful.”

Harry smiles, and it should seem blurry with how close he is, but he actually looks as clear as ever. As pure and vulnerable as ever.

“I know,” he says. He turns his hands over and meets her palms, easily linking their fingers together. “And it’s not different from what you did when telling those stories to Noah… He’ll always feel protected now, he’ll have something to hold on to, even if he doesn’t say it out loud… And that’s because of you.”

Aurora bites the flesh inside of her cheek and breathes in, feeling the burning in her throat instantly watering her eyes.

“Okay,” she blurts out and faces forward. “We should stop now, because I’m about to start crying.”

Harry chuckles, but it’s so soft and tender that it feels like he’s just hugging her. “Sorry, love.”

Shaking her head, she clears her throat and brushes her thumbs up and down the back of his hands. “It means a lot… Everything you said. So thank you.”

“Of course.” He squeezes her.

“I mean,” she finds herself speaking again, “deep down I know it’s not silly and that he really loved that, because now whenever the sky’s clear he gets all excited for us to find them again.”

“And does he spot them easily?”

“Well…” Aurora smiles. “The bears are supposed to be Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, so sometimes… If they’re hard to spot and he’s really confident he saw them somewhere else, I’ll pretend he’s right. But the others, y’know, like the planets I showed you today, he’s usually pretty good at finding them, yeah.”

“Hmm… What a smart little guy.”

Her face breaks with happiness and pride, and for once she doesn’t even try to hide it.

Truth be told, Aurora knows she can’t take credit for Noah’s entire DNA, so there’s no point to deny that when it comes to intelligence, she hopes Zack’s genes will play a bigger role than hers. Which seems to be the case so far, because he’s constantly blowing up her mind with—

“Only two left now,” Harry murmurs. “Venus and…”

Aurora looks around, taking in how the setting they’re in slowly turns into strawberry ice cream, and how thin gray clouds surf in thin waves made of yellow lemon rinds. It reflects all around them — from the sky to the water, and even the air they’re breathing in. Suddenly lighter. Fresher. Saltier.

“What’s the other one?”

“Jupiter,” she whispers.

“Jupiter.” Harry nods. “Right.”

It is so magical that it takes her breath away, and the fact that the last two planets in the sky are barely hanging on a string doesn’t seem so bad. Not if it means it will lead them to witness something so extraordinary like this.

“Can’t believe everyone else’s missing this,” she murmurs.

“I know…” he says. “Hands down the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen.”

Aurora nods, and a moment of silence goes by.

Then Harry speaks again.

“I’m happy it’s just the two of us, tho,” he says, his voice so low that Aurora isn’t even sure she is supposed to hear him.

But she does, of course.

She hears him, and she understands him. Because had their friends been there with them, things would be different. They probably wouldn’t even be sitting together, so they also wouldn’t be holding each other, or linking fingers, or whispering into each other’s ears.

In the end, she would’ve shared the moment with everyone, but she wouldn’t have shared it with him.

Much likely how the entire day is going to go by once they all wake up.

Which, now that she thinks about it, will slightly suck.

Before she can put together the words to agree with him, though, the sun finally peeks out, and the horizon turns into lava.

Dark and intense as a tangerine, it quickly takes over all the other colors—the timid purple here and there, the pink, the yellow.

It’s just as beautiful as before, albeit a little bit different. Because from now on, she knows it’ll be quick. She knows even blinking could mean missing something, and she knows it won’t take long for everything to go back to normal. For the magic to end. For things to be over.

And perhaps Harry’s line of thinking is traveling the same route, because he leans in and presses his lips on her shoulder, sighing loudly to her skin before he moves to the side and kisses her again.

And again.

Aurora bites her lip and breathes in slowly, filling her stomach with air before letting it all empty again.

He’s good at this. He’s good at teasing her and making it happen, both at the same time. He’s good, and Aurora likes that—she wants that. So she closes her eyes and tilts her head to the side, giving him more access. Giving him more room, and more skin. More to kiss, and more to taste.

Harry curls his lips up as he takes them further up, spreading more distracting kisses all the way through her neck. Following a sweet, gentle path that he makes sure to equally enjoy in every step of the way, up until the corner of her jaw.

“Is this ok?” he murmurs, low and husky, then takes her earlobe inside his mouth.

Shit.

Aurora’s body tenses all at once, and then a shiver runs down her spine.

He doesn’t wait for an answer before kissing her skin again, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t need one—there’s absolutely no reason for him to believe it isn’t okay to make her melt and sigh against him. Just like there’s absolutely no reason for her to do anything that would put a stop to what he’s doing right now.

And yet, it’s like her body reacts on its own, because next thing she knows she’s already turning her head to the side and searching for him.

Harry meets her with his chin at first, bumping it into her cheek before he tilts his head down and slides his nose all the way to her mouth.

As soon as they’re within reach, their lips act like magnets, immediately curling and molding around each other.

Aurora breathes in, as if she’s been lacking all this time, and Harry breathes out, as if he’s been holding it in all along.

Slow, but undoubted.

Wholehearted.

He lets go of her fingers and brings his hand to her jaw, holding her in place while his other arm remains around her waist.

The way his forearm rests on her chest, almost sinking between her breasts, fires an alarm inside her brain, and Aurora shuts it down by bringing her own free hand to his wrist and keeping him there.

It’s uncomfortable to kiss him like this—with her head tilted back and to the side. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s also comforting. The best kind of comfort, actually. To have him so close, so awkward, so real. So willing to just be there with her.

It makes her belly flutter, and her hands itch.

It makes her crave for more.

So when he pulls away, and when the sound of their lips parting echoes on the empty highest deck, Aurora drops her hands and shifts between his legs, turning and leaning sideways against him.

That is all Harry needs to take the hint and move as well—to get rid of the blanket, then find her waist and pull her along as he shuffles to lay down.

“Here,” he says, rolling on his side and holding the pillow for her to use.

Smoothly and effortlessly.

Aurora lifts her head and makes herself comfortable, watching his pretty features as he holds his weight on one elbow and brings his free hand to pull her hair out of her face.

His gaze follows his own movements, keeping track of his hand as he puts her untamed waves behind her ear, and also as he brushes the back of his fingers down her neck and through the curve of her shoulder and extension of her arm.

He’s respectful, but also straightforward. Brushing her bicep while actually scanning her breasts, then settling his palm on a covered spot on her side while he keeps running his eyes past her tiny silky shorts and all the way through her exposed legs.

Suddenly, Aurora is very conscious of the way heat spreads through her veins, the way her heartbeat speeds up, and the way her belly quivers.

She’s nervous, she knows she is. She hasn’t thought about being with anyone other than her husband (well, ex-husband) for almost a decade now, so it’s only natural her instincts are shouting for her to squirm away or hide herself. Even though she more than definitely doesn’t want to squirm away or hide herself. Especially from him.

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry murmurs, almost to himself, lost in sight around her ankles.

Aurora swallows.

Shadows of orange meet his silhouette, and the light blue behind him contrasts nicely with the green of his eyes. He looks kind of angelic, to be honest, praising her when there’s nothing but affection and admiration on his face.

“You think so?” she asks, then brings both arms between their chests, her hands nestling around his sweatshirt.

Harry brushes his thumb up and down her waist and nods.

“Always thought so,” he says, as if it was the most natural thing to share. And then he wanders his gaze up through her body and settles his attention inside her eyes, and Aurora feels the intensity of his many emotions pouring into her.

It’s hypnotizing, and it knocks the air out of her lungs.

“Always the most beautiful girl in the room,” he adds.

Aurora’s lips curl around a tiny and timid smile, and Harry’s gaze shifts to them. He leans in, then, closing his eyes and sealing his words by softly and simply pressing his mouth to hers.

Her chest squeezes around her heart, so she closes her eyes and slides one arm up, pressing her palm to the back of his neck and encouraging him to stay there.

Which he does, at least for another second or two. And even when he pulls away—even when he creates the tiniest distance between their mouths and squeezes her waist so he can shift closer and lay half on top of her—he still remains close enough to let her know it’s not over yet. And he’s not going anywhere.

Aurora keeps her eyes shut and sighs, instinctively puckering when his mouth fully touches hers again. Careful. Polite. As though he’s introducing himself and letting his presence be known before he curls around her bottom lip and sucks her flesh into his mouth.

The quietest and softest whimper vibrates in Aurora’s throat, and Harry deepens his fingers around her waist.

With a hum, he tastes her like he’s been craving for it his entire life. Like it’s the most delicious flavor he’s ever found. Or like he’s hoping to take a snippet of her forever with him.

He takes his time. And enjoys himself. Only letting go of her lip to peck her mouth once and then going for it again.

Except now he sucks her flesh in and secures it between his teeth, then holds it in as he pulls away.

For a moment, it’s almost painful. But it also brings a fire to her chest, and then a new whine to the back of her throat.

And then it’s almost embarrassing, how he leaves her hanging as he groans and suddenly lets her go.

It takes Aurora a moment to realize nothing else is happening. That she’s just laying there with her eyes closed and mouth parted, and that he isn’t kissing her anymore.

So she licks her lips and blinks, swallowing as she finds him already staring at her.

Attentive.

Handsome.

Preoccupied.

Affectionate.

With a racing heart, she spreads one hand open on his chest and takes the other up on the back of his head. Moving as much as she can whilst her arms remain tucked between them.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and although she doesn’t mean to whisper, apparently it’s all her voice can come up with right now.

Harry smiles.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head twice. “‘M just enjoying the view.”

Aurora rolls her eyes, but she also mimics his smile and turns her head, avoiding to look at him in case heat spreads through her cheeks.

“Hey,” he calls with another squeeze to her waist. “C’mere.”

He’s leaning in before she fully tilts her head back, meeting her mouth with a little more intent than he’s shown so far.

Aurora closes her eyes and feels him smashing their lips together only for a second before he loudly breaks them apart, and then smashes them again, and again, and again.

And again.

The cute, little and repetitive mwah, mwah, mwah echo in her mind, causing her to smile and, very quickly, inevitably break into a giggle.

Harry smiles at her reaction, then moves his playful tenderness to her chin — mwah — her cheek — mwah, mwah, mwah — her nose — mwah — and her other cheek.

Mwah.

“Harry!” She laughs, bringing both hands back to her chest and squirming away.

Mwah.

“Stop!”

Mwah, now closer to her beaming mouth, and then mwah, right on top of her parted lips and exposed teeth. Kissing not only her, but also her laughter and her happiness. Sharing it with her.

The gesture makes her chest feel lighter, and when he pulls away again, it compels her to lift her head and follow him. Stealing a new kiss of her own—one that’s even longer and even louder than all others before.

Mwahhhhh.

Harry smiles, and as Aurora drops her head back to the pillow and blinks to the bright and clean sky, he brings his hand up to the side of her neck and lowers his face to touch his forehead with hers.

It’s kind of adorable, really, how cozy and laid-back he looks. His eyelids are shut and his mouth is slightly parted, as if he’s taking a moment to recollect himself, but the emotion behind his actions is still present. Deepening on a dimple and drawing the clearest upward curve on his lips, or even coming out of his chest and warming up her face with short heavy breaths.

Then it is also kind of impressive, how he mixes all that with confidence and maturity. How manly he presents himself, even though he’s full of cheesy lines and teasing words. How strong and tough he proves to be, even though his behavior is mostly carried by vulnerability and tenderness. Or how deeply he makes her feel, even though he doesn’t seem to be trying so.

Kind of adorable, kind of impressive, but also kind of crazy, isn’t it? Almost kind of scary. How easy it is to be with him like this. How moments around him keep causing this friendly and familiar feeling inside her, and how much playfulness and fun he constantly brings to the table. And at the same time, how quickly he’s sparking so many emotions inside her body. How he’s reminding her about things she didn’t even notice she forgot about, and how he’s leading her to realize how neglected her own desires and needs have been all this time.

The up and down brush of his thumb on her throat is nothing but soft and innocent, and yet it keeps bringing a new level of heat to the blood rushing through her veins. The way he looks (with his tempting lips and scruffy growing facial hair), the way his body feels (pressing on her side while one of his legs rests placidly on top of hers), and even the way he’s dressed (clothed from up to toe with the most simple and plain set of sweats).

Everything about him is making her body itch.

Everything.

And, to be completely honest, Aurora doesn’t know what to do with that. Or how she’ll go the entire day without going insane because of that. How she’ll watch him laugh without being able to run her fingers through his hair, or how she’ll sit next to him without being able to nuzzle on his chest, or how she’ll talk to him without being able to kiss his mouth.

She licks her lips, then, running her eyes over his too close and blurry face.

It doesn’t even make sense to feel like this for a person she’s just met again.

She knows it’s probably because she hasn’t gotten any attention in a really long time and he’s suddenly there, willing to give it to her. Being nice to her. Making her laugh.

She knows it’s temporary, that as soon as they leave the yacht their paths will part again and she’ll realize how overdramatic she’s being right now.

Rationally, she knows.

But still, what is she supposed to do?

Is she supposed to ignore how she’s feeling?

Is she supposed to ignore how he is making her feel?

Well…

Maybe, yes.

Maybe it’s for the best if she offers they go back inside and meet again when everyone’s around.

Maybe that’s the smart, mature thing to do.

And yet…

It is not what she wants.

Is she supposed to do it anyway?

With a sigh, that’s mostly to shut the voices inside her head, she slides her hand back to his neck, then allows her fingers to get lost in between his curls.

Things are quiet around them — too quiet. Waves crash distantly downstairs, seabirds cry out hazily from time to time, and despite the fact that the sun is fully out and the sky has settled into the most gorgeous blue and the most vivid yellow, other voices apart from theirs have yet to be heard.

It’s encouraging, somehow. To be all alone and under such a paradisiac view.

Maybe that’s what prompts Aurora to move next, when she tilts her chin up and down and brushes the tip of her nose with his own. Once and twice.

It’s a silent call for attention, and also a call that he picks up immediately, blinking and holding her stare with a new set of emotions behind them.

“Can I tell you something?”

Aurora scratches the back of his head and nods. Their noses brush again.

“Of course.”

“I can’t feel my arm anymore,” he whispers.

Aurora’s mouth curls up, then soft laughter breaks from her chest.

Harry smiles as well, then they both shift and shuffle until he’s laying on her other side and holding his weight on his other elbow.

“Fuuuck,” he breathes out with a chuckle, waving his hand up and down while finding a spot on top of her thighs for his other leg. “Ten minutes and we’ll switch again.”

“Okay.”

Still smiling, Aurora throws one arm around his shoulders and angles her body towards him, albeit a little bit more intentionally than before. Her other hand rests between them, her own elbow tucked between her breasts while her fingers hold onto the neckline of his sweatshirt.

Nothing else is said between them, no plans or intentions are shared, and yet it’s like they’re perfectly in sync.

Their eyes meet, then their smiles fade off. A moment goes by, and the ocean fills their silence as Harry shifts his sight to her mouth, then gets interrupted by his own heavy exhale when she drags her tongue to lick her lips.

“I swear to God…” he murmurs, already lowering his face closer to hers.

He places his arm across her belly and molds his palm around her side, then she reaches up and kisses him. Or maybe he leans in and kisses her—it’s hard to tell, with both of their mouths already open and their tongues instantly searching for each other.

Eyes closed, Aurora twists her hand around his sweatshirt and hums. And Harry sneaks the arm that’s holding his weight underneath her neck and hums. And just like that, it’s like an unspoken hesitation instantly dissolves, or like their brains finally get rid of the restraints that were pulling the strings up until then, because, very quickly, it becomes very desperate. Very messy. Very needy. And very intense.

For both of them.

Their kiss is now a kiss that can be heard, felt, and seen. A kiss that doesn’t stop there. A kiss that crushes her tightly onto the sunbed and pulls urgently down his chest. A kiss that tangles her fingers around his hair. A kiss that tilts their heads to one side, and then to the other one. A kiss that’s loud, and wet, and over the top. And yet never enough.

A kiss that feels right.

Damn it feels right.

So, so right.

Like putting together matching pieces of a rare puzzle.

Maybe not the most gracious kiss she’s shared with someone, nor the most tactful to display in such a clear and open space, but certainly one that consumes her like no other. So much so that it echoes sweetly through a whine in the back of her throat, revealing how gone for it—for him—she already is.

Harry slows down, then. He sucks around her lip and brings his hand to her throat, barely holding there for a second before he slides his palm to her collarbone and then further down, covering where she’s beating fast and out of tempo for him.

“I’ve dreamed about this for so long,” he says around her lips, digging his nails on her skin and the heel of his palm on the swell of her breast. Almost as if he’s trying to catch her heart inside his very own hand. “About you… About us…”

He brushes the tip of his nose with hers and, just like that, kisses her once more. Not giving her one second to absorb or question his confession before he’s taking over her mouth all over again.

And Aurora has questions, lots of them, but she’s also distracted. So distracted. Because Harry isn’t holding anything back anymore. He’s hungry, vehement, and demanding. Ardent. He kisses her so loudly that it is all she can hear, and so deeply that it is all she can feel. And she likes it. All of it.

So, so much.

She likes how he knots the hand that’s underneath her head around her hair and holds her tight, and then how he forcefully presses his other palm to her body when he strokes it down, feeling and squeezing all the curves of her chest, belly, and waist.

She likes how he isn’t embarrassed to use his tongue and teeth, or to show how much of her he seems to want to devour. How he sometimes moves his kisses to her jaw, and to her neck, but then quickly comes back to her mouth. As if he couldn’t stay away.

She likes how he touches her leg. How he teases with the hem of her shorts. How he always, always goes back to her sides. As if digging his fingers into her flesh is his favorite thing to do. And then how he presses her down and yet pushes her up at the same time, as if he couldn’t decide who should be on top.

She likes how fast, short-winded, and never-ending it goes. How it feels. How none of them can’t seem to bring themselves to wrap it up.

It’s like the entire universe stops around her, but also like her very own personal world finally starts spinning again. Like his kiss is the single drop to cure a hundred years of thirst, but also like getting away from his lips would mean going through another hundred years of starvation.

Everything he does fits perfectly with everything she does. And everything she needs. The way he holds her, the way he licks her, the way he breathes into her—the way he breathes from her. The pace in which he moves, the angle in which he tilts his head, the eagerness in which he pulls apart and moves in again.

Everything — everything — is good.

And she really, really, really likes it.

All of it.

So much.

Oh God.

It’s just…

It’s been so long since anyone has made her feel like this.

So long since her body reacted on her own, since she didn’t feel the urge to reprehend her instincts or shut down her needs.

So, so long, that she isn’t even surprised when she snaps out of it. When she brings both arms around his neck and pulls him fully on top of her. Spreading her legs open so he lays in between them, then taking both hands to the back of his head and raking her fingers all over. Twisting them around his curls. Tugging him close. Trying to find a way to get more of it, to get more of him.

She whines, as if frustrated that she can’t merge their bodies together, and Harry hums. Low and husky. Deep in his throat.

He kisses her fervently, like he means it, like he needs it, meanwhile settling his weight down and adjusting their heights so his hips are pressed against hers.

That’s when his bulge pokes between her legs, and the softest moan escapes from Aurora’s throat.

The thin and tiny fabric of her shorts does close to nothing to cover her underwear, making it ridiculously easy for her to feel his shape through his sweatpants.

Full, firm, and hard.

Heavy between her legs.

It catches her by surprise, to be honest, and she’s got no idea how further she should go —or how further he is willing to go— but she doesn’t even try to fight the feeling that creeps in. Instead, she brings both legs to hook them around his waist and finds the strength to move up and down. Timidly, just barely. Feeling him stroke exactly where she’s also grown warm, wet and needy for him.

This time, they both moan.

Harry brings both hands to her waist and squeezes her, holding onto her as he bends his legs by the knees and spreads them open, placing them underneath her thighs. It gives him the freedom to own the task to himself. To kiss her while wandering his palms through her sides, and then through her arms, then finally to meet her hands and link their fingers together.

It allows him, next, to drop their connected touch onto the pillow, then cage her head between his elbows and rest his forehead on hers. Leaving all kissing behind, because now all of his energy seems to be focused on rolling his hips collectedly. As though he’s desperately trying to keep it together. To slow himself down. To make the feeling last.

“Damn,” he breathes around her mouth. “Auri…”

Eyes still closed, she links her ankles even higher around his waist and squeezes her fingers around his knuckles. “Yeah?”

Another roll of his hips, and a deeper groan from his throat.

“I just…” he tries, but it sounds like coming up with words it’s nothing but a struggle right now. Like he physically can’t. Like he needs a few moments to recollect himself. “‘M… Sorry.”

Aurora blinks.

Harry is already staring at her.

He lets go of one of her hands and brings his own to her face, cradling her cheek while catching his breath and trying to speak again.

“I’m… I’m pretty sure this is about to be the best… And also the most embarrassing thing… That’s ever… Happened to me.”

Aurora breathes in and out. Heavily.

The fact that he’s stopped moving doesn’t go unnoticed by her, but he’s still pressed between her legs. And she’s still feeling him. And she’s still craving him.

“Why’s that?” she asks.

“Because…” He closes his eyes for a moment and sighs, then meets her stare again.

This time, Aurora finds a different mix of emotions hiding between the green of his irises. He looks softer now, maybe ashamed, and she can swear there’s even pain somewhere in there.

It causes her to bring her hand to his wrist and brush her thumb up and down. Soothing him.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head.

“Nothing’s wrong. Jesus. Absolutely nothing’s wrong.” He chuckles, nervously. “It’s just… It’s you… And I’m really trying here but… But I think I’ll be done in less than a minute.”

Oh.

Aurora blinks.

And then…

Oh…

The look on his face makes sense now.

The furrowed brows.

The frown around his mouth.

The struggle.

The sorrow.

It’s cute—at least she thinks it is. And even though she doesn’t know what the best way to react is, she figures she probably shouldn’t be curling her mouth up (which she is), nor laughing (which she is about to).

“Huh.” Harry raises his eyebrows and flinches his head back. “Really? You think that’s funny?”

“No! Of course not.”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“‘M not laughing!”

She totally is.

Harry snorts.

“You totally are!”

Yup.

“I’m sorry!” She lifts her head to kiss him, but Harry dodges her. “C’mon!”

She tries again, and Harry slides his touch from her cheek to her neck, then pushes her back down onto the pillow.

All at once, Aurora swallows her laughter and gets rid of her smile, feeling his big and strong hand holding around her throat as she gulps down.

Shit.

At first, her brain recreates the scenario she’s become familiar with, and Aurora freezes. Waiting for the anger to come out. Waiting for the yelling to come out. Waiting for the voice telling her she’s ruined everything —again— and that she’s always finding a way to embarrass him.

But then Harry brushes his thumb up and down and rolls his hips once, and Aurora exhales through her nose. Shoulders dropping while her brain catches new details and reads the new context she’s in—noticing the patience on the slight tilt of his lips, the tenderness in which he holds her stare, and the carefulness in which he lets go of her throat and meets her hand. Then how he intertwines their fingers and drops them back to the pillow, above her head and next to his other hand.

His other hand, that’s still linked to hers.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his head hovering over hers. “Won’t do that again.”

Aurora shakes her head.

He does that a lot, doesn’t he? Reading her mind and knowing exactly what she wants. What she needs. Constantly embracing her, and constantly encouraging her. And never making her feel bad or guilty for the things she does. Or for the way she is.

“You didn’t scare me. It’s just… I just…”

He nods. “I know.”

Of course he does.

In years of knowing him, Harry’s been nothing but sweet, thoughtful, and gentle to her. A great friend, really. There’s just too much kindness inside his soul, and absolutely no reason for her to believe this scenario could ever be remotely similar to the one she’s been trapped in for so long.

On top of that, there’s also the fact that for the last twenty-four hours or so, Harry’s been also sharing with her a side of him she’d never seen before. Flirting with her. Kissing her. Touching her. Growing bolder and bolder. Making her feel things he hadn’t made her feel before.

Overwhelming her in a way she’s never experienced before.

Which is why she launches herself forward and kisses him, refusing to let the ghost of her ex-husband’s actions get in their way.

“I don’t mind if you last less than a minute,” she murmurs, then unhooks and hooks her ankles around him, tightening her legs a little bit more and pressing her heels on his lower back. “Just keep going.”

Harry stares at her for a second or two, then leans in and kisses her.

“Ok,” he murmurs, too, then squeezes her hands and resumes the rolling of his hips. “But just so y’know, I love when you smile. And when you laugh. And I’m glad my lack of strength to hold myself around you amuses you.”

He kisses her, again, and Aurora’s smile is lost against his mouth. All and any previous thoughts swiped away by his tongue. Or nibbled by his teeth. Or sucked by his lips.

The way he moves is too intentional now, sinking and rubbing across her center in a very steady and very meaningful way. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Her entire body grows hot, and the very air around them seems electrified. She can feel how filthier and filthier the situation gets—how the desire pools between her legs, and how easier he slides with each stroke he takes.

And she’s sure that if she can feel it as he grinds on her, he can feel it, too.

So she removes her hands from his and brings them to the back of his head, tugging his hair to force him to look at her. Hoping to let him know she’s all in right now. That he can do whatever he wants, at any speed he wants.

Harry holds her gaze, then brings one hand to her face and moves a little bit harsher. A little bit faster. Creating a new pace while they shelter into each other’s eyes and their breathings speed up.

“Shit,” Harry curses. And then he groans—a sound that is very similar to a moan, and that gets muffled by her own mouth as he kisses her.

She pushes him closer and kisses him, too. Searches for his tongue and nibbles his lips. Hums inside his mouth. Matches his urgency and encourages his recklessness.

And then she brings one hand to his shoulder, and sneaks it underneath his armpit, and follows an invisible path from the side of his chest, to his waist, to the waistline of his sweatpants.

Harry breaks the kiss apart and looks at her with what can only be described as shock in his eyes.

He says nothing, though, so Aurora shuffles her hips and places her hand between them. Covering him while he gives her room and also rolls his hips again.

Long, full, and thick.

Against her fingers and palm.

Harry falters and moans, instantly closing his eyes and thrusting his hips forward.

Aurora wraps her touch around him as best as she can, filling her hand and feeling him up. Wishing she could do way more than that.

Harry moans again, and again. Shortly and breathlessly. He furrows his brows and stops moving, then takes his own hand to cover hers and guide her.

“I— Shit—I’m gonna cum.”

Aurora nods and kisses him. And touches him. And feels him. And hears him. And absorbs him.

“Auri,” he suddenly calls, and it’s a little bit heavy, a little bit tense. Different than any other time she’s ever heard him call her name before. Sounds like a plea, sounds like a warning, sounds like affection and admiration. Sounds like he’s fighting his own release whilst climbing toward a desperate climax at the same time. Like he’s struggling to let go.

“That’s me,” she whispers, and a low rumble of pleasure bursts from his chest.

It makes her sweat on the back of her neck and adds a new tingling sensation deep in her belly, one she can only handle by squeezing him tighter and moving even faster. Harsher.

“C’mon,” she adds. “Do it.”

Harry closes his eyes and furrows his brows, then parts his lips and crashes onto her chest. Vulnerable and real, moved by involuntary and helpless spasms that have him moaning and making a mess out of his own clothes.

She feels it through the fabric. The relief. The release. The moment he shatters and shudders. And Aurora stays with him through it, in awe of how beautiful he is. And sounds. And feels. She hugs him with her free arm and kisses his temple, and his forehead. And when Harry tugs her hand and brings it up to his mouth, offering little kisses to her knuckles, she nuzzles her cheek into his curls and allows herself to smile.

Allows Harry to stay hidden on her neck and catch his breath, whilst holding onto her fingers and crushing her body.

Allows time to go by.

And allows her heart to settle into a new beat.

Blissful.

Pleased.

Even though she didn’t finish herself.

And it’s just…

Everything.

She truly forgot being with someone could feel like this. That it could be more than the absent thrusting from behind, staring at the wall, and waiting for it to be over. That it could have other endings, apart from hiding tears away so she wouldn’t get a roll of eyes or have to hear “here we go again”.

That it didn’t have to involve emptiness, coldness, or loneliness.

That it could happen with someone who actually wanted to be with her.

She forgot, because she had to forget. Because she was forced to. Because she had to let go of the version she was holding onto and move on. Stop hoping things would go back to what they were, accept the reality she was in, and get away from it.

Which was really hard at first, because their relationship didn’t used to be like that. Of course it didn’t—Aurora used to love Zack. She used to be in love with him. She used to think he was the one.

If she digs enough, she could probably still find a memory of him dropping his head back while finishing on her mouth, or him kissing her to muffle his crying moan with the last few thrusts. She could, if she tried, remember the way he made her sigh, curl her toes and breathe out his name in the dark. She could also recall moments of them falling asleep wrapped around each other, then waking up and repeating all over again.

She could.

But she can’t.

And she shouldn’t.

So she doesn’t.

Because those memories aren’t real anymore. None of them bring her happiness anymore, so she doesn’t dwell on them too much. Or at all. They don’t represent the man Zack turned out to be. Neither the kind of love she wished she could have received—or she thought she would receive.

“You smell so, so nice,” Harry murmurs, brushing his nose up and down her throat. “Like peaches.”

Aurora smiles and closes her eyes for a moment—a way to focus in the present and once again get rid of her line of thinking.

“Thanks,” she says. “It’s my body wash.”

Harry hums, then presses his lips where he’s been breathing from. A long, sweet, innocent kiss. One that lingers on her skin as he shuffles down and rearranges himself to lay his face on her chest, his temple right where her sternum begins, and his chin right where the swell of her breasts meet.

“I think the crew is up,” he murmurs, and spreads his arms open, resting one hand near her shoulder and bringing the other to fidget with the strap of her top. Right in front of him. “Pretty sure I just heard people talking.”

“Oh…”

Her chest tightens around her heart, and it’s hard not to pout at the idea of having to let go of him.

“Yeah…”

He wanders his hand on her side, down to her hips, then back up to her armpit. Without a word, he runs his fingertip across the hem of her top, scratching his nail on the surface of her breast.

Aurora breathes in and out, then slides her hands on his head, threading her fingers through his curls and scratching his scalp—if only to enjoy the little time that’s left.

“Do you wanna go downstairs?” she asks.

Harry shakes his head.

“We’re not done here yet.”

“We’re not?”

He shakes his head again, then slides his finger through the silky fabric, moving until he bumps on her nipple.

“It’s your turn now,” he says, drawing circles and watching the tip grow perky and rigid.

Aurora’s mouth twitches.

“That’s a nice offer, but… Would it be weird if I said no?”

Harry tenses—she feels it on top of her—and then he withdraws his hand from her chest. Like her skin is on fire and he just burnt himself.

“No, of course not. Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“Oh my God,” Aurora snorts, then finds his hand and places it back on her breast. “Relax. I’m just really happy right now. And I feel good. So I just… I don’t know. I want to enjoy this a little bit longer, like this. With you. That’s all.”

She spreads his fingers open, encouraging him to fully touch her, then moves her hand back to the back of his hair—where she decided they belong now.

“Don’t stop touching me, tho. Feels good when you touch me.”

He brushes his thumb up and down, caressing the side of her boob.

And Aurora feels the way he smiles, the way his cheeks move and the way his body relaxes. The way he feels heavier. The way he melts on top of her.

But then, he says nothing.

And as time goes by, only the birds and the ocean create a soundtrack to cover their silence. Plates click somewhere, and at some point a couple of voices finally make it to her ears.

Still, none of them move.

And none of them say a word.

“Are you awake?” Aurora whispers.

Harry nods. Once.

“Mhm.”

She closes her eyes, and brushes the back of his head.

Feels his hair between her fingers.

Feels his breathing on her chest.

Feels the up and down of his stomach matching her own.

“You got so quiet…”

Harry hums.

“I know.”

“Why? What’s on your mind?”

“What you said… Felt good to hear. So I’m replaying it over and over again.”

Aurora smiles.

“What, exactly, are you replaying over and over?”

“I’m just really happy right now,” he says. “And, I want to enjoy this a little bit longer with you. Also, feels good when you touch me.”

Heat spreads through her cheeks, and she squeezes her eyes shut even tighter.

“God… So apparently your cheesiness is contagious, after all.”

Harry chuckles, his body shaking on top of hers.

“For what it’s worth, I’m really happy, too. Gross. But happy.”

Aurora snorts.

“Seriously, I need a shower.”

“I mean, you just came in your pants so… Yeah. I figure you do.”

He lifts his head, and Aurora tilts her chin down.

Their eyes meet.

“I did, huh? Because of you.”

She rolls her eyes.

Harry keeps going.

“You made me cum in my pants. In thirty seconds. Like a horny teenager.”

At that, she laughs.

Probably louder than she should, though, so she widens her eyes and brings her hand to cover her mouth.

Harry smirks.

“You made me cum, with that hand.”

“Oh my God,” she breathes out, laughing even more. “Really? This one?”

She takes her hand to his face and slides it from his forehead to his chin.

Harry holds her wrist, keeping her palm in front of his mouth.

“Mhm.” He kisses her, then speaks against her skin. “This beautiful, wonderful, ethereal hand.”

Aurora shakes her head, but she also brushes her thumb, caressing the top of his lips.

After a moment, she sighs and says, “I should get dressed. Don’t want people to see me like this.”

Harry furrows his brows. “What’s wrong with this?”

She shrugs, dropping her hand to her chest.

“Just… Kinda shows off a lot, doesn’t it?”

He looks down, scanning as much as he can without moving.

And then he looks up.

“Not enough, to be honest.”

She smiles, and rolls her eyes.

“Well, I won’t feel comfortable if any of the boys see me wearing this, so…”

Harry nods.

“So…” he repeats.

“We should probably go downstairs.”

“We should, yes.”

“You should take a shower.”

“And you should change your clothes.”

“Exactly.”

“Yep…”

They hold each other’s stares.

Firmly. Deeply.

Unabatingly.

Wholeheartedly.

“Just so you know,” he finally says, “this isn’t how I planned things to go between us.”

Aurora raises her brows.

“Really? You mean you didn’t plan on coming to Italy and convincing me to watch the sunrise, then getting a hand job from me, on a yacht, at six am?”

Harry’s mouth curls up. “Jesus. Not even in my wildest dreams I thought I would ever be this lucky.”

Aurora snorts, then playfully smacks her hand on his shoulder.

“Shut up.”

“No, I mean it, tho. I’m happy, but if we go back downstairs and for any reason this ends up being the last chance I get to be with you, I’ll never forgive myself.”

She flinches her chin back, eyebrows furrowing. “Why?”

“You didn’t finish.”

“Oh…” She nods. And then shrugs. “Well, it was my choice, tho. You offered.”

“No, I know, still… Kinda feel like an asshole.”

“Don’t. I really enjoyed it. Everything. I swear.”

Harry sighs, and a crease appears in the middle of his forehead. Without a word, he wanders his eyes around her face, as if checking for any indication of a different answer—which she knows he won’t find, because she means what she’s saying.

“Hey,” she says, taking both hands to the back of his neck. “I mean it, okay? Don’t worry about that. Besides, isn’t it more exciting like this? Knowing that you kind of owe me?”

He raises his eyebrows and moves back up, hovering her face with his.

“I kind of owe you, huh?”

Aurora nods.

“You do. So, y’know, we kind of have something to look forward to…”

“Right. That being, an orgasm.”

“Exactly.”

Harry smirks, then smiles, then chuckles.

He leans down and kisses her—one, two, three, four, five times. The same cute, little mwah, mwah, mwah from before echoing loudly inside her.

“God you’re amazing.”

Mwah.

“Can’t wait,”

—mwah—

“for the next”

—mwah—

“time.”

Mwah.

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles au

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sepublic · 1 month ago

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In further hindsight I can see the parallels in Belos agonizing over how he mistreated Caleb and Lilith agonizing over how she mistreated Eda, and both trying to make up for that. But both crucially missing the actual emotional crux of the issue, that being the people they disregarded and hurt, the people close to that sibling and their real family for accepting them.

Because even if Lilith got to explain how the curse was an accident to Eda during Agony of a Witch, so what? That wasn’t why Eda was there. That wasn’t why she was so royally pissed. It was for kidnapping Luz, which would still remain unaddressed. Not to mention how unlike the curse, Lilith knowingly refused to listen to Eda about her lifestyle and choices, she still supported the coven over her sister, she still belittled Eda over the curse and was making another decision for her.

So even if Lilith did cure Eda, if Belos could actually undo the work of an Archivist and chose to? Eda would still hate Lilith and everything she stood for. She stands down from attacking Lilith in the season finale not because Lilith didn’t mean the curse, but because King clarifies she’s actually changing her general behavior by helping him and Luz. Even if Belos could bring back Caleb, his insistence on making his clones into witch hunters, ignoring Caleb’s defense of the isles, choosing to support Gravesfield’s bigotry over a brother who’d been for him much longer and actually loved him unconditionally… Insisting on ‘saving’ a perfectly happy sibling? That will always be a problem.

Maybe Philip made an exception for Caleb, at first; He knew at least of Caleb’s first meeting with Evelyn. So even if the rest were secret due to Evelyn being targeted by the community, Philip still didn’t rat on his brother for exploring the Demon Realm. Part of it may have been the insistence that Caleb could be ‘saved’, but he did the bare minimum of not getting his brother killed for one trip.

(But then Caleb ‘went too far’ and committed miscegenation, made Philip related to a witch; A conservative shame so deep he refuses to address it when discussing a vague ‘betrayal’. Like real life families, Philip rewrote Caleb as a Black Sheep to not be discussed, for ‘tarnishing’ the bloodline; A scandal replaced, eventually lost to time with nobody left to truly mourn the person they were. Maybe there doesn’t need to be, not anymore; His wife and child remembered and maybe they didn’t mention he was a human because to Caleb, that no longer mattered and he renounced that background like many queer folk, to embrace an identity shared with others who did care. So they remembered Caleb the witch.)

Likewise, Lilith also looked the other way for Eda, ignored multiple opportunities to arrest Eda, removed wanted posters. But there was still the expectation that their ‘grace’ would be reciprocated, that eventually it would pay off in that loved one coming over. Or at least that’s what Lilith hoped, but it was definitely what Philip expected of Caleb; Because Lilith only took Luz hostage because Philip threatened to execute her otherwise. Eda’s health WAS at risk from the curse.

Philip killed a Caleb who was happy and safe when he’d been at least five years away from Gravesfield, in a world they couldn’t follow and wouldn’t be much of a threat in anyway, if at all; He did it because Caleb did not live up to that expectation. With Lilith, we know it was an accident and she did make legitimate amends to undo the curse, unlike Belos who kept killing Caleb again and again, with the Collector suggesting he’s using the Grimwalkers as a punching bag and no longer cares about saving them either.

Lilith never cared much for the (wild) witch hunting aspect of the position; She just wanted to be loved but she didn’t want people to be torn down for it. She was a teacher, a bad one but still. Even if she had yet to care about others outside of Eda and how her ideology was wrong for its harm, she at least used her love for Eda as a stepping stone; When her sister was almost executed as a wild witch, Lilith declared an intention to prevent any more petrifications, after preciously being shown looking the other way with them.

Despite her justified fears of Belos, Lilith wanted to do something because having it happen to a loved one made her finally empathize. Lilith used that love to listen to Eda and reconsider her own biases, for Eda at least. And she ended up caring for and loving Eda’s kids and friends and everything she stood for, too; She ended up doing things for them, too. Lilith cared about doing it for her sister, which is why she listened to and accepted her, instead of caring for the sake of creating an Eda that wasn’t Eda; Lilith got over her pride, that’s the difference in the end.

#The Owl House #Lilith Clawthorne #Emperor Belos #Philip Wittebane #Parallels

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wutheringmights · 8 months ago

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After I finished reading The Epic of Gilgamesh today, I entered a fugue state where I sat down and read the entirety of Alanna: The First Adventure by Tamora Pierce.

On the record, I have had a lifelong love and adoration for Pierce's Tortall books. I first read the Song of the Lioness quartet when I was 11, and they rewrote my brain. I love them so much. I reread them and the other Tortall books on a semi-frequent schedule.

It's been a while since I reread any of the Alanna books, if only because my sister took our shared copies when she moved out. I've been meaning to buy my own set for a long while now but haven't been able to justify the purchase. The other week, I just so happened to find the first two volumes at my local indie bookstore. I bought them immediately, as well as ordered the third and fourth book. (And discovered that the store owner knows me by name-- when I went to pick up my order, she saw me and said, Hi Frankie! I got your books over here.) (I may be spending too much money there.)

So I have been in a bit of an emotional rut these past few weeks. Work sucks. Life stinks. The temptation to run off to Tortall and curl up in the fantasy story that captivated me as a kid has never been stronger.

Ergo, I ran off to read the first book as soon as I could.

If you're looking for any critique of this book, series, or Tortall in general, I will never give it. Sure, it's problematic and dated, and in many ways imperfect, but someone else can list out all of its issues. They're all perfect to me.

Anyway, the book. I should say something about this book in particular.

One thing I appreciate about Pierce's writing is how she handles school settings in fantasy. Learning and training is so mundane. All of her heroines have to work hard and put in extra hours of study in order to improve, much less keep up with their peers. It's so normal that it circles around to being weirdly refreshing.

Also, there is still no other fantasy author who handles period talk and birth control the way Pierce does. We make fun of the trope of fantasy birth control nowadays, but I rarely see it presented as it is here: as a part of normal puberty lessons and given long before sex is in the girl's radar. And even today with the glut of YA fantasy stories out there, I still have yet to see menstruation be portrayed as frequently or as bluntly as Pierce writes it.

There was a period of time publishers really tried to push the Tortall books as straight YA, which doesn't work for that reason alone. You gotta market them to middle schoolers. They're the ones just starting puberty talks, and getting scenes like this is so good for their brains.

Moving on: I fucking love these characters. Alanna was an icon of brash, temperamental heroines that have shaped my taste to this day. I love how even in the first book, Jon is kinda shitty. I adore George Cooper. Talk about a taste maker the way this man sets a standard.

I just can't be coherent when it comes to any Tortall books. I have no thoughts. Head empty. I am going to binge the rest of this series as quickly as I can before my library book comes in. Then normal book content will resume.

Before I go, I need to talk about the book covers.

Growing up, my sister and I had these covers:

Which, god. I love them. The black is striking. The art is incredible. Alanna looks so good. They were the perfect pocket-size too. I was going to buy the same edition for my copies, but instead I got the 40th anniversary reprints:

Not bad at all! These books have had some seriously bad covers, and these look great! Very anime, which will appeal to the 11 year olds who need to have their socks rocked by this series.

But, man. I really miss those black covers. One day I will splurge and buy a second set of them just so that I can stare at the art.

#having a not normal time on tumblr dot come right now #alanna my beloved #if you were a deity i would worship you #me rambling #me reading #bookish #books and reading #books #bookblr #Alanna: the first adventure #the song of the lioness #tortall #tamora pierce

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zosin-ya · 15 days ago

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 11 - ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ

Summary: It had been weeks since you had talked to Law, feeling drained from the past events. You needed time to figure the relationship out, which caused you to run away from talking completely and be confronted with a storm, none of you were ready to face.

tags: Law x Reader, Modern AU, angst, a lot of tears baby, confessions,

a/n.: I wanted to write about Law expressing more intense emotions, hope all of you enjoy this cuz I rewrote this so many time ;; (i fkn cried writing this omfg send help;;)

>>[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]<<

The last two weeks had passed in a haze. You couldn’t quite put words to it. Somewhere between numbness and exhaustion. Since that incident at the ceremony, you kept your distance towards Law, hoping time might help you make sense of things.

Slowly however, you started to question whether this thing with him was worth pursuing. You knew being with Law wouldn’t be easy. You were ready to face any storm he was battling. But the way Law kept you at arm’s length—never letting you in, yet exposing you to his world without a warning—cut deeper than you’d expected. The idea of ending things twisted painfully in your chest; you didn’t want to let him go. But maybe it was for the best… or maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t.

“Miss Y/N!”

The sharp voice jolted you back to reality and ripped you out of your thoughts. Startled, you looked up to see the clinical professor staring you down through her thin glasses, an impatient expression on her face. You felt the eyes of your classmates on you as well, and even the patient in the hospital bed, a faint trace of amusement in his gaze. Your stomach twisted with embarrassment as heat crept up your neck.

“I asked you a question,” the professor said, her tone laced with disapproval. “If you’re serious about becoming a doctor, you don’t have the luxury of drifting off in your head.”

The comment stung, and you forced yourself to hold her stern gaze, giving a small nod of acknowledgment.

“Apologies, Professor,” you replied, quickly gathering your focus. “For a Pseudomonas infection, kanamycin.”

The professor’s expression softened slightly as she nodded, and a flicker of approval crossed her face. You’d gotten it right—barely.

Clinic hours were proving to be tougher than you’d expected. Instead of simply memorizing facts, you were constantly moving from one department to another, shadowing doctors, working alongside nurses, and having to think on your feet with real patients in front of you. Every case was a test of your knowledge and intuition, and every question was a reminder that this wasn’t just theory—it was real.

And there was clearly no space to be distracted by personal matters.

With a quiet sigh, you finished up your tasks and left the patient’s room together. The professor gave you a few last-minute reminders, her voice fading into the background as you fought off the wave of fatigue. All you could think about was going home, collapsing onto the couch, grabbing something to eat, and letting your mind go blissfully blank.

As you made your way back to the lockers to hang up your white coat and grab your belongings, a flash of movement caught your eye.

You paused, squinting down the hall, and felt your stomach twist. Just for a second, you thought you saw him. Law.

He passed by with a group of students, their chatter filling the hallway as he trailed a few steps behind. You couldn’t see his face, but his posture told the story—you could tell he was drained. You’d come to know him well enough to notice the subtle signs.

You felt a pang of concern. A part of you wanted to walk over, to stop him, maybe even say something. But then the memories from the ceremony flooded back, bringing with them a surge of tension, of unresolved words and feelings. You hesitated, torn between the impulse to reach out and the instinct to keep your distance.

In the end, you turned away, your heart heavy as you continued down the hallway. The hospital doors closed behind you, a finality that sank in as you stepped into the cool evening.

The walk home was uneventful, the same routine of passing streetlights and faded storefronts. By the time you reached your apartment, you felt like you’d run on autopilot the whole way. You kicked off your shoes, let your bag slide off onto the floor, and grabbed your phone to order takeout. Cooking was out of the question tonight.

The moment you hit the order button, a thought flashed through your mind: there was a chance Law could be the one delivering it. You were pretty sure he still worked that job. For a brief, dizzying second, your heart skipped, a mix of nerves and anticipation stirring in your chest. But you quickly suffocated the feeling, refusing to let your thoughts linger on him. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that it was just an order—nothing more.

“Ah, fuck it,” you muttered, flopping onto the couch with a heavy sigh. You weren’t about to change your plans just because of the awkward, unresolved tension hanging between you two. You knew a conversation was inevitable, but for now, avoiding it seemed easier.

A few quiet minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last, until the doorbell rang, making you jump. You cursed under your breath—maybe you weren’t as good at pretending as you’d thought. The thought that Law might stand in front of your door made you freeze at the spot. The seconds dragged as you sat there, heart pounding, almost daring yourself to ignore it. But the bell rang again, sharper this time, each chime pulling you closer to the reality you were trying to ignore.

You took a deep breath, got up, and crossed the room, your pulse hammering louder with every step. What would you say if he was there? Would he say something, or ignore you completely? Each footfall seemed to echo the questions swirling in your mind, but you shoved them down, focusing on the task at hand. With one last inhale, you gripped the handle and pulled the door open.

...it wasn’t him.

A strange mix of relief and disappointment washed over you as you started at the stranger, hitting harder than you’d expected. You let out the breath you’d been holding, managing a polite smile.

The delivery person gave you a confused look, irritated by how you had just swung open the door and seemed relieved.

Weird chick, he thought, yet stretched out the warm paper bag of food towards you and waited for you to pay.

You took the bag and handed over the money with your usual tip before closing the door. For a moment, you simply stood there, as your heart was slowly settling back to it's calm rhythm. Did you actually want him to show up? You’d been so anxious about it, and yet… here you were, feeling let down that some random guy brought you your food.

Why hadn’t you reached out to him, did you want things to end like this? Law had tried more than once, always patient, until you’d finally told him you needed some time. And, true to his word, he’d respected that boundary, hadn’t pushed or chased after you, as if he understood you better than you understood yourself.

Setting the food on the coffee table, you absentmindedly grabbed your phone and opened your chat with him. The last message was from Law, two weeks ago. Just a single word: "Ok."

Nothing more.

You bit your lip, staring at the empty message box, fingers hovering over the keys. Before you could think about it, your fingers moved on their own.

You typed a simple “Hey,” then deleted it. Typed a different message, something longer, only to erase that too. You could practically feel the weight of the unsent messages pressing down on you, the silence between you two growing louder.

Avoiding him had only made reaching out harder. Now here you were, caught in a web of your own hesitations, unable to even send a god damn text. The thought of finally talking it all through tightened its grip on you, a knot of anxiety you couldn’t shake. You stared at the empty message box, frustrated with yourself, wondering when—if—you’d ever find the words.

“Fucking hell…” you muttered, letting your head drop, shoulders sagging under the weight of this shitshow. You were on the verge of losing him, and that thought scared you more than you’d allowed yourself to admit. You didn’t want things to end, not like this. But you needed answers—an explanation that only Law could give you. And you’d never get it if you kept silent.

A flicker of courage rose within you, shaky but determined.

You typed out a simple, “Can we talk?” and hit send before anxiety could tighten its grip on you again. The message was out there, hanging in the ether between you, irreversible.

Staring at the screen, your heart pounded in your chest, each beat growing louder, more urgent, as you waited. You couldn’t stop your leg from bouncing, a nervous twitch you couldn’t shake. Your eyes stayed glued to the phone, biting your nails, praying he wouldn’t leave you hanging.

A minute passed. Then another. Five minutes.

This was torture.

Frustrated, you tossed your phone aside, hoping the noise of the TV would drown out the growing anxiety. But it didn’t. Your appetite had vanished, and the food sat untouched on the coffee table as you mindlessly flicked through streaming services. Every few minutes, you glanced at your phone, your stomach sinking each time the screen remained dark.

An hour passed, then another. It was getting late, and the hope that he’d respond had dimmed. You were just about to turn off the TV and drag yourself to bed when your phone finally lit up.

"When?"

The message startled you so much that you almost crashed against your coffee table as you reached for your phone. Heart pounding, you unlocked it, fingers hovering as you processed his reply. Before you could reply, the typing bubbles appeared, and you held your breath, leg bouncing in anticipation.

"I have time if it’s not too late."

“Now?”

A pause. Then, simply: "Yea."

You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest as you stared at his response. This was it. The nerves churned in your stomach, but you felt a small spark of relief—he was willing to talk. You didn’t know where this would go or if it would make things any clearer, but at least you wouldn’t be sitting in silence anymore.

“I'm home. Come over.”

Law arrived quickly. You opened the door, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you felt heavy, thick with all the words that lingered but hadn’t yet found their way out. His eyes met yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing between you before he looked down.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“...hi."

He slipped off his shoes with a familiar ease but without his usual energy, and you gestured toward the couch. He nodded, moving past you, the faint sound of his footsteps almost disappearing into the silence. You followed, sitting down beside him, both of you careful, leaving a strange, deliberate space between you on the cushions.

Now that he was here, you saw him more clearly. Law looked… rough. Dark circles sat under his eyes, his hair was disheveled, and a stubble cast a shadow over his jaw. His eyes were dull, as if they couldn’t bear the weight of whatever he was holding inside. His shoulders slumped, the tension in his frame draining him.

A tense silence stretched between you, filling the room with a charged stillness. Law’s gaze was fixed on his lap, his fingers tracing slow, restless circles on the back of his hand. At first glance, he looked calm, almost still, but a closer look revealed the tension woven into his every movement.

Finally, he drew in a shaky breath, the silence cracking as he let out a heavy sigh. He forced himself to look up, his eyes meeting yours.

“I’m sorry…” His voice was low, almost hoarse. “For what happened. For all of it.”

You stayed silent, arms wrapped around yourself as you pulled your legs close. The memory of that day crept back, clear and sharp—the way he’d exposed you to his family’s turmoil without any warning, leaving you to navigate a situation you hadn’t been prepared for. As much as it pained you to see him like this, you still needed answers.

“I’m sorry about…” Law continued, his voice faltering. “...about leaving you alone in that situation.”

You tilted your head slightly, absorbing his words. It wasn’t quite what you’d hoped for. Law, who seemed to understand others so well, still struggled so much with his own emotions. You’d expected him to say more—to address the actual issue.

“...That’s it?” you asked, voice soft but pointed.

Laws eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked almost hurt, like he hadn’t realized how his apology might come up short. He blinked, seemingly searching for what else he could tell you, but for once, he was at a loss. He had two full weeks to think what to say, and the only thing he came up with was a cheap sorry.

“I know what I did was wrong. Just… give me some time to work on it. Please.” His voice softened, almost pleading, his gaze searching yours for a sign of forgiveness.

More time? You bit your lip, hesitating, and the silence seemed to weigh on him, making him sink even deeper into himself. Everything depended on what he had to say, and the start of this conversation wasn't convincing you yet.

“I’ve been patient with you, Law. But … I’m not sure. I don’t even know what we are.” You gave him a sad, brittle smile that faded almost as soon as it formed.

He leaned forward, desperation flickering in his eyes. “You know I care about you,” he said, his voice thick, as if willing you to understand. But his words felt hollow in the face of everything that had happened. This wasn't what you wanted to hear. It was the same answer you had gotten at the ceremony.

“Do I?” Your voice starting to quiver as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The frustration of him being so emotionally dense was finally catching up to you. “Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. You left me to fend for myself, in a situation you knew I wasn’t ready for.” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t look away, holding his gaze steady with a simmering mix of pain and defiance.

Fuck.

He was making it worse. Law closed his eyes and let his hand run over his face as if the weight of his own mistakes pressed down on him. Why couldn't he get this right? He wanted to fix this, truly, but he couldn't find the right words to convince you. “I know,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “I know I messed up, alright? But it’s not easy for me.”

"Easy for you?" Your voice trembled as you took a shaky breath, forcing the words out even as anger and hurt fought to spill over. You couldn't believe what you just heard. Was he serious?

"You didn't tell me how fucking crazy your ex was, so crazy that she'd put me into danger just to make sure I was out of the picture. Or that your parents didn’t even know I existed, that they’d look down on me and my friends. And then there’s...,” you said, voice wavering. “There's the way your family looks at Yuki, like she’s everything I’m not. You threw me into all of this without a warning, without even a way to defend myself!"

Law’s expression crumpled, torn between guilt and helplessness as he slightly flinched at every point you made. Valid ones, he had to admit. He looked away, his fists clenching so tightly his knuckles went white. He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly wrestling with himself before muttering, “I never wanted it to happen this way.”

“If you actually cared about me, you could have just told me!” You threw your hands up, unable to hide the frustration building inside you, the desperate feeling that no matter what you said, he was refusing to hear you. “If you would have told me I could have prepared myself! I wouldn’t have followed Yuki blindly, I wouldn’t be so fucking hurt at what your parents said! Non of their behavior is your fault, but you made it worse by hiding this from me!”

“Okay, what if I fucking tell you, huh?” Law’s voice rose, the edge sharp, almost dangerous. His eyes flashed, but you didn’t look away, holding your ground. “Tell you how fucked up this whole situation is?” He let out a bitter laugh, almost scoffing at the thought. “You think I’m going to drag you into this shit? This is my burden. I carry it. Not. You.”

His words hung in the air, a raw, jagged tension between you two. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, as if he was trying to push you away—to protect you, or maybe to protect himself.

As much as his words made sense to him, you could see right through them. You knew the damage he was causing by holding onto this alone, and you aimed your response straight at the heart of it.

A scoff escaped you as fresh tears welled in your eyes. “You didn’t drag me in, you threw me into the fire for fucks sake! Multiple times! You are hurting others by trying to handle it alone, can’t you see?“

Your words seemed to knock the wind out of him. His whole posture shifted—his shoulders sagged, his jaw unclenched, and the fire in his gaze softened as he looked at you, stunned, as if he’d never considered this before.

He was hurting you. He’d done this to you.

You could see it—how torn he was. He didn’t want to hurt you, but something deep inside kept him from letting you in. His eyes flickered around the room, as if he could find the answer somewhere in the empty spaces. But there was no escape. He was trapped, caught between the fear of losing you and the fear of letting you get too close.

Swallowing hard, you pushed on. “Why?” you asked, desperate, the question trembling as it escaped. “Why is it so impossible for you to let me in?”

Law stayed silent, but you could see him tense up, his composure unraveling with each word you spoke. His leg bounced restlessly, and his brows knitted together in frustration. It was as if every sentence you spoke struck a nerve, pressing him closer to a breaking point he clearly wasn’t ready for. But you didn’t give in.

“Seriously?” You let out a bitter laugh, a shaky, painful sound as tears streamed over your face. “You’ve had two weeks to think about this, and you still can't tell me?“

He exhaled sharply, looking anywhere but at you, as if his mind was already miles away, trying to escape the conversation. His fingers dug into his knee, and his jaw clenched, but you didn’t waver.

„Why even try to fix something if you can't give me an answer! Why are you even here, Law?”

“Because I fucking love you, okay!”

It ripped out of him like it hurt to say, as if every syllable was dredged up from some dark place he’d kept locked away. His chest heaved with labored breaths, and the walls he’d held up for so long were suddenly, violently crumbling.

You froze, his confession hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. For a moment, you were lost. Completely speechless.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair, pulling at it, as he struggled to contain the overwhelming emotions. His voice, now quieter but still shaking with intensity, softened, almost pleading.

"I love you...," he repeated, barely a whisper now, but the words were filled with so much pain it felt like they could break you. "And I can’t… I can’t let you drown in this with me. I can’t watch you suffer with me."

Law took in a shaky breath, you could see tears forming in his eyes, before he hid his face in his palms.

"I don't want you to see me like this-” He broke off, his voice thick with self-loathing, muffled as he whispered, “I didn’t want to drag you down with me. I can barley handle it, how are you supposed to?”

He was unraveling, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Every word seemed to crack something deeper within him, and he looked up, desperation spilling over.

The look he gave you was everything—so broken and vulnerable, that you knew, it would be burned into your memory forever. You saw it then, in his glassy eyes, the battle he was fighting, the fear he couldn’t outrun, the love he didn’t know how to handle nor believed he deserved.

“I want to protect you not hurt you, I-” He shook his head, not able to speak as choked sobs left his throat.

You moved closer, hesitantly reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. Law stiffened, the tension practically vibrating from him, his shoulders hunched, fists still clenched. But he didn’t pull away.

“Law,” you said softly, feeling your own tears slipping down your cheeks. “This isn’t handling it. This is letting it destroy you.”

He looked at you, eyes wide and filled with an almost childlike vulnerability. There was no resistance left, no armor, only the shattered young man he was.

“Let me help you carry it. I can’t stand by and watch you tear yourself apart, just because you think you have to go through it alone.”

He closed his eyes, tears still slipping down his cheek as he let out a broken, shuddering sob. Your words hit deep, right where it hurt the most. He hid his face in his palms again as shame washed over him. He never wanted you to see him like this. But Law couldn't control it any longer. It was too much.

You pulled him into your arms, holding him close as if anchoring him to solid ground.

“Hey… I’m here,” you whispered softly, one hand stroking gently through his hair, the other rubbing soothing circles on his back. “You don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore.”

Seeing him like this, so raw and vulnerable, hurt to witness—but it also felt like a bittersweet gift, a piece of him he’d never shown anyone else.

You held him close for what felt like forever, letting him pour out everything he’d kept buried, everything he’d held back for so long. His broken sobs, the way his breathing came in ragged gasps, and the warmth of his tears soaking into your shoulder—all of it shattered your heart. Every sound and shudder cut deeper, each one a reminder of the weight he’d been carrying alone.

But you knew you had to hold steady, to be his anchor. Right now, he needed your strength. So you tightened your grip, pressing a gentle hand against his back, letting him know without words that you were here, that you weren’t going anywhere.

As Law’s breathing finally steadied after a whil. You loosened your hold on him and slowly pulled away, giving him some space. He rubbed his eyes as he glanced down, a flicker of shame shadowing his gaze. His vulnerability lay bare, and you could tell how uncomfortable it made him, exposing himself like this.

But to you, it was anything but uncomfortable. You reached up and gently cupped his face, your thumbs brushing softly over the rough skin of his cheeks, grounding him. You gave him a small, reassuring smile, letting him see the love in your eyes—the acceptance, the gratitude that he’d let you into this part of him.

“Hey…” you whispered, your voice gentle as you held his gaze, unflinching. “I love you too.”

He looked back at you, and slowly, a weak but genuine smile broke through his exhaustion. He gave a small nod, leaning into the warmth of your touch, his shoulders finally relaxed. And as he let himself fall into the moment, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a kiss so soft and tender, it made your heart ache. It was a promise, an unspoken vow to stand by him through whatever storm lay ahead.

“I won't do this again...I promise.” Law’s voice was tentative, a hint of vulnerability still lacing his words. He knew he owed you more—a real explanation of the tangled mess of his past relationships and complicated family. It wasn’t an easy conversation, but he was determined to get everything out this time, to rip off the bandages before another wound formed. He couldn’t risk putting you in another situation where his silence hurt you.

You nodded slowly. The weight of the conversation hung between you, leaving both of you visibly drained—but Law looked even worse. His eyes were bloodshot from the tears he’d shed, and he was still letting out soft, stifled breaths. He seemed calmer now, the tension in his shoulders released, but he was unmistakably exhausted.

For a while, you both just sat there in silence, staring at the blank TV screen.

“Wanna go to bed?” you asked quietly, your voice soft and reassuring. Law’s gaze flickered to you, and for a moment, something like relief washed over his face.

He couldn’t believe he’d almost lost you because he’d been too closed off, too guarded. His head was still a mess of thoughts, spiraling in countless directions, but he was too worn out to follow any of them. He just nodded and got up with you.

He followed you down the hall, each step heavy and slow, and the confidence he usually carried seemed to be missing. You knew that tonight’s talk hadn’t solved everything—far from it—but it was enough for now.

When you reached the bedroom, he sat on the edge of the bed as you rummaged through your closet. You found a pair of his spare clothes and tossed them over to him.

Law caught them, looking almost… surprised.

“What?” you asked, a little confused by his expression.

He shrugged, looking down at the clothes in his hands. “Just… kinda thought it was over between us. Figured you’d thrown my stuff out by now.”

You let out a sigh, sitting down beside him. “Couldn’t bring myself to do it,” you admitted. You weren’t holding a grudge against him; you were just hurt. Seeing his things around the apartment while there was so much tension between you had been painful, but even then, you hadn’t wanted to let go completely.

Law twisted the fabric between his fingers, seemingly a bit lost in thoughts as you watched him. His shoulders rose and sank as he let out a sigh.

“Guess I’m just… used to different shit,” he muttered with a short, bitter laugh.

You scooted closer to him, your hand lightly touching his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Wasn’t rare for me to have to grab my stuff off the street after a fight… with her.” He kept his eyes fixed on the clothes in his hands, as though they brought back memories. He wasn't sure if mentioning his Ex was the right thing to do, yet after the conversation he was so drained it just slipped out of his system.

You blinked in surprise. You’d heard bits and pieces about his ex—never anything good—but you’d never understood why he’d stayed with her or endured the emotional punishment she put him through. Law was sharp; he could read people better than anyone. So why had he missed it with her?

“Why?” you asked softly, not accusingly, just… curious. “Why did you stay with her?”

Law’s gaze drifted, his shoulders slumping slightly. Though he wasn’t one to open up nor understand his own feelings too well, he seemed to have thought about this one a lot, maybe even rehearsed the answer to himself. “I met her when someone in my family got sick,” he murmured, a distant look in his eyes. “Guess it was… desperate times.”

You swallowed and didn’t press further. Instead, you watched as he stood up and pulled his hoodie over his head, folding it with that meticulous care he always had. Then, to your surprise, he went on, as if talking helped ease the ache a little.

“It was my sister,” he said, his voice softer now. “There was no cure. And I’d just started uni, miles away from home. I met her around that time. She was…” he paused, choosing his words carefully. “She was a distraction. Gave me comfort when I was too far from my own family. But things… fell apart after my sister passed.”

You felt the weight of his words settle in, understanding now just how much he’d been carrying. The realization hit you hard, and you understood what he meant with not wanting you to drag you down with him.

This was heavy, and you felt it.

“Law…” you whispered, voice choked. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

He nodded and sat back down beside you, running a tired hand through his hair. You deserved to know, especially after what happened moments ago. Even though, exposing himself like this, twisted his gut.

Silence between you settled. Law couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret. He hadn’t meant to leave you speechless. He wanted to tell you about his sister one day, but not like this. Seeing you at a loss for words was exactly what he feared.

Fuck, why did I tell her this out of nowhere?

His teeth grazed the inside of his cheek as doubt crept in. He was starting to feel uneasy about opening up. He could see the empathy in your eyes, the way you seemed to feel even a small piece of his pain—he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to pull you down with him or make you feel sorry for him.

But then, you placed a gentle hand on his cheek, pulling him back from that spiral of doubt. “You should tell me more about your sister sometime." Your touch, light and reassuring, calmed him, and your smile—warm and unwavering—let him know that you could handle this. You weren’t going to pity him or wallow in his grief; you were here to help him bear it, to remind him that he didn’t have to carry it alone.

It was like you were telling him that his memories could stay, just as they were—the good ones to cherish and the bad ones to heal from, but not to hide.

A soft, almost shy smile crept onto his face, the edges of his mouth lifting in a way that was both loving and grateful.

taglist: @mars-mizuko , @tadomikiku , @hopelesslover06 , @loraleiii @mwhahahalasagna , @ttalgi , @metonimia-de-bellota , @parkquimin , @ephemeress , @not-a-glad-gladiator , @littleleelee , @chillerkiller

(Let me know in the comments and I’ll add you)

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velvetlilacsdaisies · 9 months ago

Text

Shit at Feelings iv

Bodhi Durran x fem!reader

Synopsis: Bonding with dragons? No issue. Killing venin? Unfortunate, but doable. Confronting your feelings towards your childhood best friend? No thanks.

Word count: 6k 🫢

Warnings: swearing (ofc), drinking, angstttt, y/n lore, lmk if I missed anything, not proofread at the end lmaooo

A/n: the long awaited part 4!! Hope y’all aren’t disappointed, trying not to think so hardly on this part bc I scrapped and rewrote this so many times 😅

You're unsure of when it started during the night, but as you sat at the booth with Violet, Rihannon, and Nadine; something stirred in your chest. You desperately tried to look interested in the conversation, trying to meet the eyes of Rihannon trying to focus on the way she animatedly told a story. Laugh when the women poked fun at Violet for something cheeky she’d bring up. Adding input to Nadine’s questions despite having to ask her to repeat herself without having your eyes dragging themselves to look at the other side of the bar.

Who was she?

She wore a dressed down pale blue healer uniform, her skin flawless free of relics and tattoos, glossy perfect red hair that cascaded down her back in waves. She radiated bubbliness from what you observed as she laughed at whatever Bodhi said or did a little dance when her friend sunk a billiard into a pocket. She always seemed to go right back to chatting with him. You couldn’t bear watching her cling to him, but you couldn’t drag your eyes away.

You were well aware you had no right to be sitting there, stomach churning with a bitterness of cold ire…but here you were doing just that.

Rihannon clicked her teeth, making you snap your attention back to the group. You didn’t even try to offer a coy look—this was the second time one of them caught you. You had tried the last two hours to hide your irritation, but it just kept beckoning to the surface. Slowly ticking away within you as if you were going to burst at the seams.

“Okay, what is going on between you two?” She laid her palms flat on the table.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You took a sip of your drink, acting as nonchalant as you could.

She gave you an incredulous look. “The fact you shied away from him all first year, then the first night of break whatever that was.” She waved her hand. “The other day during breakfast, when Dain came to grab him for the leadership meeting, and it was clear as day he was practically undressing you with his eyes when we first arrived.” she rattled off.

“It’s like I’m watching a romance novel unfold in real time.” Nadine said dramatically, a hand moving to her forehead feigning fainting.

You cringed, “it’s-it’s definitely not like that.”

“Not like what?” Quinn interrupted walking up to your own group. Bodhi and Imogen still had been at the table.

The mystery girl touching his built bicep. He had discarded his jacket an hour ago, his rebellion mark on display underneath his tight short sleeve t-shirt. “Ohhh,” she followed your gaze to Bodhi. “Immy told me all about this.” She said in delight to your dismay, taking a seat next to Nadine.

You brought your attention over to the curly haired blond girl. “Does everyone know about this ‘something’ except the two people this ‘something’ is about?” You snapped.

Everyone seemed to have an exciting interest in the nonexistent relationship between you and your childhood best friend.

Quinn merely raised her hands defensively, Rihannon and Nadine awkwardly sipping their drinks looking at the table interested in the wood grain.

“We’re all in the same wing, same section, Y/n it’s hard to ignore the hot and cold between the two of you.” Violet had a softened look in her eyes, being the most sympathetic toward you.

You flushed realizing your outburst, not meaning to aim it at your new found friends. The gnawing bitter feeling was just eating at you, and you couldn’t stop it from being all consuming.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, a scowl on your lips, staring into the clear fizzy liquid in your glass. Despite the tension you created, you looked at the bubbly girl across from you. “Quinn, who is that girl?”

She had a hesitant look on her face, her brown eyes swirled with trepidation. “Ariante, a third year healer.” She offered a short response, seeming to know more than she let on.

You only nodded, turning back to the other side of the bar watching the billiards tables. Ariante, the beautiful young woman, was lining up to shoot the shot, and shot Bodhi a wink before shooting. A small snarl left your lip unknowingly at the sight, leaving all the group to cast worried glances your way.

You grimaced at your behavior, not entirely sure why you had visibly been so riled up at the sight. “I’m gonna get some water.” You stood up, and left the group without another word.

Ariante skimmed her dainty plain manicured hands over Bodhi’s biceps as she giggled over something he told the group he played with. Usually her advances didn’t bother him, last year he had given in to them as a distraction many times when Y/n avoided him like a disease. Tonight though, his chest hammered in annoyance—maybe not just with her in general, but everything tonight seemed to be so overstimulating.

The loud tavern, how he fought a flinch every time the que would knock against a billiard, the musty smell of alcohol and fried food permeating the space, and how fucking unbearably hot he was.

He knew it had nothing due to the summer weather, that the heat that festered deep within him was caused by something wholly different.

Usually he’d use churam to block Cuir out, but the effects of the few drinks he had made it harder to keep that mental shield up and his dragon’s emotions started to take over. Of course Cuir and Cleasaí chose tonight of all nights to fight.

He had spent a year being accustomed to this, but he worried about you.

You still had been clueless to everything, your dragon stubbornly kept you in the dark, which had frustrated both him and Cuir. You didn’t deserve any of that, and he couldn’t help the pang of guilt he felt when he thought about it. He watched how tense you were at the booth, the girl’s giggling at what seemed like your expense; a scowl on your pretty lips at the interaction.

Another wave of heat filled and irritation rippled through him, and he screwed his eyes shut trying to ground himself. He had ripped his jacket off an hour ago, but to no avail aided any relief to his skin. It seemed it only made the pretty third year healer cling to him more. And the only aid that was brought, was to the disdain that rose with the proximity of her.

“Damn it Henrick!” Quinn stomped her foot frustratedly, making him open his eyes again. “I thought I was playing with an amateur?”

Sawyer had a broad grin as he nabbed the gold coins on the corner of the parallel table across from the one him and Imogen played at. “Beginners luck?” He shrugged casually.

The curly haired blond furrowed her eyebrows at the redhead. “Mhm, sure. Beginner’s luck my ass.”

Imogen cackled at her friend. “You’re the one that suggests putting coins down.”

Quinn mimicked Imogen, before a playful glare settled on her features. “Shove it Cardulo, I’m gonna go wallow in pity now if you need me.” She handed the cue to Sawyer before flouncing off to the rest of the group they came with.

Bodhi’s brown eyes not paying any mind to the feisty third year rider as she joined the booth, he instead had been focused on you again. Watching how your tongue darted in between your soft looking lips licking them, the same scowl still lingering on your face.

He had longed to get a feeling of what your lips felt like since he was barely an adult. Doing anything at this point to have a taste of you, knowing he shouldn’t have felt that way. You had always been just barely out of his reach, but he would have risked anything to have that moment as selfish as it sounded.

You were his best friend.

It was more than the idea of blurring the lines of your friendship that stopped him in the past; you were never meant to be anyone else’s, but who was chosen for you. Your parents had made you a lady of the Aretian aristocracy. The intent to secure a cushy life to make sure you would never have to experience war and hardship like they had—even if it wasn’t a love match. You were forced to take the decision they made for you with poise and grace. Exposed to the corrupt society of the aristocracy that lurked behind the violence since a preteen, never supposed to know war and violence like he had. But by the time the peak of the rebellion happened, and Execution Day arrived—it had been too late for the first hand you had been dealt with. Another decision instead handed to you from a choice that hadn’t been yours to ever make.

It was self indulgent thought, but the moment he knew you safely crossed the parapet—there was a hope that ignited in Bodhi’s chest he hadn’t felt in a long while. Despite the blatant act of avoidance on your part, he quietly watched your every move the first year.

Made sure Imogen spent extra time training with you so you’d be ready for your next challenge, telling her what she needed to critique you on from sparring lessons. Insisting Garrick to convince you to eat more than what you usually did so you could bulk muscle to help ease through the gauntlet. Pleading with Xaden to rearrange squads in the flame section so he could keep a better eye on you. Every action in efforts to aid you from the help of your mutual found family was a coercion from him; so he would know you’d have a shot at surviving this hellscape.

For only a measly chance of you to finally acknowledge him.

It had only been a coincidence (or was it? Cleasaí was known to be petty) you had bonded with Cuir’s other half. The mated dragons hadn’t talked since the end of his first year. The first half of being bonded to the notorious green filled with tumultuous arguments that he didn’t know what started from. They had only been recently mated in the last decade from what Cuir told him.

Bodhi swore he did more supply runs for churam than weapons by the end of the year before they went no contact, and just coexisted in the Vale with one another.

He would have preferred that over feeling the wavering aggression through the bond at this very moment.

“Handsome boy,” Ariante cooed, snapping her fingers to get his attention from across the table. Realizing he had zoned out again staring at you, Ridoc clapped him on the back.

“Yeah handsome boy...” he purred mockingly. Bodhi shrugged his hand off quite hastily. He was not in the mood for the second year’s comedic relief…and the overly inebriated physical touch of the counterpart.

Imogen sensed his discomfort by how tense he had looked, his posture usually more lax, or a boyish grin that had been replaced with a grimace. “Gamlyn, go get us some water.” She barked, face set to a hard grimace.

Ridoc with wide eyes in the fear of the short woman, saluted the group before walking off to the bar.

Bodhi reminded himself to thank her later once he was in a better mood. Instead he twisted his face into something that barely showed interest, not like it mattered, the healer was two shits to the wind at this point. Just caring his eyes were on her. Smiling brightly once he turned back to her, even if it was a stoic look he had on.

“I need you to watch as you lose this round.” She giggled, grabbing the cue from her friend’s hand.

The tawny skinned man watched disinterestedly as she made a show of setting her shot up. She swayed her hips to the table, making sure to press her chest down into the polished wood edges so her low cut tank top showed her cleavage as she lined up her shot. She made eye contact with him, offering a seductive wink, before clumsily shooting and completely missing the pocket. If he wasn’t so aggravated, he could have laughed at the scene.

It was Imogen’s turn now, and he subconsciously let his attention wander back to the booth again, noting you were now absent from the table.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but his heart skipped a beat in panic. He scanned the tavern looking for a glimpse of where you could have gone. He could spot you out of a crowd anywhere—from the way you wore your hair to the way you carried yourself.

His brown eyes searched the makeshift dance floor in between tables, the line for the bathroom, the exits of the tavern. The sense of relief when he finally found you should have eased his heart, instead it pounded louder and louder as his vision tunneled. Bodhi’s stomach churned with a burning green feeling, watching you sit at an empty side of the bar with Ridoc, smiling at him as the pair of you talked.

“So yeah, then Imogen told me to grab some water for them, and now I’m here doing that.” Ridoc rambled on about his night. Unbeknownst to him, you had spent the majority of the night meticulously eyeing the group from the booth. But you nodded along, idling swirling your finger along the lip of your cup, letting his word vomit become a white noise in your brain. “Imogen has a scary way of demanding things.”

A smirk had crept onto your face, replacing the frown you wore. Ridoc was always honest, but it was amusing to hear him drunkenly bare his soul at the bar over the silliest details. It had almost been enough to forget the prying animosity that filled your veins.

“Who are you telling? I have known her my whole life.” You reminded him rather distractedly.

Despite talking to him, your attention was still flicking towards the quieter side of the tavern—still invested in the man you’ve been stubbornly hiding your feelings from poorly and the pretty girl that clung to him. The game of billiards was dying down, only her friend and Imogen still playing one another.

Bodhi sat backwards in a chair off to the side, his chest pressed against the back, arms casually draped across the wooden top rail, and head hung low as he sipped from the bottle of ale he had been nursing. Ariante perched in a chair beside him, leaning over into his ear to talk. Her lips mere centimeters from him had your heart thumping so hard that you could hear it in your ears.

“Yeah, but you’re not like her or them in fact.” He shrugged.

That made you turn back to Ridoc, who didn’t realize you were only half heartedly invested in the conversation. Or if he did, he didn’t make it known.

“Like they’re all scary broody motherfuckers, and you're just you. Intimidating sure, but not all broody and aggressive.”

You let out a dry chuckle, “language please, they are my friends.”

He raised his full hands defensively, ignoring the fact he sloshed water all over him. “Sorry. You know what I mean though.”

You leaned your head to the side, a quizzical expression on your features. “Elaborate Gamlyn.”

You might have been aware of what he meant, just for the sake of your entertainment you didn’t mind hearing the inebriated man’s ramble of what he thought. It was the only thing that was keeping the pent up emotions beneath the surface.

“Well, you’re kind of lady-like?” He tested the word then nodding. “Yeah, lady like. Not that they don’t have manners—they have better manners than me, but you’re like a refined woman.” His eyes got big and arms were flailing as he animatedly spoke, water sloshing on him.

“Would you be surprised if I said I had been a lady?” You interrupted his spiel.

“No shit, like tea and biscuits, go for a promenade around the garden kind of lady?” He slurred in disbelief with an attempt of an accent.

The way he had said it made it hard to stifle your laugh. “Dowry to my name and all.” You mocked using a posh accent as well.

He made a strangled noise, as he puffed his cheeks out to prevent laughing. “Shit that was the worst accent I’ve ever heard.”

You tilted your back, laughing loudly as he snorted, unable to contain himself. “Thanks for your honesty, yours was just as awful.” You tried to compose yourself.

“I’m not the one that comes from the Aretian aristocracy though.” He said through a fit of giggles. You scoffed, shoving him slightly, giggling more when you had to grab his arm to keep him from stumbling over.

Once the laughter died down, Ridoc had started to talk your ear off again, but of course your focus went elsewhere. Your breath caught in your throat, the amusement on your face slipping.

Bodhi was shamelessly staring at you when you looked over this time. His eyes dark, and stone faced watching the side you resided on. He tilted his head back, draining the remainder of his drink. You couldn’t help to watch the expanse of his throat as he drank the rest of his drink, watching how his Adam’s Apple bobbed as he did so.

You gulped quietly, suddenly imagining how it would be to nip at the column of his thick neck. If he would squirm under your touch or make any soft noises if you kissed up his jaw…you were just torturing yourself at this point.

He the. swung his leg over his seat, muttering something to the pretty redhead, not waiting for a response as he made his way towards you.

Shit.

You panicked drifting back to the drunk man in front of you.

“So did you have—like—a betrothed before this?” Ridoc asked, rubbing the back of his neck, still oblivious you hadn’t been listening. “Is that why we’ve never seen you hook up with someone?!” He gasped as if he solved the biggest mystery, connecting non existent dots.

You could throttle him, trying not to watch the towering figure approach you.

“No, no, no!” You covered your face in your hands, cheeks flushing. “It never got that far, well there were a few arrangements that never went through.”

“Damn, your parents were slacking.” He scoffed jokingly.

“Ridoc,” you glared at him. Any amusement or relief from Ridoc now gone, hitting a nerve within you. The thought of your late parents always causing an ache in your chest and a knot in your stomach.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” Bodhi finished for you, coming up right behind him. He jumped, obviously startled by the new presence, and that it was Bodhi nonetheless. But he quickly recovered, turning to the taller man.

“You always jump right in at the most convenient times, handsome boy?” He questioned in a teasing tone. Handsome boy?

Bodhi glowered, stepping closer to your squad mate. “Call me that again—”

“Bo!” A high pitched shrill voice cut him off. It resembled nails on a chalkboard causing you to wince. Ariante appeared from behind Bodhi, a bright bubbly smile as she stumbled around him, grabbing his arm for support. “You didn’t wait for me.” She pouted playfully.

You had to fight the noise of disgust that wanted to escape your lips, but your facial expression gladly showed what you couldn’t verbally. The rational side of you knew you shouldn’t be reacting this way to a girl you’ve never met. You were past the point of rational though.

She then acknowledged you, her eyes a bright teal that sparkled sticking out her manicured hand. “I’m Ariante.”

You subtly glanced at your hands that were unkempt, nails nearly to the nubs with hangnails.

Gods, she really was everything you weren’t even down to the fingers.

You politely stuck your hand out, limply clasping hers. You hoped she wouldn’t feel your calloused fingers or notice how unladylike your hands were compared to hers as you introduced yourself.

“You know Bo?” She mused. Her hold still on him, despite her being perfectly stable. And the way his nickname came out of her mouth, you think you could regurgitate everything you’ve consumed today.

You offered a strained smile. “We grew up together actually.”

“How sweet!” She practically squealed. “I think it’s great how close knit all of you are!”

The tone deaf statement snipped the final straw of your patience and self control. No, you couldn’t let the feelings lay idly underneath any longer.

“I would say we all are,” you nodded. “I guess that’s what happens when all your parents are murdered in front of you.” You said it as if it was the most casual thing to leave your lips. The smile she wore faltered, and you could see Ridoc shove his hands in his pockets, whistling.

“Y/n…” Bodhi warned.

It could be treason speaking so freely of this, you hadn’t cared at the moment.

“What?” You said innocently, brushing off the warning look you know so well. She had started to sputter an apology, but you cut her off. “But how does such a sweet thing like you know Bodhi?” You asked, a smile growing sinisterly.

In your peripheral vision, you see Bodhi’s face pale.

“We’re acquainted.” He quickly answered, getting out of her grip as he reached over and grabbed the water out of Ridoc hands that were nearly empty from him constantly spilling. He gulped the water like a fish needing water, clearly uncomfortable.

“Very acquainted.” She fluttered her lashes towards him, tone suggestive. Brushing off your awkward interaction.

You made a noise of understanding. Everything you thought was confirmed by two words. Your thoughts lingering and spiraling. The idea of Bodhi intertwined with someone else was nauseating…even infuriating. Everything had drowned out by your heartbeat in your ears, Ridocs words were now inaudible, but assuming he was making a joke. Ariante shrilled giggles didn’t even affect you.

Why were you so mad? You had no right, you’ve been so awful to him the last couple of years—there was never a chance for you. Every interaction you two have had was just rekindling your friendship the past week not meaning anything more. Every poke and prod from your group of friends was something they misinterpreted between the two of you. You knew you shouldn’t have thought too hard on their words and jests, but deep down you only felt crushed of the hope there could have been.

Crack. You looked down at your glass that had been in your hand, the glass in between your knuckles nearly crushed.

The group flitted to you and the cup, even some of the surrounding patrons looked towards you warily.

“Are you alright?” Bodhi was the first to speak up.

“Just absolutely peachy.” You murmured, sliding the object towards the other side of the bar.

“Wow, all you riders are so strong.” Ariante laughed nervously. If this could have been any worse, you weren’t sure if you wanted to punch something or cry now.

“Excuse me,” fighting the lump in your throat. Standing up quickly walking towards the nearest exit without a word.

You walked outside, not quite being able to comprehend what just happened in the matter of seconds. Clenching and unclenching your fists, your chest heaving as everything felt as if it was closing in, pacing on the cobblestone outside the tavern. The smell of incoming rain permeating the humid air that blanketed over the quaint town. Usually a smell that eased your mind, was an overbearing semblance to the internal storm inside you.

“Y/n!” Bodhi called out your name, walking out the door you walked out of moments prior. The bass in his voice stoked the fire that formed in the pit of your stomach, ready to burn you from the inside out. Turning on your heel you faced the 6’3 man, brows already furrowed in glaring daggers towards him, chest still heaving erratically unable to control your breaths.

“You need to breathe.” He didn’t let your behavior deter him. His tone smooth and even, several feet away, not meeting your gaze like if he did he would combust into flames from your glare.

You scoffed, “shouldn’t you be inside with Ariante?” Her name dripped off your tongue with venom.

He opened and closed his full lips, setting his hands on his hips; absolutely dumbfounded. “Y/n…” he said through staggered breath. “I came here with you tonight.” He took a few steps towards you cautiously. “I came up to talk to you at the bar, trying to leave her with her friend.” His focus seemed to be on the wall behind you, and not your own eyes as he still walked towards you. “I followed you out here, leaving her in there.” His words slow, as he stepped right in front of you. “Does it look like I give a fuck about her?” He didn’t let you answer.

“Has everything this past year made it look like I give fuck about anyone else, but you?”

Despite the tug in your heart you felt at his words, pulling you out of your blind rage and jealousy for a split second—it was frustrating how he refused to look you in the eyes.

“You were letting her hang all over you tonight, how can I believe that?!” You held your chest with one arm, the other outstretched to the door.

He gave an aggravated shout, lunging and grabbing your arms. You stiffened at his touch, his hands were just as hot as you felt. He seemed to notice as well, flinching at the realization, but his hold stayed secure on you. He leaned down, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“If you watched my every move, you would have noticed I wasn’t interested in her. I was only watching you the whole night.” That Gods forsaken deadly calm tone sent a shiver down your spine despite the heat you felt. “Now lift your arms up.” He ordered, the sentence barely above a whisper.

His usual honeyed brown eyes finally locked with yours, dangerously darkened. A silent gasp leaving your mouth agape, unable to pull away from his dark orbs submitting to his quiet demand, your arms rising up slowly.

His rough calloused skin brushing your arms ignited a solely different fire within you as he slid the sweater off your frame. “Fuck, you’re burning up.” He muttered, throwing the sweater on the cobblestone leaving you in the corseted tank top you had on underneath. Lightning flashed in the skyline, thunder following a moment later, and rain started to pour from the clouds moments later. The droplets are warm from the summertime, but still cooler than both your skin, creating a steam that ghosts around the both of you.

“So are you,” you said breathlessly. “Do you have any idea why?” You two were so close your chests brushed together, every time one of you breathed. You anticipated what he would say next, but Bodhi kept quiet, tugging on his lip, seeming to be fighting a battle with himself. He turned away from you, rubbing a hand over his face, looking up at the rain stricken sky.

“You do know don’t you?” You rasped.

“I just want to preface I wanted to tell you—”

‘Don’t. You. Dare. Tawny. One.’ Cleasaí dangerously seethed through your head.

It had been silent on the other side of the bond all night, you tugged the invisible string to her countless times, but no answer. Now she wanted her presence known? Known to someone that couldn’t hear her nonetheless.

‘She deserves to know what you’ve been hiding.’ Bodhi glowered. You were still watching him, and he hadn’t opened his mouth…and he heard your dragon?

A new deep sophisticated tone entered your mind, ‘Cleasaí the inevitable is going to happen—‘ Cuir?

‘That I’ll find out?’ You stood in that mental art studio you were taught to use as your source for grounding. The door wide open letting in the thoughts and voices that freely flew through your mental guards. That one invisible string that led to the door seemed to have an added two now.

“Shit,” Bodhi hissed.

“How long?” You gritted your teeth, focusing on the man in front of you. He stayed quiet. “How long did you know?” You repeated louder.

He looked at the ground, “since my threshing.”

You tensed, how come he knew, but you had been clueless this whole time?

‘It’s not ideal to have one rider running from the other while their supposed mated dragons aren’t even on speaking terms.’ Cuir explained.

You fought the tears that lined your eyes, ‘he gets to know, while I’m left in the dark?!’

‘That was for Cleasaí to tell you, my rider had no choice to listen to us dragonkind.’ Cuir explained with a steeliness.

‘And I told her I would tell her in due time.’ Cleasaí chuffed in the corners of your mind.

It felt crowded in your brain, two additional voices, on top of your grappling emotions. You inhaled deeply, blinking tears away furiously.

“Y/n,” Bodhi came towards you. “I wanted to tell you.”

“When was I going to be told?” You snapped. “When you graduate?!” A couple tears now silently slip down your cheeks.

You didn’t know where to point the frustration at. Cleasaí should have told you it was her responsibility, but if Bodhi wanted to talk to you so badly that would have been the topic to start with.

“Our luck would be they would stick you in Samara like Xaden!” You shouted.

“When was I supposed to tell you? When you were running the other direction?! Or would you have preferred a note during Battle Brief only for you to go into a volatile meltdown?” He argued.

You laughed harshly, “I would have not—”

“Oh yes you would have.” Bodhi rolled his eyes. “That’s why Xaden warned me not to.”

Your eyes widened, “Xaden knew?”

‘Why wouldn’t the Wingleader know?’ Cleasaí snorted humorlessly.

‘I don’t want to hear it from you.’ You growled shutting the mental shield up from her and hopefully Cuir. You didn’t know how this all worked.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “He’s known since before you even crossed the parapet.”

“Does anyone else know?” You crossed your arms.

“Assumedly Violet, but no one else.”

Your eyes narrowed, she seemed to know everything didn’t she?

You grew quiet, mulling over everything as the rain was the only sound that filled the streets. You felt betrayed, not only by the creature that put their faith into you and vice versa, but by the man you had grown to love. Was that why you had felt like your irritation was an out of body experience earlier?

“Why do you think I have a churam dependency?” Bodhi bit the corner of his thumb, looking at you.

“Can you get out of my mind?” You frowned, picking the soggy sweater up off the cobblestone. You sniffled, wiping your face, before proceeding to walk towards Basgiath, wanting to get out of the vicinity of him. To think you could have died without even knowing… what would have happened to the dragons—yet worse—him? You didn’t even want to ponder over the details that entailed that yet.

“Trust me I’m not trying, but your thoughts are so fucking loud.” He muttered, following you.

“Then can you not follow me?” You turned, walking backwards wiping wet hair out of your face. The sting in your eyes is almost blinding from fighting the glaze of tears.

“It’s not safe to walk by yourself this time at night.” He said as if it was obvious.

“I’ll be fine,” you tried to reassure as you slipped the dagger out of your top, you tucked between your breasts when getting ready.

“You’ve been drinking, Y/n. That’s not going to do shit.” He tried to catch up to you, but you were a step ahead, even walking backwards.

“I feel stone cold sober at this moment.” You half lied, quickly turning back around, putting the dagger back where you kept it. You didn’t want him to see how your lip trembled, and you were ready to break. That was the last thing you needed was to have a ‘volatile meltdown’ in front of him. Though that’s what this whole night felt like, a tantrum of a fever dream.

You two came to a fork in the path that led to Basgiath from Chantara. You may have forgotten which path you took earlier in the night. So you hoped as you veered left, you would be going the right way, anything to just get away.

But his hand caught your arm, pulling you around to face him.

“I just got you back, I’m not letting you just be barely out of my reach again.” He seethed, his grip firm, but gentle. His touch was still blistering against your own skin.

“I’m not doing it, Y/n. I’ve already spent years running for you when you just kept running backwards for whatever reason!”

The tears had silently begun to fall again down your cheeks, this time unable to stop. “Do you want the reason, Bodhi?” You could feel yourself start to shake as the words left your mouth. “Because I love you!” You finally admitted, the confession a hushed whisper.

You watched with tears flowing freely as he staggered back a couple steps at what you said. He remained quiet as you continued. “I was never meant to love someone freely. And everyone I loved left—”

Your declaration is cut off by his lips smashing to yours. A primal fiery heat as your lips connected, his hands cupping your jaw, your lips melted with his realizing he was kissing you. The taste of the saltiness from your tears mixed with the essence of alcohol on both your lips was dizzying.

This was everything you could have imagined and more since you were a young woman. Everything you wanted the past five years. You felt his thumbs brush underneath your chin as you relished the feeling as you continued to kiss him with a fervor you never experienced. Your hands sliding up his chest around the back of his neck, gripping on his wet dark curls you’ve always admired. A soft sigh left his lips, and it was a noise you could listen to forever, but of course your thoughts spiraled.

A much more important secret was withheld from you, not only by him, but Cleasaí. A petty love confession that you withheld as a way to protect yourself and what you thought would protect him, when the secret of bonded dragons affected four beings outweighed it all. Whether it was his choice or not.

You pulled away abruptly. “I-I can’t.” You said, feeling your own heart break.

“What do you mean you can’t?” He sputtered, confused.

“Me professing my love doesn’t change any of the circumstances.” You shook your head, letting go of him reluctantly. “If anything it only adds to the risk of this whole situation.”

You needed to think about everything thoroughly, and away from him. If not, you might not think straight. You had to go.

“Y/n,” Bodhi pleaded desperately. He watched you turn and make your way back to the war college. You ignored him, even when your bones itched to turn and run back into his arms. “Do my feelings mean nothing to you?!” He shouted, standing where you left him.

Your steps faltered, and that break you felt in your chest worsened. You turned, with a strained smile on your face through your tears.

“They do, more than you could ever realize.”

Y/n is definitely Violet coded I’m sorry 😅 and the y/n lore will thicken in part 5 hehe

Thank you sm for the comments and support, it means a lot to have people that actually enjoy what I put out and try to have patience for my posting inconsistency!! I love talking with you all about it and hearing your conspiracies through out the whole series. I think there will be 2-3 more part before I finish and move on to my next ventures, but as always like, reblogs, and comments are appreciated 🫶🏻🫶🏻

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