#if it weren’t for those habits we wouldn’t have made so much delicious progress

[iceiclehorned]

That sweet, resounding response echoed in the depths of her mind, filling up empty crevices and planting promising kisses along the curve of her spine. It had been unexpected, the way he allowed that request to come to fruition. Some part of that fiery spirit opted to keep her hope low, despite being the furthest thing from the way she did things on average. Spritely, living every last moment with the fullness of her heart, suddenly dwindling to a shy flame, wanting to hide the way he ignited an impact that allowed wax to melt much faster than it should. Hesitancy would no longer hold her back, and she found herself yearning to live up to the challenge.

"Don't make promises without reading the fine-print, Lighter," Burnice's tongue danced along her bottonm lip, brewing mischief in the purest of ways. "I may not be able to hold back once we start."

Of course, choosing to be brave in such a way, right as they traversed through the gateway into another world, one that held promises of an extraordinary fight ahead. It wasn't as if she was doing it on purpose, but for this to be their first date, how could one not expect some flirtatious behaviour to follow them into the claws of a Hollow den? An eager giggle followed after her, chasing that adrenaline rush as the guarantee of a good time pursued her very soul.

His words allowed her to smile. Honest, authentically happy. Within the depths of his own mind, he always knew who to trust with what, even if he would dispatch himself on those missions that felt particularly dangerous. Fortunately, she had sealed her fate right beside him, and there would be no need for him to risk his own life during the loneliest of periods. Starting from today, he would have a devoted partner. Almost like a little sidekick to cheer him on, as well as to keep up that fight right by his side.

“In that case, I’ll do my best!!” Enthusiasm dominated the texture of her heart, guiding those legs to the place they would come to meet the ending of the parasites that held the lives of hundreds of thousands of people within their grasp. For that Hollow claim held a dystopian novelty in people’s hearts, there would always be a refusal to let that fire be struck out quite so easily. A perilous journey would never push the mixologist away, not when being a certified adrenaline-junkie served its purpose, both on and off the battlefield.

Seeking a thrill, allowing that excited pulse to live within other people’s hearts was precisely the thing that was needed here. Even with the way the halls were decorated in horror, meant to strike fear, Burnice’s flame would always light the way for a much sweeter path.

“Let’s watch ‘em dance, shall we?”

Springing to life were ember stars, prepped to come to life. Preparation was made for a close-range attack, her eyes peeled for vulnerability in the sudden range of pathetic bug-like creatures clattering around. It was as if being challenged put them in a daze, and that was more than enough for the devious blonde to put herself into action. Danger held no real bounty over her head, not when the promise of having her back watched was known. Springing forward, an explosive charge would be performed, asserting complete control as cool, metal pipes began to heat, thwacking a multitude of swarmed enemies, allowing those pipes to then give rise to flames, scalding a sweet, charring promise to those within her proximity.

The start of something bigger began to culminate, her body twirling as if she were about to put on a show of utter elegance, only to turn it into an arsonist’s dream. Starry flames dancing together, like a night’s sky emerging at sunset. Specks of fuel flew onto the specimen, allowing for a bigger punch to be set in stone.

“I can’t wait to see what you have planned for date number two!”

Except for another kiss, maybe.

A soft huff follows from that modestly made wish. It was encased in fondness from the infernal uprising that very act made. To Lighter, this holds as a decision and confession all the same. Her very taste had the intent of becoming a more permanent fixture in this new road of choices. There was whimsy in how she made warmth beyond the ferocity of flame give a more mellow ground in his heart. To see even the ever fearless Burnice find her way into looking a touch coy?

That served undeniable proof. A growing and gradual understanding found itself ripping from the haze of night. "Without a doubt." He'd follow in. "In a case like that? It'll be as much as you like."

With a new promise forged, it's not the matter of the task at hand. The Ether concentrations found themselves gradually heightening the further down they went. High security often meant that more under the desk deals and activity were high on the rise. If one thing hadn't changed from the ancient times, it'd be that the essence of Ether was akin to a devilish whisper to the heart's of man. Supernatural strength, technology beyond all measure, there was no limitation to the depravities committed to see such matters through.

"It hadn't been a mere moment of taking a break at your place. Much as I wanted to anyways. Stuff like this requires your critical eye, and at this point it'll be under Calydon jurisdiction. As the professional out of our motley bunch, I figured you were the perfect fit for what's going on here." And that's only the technical aspects. Lighter often thought on how her expertise led to the thriving etheric fuel he channels for his W-Engine. While she'd never require a price, it only fortified in his mind that returning those dues were pivotal.

As the elevator pauses at the lowest levels, it'd be at Burnice's springy charge that he's soon matching that energized pursuit. An array of military vehicles and firearm racks would be in abundance in the current locations, while a more solitary hallway casting a foreboding shadow lies ahead. Similar to many grounds they've excavated, the lost history held in these bases always held a more perilous or risky tale. While resources were great, often times it was better to not think about the prices, the sacrifices

That route was likely where they'd find their weight in progress.

"Looks like the company remembers me. Just so ya know, all of these cars n' floors have some decent flame resistance. So I better not catch ya being shy." Soon as those thoughts were voiced, the familiar flicker across their visions enacts as multiple portals found tearing through this unruly reality. A multitude of lower scale ethereals found themselves scuttling in a charge. Scorpion looking varieties, the regular bunch holding blades and forcefully fused pipes, dragging them across the grounds as one of them tossed a vehicle overhead amidst their charge.

Before it could even consider squishing them, a singular reach from the Champion caught that daunting weight outright.

"Time to play ball, I'll cover your six."

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Chapter 39, NSFW Nessian)

Notes: Well, over a year you've had to wait for these two to seal the deal... BUT NO LONGER. And because I'm thankful to you all for sticking with this story, I've granted you with over 16k of sinful naughtiness. I think it's safe to say this is NSFW but you guys have read my smut before, you know the drill.

Embers & Light has always very much been the alternative story to Habits, but I couldn’t help but write in some crossover moments here to highlight the differences in events--timeline is a fascinating thing! Lemme know if you spot the moments :)

Please let me know what you think :) Comment and kudos will make my day!

I won't be able to write much of August (wedding & mini-moon) but I'll be doing my best to get you guys something as soon as possible. Hopefully by the end of the month, anyways <3

Oh! And I got a bookstagram. Find me at bookships.and.fandoms (and bear with me, I cba to take pretty pics atm)

Chapter 39 Cassian POV

Cassian stared at the doorway and the staircase beyond it, his gaze fixed and unwavering. Nesta had slipped out of the living room to follow Feyre up the stairs over ten minutes ago and he was already consumed with the biting sort of worry that gnawed at your insides.

He wasn’t concerned about what Nesta might be discussing with Feyre—that was her business—but because he couldn’t help but fret when it came to Nesta’s wellbeing.

It was a myriad of concerns that trampled through his mind like a herd of cattle. Had she slept enough? Had she recovered from being caught in the crowds the day before? Was her conversation with Feyre going to have her take three steps back rather than one forward? Cassian had spied the book of fairytales she’d slipped into her bag. Had guessed what she’d intended to do with it.

And then there was the fact that Nesta had left the bed before he’d woken again. Cassian couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d not been there when he’d opened his eyes, especially after the night before.

But that was how it was with he and Nesta. When the sun dipped below the horizon, Cassian often felt as if they were on the right path; as if once the world shut its eyes, the pressure was off and their play could continue. But as soon as light bled back into the sky, things weren’t the same. They weren’t cold… but Cassian felt suspended in a limbo of flirtatious banter and respectful distance. Which was hard, when all Cassian wanted to do was be as close to her as possible: to hold her hand and wind a hand through her hair. To kiss her brow and mouth and sink his teeth into her neck—

Cassian’s jaw tightened. He wanted to do wicked things. He wanted to make her moan and shatter. Wanted to know how she felt wrapped around him. Wanted to see if she’d gasp awake as he pushed inside of her.

Their trip home was going to be a turning point. Or at the very least it would be a milestone—a hammered notch as they progressed towards something. Yet, Cassian wasn’t naive: he wasn’t expecting Nesta to fall into his arms and never leave. But he hoped that it might make Nesta see their connection—not the tie between them, but the chemistry that Cassian knew would forever exist even if the mating bond was severed.

From the very first moment his gaze had settled on the haughty, vicious sister Cassian had known. Had nearly been brought to his knees—the heart-stopping moment so powerful, it suspended time as he felt something turn inside of him, as if something that had lain dormant had finally snapped open an eye.

And because of that Cassian would willingly allow Nesta to forge the reigns when it came to whatever it was between them. He could go slow. He would take the chance that Nesta might grow to accept him, even as he was seized by the terror that she might grow bored and draw a line under things before he had the chance to prove that he was worthy.

Cassian took a deep, steadying breath that made his ribcage heave. Thought of the lullaby that sat in his room at the House. Used that to ground himself and banish the painful thoughts.

Nesta had cared enough to gift him a piece of his past that nobody else had ever gone to the effort to find for him. And that was… everything. It was everything to him.

“I can hear the worry grinding gears in your brain.”

Rhys was standing where Mor had been a few moments earlier, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, his eyebrows raised. Cassian hadn’t noticed Mor slip away. Couldn’t even recall what she'd been saying to him. Had he ignored her? He didn’t know. Didn’t really care. They all knew he was head over heels when it came to Nesta anyway.

Cassian blinked. It took him a moment to process Rhys’s words, but his body finally caught up. An instinctive grin tugged at the corners of his mouth and he commanded his eyes to sparkle, even though it was all fake. “I was under the impression you didn’t think I had one.”

Rhys didn’t chuckle or retort with something dry. Sometimes his brother allowed him to indulge in his self-deprecating behaviour, but it didn’t seem like today was one of those days. Instead, he cut to the chase. “They’re fine.”

Cassian bristled. Didn’t bother to pretend his mind wasn't solely on what was happening upstairs. “Feyre’s speaking with you now?”

Nesta would hate that. Would know if her sister was communicating to her mate whilst they were talking.

His brother’s laugh was as smooth as velvet. “No, she locked me out. It’s a habit she’s started recently and it’s usually coupled with the mental finger.”

This time, Cassian’s smile was genuine, as was the chuckle that chased it. “Feisty.”

“You have no idea,” Rhys responded with a wink.

Mor, who had breezed back to Cassian’s side with a new cup of coffee, rolled her eyes. “We do actually, you two are like rabbits.”

“We’re mated,” Rhys replied with a wave of his hand. “It’s to be expected.”

Mor lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Cauldron, I need to bed someone rather than hearing about my cousin’s exploits with my best friend.”

“Head to Rita’s and find yourself a pretty fae,” Cassian drawled, tugging Mor into a one armed hug.

“Mmm,” Mor hummed, but she chewed on her lip again. Glanced nervously at Azriel, who was in deep conversation with Elain. His shadows were tucked in neatly to his frame rather than trailing, ever-moving and loose around his body, but Cassian knew he could hear them.

Cassian dropped a friendly kiss to Mor’s head before he let her go. Tussled her hair, grinning mischievously when she squawked in disapproval.

As if sensing that his cousin wanted a change of subject, Rhys looked square at Cassian. “Azriel will come over later to update you on the latest movements.”

Cassian sobered as if someone had poured icy water down his back. “Not later,” Cassian corrected firmly.

Tomorrow. No the day after that. Cassian couldn’t guarantee that he’d be able to stop once he’d had his first proper taste of Nesta.

But of course they couldn’t do that—wouldn’t. The situation in Illyria was too dire for them to be so selfish as to lock themselves away for days.

It didn’t mean Cassian didn’t want to, though.

“You’ve got plans?” Rhys asked lightly and Mor froze.

You’ve got no idea, Cassian thought. But then realised his brother knew. Of course he did. Surely everyone in this room knew how desperate he was to get back to Illyria. To have Nesta in his bed again, writhing and moaning, their bodies slick with sweat as they moved in unison.

Clenching his jaw, Cassian grounded that desire between his teeth, until it was nothing but broken, delicious shards that scraped down his throat. His blood coiled. “Yes. Maybe.”

If she doesn’t change her mind.

“It has to be tomorrow, Cass.”

Biting back a sigh, Cassian nodded. “I know. Come at noon. I suppose I’ll be camped out in Illyria for the foreseeable future.” He cast a stern look at Mor. “Send me letters.”

“You have a housemate,” Rhys reminded him. “You’re not going to be entirely alone.”

Mor grinned slyly. “A very beautiful housemate.”

Cassian was more than aware of that.

He grunted and unable to stop himself, he voiced the fear that always niggled away at the back of his mind. “For now.”

But Rhys just loosed another manicured shrug, that was at odds with the ground-breaking revelation that followed it. “For a long while. Nesta has expressed her desire to remain in Illyria long-term despite the discontent. Assuming you don’t mind sharing your bungalow.”

It felt as if an iron band of hope was clamped around Cassian’s chest. He stared at his brother. Tried not to blink. Crossed his arms firmly over his chest, protecting his heart. “And you know this how?”

“Nesta spoke with me. We have arrived at a truce, of sorts.”

That must have been what they’d spoken about yesterday on the balcony. He wanted to know more—everything—but Cassian would not press Rhys. If Nesta wanted to tell him, she would. He had to respect that.

So, he bit back his curiosity and grumbled, “About time.”

Rhys clapped his hand on Cassian’s back, but there was something wary in his expression, as if there was something he wanted to say but wouldn’t. Finally, he said, “Patience is a virtue, brother.”

“I’m not the patient sort.”

“You are when it counts,” Rhys countered, and Cassian didn’t say anything because they both knew what he was referring to. Rhys had been the first to know. Had witnessed Cassian in a tangled web of despair and longing and unwanted visions. His brother had immediately put two and two together. Because he’d been there, too. Knew what it was to want someone you thought you couldn’t have. To hope that someone might finally grow to see you in colour rather than in black and white.

Cassian cast another look towards the empty doorway and the quiet hallway beyond it.

A shiver of anticipation ran through him. It was time for them to go home.

***

In the end, Cassian folded to his worry and had Elain fetch Nesta from upstairs. It was time to go, he’d insisted, even though there was no true reason as to why they needed to leave quite so quickly.

“No guesses required to identify why you want to head back to Illyria,” Mor muttered out the side of her mouth, as the creak of the stairs a few flights above heralded the sisters return. Cassian jabbed his elbow into his friend’s ribs and Mor yelped through her grin, even as she had to sidestep, the nudge throwing her off balance. “What? It’s all over your face. You think I can’t read you after five hundred years?”

“Don’t announce it to the room,” Cassian muttered darkly under his breath, “and you won’t find yourself torn to pieces.”

Mor briefly bumped against his arm, the jostle affectionate. Unfazed by his threat, she glanced sideways at him with rich chocolate eyes. “I won’t. We just want you to be happy, you know.”

Cassian’s mouth flattened into a thin line. “Now isn’t the time for a lecture about finding a more suitable mate.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, hadn’t meant to voice what he’d kept inside for so long.

Mor’s eyes widened, but she wound her arms around his waist. Cassian allowed her to tuck herself under his arm. His friend scented of citrus and cinnamon. When she craned her neck to look up at him, her expression was glowing with sincerity and Cassian realised that she hadn’t been insinuating that Nesta wasn’t right for him at all. “We’re all cheering you on from the sidelines, Cass, I promise.”

The muscle in Cassian’s jaw flexed. He looked away from her, towards the doorway again, unable to help himself. “Don’t say anything.”

She tightened her grip on his waist. “I won’t. I promise.”

“She doesn’t want it.”

Mor untangled herself from him. Shook her head in disagreement. “She does. She just isn’t ready to admit it yet.”

They both fell quiet as Nesta walked through the door with Elain and Feyre. The first thing Cassian noticed was that she scented of water and salt—tears.

Heart pattering with concern, Cassian quickly scanned Nesta’s expression and body language, searching for clues. But Nesta remained close to her sisters rather than apart, her fingers snagged in Feyre’s, her expression not in tatters but smooth and calm, like still waters.

“Ready to go?” Mor chirped from beside him. “I can winnow you back when Sala arrives.”

Nesta’s grey-blue eyes slid to Mor. “I called her on my way down.”

“Then you have time to see the snowdrops you gave me before you leave,” Elain responded eagerly, tugging at Nesta’s arm. “The cuttings took well to the soil. I planted them beneath the shade of the birch trees near the river.”

Cassian watched Nesta disappear into the garden. Surveyed the way a strand of golden brown hair that had escaped her loose braid floated on the breeze, as if it was part of the element rather than separate, as Elain bent to show her the snowdrops.

Yet despite the clear ease to Nesta’s movements, Cassian couldn’t help but ask Feyre whether everything was okay when she came over to hug him goodbye.

“We’re fine,” Feyre assured him, as together they watched Mor tentatively sit beside Azriel on the couch. For once the Shadowsinger’s shadows didn’t lighten, but Azriel still turned to her, drawn by some magnetism as she began to speak with him.

Slim fingers closed around his. Squeezed. “Thank you for fetching the book of fairytales for Nesta.”

The strand of ebony hair that had wrangled free of Cassian’s hair tie tickled the side of his forehead as he inclined his head. That had been a long time ago, when Nesta was a viper that he dared to poke with a stick, just so he could get a reaction. “Of course.”

“You travelled all that way on barely healed wings just to fetch a book.”

It wasn’t just a book, but Cassian knew Feyre understood that, so he only grunted, “Az took me most of the way. He waited to winnow me back.”

But Feyre’s eyes were burnished, as she asked, “Is there anything you won’t do for my sister?”

“It depends,” Cassian replied honestly. Because although he’d rather die than see Nesta hurt, Cassian wouldn’t hesitate to stand up to her when her fire was ill-wrought. And that’s what he liked about the both of them: if he was an ass Nesta told him straight, and he did the same for her. A grin slashed across his face. “Your sister has claws and teeth when she’s angry.”

It wasn’t long before Sala landed on her four large paws in the garden, prompting goodbyes. Mor winnowed Nesta and Sala, whilst Az’s scarred hand closed around Cassian’s arm.

Together, Cassian and his brother passed through realms of shadows and light and raging wings. Then Illyria was taking shape before Cassian bit by bit: there was the sting of winter on his cheeks, the crunch of snow beneath his feet, the scent of pine and untamed air. It felt like that wonderful first heave of your lungs after being starved from air. It alerted Cassian senses—woke him up.

Not bothering to say goodbye for the second time, Azriel bled straight back into shadow, but Mor raised a hand in a parting wave from where she stood beside Nesta and Sala. Her long golden hair caught on the breeze. It tussled behind her like its own puff of wind, before she vanished into nothing.

When Cassian’s eyes snapped to Nesta, he found her standing with her eyes closed, breathing in the wilderness of their surroundings. After a few beats, Sala jumped onto her hind legs, climbing up Nesta’s body with her snow-crusted paws to knock her head impatiently against Nesta’s.

A breath of laughter clouded in front of her as Nesta ruffled Sala’s ears. She murmured something Cassian couldn't identify in the manticore’s ear, before Sala dropped onto all fours and padded through the snow in the direction of the main camp.

Cassian watched the manticore go. He suspected Sala was going to seek out the widows camp and check everything was in order. It was the kind of thing Nesta would fret about—that whilst she was warm and fed, others might not be extended the same courtesy.

Or, the dark part of his mind whispered, she wants Sala out of the house.

You can fuck me wherever you like in the bungalow, Cassian.

The many needles of thrill pierced through him just as Nesta met his stare from across the snow. Suddenly, Cassian didn’t know what to say. His tongue felt swollen and thick in his mouth, words suddenly as viscous as tar. The atmosphere had altered—the aura surrounding them despite the distance suddenly heavy with promise: a change that pointed to something new.

The siphons on the back of Cassian’s hands glowed in anticipation. Nesta merely raised an eyebrow at him. Turned. Walked towards the house just as he caught the thick scent of jasmine and vanilla on the wind.

Cassian’s nostrils flared as it wound around him; invisible ropes of arousal. And then he was moving, following Nesta’s footprints.

His friends had winnowed them to the back of the house, halfway between the small stone outhouse and the backdoor. They weren’t far from the bungalow, but it felt like miles as Cassian stomped noisily after Nesta, his boots compacting the snow as if they were grinding shards of glass into powder.

When Cassian drew up behind Nesta, she already had a hand half-raised towards the door. Even though he wasn’t touching her, she was a whirlpool of warmth. It sucked him in, begging him to line his torso against her back, so when she cursed, realising she hadn’t taken her gloves off, Cassian didn’t hesitate to reach over her shoulder and rest his palm against the wood, encasing her.

The touch of his bare skin—or Nesta’s—was the key to the magical lock. A thunk sounded as the bolt released but Cassian didn’t push open the door—was too preoccupied with the female before him—who had twisted to stare up at him.

As soon as their gazes snagged, history began to knit together in a rush of thread, until it was a tangible, living thing. Because this moment had been written in the stars as soon as Cassian had seen Nesta in her amethyst dress in the human realm; her hair wielded into a mighty crown, her expression haughty and defiant, yet burning with the potential of a life not yet lived. They’d denied that history, even as it waited patiently in the wings. It had watched as they danced around each other, fumbling and snarling their way to this very moment—

They moved in unison. Cassian’s head bowing just as Nesta reached upwards; her body bowing to his, her palms sliding across his jaw until they were around his neck. Their lips met with a force that rattled Cassian’s bones. This wasn't a brush of a kiss. This was immediate and awakening: Nesta tasted like life and breath, like destiny. And yet again, Cassian knew with startling clarity that they were meant for this, he and Nesta. They were meant for each other and nobody could tell him otherwise, including her.

A soft breath whooshed out of Nesta as her back hit the door, but then Cassian was pushing it open, guiding her inside in a whirlwind of noise and wreckage.

The scrape of wood on the flagstone tiles sounded as Nesta’s back knocked against the table before Cassian turned them, his wings grazing against cupboards and the cool walls. Items clattered and shattered, but Cassian used his wings to keep a check on his surroundings, the touch guiding him to the left-hand wall where he could press her against the wall and devour.

Because Cassian could not tear his mouth from Nesta’s. Couldn’t stop tasting her. Couldn’t stop craving the roll of her tongue and the sound of her guttural moans. It fuelled a fireball inside of him; it roared into life in the centre of his heart, before spreading throughout his limbs, rushing through his body until it settled deep in his groin, aching and burning—screaming for relief.

When they finally hit the wall, the thud of their bodies shook the cabinets and the porcelain within it. Without thinking, Cassian took the brunt of it, his hand flying to cup Nesta's lower back and head to purposefully shield her from the hurt.

Because he was coarse and rippling, galloping towards a primal sort of wilderness that Cassian wasn’t sure he could control.

If Nesta was ignorant to the fact or wholly aware Cassian didn’t know. All he knew was that her hands were scrabbling at his leather like dancing flames, tugging him closer.

When he pressed his body over hers, aligning every inch of her to every inch of him, she whined.

Cassian swallowed it. Slanted his mouth across hers. Tucked his wings in tight as every muscle in him tensed in anticipation.

Nesta tasted of chai and vanilla and embers with a destiny to roar.

Another strangled noise came from her throat as Cassian sank his hands deep into the hair at her scalp, coaxing strands free from her braid as his fingers threading through her hair, just as he had done the night prior when he’d coaxed her to sleep. But this wasn’t a soothing touch. This was a touch to startle every nerve ending to life.

Time began to bleed around them, but Cassian only registered the fluidity of the frantic dance they had not learnt. The way Nesta arched into him as his palm slid back to span her waist. The pant of her breath against his skin. His heaving chest. The way his wings began to spread again of their own volition, like a fan unfolding to reveal a secret pattern—as if they were controlled by nothing but the ache of his cock as it strained against the leather of his pants.

As if in acknowledgement that his body was no longer ruled by him, his hips slanted upwards of their own accord. It was a desperate bid to relieve the ache, and his throat vibrated with a thunderous growl as Nesta dug her nails deeper into the leather of his jacket, using it for leverage as she arched into him.

Something turned further inside of Cassian, like a lock beginning to grind as a key turned. And then it felt as if he were plunging beneath water; ducking into the depths and travelling beneath an invisible barrier before emerging on the other side buoyant and surging with power.

Ruby crashed through his veins, like the walls of a dam broken free and… singing light. Magic roared so loudly in Cassian’s ears that he no longer heard the galloping beat of his heart or the sawing of their breath.

Reeling, he tore his mouth from Nesta’s. Her eyes were just as wide, puddles of startled moonlight—endless mercury—and Cassian didn’t need to look down to know that her hands were wreathed in silver.

For a moment they stared at one another. Time slowed until it was sluggish around them and then the feeling receded, as if Cassian was being carried by a wave as it was dragged unwillingly from the shore on thundering feet.

Sound bled back into Cassian’s ears, like raindrops slowly blotting paper. A moan whispered on a wind carried through him, the words fleeting—her name three times, like always—before they dispersed into nothing and ragged breathing filled the hole.

Fuck, they needed to be careful. He needed to be careful if just kissing her led to some transcendental experience. Cassian knew Nesta became open during sex—had seen tumbled images of tangled limbs and heard her moans—and he couldn’t afford to lose her when she had finally let him in. Couldn’t let her down, even though he wanted nothing more than to finally be found worthy by someone.

That twisted rope between them couldn’t widen and strengthen. Couldn’t finally open and click into place with a consensual snap.

Because Cassian had heard stories of mates who had gone to bed. Who had fleetingly accepted what they wanted in their hearts but not in their minds. And after they had both finished and life had been breathed into that bond, only death could sever their Cauldron-blessed connection.

Cassian would not have a mate with regrets, but he didn’t have the will-power to deny himself of her any longer. Not when he could scent how much Nests wanted him. When he could feel it like an unquenchable ache in his bones—an ache which made him tremble and shake. His rocky warrior exterior ground to nothing but sand.

As if Nesta could read his thoughts she tipped her head back, baring the column of her neck.

A resounding guttural sound dragged from his throat. The noise was animalistic and unchained. A booming crack ricocheted around the walls, the muscles in Cassian’s back burning as his wings snapped outward.

Something toppled from somewhere and crashed to the floor, but Cassian didn’t bother to raise his head to look at what it was.

And then time seemed to both slow and drive into a frenzy. Cassian launched at Nesta’s neck at the same time he tugged at her hair, urging her head to fall back even farther.

His lips were against the column of her throat in the blink of an eye; his teeth scraping, his mouth sucking until her blood pounded in his ears. Nesta’s knees buckled but Cassian quickly pinned her body to the wall, holding her up, his knee sliding firmly between her legs…

And… nothing. There was no panic or sensation of being trapped—no sudden fire launching him back thirty feet—but Cassian still tore his mouth from Nesta’s neck. Had to know she wasn’t panicking. “Ok?” he rasped.

A frown burrowed Nesta’s brows. Her swollen lips parted in confusion. Somehow it made her look more beautiful.

Cassian raised a shaking hand to trace it away. “Nesta. Are you ok?”

Understanding dawned like millions of unfurling petals.

When Nesta spoke she was short of breath, the words an exhale. “Don’t hold back.”

Cassian practically arched into her at the words but he made himself remain still, even as his body vibrated with tension. His bones creaked but he held fast.

That stubborn, beautiful chin lifted and Nesta’s eyes glinted wicked yet pure. Always an oxymoron, his Nesta.

“Don’t hold back,” she repeated, her voice stronger this time. She pushed her hips against his thigh and the friction had her lips parting, a shaky breath tumbling from her lungs. “I can take it.”

The words were like slashing knives of pleasure, severing the leash on any control Cassian thought he had.

The subsequent rush of air Cassian loosed was akin to a snorting horse.

Then he was moving and their mouths were fused together again, their tongues a delicious push and pull of control and pleasure before he yanked away.

“Thank fuck,” he gasped. His hands flew to her hips, guiding her to ride his thigh. “Thank fuck, Nesta.”

The friction had Nesta moaning, her fingernails digging so hard into the leather of his jacket Cassian was sure she had dented the material. But he didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything but the living fervour that clawed at them.

His hands were everywhere at once. Tangled in her hair. Sliding over her cheek. Cupping her ass. Attacking the buttons at the back of her dress, until they popped and scattered. Until he could pull the material down her arms, exposing tantalising creamy skin.

At the first sight of her breasts, Cassian growled. He bowed his head to capture a nipple sharply between his teeth before he laved over it with his tongue, smoothing over the wound. He relished the way Nesta cried out. Arched into him. She began to tear at his jacket. It snagged on his wings but Cassian shrugged it off until it hit the floor with a thud.

The first slide of Nesta’s palms beneath his tunic was like oil sizzling in a pan. Cassian hissed as the callouses of her palms scraped deliciously over his skin and scars and ink. Snarled as she made quick work of the stays and fastenings. Tried to focus on her other breast as she inched her hand beneath the tight leather fabric and eased him free.

Fingers wrapped sinfully around him, causing Cassian to snarl around a peaked nipple—to buck sharply—pressing them more firmly against the wall.

“Don’t bother,” Nesta moaned as Cassian wrenched desperately at the fabric of her dress, trying to coax it further down her body. She ground down onto his thigh as it to emphasise her point—her need—and the heat of her burned.

It was all Cassian needed to hear. He fumbled desperately with her skirts until a hand was under the material and sliding up her thigh. Until fabric ripped and her underwear fell away in what Cassian imagined to be a ripple of lace.

In one swift movement, Cassian lifted Nesta’s body upwards, until her legs were gripped tightly around his hips and her back was flush against the wall. Her hands flew to find purchase, grappling at the back of his neck, and when she was steady she raked her hand purposefully through the hair which had come loose from his tie. Tugged at the leather until his hair fell over his face. Whined. Tangled her fingers through the ebony strands as if they were her reigns.

Cassian splayed the hand that wasn’t supporting her body against the cold wall. Tried to catch his breath, but the position evened out the height between them. Just a slight movement would allow him to capture her lips with his, and Cassian couldn’t deny that demanding tug that drove him to devour. Nesta seemed to feel the same way. Moaned in relief as Cassian tasted her as if he couldn’t get enough, gave back as good as she got. Over and over they moved, until they were nothing but an undulating wave of tongue and teeth and groans. The pleasure was a surging, roiling entity. It was all consuming. It overtook Cassian’s body, demanding that his hand drag from her ass straight to her core.

When his fingers slid through wetness, Cassian’s groan sounded like thunderous defeat. He dropped his head to Nesta’s collarbone. Gently pressed his lips to her clavicle. To her shoulder. Tried to ground himself as he slid straight to the spot that made her keen—as pleasure ignited down the bond like a crashing wave. Brushed over it again and again and again. Relishing in the noises he coaxed from her. At the curling fists of desire that clenched agonisingly inside of him.

Cassian had to see Nesta fall. Had to look into her eyes as she broke.

But he wanted to be inside of her when it happened.

Cassian was reaching for his cock at the same time that Nesta let out a broken moan. “Do it,” she breathed. There was no bite of authority in her voice, as if all of the energy she had directed in the pursuit of pleasure had smoothed over the serrated edge of her personality he loved so much, leaving a softer version in its wake. “Please. Just—”

A satisfied snarl ripped from Cassian as he felt her want. And in that moment, Cassian knew there would be nothing gentle about how this was going to play out. It was going to be rough and frantic, riding a wave of pleasure that had been building for too long. Knew afterwards that they would sink to the cold floor in a mass of tangled limbs and mingled breath.

And Cassian wanted that. Had never wanted release so badly in his life.

Something clambered in the back of his mind. Something he needed to remember, but his limbs were moving of their own volition. He didn’t even bother to pump his cock or squeeze it to relieve the tension. Only cared about finally being inside of her.

The heat and slickness of her was sinful and divine when he lined himself up at her entrance. The hand he had braced against the wall came to span her cheek. It relied on Nesta clamping on tightly to his waist with her legs and the press of his torso against hers, but they managed it.

Shaking, Cassian raked back the hair that had fallen free from her braid back from Nesta’s face, just as she tugged him in for a bruising kiss.

There was a moment when everything paused and trembled. As Nesta pulled away and stared at him, her eyes swimming silver—glowing with it—her pupils obscured.

His magic surged at the sight of it. Crashed against his skin as if it was trying to escape. His siphons burned bloody.

“Cassian,” Nesta panted. Despite the keen desperation, there was cushion to his name. Gently, Nesta bowed her head until her forehead rested against his. The gesture was surprisingly tender. It tugged at his heartstrings, triggered his hips into movement as they finally pushed forward.

The tight heat that wrapped around him like velvet was so immediate that Cassian swore. Sweat trickled down his back and seeped into the tunic Nesta hadn’t gotten round to discarding. He trembled as Nesta’s breath stuttered and he felt the burning pain mixed with pleasure as he sunk in an inch. Felt the stretch of Nesta’s body as it strained to fit around him.

Claws dug into his back—Nesta’s nails—biting into his skin, until the metallic tang of blood infused the air.

Cassian’s body stilled before he even had a second to register that he needed to stop. That instinct buried deep to make sure she never hurt.

And then a knock rapped at the front door.

“No,” Nesta moaned. She shifted her hips and Cassian sank a little deeper. That pain flared again through the pleasure and Cassian grip on her turned vice like.

Sense stumbled into his desire addled brain, like a fawn on gangly legs.

But then it righted itself.

Another sharp rap at the door cleared his head completely.

He bowed to bury his face in the crook of her neck but Nesta whined. Tilted her hips again, urging him deeper. “Nesta, stop.”

“No.” Her whimper was doused in frustration, but all Cassian could feel was that sharp needle of pain.

He tried to pull back, but Nesta clamped down around him with that incredible strength of hers. The strength that only seemed to appear at times of desperation or anger.

Cassian’s jaw flexed, his features hardening. “I’m hurting you.”

“You’re not,” Nesta countered, defiance colouring her expression.

“I am,” Cassian retorted, not allowing for a passing beat of their hearts to pass before he replied. “I’m hurting you. Don’t pretend that I’m not.”

I can feel it, Cassian wanted to explain, but didn’t. Knew somehow that if he did they might not end up joining at all.

Desire fogged Nesta’s mind and it fuelled the punch to her next words. “I don’t care.”

Ire punched through Cassian’s desire enough for him to see red. “Well, I do,” he snapped.

Nesta’s nostrils flared at his tone and her eyes burned silver. Cassian wondered how everything had gone southward so quickly—they were on a sinking ship and he needed to patch it up. Knew she felt rejected. So, he kissed her and pushed back that unquenchable ache he felt for her. Knew it hit home because she gasped softly into his mouth, her surprise tart on his tongue.

He pulled out. As soon as his cock fell free that pain throbbed and ebbed. But Nesta moaned all the same.

Moaned again as he drew his head back to stare at her.

She surprised him when her eyes remained open rather than closed off. There was no hard shield. Nothing but want and a vulnerability that made his heart squeeze.

It gave him the courage to do the right thing.

He kissed her again. Trailed a thumb across her swollen lips, ignoring the desire that roared as Nesta sucked it into her mouth, her tongue darting across the top before the bit down lightly.

“This is how things are going to go,” Cassian murmured lowly, pulling his thumb out of her mouth and across her jawline, trailing the wetness all the way to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Nesta shuddered.

“I’m going to get the door and send whoever it is away,” Cassian continued. He paused to let the words sink in. Lowered his head to trace a path with his nose, up the slope of her shoulder, all the way up her neck until his lips were grazing the shell of her ear. “You will go to your bedroom. When they’re gone, I’ll find you.”

Another shiver coursed through Nesta’s body. Her fingers tightened around his neck.

When Nesta next spoke, Cassian knew he’d piqued her interest. “What then?” she demanded.

“Then I’m going to make you come until you see stars.”

Nesta’s entire body froze. For a long moment, she didn’t so much as breathe, but Cassian felt the throb of her blood and magic as it pounded against her skin.

Then, Nesta’s hands worked between them, until her small palms were splayed across his chest. She pushed firmly, indicating that she wanted to get her down. Her body slithered to the floor, her lean legs falling away from his body.

The sudden distance between them felt like miles.

Nesta lifted her chin. “Hurry or I’ll start without you.”

A breath heaved at Cassian’s lungs and he felt his pupils contract, pushing out his irises until they were swallowed by black. The image of Nesta sprawled on the bed wearing nothing but skin, her legs open, a hand moving between her legs had that coil within him tightening to the point of pain.

A growl spiked through the air as another knock sounded at the door.

Nesta must have known she’d wrangled back control, because she arched a cool eyebrow at him.  “I thought you were going to answer the door?”

A dark chuckle forced its way out of his chest, but it was mechanical rather than true. Because there was nothing funny about resisting Nesta right now and his body seemed to know that.

Cassian reached for her before he knew what was happening. Rested his forehead against hers. Breathed once. Twice. “I need to calm down,” he confessed.

Nesta snickered, but the sound fell flat as her breath hitched upwards at the end. It betrayed the effect he had on her, even as she said silkily, “Did the image of me pleasuring myself get you hard?”

“I was already hard,” he growled. He pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth. “As you well know.”

A hand reached between them. Stroked over him—the touch feather light but tantalising enough that Cassian bucked into her touch.

And then cunning words, “Maybe I’ll let you watch.”

A string of swear words left Cassian’s mouth. He yanked back from Nesta, as if someone had tugged firmly on a leash. Tugged up his pants and jerked ruthlessly at the ties until they fastened, trapping his cock back into the leather.

With a growl, Cassian waved a hand towards the living room—to Nesta’s room to the right of it. “Leave before I fuck you against the wall, Nesta,” he barked.

Nesta’s sly laugh skittered over his skin, and without pulling her dress back up to cover herself, Nesta sashayed through the nearest arch and disappeared.

*** It had been Mas and Roksana at the door, laden with bags full of groceries and supplies from the market. With full access to the house, there was no reason why they shouldn’t have just come right in. Which meant Mas had suspected somehow, enough so that she had left the bags on the front step and remained standing with Roksana a few feet back.

“I am sorry Sinta, but the meat might spoil,” the housekeeper had apologised as soon as he’d opened the door, his hair a tangled mess from where Nesta had yanked it free of its tie. He hadn’t had the sense to recover it from the floor, but he had righted his tunic and fastened his pants.

And thank the Cauldron for that, because Roksana peeked up at Cassian with wide eyes from her position of safety behind Mas’s legs. He didn’t know when Lorrian had brought the youngling back to the camp, but Cassian guessed it hadn’t been easy on the two of them to take a little girl out of the warmth and back into the snow.

Cassian tried to soften the eyes that he knew were a little wild. He raked his hands through his hair and sent them his most disarming smile, but there was fuck all he could do about his scent. So he thanked her, trying to keep his voice light and conversational. Ordered her to take the rest of the day off.

To the housekeeper’s credit, she did not linger. Had merely nodded and rushed Roksana back into the snow, towards the main vein of the camp.

Yet, whilst the housekeeper’s interruption had been unwanted, it did grant Cassian some breathing space as he rammed perishables into the cool box. Because even though Cassian would allow Nesta to decide how this all played out, he needed to lay down a rule of his own: he could give her the space to decide what she wanted—for him to prove that he could be what she needed—but there was one thing he could not suffer through.

And if they had stormed ahead in a hurricane of lust; with Nesta’s back against the wall as Cassian pounded into her… Well, it would be too late for Cassian to lay down his one condition once they were sweaty and sated. Nesta was more likely to get up and walk away. To not look back.

Cassian found Nesta sitting at the dresser in her room re-braiding back her hair.

Leaning against the doorjamb, Cassian opened his mouth to explain who had been at the door, but an iron band closed fast around his chest, robbing him of breath.

“What are you wearing?” The words came out of him eventually, entirely uneven to the point of being choked.

Because Nesta was wearing his shirt. It was the same steel blue shirt she’d worn that first day in Illyria. The shirt that was an identical match to her eyes, purchased before Cassian had realising what his subconscious had done. A shirt he’d had to hide away in the spare room because Cassian hadn’t been able to bare seeing it in his closet—of being reminded that his mate was a ghost who had banished him away.

Go home, Cassian.

Nesta met Cassian's eyes in the mirror. Announced with cool simplicity, “You ripped my dress.”

“And this is your way of torturing me?”

An indifferent shrug. “Why wear my own clothing when I know what fate it will suffer?”

Cassian knew his nostrils billowed, but he remained propped up against the doorframe. Pretended he was stuck to it like glue because his body was trembling for him to launch across the distance and claim her mouth. Her neck. Her.

The silence seemed to unnerve Nesta. Cassian knew that from months of living with her. From months of studying her slight tells when her masks slipped.

Right on cue, Nesta reset her posture—a gesture that most people read as defiant. But Cassian knew it was also a sign of nerves. She shrugged with feigned indifference, even as her throat tightened and that damned pulse fluttered temptingly against her throat. “You liked it the last time I wore it.”

Cassian huffed a breath. He had liked it the last time she wore it, even if she’d been so gaunt that he’d worried she might wither away. But the shirt… it had put images in his mind that Cassian had long tried to store away, imprisoned in rock and flame: her in his clothing, not fucking other males but him, her lithe legs wrapping around his waist as he sank deep—

Which brought Cassian neatly to the point he needed to discuss with her…

Nesta’s eyes tracked Cassian in the mirror as he peeled himself out of the doorway and came to stand behind her. When their eyes locked into place, it felt as if someone had punched him in the chest. There was something deep in Nesta’s gaze that made it feel as if he was tumbling down a rabbit hole, that magnetism between them drawing him in like gravity.

When Cassian’s fingers brushed Nesta’s neck—ran down the braid she had draped over her shoulder—Nesta shivered. “You had your hair down then,” he rasped. Didn’t wait for her to protest, as he slowly coaxed the tie free from the end of her hair.

Nesta turned preternaturally still, watched him gently part her hair in the mirror until it fell free from her plait, his calloused fingers brushing over her skin as he coaxed her hair to fall down her back.

The pulse hammering at her throat and the warmth radiating from her skin were the only indications that Nesta was alive rather than stone.

Only when Cassian had finished and lifted his hands from her neck, did Nesta come back to life.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. But she cocked her head slightly to dissect him. “It’s a nuisance like this. It gets in the way.”

“It’s beautiful,” Cassian corrected, his voice rasping, like sand scraping against skin. He ran a hand through her hair as if to emphasise his point, his fingers running down, down, down until her waist.

When Nesta stood and turned into the warmth of him, Cassian scented what she wanted. But there was something else simmering in her expression—surprise. As if she’d caught the truth in his words and hadn’t expected someone to truly think her beautiful.

She stepped closer, until the lines of her torso ghosted his. Until Cassian’s heart pounded so hard he could hear the frantic tempo of it in his ears. Nesta tilted her head back so she could stare up at him and Cassian’s hand weaved through the mane of her hair before he could stop himself.

He was desperate to touch her again. Desperate.

But Cassian waited. Waited for Nesta to reach up on tiptoes and press her mouth to his.

The kiss was not like their bruised, desperate kisses from earlier. It was coaxing and unsure; the tentative beginning of something that was not merely fuelled by ardour. But it soon blossomed into something more, like a snowball rolling down a mountain blanketed white, gaining speed as it grew and grew—

Dragging his mouth away from hers, Cassian fought for breath. Battled to remember what he needed to do and say. But then Nesta was tugging his head back down again, her fingers tangled in his hair, the gesture indicative of an insistent need that Cassian knew would not go away.

As always, Nesta tasted divine. Addictive. He could taste the curl of her power on his tongue—silver and white, life and death—and he wondered if she could taste his. Knew his siphons were glowing scarlet—

“Nesta,” he murmured hoarsely, her name a caress against her lips. He couldn’t invoke a distance between them, couldn’t stop touching her. His nose brushed hers as her drew back an infinitesimal amount. Closed his eyes. Inhaled deeply, summoning courage. “You can dictate how this goes between us. But if we do this, I can’t—there’s no-one else. Just you and me.”

The subsequent pause was one of the worst of Cassian’s life. It was barely a breath. The blink of an eye. But it felt as if it was malleable and elastic, drawn out by the hands of fate as everything suspended in time.

He didn’t want to open his eyes, but in the end he managed it. Caught Nesta’s eyelashes flutter downwards, casting shadows on her skin. Her fists tightened in the fabric of his tunic, anchoring him to the moment.

She swallowed. Shook her head. Agreed with a conviction he had not been expecting, “No-one else.”

The relief that swooped through Cassian was so fierce it was painful. But he still didn’t dare to believe it.

He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger so Nesta could not look away. So he could look into the deep waters of her irises and know she was telling him the truth.

But her gaze was steady and unwavering, as he demanded, “Say it again.”

His voice cracked but Nesta didn’t appear to notice. Her grip on him tightened. “No-one else,” she repeated on an outward breath.

A low, ravaged moan sounded from Cassian’s throat. “Diyosa,” he murmured, slipping into Illyrian. Goddess.

“Bruha,” Nesta corrected. She fumbled over the pronunciation but Cassian felt as if he had been an ember that had burst into flame. Witch.

He let out a rough bark of laughter. Then he swore in a long, drawn out moan. “No Illyrian,” he ordered roughly. Pressed his mouth firmly against hers, the kiss searing. “Otherwise this will be over far too quickly.” Another kiss. “And I want to take my time.”

The smile Nesta painted against Cassian’s lips was feline. “You’ve made a lot of promises, General. I hope you don’t disappoint.”

Cassian snarled. Spun her body until her back was cradled against his chest. “I have, haven’t I?” he mused lightly, even though the hammering of his heart must have beat a betraying rhythm against her shoulder blade.

In the mirror, Nesta’s expression grew less poised and controlled. Delight mixed with anticipation clung to her features at this game they played; this tussle for control. She did not try to wrangle free from his hold or shift uncomfortably in his arms at having her back enclosed against his.

It thrilled him—that trust. Enough so that when he met her eyes in the mirror, Cassian found that his irises had been swallowed by his pupils until they were only a ring of chocolate gold.

Slowly, Cassian brushed Nesta’s hair over to one shoulder with his left hand. Traced his fingers down the arc of her neck to her collarbone. Continued a path down the centre of her chest, to the pyrite which glittered between her breasts.

When his fingers met the first button of his shirt, Cassian toyed with it. Purposefully grazed his nose against the shell of her ear. “Shall I start here?” he murmured. “Undress you in front of the mirror whilst you watch?”

Nesta suppressed a shudder, but Cassian caught it. Could swear he felt her blood boiling beneath her skin as he slipped the button free of its hole. Then another. And another. Until there were no more buttons and the material hung free.

Leaning back into his body, Nesta rested her head against his chest. Curved her back slightly so her chest thrust upwards, silently instructing him where she wanted his hands.

And Cassian couldn’t deny her. He turned his palm so it was face up and curled into a loose fist. Brushed his knuckles down her sternum all the way to her bared naval, before bringing it back up. His fingers ran up the side of the material free of buttons, until he was at her collarbone—her shoulder—leaving a litter of goosebumps in his wake.

This time, Cassian snickered when she shivered. Dropped a slow and deliberate kiss to her bare shoulder as he slowly, slowly inched the material down, down, down over her arm. Repeated the motion on the other, until the shirt pooled onto the floor, exposing her bare body to the mirror: endless creamy skin, divine curves, the luscious full weight of her bare breasts, and… lower.

Nesta’s eyes, which had been tracking the fabric as it fell away, snapped to his as a feral growl ripped from him. And she moaned at the expression on his face. Grabbed at his hands, pulling them to her body.

“Touch me,” Nesta hissed, but it came out strangled. Almost pleading. Another crack in her armour as it broke and fell away.

The sight was enough to threaten Cassian to his knees. He guided her body backwards, his hands splaying firmly across her stomach despite her whine, until his legs hit the edge of the mattress

Neither of them broke eye contact in the mirror. Not when Cassian coaxed Nesta down to sit on the bed with him. Not when he pulled her between his legs, her back firmly against his chest. Not when he bowed his head to kiss the slope between her neck and shoulder.

When Cassian finally brushed a thumb over her nipple, Nesta back bowed so fiercely Cassian was thankful he had an arm strapped across her stomach.

The small noise she loosed fuelled his fire and Cassian held on to her. Stroked over that peaked nipple again as Nesta careened into his touch. Followed it with a firmer roll with his thumb and forefinger. Used the fingertips of his other hand to draw slow, tantalising circles across the silken skin of her lower stomach, before he moved southwards…

The air around them hushed when Cassian’s fingers stilled. Anticipation built and only when it vibrated with tension did Cassian slide his hands to cradle Nesta’s hips.

A snarl of frustration, but Cassian paid the sound no heed. Only grazed his thumbs over Nesta’s hipbones. Watched her expression in the mirror—the way her face contorted as she squirmed into his touch as if she was a puppet on strings. Ground back onto him, pressing into that building ache that was bordering on painful.

Fuck, Nesta.

Cassian wasn’t sure if he had spoken out loud or in his head, all he knew was the blessed, fleeting relief he felt as he bucked into the small of Nesta’s back on instinct. He was rock hard and thirsting to be touched, but the thickening scent of Nesta’s arousal pulled his focus.

A groan rumbled from Cassian’s throat as Nesta’s hand darted between her legs. He caught her wrist just in the nick of time. Kissed the heart of her palm. Rumbled into her ear, “Not yet, sweetheart.”

His voice was coarse enough that Nesta shivered, the goosebumps travelling down her skin like a cresting wave. She didn’t struggle against him, nor did she move to disobey him as he dropped her wrist. Instead, she waited, trembling and shaking at every pass of his thumbs over her skin.

Cassian buried his nose behind the shell of her ear. Breathed Nesta in, steadying the drum of his pulse.

Not once did he take his eyes off of hers in the mirror, especially as he murmured, “Shall we find out if you’re wet for me?”

Nesta squeezed her eyes tightly shut, as if the movement would steady her. Swallowed hard. It was so unlike her to take stock, to show any signs that she was rattled, that Cassian softened. He nuzzled at her neck, trailed a line of kisses instilled with promises. A hand flew up to tangle in Cassian’s hair, keeping him there.

“Yes.”

The word stuttered out of Nesta on several staccatos, but she forced her eyes open and met his gaze in the mirror. Watched as he pulled her tighter against him and hooked her legs over his thighs so she was spread wide. Slipped his hand across and down…

The first ghost of a touch had Nesta panting through her nose. The second had her gritting her teeth. The third had her moaning, her back bowing so sharply as he skimmed straight over the place she wanted him the most.

Her head hit the centre of his chest with a resounding thud that had his bones creaking, but she did not look away from him. Seemed to know the game they were playing without him having to express it.

When Cassian brought his fingers lower and discovered just how wet Nesta was, he had to force his wings in tight to his back to hide his surprise. Growled, “You’re soaked.”

Pleasure and embarrassment twisted in Cassian’s stomach, and Cassian wanted to tell her that it was not something to be ashamed of, that he wanted her just as much as she clearly wanted his fingers between her legs.

Her eyes glinted steel, her stare commanding. “Make me come—“ she ordered, but Cassian chose that moment to roll his finger over that spot at the apex of her thighs.

The command bottomed out of Nesta as she inhaled sharply. Satisfaction bloomed inside of Cassian; because he may have done this countless times before but barely enough with her. And nothing seemed to matter apart from him seeking out her satisfaction. Of learning about what made her body freeze with pleasure and what made her come undone. “There?” he murmured into her ear, repeating the movement, before he passed his fingers down further. Until they were at her entrance, playing gently before he drew upwards and circled.

This time, Nesta groaned. Her hips jerked sharply beneath him, tilting, guiding him to just the right place.

Picking up on the cue, Cassian increased the tempo and friction until Nesta’s hips were rolling in a punishing rhythm against the hard length of him.

And Cassian snarled in satisfaction, his fingers tightening around her hip in a plea for her to keep moving—to not stop pushing back on him—because it was blissfully good. The rapid tightening in his groin was almost painful, the cord so tight that Cassian thought it might snap. But he couldn’t stop Nesta, not when she looked so bewitching, the arousal so stark on her face as he stroked and circled and pressed.

Burning pleasure clambered to its peak and Nesta’s eyes grew so heavy they fluttered closed. Something unintelligible left her lips, her head tipping back into the heart of his chest.

When Nesta’s arms wound around his neck, her knuckles accidentally grazing the leather of his wings, Cassian part-snarled, part-roared. Swore. Held her even tighter as his wings snapped out high and mighty behind him. They wrapped around Nesta’s body before Cassian’s pleasure-fogged mind could stop them curling towards her, starved for her touch.

Fuck, he was unhinged. So desperate for relief—in the scent and feel of his mate—that his control was barely there. Enough so that he didn’t react when Nesta reached out her hand—

Sense knocked Cassian for six only when Nesta’s fingers were millimetres from touching the membrane. He drew back his wings so fast  the air around them stormed, but he swooped in before surprise could register on Nesta’s face. Dipped his chin and coaxed her head even further back so he could claim her mouth.

The taste of her lips was as vital as breathing, the scrape of her nails on his scalp grounding. He moaned into her mouth at the same time as she whimpered. His hand was still moving between her legs, interchanging the same three patterns over and over again, mixing things up as soon as Nesta’s moans grew too untamed: he wanted to draw out her pleasure, not sate it with a few choice strokes.

Pulling away, Cassian pressed a kiss to her forehead. Coaxed her to dip her chin until she was looking back at their reflection in the mirror: ebony and golden brown, tan and cream.

Nesta’s irises were wisps of silver, but when he traversed past that bundle of nerves so he could slip two fingers inside of her, they flickered into living flame.

That was indication enough that she liked what he was doing. Cassian had quickly learnt that Nesta became completely readable between the sheets, that mask slowly crumbling away until she broke completely.

Curving his fingers as much as he could, Cassian pressed upwards hard—again and again— revelling in the strangled sounds Nesta made. The way she writhed but tried her best to hold his gaze.

Cassian dropped a lingering kiss to the crown of Nesta’s head. Murmured into her hair, “Is that good, sweetheart?”

The only response Cassian received was a long moan which extended into a whine as he withdrew his fingers. Then a sharp cry as he swept them upwards, swirling them in a well-practiced motion that had Nesta’s lower half seizing in pleasure.

Cassian circled again. Again. Firmer. Faster. Nesta’s cries grew louder, her breathing became more laboured. A silver wreathed hand flew to his forearm—not to stop him, but to keep him there.

Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

The bond between them creaked and cracked as it expanded.

Nesta panted his name.

“Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?” Cassian scratched out.

In vain, Nesta attempted to burrow her head into his shoulder, but Cassian’s voice dropped out of soft and into the role of general within the fraction of a heartbeat. “Eyes on the mirror, Nesta, or I’ll stop.”

It seemed to take all of Nesta’s energy to fight her leaded eyelids and meet his dark eyes in their reflection. When she did, Cassian’s magic roared and pounded beneath his skin, as if it was trying to break free and join Nesta’s. There was a pressure and power fuelling the sensation that was separate to him. It was like the magnetic force which rules the relentless ebb and flow of the tide—that desperate crash followed by a scrabbling, thundering retreat.

That twisted rope between them grew corporeal, tugging at their ribcages as if it was clambering to remind them both of its existence. Of the cost of this exchange.

Something deepened in both of their gazes, but if Nesta had felt what Cassian had, she gave no indication. She only arched her hips back into his, grinding backwards.

Cassian loosed a rough groan that skittered across the shell of her ear. Her gaze was purposeful but hooded, as if she was in a continual battle with the pleasure weighting her eyelids.

“Good girl,” he praised as Nesta’s eyelashes fluttered from the strain of maintaining eye contact. And then his fingers were everywhere at once and Nesta’s moans fell away to short gasps that rose in volume.

Nesta tightened her fingers around his neck, scrabbling for purchase, for some sort of tether as her pleasure launched high into the air. The hand that had been at her hip, steadying her, encouraging her to roll back on him moved to her breast; cupping and pinching and rolling as she stuttered pants and words that Cassian couldn’t make out.

When Cassian slid two fingers inside of her again and pressed down firmly on her clit with his palm, Nesta’s cry was wild.

“Look at me,” Cassian ordered as Nesta’s eyes flew shut. His voice was resonant—startling—even to him. It punched through the bubble that had encased them—their entwined scent—and Nesta’s eyes snapped open.

For a beat, time seemed to stand still around them. Their gaze fastened back into place and for a moment, Cassian could see a conflict of thoughts swirl in the magic of Nesta’s irises.

He froze just as anguish crashed down that bond, right into the heart of his chest.

It knocked the breath from him. Confusion rattled inside of his head but he came up empty of answers. Had he gone too far? Had he hurt her somehow?

“Sweetheart—“ he started, but stopped. Unsure of what to say because he could still smell how much she wanted this. Could feel how soaked she was. But perhaps that was what the mating bond did. Fooled reason with an overwhelming drive to pleasure and claim.

Cassian went to draw his hand away but Nesta’s hand whipped out, her fingers curling around his wrist. Desperation flooded her next words—the plea in them stark. “Don’t stop.”

As if to punctuate her point, she rolled her hips. His fingers slid over her of her own accord and she stumbled a moan. Light barrelled down the bond and Cassian’s blood spiked, thrilled as he felt the truth of her words, as she ground back into him again.

“Fuck that feels good,” Cassian grunted into her ear. His hips pushed into the small of her back, accentuating his point. It chased the delicious reprieve from the ache in his cock, even as he knew this moment wasn’t about him. As he pulled her back into the solid muscle of his chest, steadying her movements so he could pick up where he left off: so he could watch the pleasure whip away her conflicted expression until her eyes were once again blazing with the promise of flame.

Silver mist climbed from Nesta’s fingertips into the air. It crawled over the glowing ruby siphons across the backs of his hands, past the corded muscle of his forearm and the rolled up sleeves of his tunic, to his chest, his neck…

A sheen of metal shone in Cassian’s eyes, flickering across his irises so they appeared to turn a metallic gold. The lick of Nesta’s magic didn’t burn. It was a rush of heat—the tender caress of a lover’s kiss instilled into his skin over and over again, ascending Cassian to another realm of pleasure, as if he’d climbed a staircase to an entirely new place.

It felt like an extended method of foreplay Cassian had never been privy to before, lighting up every nerve ending until he was so hard he could cut stone.

Gritting his teeth through the pain-cloaked pleasure, Cassian focussed instead on Nesta’s bare skin.

The tempting fullness of her breasts. The way desire had completely rewritten her countenance. The way she whimpered and then cried out.

Cassian sped up his movements. Until his fingers were no longer teasing, but dancing over her with sure, quick movements designed to thrust her towards a crescendo.

Nesta’s magic swirled into flame, the heat of it a licking promise down Cassian’s limbs. He groaned, swore at the exquisite pain on her face as she hung at the precipice, ready to plummet into rapture.

Her climax became a tangible, living thing and Cassian wanted to see it play out for as long as he possible could. Wanted to see her break for him again and again and again.

So, he waited until she reached the summit and when she was there he slowed down his movements. Ordered through her whimpering, “Look at me Nesta.”

Metallic irises met his, and then Nesta was trembling and shaking in fits and bursts as her release ripped out of her like a taut cord cut loose. Cassian drew her orgasm out as best he could, suspending that pleasure until finally Nesta slumped against him, spineless.

She turned her head to bury it in his shoulder and Cassian let her. Stroked her hair. Pressed a kiss to her sweaty head. Murmured, “Good?”

Slowly, Nesta nodded, but for a long while, that was the only communication he received. But Cassian let her recover. Watched the way her ribcage moved as she heaved for breath. Relished the way her body was splayed out over him, her legs held wide open from where they were hooked over his thighs.

Unable to help himself, Cassian brushed over her sex. Delighted in the way Nesta shuddered rather than batted him away. Fresh desire reignited across her expression and Cassian played gently for a few minutes, revelling in the wetness that had gathered from her release.

Finally, Nesta lifted her head to meet his gaze again. “Did I burn you?”

“No,” Cassian replied hoarsely, his heart squeezing at the genuine fear in her words. He let out a rough laugh, passed his fingers lightly over the knot at the apex of her legs for the last time before he withdrew them.

Nesta moaned softly, even as her brow twisted into a small frown.

“It felt good,” Cassian elaborated. He kissed her shoulder at the same time that he pushed his hips into hers as if to demonstrate just how much he’d liked her magic. “I’m being strangled to death in these pants,” he confessed.

When Nesta cocked her head, her hair moved in a golden tangle. Then she smirked. Unravelled her limbs from him and turned.

Nesta slung her legs over his waist so she was straddling him just as Cassian’s hands caught in her hair. A booming sounded as his wings snapped out and fanned behind him, settling like falling fabric.

“We can’t have that,” Nesta remarked, her breath a whisper against his skin.

“No,” Cassian agreed roughly. “It’s your favourite part.”

Nesta snorted a laugh, but it was not derisive. “Egotistical bat,” she muttered.

A slow, smug smile was Cassian’s only reply. Because he was more focussed on her mouth. With the feel of her silken skin beneath his palms as he ran them up her legs and over her rounded ass. His touch was a promise as he tugged her into his body and ground up into her core, the seam of his trousers doing nothing to relieve the damning ache in his cock.

Together they gasped, and then, as always, they moved at the same time, their mouths slanting one another within a fraction of a second.

The heat of Nesta was liquid, the touch of her smoke—feverish and everywhere all at once. It was the same heat that had roared into existence when Cassian had pinned her against the wall earlier, yet… better somehow. Passionate and awake rather than fogged with lust. Life-giving.

A shuddered groan was pulled from Cassian’s chest as Nesta’s hands slid beneath his tunic and met his burning skin. And then the tunic was on the floor—the rest of his clothing was torn from him soon after. It all happened at such speed Cassian could barely keep up, but when Nesta reached for his bare, burning skin—the tattoos on his arms and the faint scar on his stomach—her fingers were gentle.

“Battle scar,” Cassian panted in explanation, as Nesta’s fingers lingered on the silvery tissue that wound over his lower abdomen: a permanent reminder of what had happened to him during the final battle with Hybern. “The trauma was too great for Madja to heal completely.”

“I remember,” Nesta replied shortly and she looked so fierce that Cassian reached for her. Cupped her cheek with his palm.

“Still breathing, Nes.”

Nesta nodded, but when she kissed him this time there was something fierce and desperate about it, her fingers burying deeper into the mane of his hair.

And then a hand was trailing down his skin and closing around his cock. The touch was sinful and a glimpse of the heavens. When he hissed into her mouth, Nesta gripped tighter—until pain laced the pleasure—just how he liked it.

His groan was that of rumbling thunder as she began to move her hand. It was everything Cassian needed, but it was too much, too good. He scrambled to hold on to some sense of control, because he’d never been this close to losing it from just a few touches.

Then Nesta stopped. Glanced downwards—

The realisation thumped through Cassian so loudly his heartbeat punched like a fist against his ribcage.

“Don’t you dare,” Cassian choked out.

Nesta’s eyes shot to his, but rather than looking startled she arched a challenging eyebrow.

“If you so much as try to put my cock in your mouth I’ll explode,” Cassian rasped.

Before she could protest, he was gathering her to him and had slipped a hand down between her legs.

Just the touch of his fingers had Cassian seizing back control. Nesta stilled at the sudden pleasure, as if she was trying to coax time into suspending the sensation.

“Still so wet,” Cassian purred against the tip of her ear.

Gliding his fingers over the centre of her, Cassian paused briefly at the apex of her legs, toying with her clit, before he ran them back down. When he drew his fingers back, rubbing them together and raising them to the faelight, they glittered.

Nesta’s nostrils flared as if she was an animal in heat. And Cassian knew before he spoke that his voice? would be what pushed them over the edge. But he said it anyway, his voice dropping impossibly low,  “Is this all for me?”

Nesta launched at him until their mouths collided, until they were nothing but a clash of teeth and tongues, their skin so flush they may as well have been fused together.

Burying her fingers deeper into the tangled mane of his hair, Nesta tugged sharply. Met his gaze head on. Demanded, “Fuck me.”

All it took was those two words. Cassian moved, flipping them so Nesta’s back was flush against the mattress. He covered her body with his and Nesta whined at the contact, her body bending and arching towards him as if she were a plant and he was sunlight.

Cassian ran a hand up her bare thigh to her ass, coaxing her leg to bend, but Nesta was too impatient. She broke free from the weight of his body, repositioning herself until legs were wrapped tightly around his hips.

An uneven laugh choked out of him. “So stubborn,” Cassian chided darkly, but he allowed his hips to fall into the cradle of hers. Hissed as he loosed his control and thrust so his cock could glide through her centre. “Fuck,” he grunted. “Nesta, fuck.”

Nesta’s breathy whine fuelled the sparks of pleasure that crackled through him like static energy. He kissed her hard. “There’s a high probability I won’t survive this.”

The snort Nesta loosed tried to sound unaffected, but her voice shook as she accused him, “Liar.”

But he wasn’t lying. And Nesta knew it. She had to know it because his walls were now shattered around them in splintered shards.

Yet, Cassian found himself assuring her. “Not lying," he grunted as he passed over her again. Pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth—a parting goodbye as he moved to kiss the underside of her jaw, down the column of her throat. Down further, to flick his tongue and scrape his teeth over both nipples.

He moaned when she moaned; their sounds a chorus of want until he couldn’t take it anymore. Cassian’s claws clipped around the metal of the bed frame at the same time that he pushed off of the palms that were framing her face, until he was on his knees before her.

Despite the desire coursing through him, Cassian’s head was nothing but clear as he slid his hands under Nesta’s ass and lifted her effortlessly, positioning her so that the undersides of her thighs were flush against his knees.

Nesta’s hair was tousled over the pillow, her lips swollen and parted as she surveyed him. When she tried to wrap her legs back around his hips, Cassian held firm. And despite the fact that Nesta listened to nobody, she allowed him to bend her knees and press his calloused palms to the insides of her thighs in silent instruction.

They fell open and a growl rumbled in Cassian’s throat. His hand was fisting his cock, lining it up to her entrance before he knew what was happening. But then he remembered the pain from before. And even though Nesta was more than ready for him, the thought of hurting her made him feel physically sick.

When he moved away, Nesta let out a strangled noise. A hand shot out, closing around his wrist. “You said you’d fuck me.”

Cassian wanted to explain, but that meant alluding to that tie between them, that instinct that couldn’t allow him to see her hurt. Cassian knew Nesta wasn’t ready for that. Knew that if he so much as breathed a word about it that this precious moment would fall away.

And Cassian was selfish. He had to see how this played out. Had to know if Nesta could grow to accept the bond between them—deem him worthy enough to accept something that was Cauldron blessed.

So, he only drawled, “Patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

One swift movement had Cassian gathering Nesta into his arms. This time, he allowed Nesta’s legs to wind around him. She gripped him like a vice and Cassian knew it wasn’t from fear of him dropping her. When he sat back against the headboard and guided her onto his lap, Cassian expected her to bite out a comment about doing all of the work, but Nesta only let out a pleased sound. Weaved a hand back into his ebony hair. Wrapped a tight fist around his length, twisting once at the tip, before she guided him to her entrance.

Cassian hissed a curse as she closed around the head. Murmured her name into her mouth. Gripped tightly at her hips when she didn’t stop sinking down on him, as he felt that pain mixed with the sweetest pleasure.

“Nesta.” The way he said her name was firm and commanding, but he still had to dig his fingers hard enough into her skin that he was sure it would leave temporary bruises. The thought made him falter, but then that sharp pain flared again as she resisted against him, and he knew that the bruises were a necessary evil. “Nesta,” he barked, “Go slowly.”

Something creaked and cracked between them. A stretching, growing pain reached its fingers down that bond, the sensation strong rather than constricted as it fought to make its way down their usually thin tie.

Nails dug into Cassian’s neck. A whimper sounded in his ears as Nesta fell forwards, burying her face into his neck. “Please,” she whined in frustration. “Cassian—”

She broke off as she clamped down around him and Cassian felt an ebb of pleasure cut through the pain—that promise of something more.

“Don’t make me hurt you, sweetheart,” Cassian pleaded and the rawness in his voice stopped her resisting against him. He eased a hand between them, touched her right where she wanted him. Allowed her to tug his face upwards so she could kiss him. It was infused with desperation and Cassian eased his hold on her hip. Allowed her to lower herself downwards until she had slid another inch deeper. Continued to stroke her until Nesta began to shake.

“I’m going to—,” Nesta gasped against his mouth. Her body trembled and Cassian’s blood roared at bringing her to the edge again so soon, despite the pain. “Cassian—”

Abruptly, Cassian moved his hand away.

Nesta’s snarl whipped around the room, but Cassian smoothed the sound away by fusing his mouth on hers. She stopped shaking but the sharp bite of Nesta’s glare pierced its teeth through his flesh in a flash of silver.

“It will be better if you wait,” Cassian gritted out in explanation when they parted. Nesta’s breath gusted against his skin. “And I don’t think I can hold on if you come so soon. You feel so good, Nesta. So tight.”

As if on cue, Nesta contracted around him and Cassian ground his teeth together so hard that the muscle in his jaw worked. But he let Nesta slide down on him another inch. Then another. And another. Until their hips were finally flush with one another and that pain had bled away until it was nothing.

The moaned words that fell from Nesta were indistinguishable, but he felt her tremor. Felt that surge inside of him as Nesta repeated herself with a whine that indicated she was toppling over the ledge of control, like a glass teetering before it fell.

And then she was moving and Cassian let her. He was unable to think or breathe. Could only focus on the feel of her.

“Fuck,” Cassian groaned. His head thunked back hard against the headboard as she ground her hips into his, testing the feel of him. “This is better than I’d dreamed.”

No soft snicker, only an untamed whine. Then teeth scraping a sinful path down his neck to his pulse.

Cassian’s hips kicked up hard as her teeth nipped.

“Sorry,” he gasped, because even though Nesta had told him not to hold back, he was still concerned about hurting her. But Nesta’s fingernails bit into his skin and her body moulded to him—a delicious second skin—as she inhaled sharply. “Again,” she demanded with a fierceness that did not allow disobedience. “Do that again—”

It didn’t take a second command for Cassian to thrust up hard. And true to her word, Nesta took him all. Did not change her mind and ask him to hold back. Instead, Cassian knew that this was exactly what she wanted—no, needed. She needed this punishing rhythm just as much as he did.

And it felt… incredible. Beyond anything Cassian had ever felt before. The blood roaring in his ears intermingled with Nesta’s cries and the slap of his hips meeting hers, was the only thing he could hear, his senses narrowed down to the sensation of her wrapped around him, so tight …

It was too good. It threatened to break him, to take everything that he was and reform it entirely, as if he was going to shatter and be pieced back together as someone else entirely. The air around them became taut with pressure, tanning leather stretched too tight over a rack, as if their joining controlled one of the essential elements.

“Cassian.” That one word threatened to break him. Not bat or it or you, only his name falling from her lips as if it was their secret. “More.”

Exhaling a curse, Cassian planted his feet firmly on the mattress and thrust up with as much vigour as he could muster. The movement had them slipping from their upright position and Cassian’s claws absent-mindedly closed around the metal bed frame, strapping them in for the ride as his body coiled and tensed as he slammed into her over and over.

Nesta cried out. Grabbed fistfuls of his hair as they moved together as if they had been made for this moment, their wild gasps melded together until they were one.

Only when release teetered too close to the edge did Cassian drop the rhythm. Cupped the breasts he had dreamed of more times than he could count. The breasts he’d had the privilege of seeing bare and glorious only twice before.

Capturing a nipple between his teeth, Cassian scraped his teeth hard enough that Nesta stopped rocking and angled her hips until he was pressing impossibly deep inside her. She whimpered. Clenched and unclenched. Throbbed in a way that told him she was as close as he was—that if he wasn’t so close himself, he could drive her over the edge with a few well-timed thrusts.

The understanding had him letting out a jagged groan. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

A whine in response, but Cassian didn’t let it go. He raked back the hair from her sweaty forehead. Pressed his lips to her swollen ones in a lingering kiss. Watched the frown that knitted her brow as she was overtaken by the feel of them.

“What do you need, Nesta. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

Nesta wound her hands around his head, buried her face into his neck. Began swaying and circling her hips in a rhythm that was dictated purely by the chase of pleasure. “Just… this,” she panted. “I just need this.”

Then it was only the licking fire of her breath against his skin. The magic that curled around them like a heated blanket and the building anticipation of both of their releases, which pulled at him like a strange sort of magnetism, begging him to fall with her in unison.

“Cassian—” Nesta began in warning, but he had already felt her begin to quake, as if the ground was moving beneath their feet—the mountains trembling.

That pull became a driving force—a cresting wave of pleasure so profound that Cassian felt that twist inside of him—that signal that he was about to join her.

He groaned, jerking his head back so it collided with wood, the pain grounding him enough that he could say, “That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me.”

As soon as the words left his lips, Nesta broke, as if she’d been waiting for him to ask it of her. Her cry was muffled and Cassian wanted to tear her mouth from his neck—to hear her break for him—but then she was sinking her teeth into his skin right over his pulse.

Roaring, Cassian kicked his hips up hard on instinct as she marked him, but the shock distracted him. Clouded the desperate clamber of his release so he could hold himself back.

Cassian held tightly onto Nesta as she slumped against him. When she lifted her teeth from him, Nesta whined like an animal. Dragged her tongue over the dent she’d made in his neck—once, twice, three times.

He shuddered. Couldn’t help it. Turned his face into her hair. Breathed her in. The gesture was tender, like an animal tending to the wound of a significant other—its mate.

And wrapped in this moment, Cassian could almost believe that this was something more than sex for Nesta as her forehead came to rest on his collarbone. As she kissed the hollow of his throat. Then the knot. His lips.  

“Good?” Cassian asked softly. He lifted a hand to her face, ran a calloused thumb over her cheekbone.

Nesta made a rare, content sound that vibrated through him like a balm. She leant into his hand, her eyelashes swooping down.

When she finally pulled back to survey him, her eyes were still dark. She shifted her hips. Moaned quietly. Rasped, “You’re still hard.”

It was a miracle Cassian hadn’t followed. If it hadn’t been for her teeth in his neck, Cassian would have been wrestling with the embarrassment of finishing too soon.

“I was too preoccupied with your teeth in my neck.”

A flush crept its way up Nesta’s face, like vines reaching their wicked encroaching fingers up a wall. But she raised her chin. “You wanted me to do it.”

It was true, he had wanted her to. And he wanted to do the same to her—to mark her as his so everyone would know that she was off limits for the brief hours before her body healed.

“And what about you?”

The patter of Nesta’s heart broke into a sprint. It was the only thing that betrayed her feelings, her expression devoid of any reaction. “What do you mean?”

Cassian leant forward until their noses brushed. Lifted his eyebrows. “Do you want me to bite you, Nesta?”

Nesta’s nostrils flared. If she had wings, they’d have flung wide by now. Would have collided with furniture and cut through air.

That was answer enough.

In one movement, Cassian lifted himself up and over, until Nesta was on her back and he was pressing her body into the mattress. Breath gushed out of her lungs but it was not from fear, not as Nesta turned herself out bare and tilted her chin for him—for once not in defiance but as an act of vulnerability—of complete and utter trust.

Every instinct in Cassian clambered to the surface, but he closed a fist around it until its life fluttered against the cage of his palms and fingers: his to control, rather than the other way around.

Slowly, Cassian lowered his nose to the exposed skin and breathed her in: her scent and the life that pummelled beneath her skin, the roaring of her blood as it crashed through her veins. It took everything in him not to move inside of her, to thrust up hard and feel the way her breasts would move against his chest.

“I could do it right here,” Cassian murmured, his mouth ghosting over the pale column of her neck until he came across that pulse. He brushed a tongue across it.

The movement was a mirror of what he’d done before in the human realm and Nesta knew it. But this time she did not jerk back from him demanding what he’d done. Instead, her body drew up beneath him, exposing more of her neck, begging for more.

Cassian groaned, raking his teeth over that swell at the same time that he pushed in deep. Nesta’s groan was guttural and everything. His blood turned molten, so hot that he expected his skin to melt away until he was nothing but bones.

“Please,” Nesta panted, her fingers tightening around his back.

Another flick of his tongue over her pulse. “Do you want me to bite you or fuck you?”

“Both.”

That was enough to loosen the fist on Cassian’s control. He sat back on his knees, prying her hands from his neck, coaxing her fingers until they were above her head and clasped around the railings of the headboard. Nesta’s breasts rose with the movement, her peaked nipples so tempting he bent to take one into his mouth. Then the other. Suckled until she mewled and her nipples were no longer rosy but red from his attention.

Cassian lifted his head and surveyed Nesta. Warned her, “Hold on tight.”

And then there was no thinking, no worrying or desperation to hold back. It all came as easy as breathing, their tempo,the snap of his hips and the shift of the mattress as her body shouldered the impact. At some point, Cassian’s body fell over hers, needing to feel every inch of her against him. His wild, punishing rhythm dropped into a rough rocking that was intimate at the same time it was claiming.

Nesta didn’t seem to mind—let out a pleased moan of consent, her legs clamping tighter around his hips until they were flush with hers. When he next moved she whined, and Cassian felt that change inside of her—somehow—that twisting fist of pleasure that glimmered down the bond, pushing against the walls of that thread, pushing it wider and wider, like a heart expanding.

Silver-wreathed fingers tugged his head down until Nesta could claim his mouth, fusing them together so they were complete. Cassian shuddered as her fire cascaded from her fingertips and down his body. His magic, attracted to hers, began to suck out of his pores, but it didn’t leech him of power. Instead, it was like his magic was searching for its mate, desperate to be reunited.

Then that sensation again, as if Cassian had ducked beneath something and had come up for air somewhere else.

Ruby greeted silver like a long-lost lover, blending until their magic was a metallic sheen of scarlet—a fog that misted their bodies, rubbing tantalisingly against their skin as they rocked and moaned their way to release.

“Don’t stop,” Nesta begged desperately through stuttered breaths, and Cassian wondered how many times she’d reached this pinnacle with other males only for it to be taken from her.

Cassian’s hand found its way to her face, his thumb stroking over her cheek as that coiled release twisted across her devastatingly beautiful face. “Can’t,” he panted honestly, his other hand searching for hers across the mattress until he was clasping it—holding on for dear life. “I’m so close, sweetheart. You have no idea how good you feel.”

“Come with me then,” Nesta pleaded. Her eyelashes had fluttered downwards as she took in a sharp breath of pleasure, but now they opened. Stared deep into his soul. “Come with me—”

Then her body turned both loose and taut, clamping yet completely molten as her release ripped out of her.

“Fuck,” Cassian swore. Invisible hands clasped around his ass, tugging him deeper—deeper. Everything in him tightened as Nesta crashed around him, and that siren called to him, singing her name, over and over as pleasure clawed at him, desperate to whip out of him.

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

Cassian launched at her neck, his teeth sinking deep enough to claim as Nesta cried out, her body trembling as he continued to thrust into her, wringing out her release at the same time he desperately clambered towards his own.

He managed to pull out just in time, his teeth still deep in her neck, his release spilling hot onto her stomach in bursts of pleasure.

And even though Cassian had vowed to bite her and Nesta had already marked him, he found himself apologising at the red, angry dents in her skin. How was it that he couldn’t bare to hurt her but biting her neck was a completely different story?

“Sorry,” Cassian rasped. His mouth was as dry as a desert as he gingerly touched his fingers to the marks, but Nesta’s fingers clasped around his, halting him. Then she raised her other hand and brushed her knuckles over the identical marking on his. Reminding him that she’d done the same—had been the first to do it.

“I liked it,” Nesta admitted brazenly, but she didn’t stop him from dragging his tongue over the marks. Shivered instead. Held his head to her.

“That was intense,” Cassian rasped eventually against her ear, after the quiet had settled over them like a blanket. He nuzzled at her neck again, unable to help it—just one more precious moment like this until he had to pull away.

When Cassian pulled back to meet Nesta’s eyes, he found that the blue bled back into her irises. “It was always going to be intense,” she replied frankly.

Then Nesta looked down at her body, as if she’d only just remembered how he’d marked her in a different way. “You didn’t have to do that—pull out. I can take a tonic.”

Cassian hadn’t wanted to pull out at all—and neither had that tie which bound them together—but that wasn’t the point. “I’d rather be cautious,” he explained—a little too shortly, because Nesta bristled.

“Neither of us have had a tonic in a while,” Cassian elaborated when Nesta’s expression hardened.

He tried not to think about how his body had been desperate to spill inside of her. For him to press as deep as he possibly could until he was spent.

Climbing off of the bed, Cassian disappeared down the hallway and into the bathroom. When he returned, he was holding a wet towel.

“A while?” Nesta queried, picking up their conversation, as he began to clean her up.

Cassian cocked an eyebrow, but he didn’t dare meet her eyes lest she read him. His shoulders turned rigid at the thought. “Have you been sneaking people in and out of the bungalow that I’m not aware of?” he asked.

They both knew that Cassian would tear any male she brought back to the bungalow to pieces, but neither of them voiced it.

“You go back to Velaris,” Nesta accused. “You visit the other camps.”

For a moment, Cassian stared at her. Did she believe that he’d been fucking other fae? She had taunted him in Velaris the other day, but Cassian had thought that it was just their extended, agonising tussle of foreplay.

Perhaps you should go in search of some female company tonight.

Cassian managed to huff a breath, but it wasn’t one of amusement. He knew that his expression was steely as he said, “I told you that I don’t sleep with Illyrians. And I haven’t been fucking around in Velaris.”

From the way Nesta’s expression darkened, Cassian wasn't sure she believed him.

She opened her mouth to throw back a retort, but Cassian wanted the discussion to end. If she knew he’d barely touched another female since he’d met her, she’d run the other way. It was too intense a confession for someone who didn’t know what they wanted.

“It was self-inflicted,” Cassian supplied, his tone flinty enough to warn her that he wasn’t willing to discuss the subject any further.

Climbing off of the bed to further his point, Cassian extended a hand towards her. Banished any of the rigidity to his posture. “Come stand in the tub with me.”

There was a sinful promise behind the order. Already Cassian could envisage how he’d press Nesta against the tiles, his lips trailing open mouthed kisses as he kneeled before her—

Nesta must have thought similarly, because the pleasure that sparked in his stomach was not his own. But still she studied him, her head cocked as if she was trying to figure him out. Her hair was a muss of golden brown, her skin glistening with sweat that Cassian wanted to lick off.

Nesta parted her lips, taking stock, but Cassian didn’t allow her to speak. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he vowed. Meant it. Because already he was turning hard again, that desire to have her roaring.

He’d known this would happen. Knew that finally being inside of her wouldn’t sate him but stoke the embers into flames. But Cassian didn’t hide it—utterly unashamed of this need for her. From the way Nesta’s nostrils billowed, he knew she'd marked the change in his scent.

Nesta’s eyes flicked to his cock and the she-devil smirked, her lips curving in a way that had Cassian thinking about how they might wrap around him—how her tongue might feel, how warm she’d be…

In one supple movement, Nesta stood. Took his hand, her slim fingers threading around his large ones. Raised her chin and levelled him with a smoky blue gaze that promised wicked, wonderful things. “Then lead the way, general.”

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[starsstruck]

strange phenomena; part one.

what happens when we meet again? you and harry have barely seen each other in almost a year. two ex-lovers find themselves in the same snowy town by strange chance, both looking for something they can’t seem to figure out. cafe run-ins, old love letters, and bittersweet nostalgia. 

pairing: harry x reader warnings: language, slight mention of sexual content words: 13.3k

series masterlist

an: thank you for being patient with me. this is just a little story from my little heart shaped brain. thank you to @sunflowers-styles​ for beta-ing and being supportive and the overall best 💌 i hope everyone enjoys and please do let me know what you think ! happy reading xoxo 💌

There was something unsettling about not having a schedule.

Your entire life, you had been told that you weren't supposed to  quit a job without having another one already lined up, and you had been able to keep up with that. Until now.

The impulse to leave the office that left you frustrated, tired, and overworked had been bubbling up inside of you for years, and it was only a mere couple months ago that you finally snapped.

Snapped, grabbed your things, and quite literally ran away. Call it a life crisis, maybe considered somewhere between a quarter and a mid, but there was something about simply leaving everything behind that took a temporary weight off your shoulders.

Which is how you ended up in a little town in eastern France, staring out the window of the café where you sat and watched the snowfall that had just picked up again.

There was an emptied mug on your side, crumbs of a delicious pastry sitting on a plate, and a blank page in your worn notebook. You had everything you needed to work: your favourite playlist softly playing in your ears so you wouldn’t get too distracted by conversations around you, not one but two notebooks filled with a year's worth of thoughts, and warm clothes that wouldn’t leave you with indents in your skin after sitting for too long.

But apparently that didn’t necessarily mean that you would be making much progress. 

Five days since you had gotten to Annecy. A friend of yours had moved out to the old tourist town a number of years ago after meeting her partner, and they were nice enough to let you stay with them. Five days of trying to work and still no progress.

You had daydreams of sitting down, words easily flowing as you would fill pages until the sun set. But it was only five days, a little leeway was okay, wasn’t it?

That idea of a bit of little leeway, however, was constantly being bullied by the big label of unemployed. You knew very well, soon the need for a job would be coming back and all those daydreams would have to go back on a hiatus.

But here on the fifth day, after picking at the crumbs of your long gone croissant, you decided to pack up your things and call it a day. That was the one thing you were able to do – tell yourself that today nothing would be done and that was okay, instead of spending the rest of the hours until midnight forcing yourself to do something.

So you buttoned up your wool coat, wrapped on your scarf and stepped out into the light snow to trudge back to your temporary housing.

Harry had seen you the second time you were there.

You were a creature of habit - just as he was apparently so - and you seemed to always return to the same café, the small but warm La buvette du marché, tucked away in the old town.

He nearly fell over his feet when he saw you sitting in the corner, earbuds in and eyebrows furrowed so deeply he could see the creases in your skin, even from the distance he stood away from you.

He left in a hurry, in a panic. He told himself that he had likely imagined it, maybe he was still jet-lagged, maybe his mind was tricking him, maybe it was some odd lucid dream during an afternoon nap.

But then he saw you again, on the fifth day as you packed up your things in a huff and hugged your coat tighter around your chest. You looked too wrapped up in your own thoughts to even notice anyone else around you, except for the quick smile that you shot to the older woman behind the counter before you were walking out into the darkening street.

Harry couldn’t help but slightly spiral a bit more. He tried to recall any mention from remaining mutual friends, or even acquaintances, about you coming here, but couldn’t remember. He even considered calling some, but decided against it in a quick grounding moment when he realized that it would seem far too odd.

Even more so, he couldn’t believe that you found yourself in the small town at the same time as him. In the same place. At the same time.

It was all too familiar.

He took that as a good sign.

The seventh day – now a week in – you were back at the café.

This time you had managed to scribble down some ideas. Last night you had barely slept, tossing and turning as you tried to force your brain to come up with something, anything.

Just as it always went, as you were falling asleep it seemed like you had an idea going but unconsciousness soon took over and you were left with bits and pieces to pick up.

Today, you hadn’t gotten something to eat right away and instead told yourself that once you got a good chunk of work done, you would treat yourself to something sweet and a little break.

Harry, by not so much of a coincidence, was also back.

He liked the small town of Annecy, winter was a bit of an off season no matter its proximity to the Alps, and it was lowkey enough to where he could easily keep a low profile and go as he pleased.

He walked over to the same café in the late afternoon, hoping that maybe maybe you would already be there. It was making him nervous. But maybe you wouldn’t be there, and that would stress him out even more because maybe this was all a dream?

But there you were, twirling a black pen between your fingertips as you subconsciously chewed at the inside of your lip. He could tell by the way your chin was slightly protruding, and the way your lips moved lightly. He almost hated himself for being able to notice such a thing.

This time, you were the one to look up at him.

And lucky for him, or maybe unlucky he wasn’t sure yet, he was already staring back at you.

He could see a flurry of thoughts filter through your eyes. Your eyebrows unknotted for a moment, before furrowing even tighter this time with your mouth slightly parting and then closing.

He tried to smile, finding himself shuffling closer to you as he tried to recall how to use his feet and his voice. Calming down just the slightest bit when you offered him a tiny wave, he took that as all he needed to keep walking the path that led to your table.

And then he was standing a mere few feet in front of you.

When you spoke, it made it all that more real for Harry.

Obviously, you were physically there in front of him, something he couldn’t have imagined happening to him now, but the quiet “hi” that escaped past your lips made blood rush to his ears.

He cleared his throat – he didn’t really need to, he just felt he could use the extra second – before repeating the greeting back to you. “Hey…”

You couldn’t break his gaze. Seeing – and hearing – the hesitation in him, you almost wanted to tell him to leave you alone and try and forget this had ever happened. Maybe leave for some place else.

But you really didn’t want to do that.

“What,” the word was a puff of air. He felt out of breath. “What are you doing here?”

What were you doing here?

“Working,” was all you said, wincing slightly at the way the statement sounded. You felt like your heart was about to explode, like all words seemed to escape you and that the floor was about to crack open and swallow you up.

He only stared at you.

You sat up straighter, lifting a hand from where it was resting on the table to motion to the empty chair across from you. “You can have a seat – if you’d like.”

It was like he was on a three second lag, staring at you for a moment too long before reacting to your words. With a quick nod, he sat himself down across from you, bag falling to the floor near where yours was. He kept his coat on.

“Nellie’s really letting you work from here?”

You didn’t miss the slight pettiness of his words.

Shaking your head, you decided to ignore it and instead rolled your lips into your mouth before glancing back up at him. “No, I uh – I quit.”

His eyebrows shot up so quickly, the sudden change in his expression nearly made you flinch. He quietly kept his eyes on you for a moment longer, as if you were about to tell him that you were joking.

“You did?” He finally said, and if you paid close attention, which of course you were, you could see a little quirk in his lips. “You really quit?”

Unable to help the small chuckle that left your mouth at his reaction, you felt the beginnings of a smile pulling at your lips. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I did.”

A smile was pulling at Harry’s mouth as well – you could tell that he was trying hard not to with the way his lips slightly pursed and he bit them together. But he couldn’t help it.

“Well,” he cleared his throat once more and leaned back in his chair, making himself more comfortable. “Good for you.”

Another silence came over the two of you. Your right hand was pinching the skin of your thigh through your trousers to ground yourself, to remind yourself that Harry was really sitting here in front of you. Out of anywhere he could be.

Everything about him was so familiar. You recognized his coat, the dark green that you knew was so warm to be wrapped up in. His hair looked longer since the last time he was in front of you, but it also sat slightly messy and unstyled over his head. He was nervously twisting the few rings on his fingers – most of his fingers were bare which was something you hadn’t seen in a while.

Even the way he watched you, his steady stare that seemed to speak to you without needing to say any words, left you to be speechless. 

Of course, you had thought about this moment over in your head countless times.

You fantasized about him showing up at your door, late at night and begging you to talk to him. You thought about running into him when you were out for errands, and would ignore him altogether. You thought about him calling you or what would happen if you called him, what you would talk about and everything he’d tell you. You had dreamt of everything that could possibly happen, but now you sat frozen.

“So uh,” Harry’s voice broke you out of your reverie. “If you quit, where aboust are you working now?”

You bit your lips together. “I’m not…working anywhere. Working for myself, I guess.”

He gave you a surprised look once more. “Writing?”

You only nodded, unable to help the smile that was building on your mouth. And Harry couldn’t help but mirror it.

He took a moment to take you in, closer this time. You were dressed warmly, a thick purple sweater hanging off your shoulders that hit fairly low on your hips, over loose black trousers. The lavender made you glow – he decided it was his new favourite colour on you.

You had a different pendant hanging off your neck, and he could see a second chain hidden beneath the collar of your sweater. A series of pens were in front of you, and he knew that you had been toying with them based on how they were haphazardly thrown over the tabletop. You kept slipping in your bottom lip between your teeth, something he couldn’t help but watch as every time it brought his attention back to your mouth.

He shouldn’t be thinking about your mouth.

“That’s great to hear,” he nodded after another moment too long in silence. “I mean, you know I’ve said this before so I’m not going to say it again but –” he cut himself off, already finding himself rambling. “It’s good. I’m glad that you’re doing it.”

You chuckled again, and he felt himself melt a bit deeper into the chair across from you. “I’ve really barely started but. Thank you, Harry.”

It was the first time he’d heard you say his name in so long. He liked hearing it, he missed hearing it.

“’Course,” was all he said. “I’m happy to hear that you’re writing.”

Another silence when you simply nodded.

“Why did you come here?” He spoke softly, the somewhat elephant in the room getting aired as you briefly averted his gaze.

“Wanted to get away,” you said honestly. “And Eloise offered for me to live with her for a bit, so it was an easy decision.”

“Easy,” he mused, repeating the word as he momentarily pulled at the sleeves of his sweater. “Taking some time to relax?”

“Something like that,” you paused, thinking of how to ask him the same thing. “How about you – are you passing through or…?”

He lightly shook his head, drumming his fingertips over his thigh. “I’m here for some time.”

“Oh,” you closed the notebook in front of you, leaning your forearm over it. You opened your mouth to say something else, but you seemed to not remember how to form words. He jumped back in.

“I’m here writing as well actually – or trying to.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Album?”

“Yeah,” he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, leaning forward in the chair again to rest his forearms over the tabletop, similar position that you were sitting in as you both lent forward. “Been trying to get it done for far too long now.”

You remembered – you remembered in your last weeks together his frustration over his inability to be happy with what he was creating for his third album. You held your lips closed with your teeth for a moment, unsure of which thread to follow. He continued once again after you didn’t say anything.

“I’m here alone,” he paused. “Staying in a small place just outside of town.”

You couldn’t help the quiet scoff. “You’re never alone.”

He laughed to himself. “I am this time.”

You both felt like you were circling around the same thing. You were the first one to voice it. “So you decided to come… here. To Annecy.”

He looked at you dead in the eyes, as if challenging you. “Yeah, I did.”

Another silence fell, this one seeming to be heavier than all the other one’s combined.

“It was –” Harry finally broke the silence after what seemed like ten minutes. You wished your brain was working at the moment. “It’s really nice seeing you.”

You gave him a gentle smile. “You too.”

He tucked his feet under his chair, ready to push back from the table and stand. He was ready to leave the café, think about this moment every hour of the days to come until he managed to let it go. If that’s what you wanted.

But you didn’t.

“I’ll leave you to it. I don’t want to keep you from your work for too long,” he sounded nearly remorseful as he blindly reached for his bag at the floor, not wanting to look away from you.

“Wait –” you said way too quickly, but you didn’t care. “Stay – if you want.”

He paused every movement he was making, glancing up at you with a growing grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, familiar warm feeling spreading through your chest when his expression eased. “We barely caught up.”

Harry slowly leant back into the chair, nodding with a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Okay – I’d like that.”

He unzipped his jacket then, resting it on the back of his chair and pushed the sleeves of his sweater up over his elbows. Leaning forward again, this time not to stand but to take a peek at the mug sitting in front of you.

“Did you want another?”

“Still working on this one,” you smiled in thanks, grabbing the cup with the lukewarm coffee to take a little sip.

Harry quickly had his own coffee in front of him, clutching the little mug in his hands as if it would act as some kind of buffer between the two of you.

“I hope you stormed out of that office,” he told you, after once more asking if you had seriously quit your job.

“Wasn’t that dramatic, unfortunately,” you laughed, also wishing that you had the guts to cause a scene and walk out of work. “I gave my notice, had a very civil last chat with Nellie and that was really it. Can’t really afford to burn any bridges.”

Harry didn’t want to comment too much on your recent unemployment, the emotionally exhausting nature of your previous job being a hot topic of conversation when the two of you had been together. He decided it was best to bring up at a later time, if he had the opportunity that is.

“What are you working on now, then?”

You mindlessly picked up a forgotten pen, twirling it between your index and middle finger a few times before letting it fall back down. “What I’ve always said I would.”

“Book?”

You shrugged, not wanting to think about the implications too much. “Something like that.” 

He wanted to ask you about it further, but you easily changed the subject. “How long have you been here then?” 

“Just over a week now,” he took another sip of his coffee. “And you?” 

“A week,” you tried your hardest to stop the way your lips started to curve upwards, at the fact that you had both come around the same time. He seemed to be thinking the same thing, as a little nervous chuckle escaped his mouth. “How is the album coming?” 

His laughter died down. “Not well,” he said honestly. “Nothing really since…” Nothing really since we were last together. 

You nodded, knowing what he was about to say. “Keeping myself busy - I was actually filming for a movie the last few months.” 

“I read that,” you nodded, not realizing you were admitting to slightly keeping up with what your ex was up to. 

Another silence came across the two of you when you both took big sips of your drinks, you finished off the rest of the now cold coffee that had completely lost its charm. 

“You look good,” your voice came out a little quieter. “Rested.” 

You swear you saw a little pink hit his cheeks. “Thank you,” he hummed in response, having a thousand compliments ready for you but none of them found their way past his lips. “Are you allowed to tell me I look good?”

It was a cheap shot, but he took it.

You paused, a small smile pulling at your mouth. “Friends can compliment each other, no?” 

Friends. 

“Of course,” he hid his expression behind the mug that he raised to his mouth. “In that case - you look good - incredible even.” 

He added the second part on a whim, still staring you down as you refused to break his gaze, never one to back down from a subtle staring contest. 

A small sliver of silence passed, before Harry cleared his throat. 

“I hope I’m not keeping you,” he murmured, watching your hands fiddle with the pens that rested more or less untouched on the surface of the table.

“You’re not,” you shook your head. “I’ve barely gotten anything done either way. If anything, I’m distracting you.”

Harry bit his lips together. He was never one to complain about how much you distracted him. “You’re always a welcomed distraction,” he leant his forearms further over the table. “Not so much progress here either.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” you laughed lightly when Harry raised his eyebrows, giving you an incredulous look. “You were constantly writing. Never met anyone with so many filled notebooks.”

“I guess but I – I couldn’t make anything out of it, you know? I don’t know if you remember,” he glanced up as you gave him a little nod. How could you forget about any moment spent together. 

“Still feel just as stuck.” His brows knotted, staring at the table for a few seconds before glancing back up at you. “Sorry, for unloading this on you.”

“No, no it’s okay,” you offered him a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay if it takes you a little longer – if it takes a few tries.”

He forgot how much comfort he could get from your smile. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Feels like I’ve exhausted everything – like there are no words left for me to write.”

You couldn’t help what you said next. You didn’t mean to make it about yourself, you didn’t mean to even say what you did. You simply could not help it.

“Ever write about me?”

Harry stared at you for a few seconds. “You seriously…” he trailed off, eyes slightly wide on you. You had an apology ready on the tip of your tongue when he spoke again. “Filled countless books about you.”

You knew he wrote to you, leaving you little love notes or poems in your home or hidden amongst your things for you to find. Sometimes romantic, sometimes a little more explicit. But for whatever reason, you never imagined him writing a song about you.

He kept speaking in your silence. “You can’t be that humble – you can’t believe that I would never even think about writing about you.”

You didn’t know what to say. “I guess …I don’t know.”

Maybe you had been more successful that you’d thought in pushing memories of him away.

“To be honest, I uh,” now he was the one finding himself at a loss of what to say. “I didn’t want to put out something that was so personally about you. Wanted to keep you to myself.”

He lifted his eyes from the table, meeting yours before quietly murmuring. “Still do.”

A thick silence settled this time. You watched every small twitch in his demeanor – the quick bite of his lip, the bob of his Adam’s apple, the way his eyes flicked around your face just as you were sure yours were doing right now.

And they were, he was analyzing you, making new notes of your every feature that he could see for the thousandth time. He finally broke the silence, his voice sounding so loud all of the sudden.

“Come see what I have written.”

It was less of a question. Whether showing you old writing was really the only intention of the invitation was lost on you - and on Harry as well -  but neither pondered on it too much.  

You hadn’t said anything right away, but he was already reaching back to grab his jacket that was resting over the back of the chair. Slowly, you mirrored his actions and quickly began to pack up the pens and journal that had sat untouched for a good part of an hour.

Once you both stood wrapped in your coats and scarfs, with bags pulled over your shoulders, he met your gaze once more. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” you offered him a tentative smile. You realized you were nervous. Sitting with him in a public café was one thing, but spending time with him alone? That was something completely different that you weren’t sure you were prepared for. “Are we walking?”

“If that’s alright,” Harry nodded. “Staying just up the hill.”

And then you were off, following him in the thickening coat of snow that covered the yet to be plowed streets. Walking side by side at a safe distance, the falling snow hit you from every angle as the wind seemed to be starting to pick up.

Hugging your arms around your chest, you walked in silence for most of the trip.

At one point you were trying to move out of the way for a group of young school kids that were walking by, speaking far too fast for you to catch any words of their french as they excitedly bounced through the snow. Your foot caught on a lift of the sidewalk that was buried under the snow, giving you a momentary loss of balance.

Harry, however, was quick to notice. He had his arm looping through yours before you even realized you were tripping, as he held you upright and close against his side.

He knew that you were watching him, he could feel your eyes burn into the side of his face but he kept his gaze forward. The small kink in his lips gave him away though, when instead of pulling away you cozied yourself a bit more into his side and kept your arm tightly looped with his.

The rest of the walk was spent like that as you both trudged up the hill, out of the hub of the old town and out to the residential area. He quietly led you to his temporary housing, pulling out his set of keys from the inner pocket of his jacket and undid the front door of the building.

Walking up only one flight of stairs, you were soon being ushered inside a nice little apartment that could only be described as a character home. It was neat and cozy, just eclectic enough with tiled kitchen walls and different patterned rugs.

It was exactly the kind of place you had stayed in last time you were here.

“Let me turn the heat up,” Harry muttered, as you both shook off the snow from your hats and hair, hanging up the dampened clothing before warming back up in the apartment.

“Something to drink?” He called from the wall where he was presumably adjusting the heat, as you curiously glanced around the space he was staying in.

“What’ve you got?”

You easily found the kitchen as it was right after the hall from the door. A couple cups sat in the sink but it was otherwise clean. Harry joined you, standing across from you as he went to grab something from the fridge.

“”Have some mulled wine ready to be heated,” he pulled out a thermos.

“That sounds good,” you spoke quietly as you watched him work around the kitchen, grabbing a saucepan to heat it up.

He seemed to be stalling – you supposed you were as well. You didn’t know what you were doing here with him. You saw two possible outcomes, maybe three, but you didn’t know which one you were the most okay with.

Harry felt as though he had either been far too quiet, or was rambling too much. He wanted to ask you everything and find out absolutely everything and anything that had been going on in your life in the past ten months. He needed to calm down.

He heated up the homemade spaced mix, adding in a generous amount of the red wine. After a little moment while you distracted yourself with texting Eloise, you saw him pour a generous amount into each mug before turning off the element on the stove.

He handed you one of the mugs – a painted yellow ceramic one – settling to lean back against the counter across from you while you gripped the handle of your cup. 

You lightly blew on the smoke billowing out from the top, holding the mug out to him in a quiet cheers before each taking a sip.

It was still too hot, but you both seemed to be stalling from whatever was about to unfold and you took any chance to distract yourself that you could. The drink had been a good idea, and was already warming you up – probably both by the liquor and the temperature of the beverage

“Good?” Harry broke the silence, after swallowing another sip of the drink. He had one hand resting over the ledge of the counter, elbow bent with a relaxed shoulder while the other hand held the mug. You wondered if he really was relaxed or just appeared to be – you seemed to be having a hard time reading him at the moment.

“Really good,” you nodded, occupying your mouth with the beverage as you found yourself at a loss of what to say at the moment. “Thank you.”

Conversation seemed to be flowing so nicely in the café, but now it was like you had no idea how to be around each other.

Harry was nervous. When he made the offer to show you the countless unseen songs about you, he hadn’t really thought it through. It had seemed like the right thing to say, and he really did want to share that with you, but things were just so … uncertain.

He could tell, by the way you kept one arm crossed around your front with the other’s arm elbow perched to keep the mug by your lips, you were uneasy. He didn’t want you to be that way, he wanted you to be nothing but comfortable with him.

“So where is that writing you were bragging about?” Your smooth voice broke him out of his daze, as he lifted his eyes back up to see you peering at him from behind the mug.

Rolling his lips in against his teeth, the corners of his lips perked up both at the way you were looking at him and to mask the slight pit of nerves that suddenly appeared. “Give me a sec’”

Leaving his mug with you in the kitchen, he made his way to one of his bags where he knew was packed a series of old notebooks – all taken with him for any kind of inspiration.

Flipping through them, unable to help the way he suddenly grew anxious over the idea of showing these to you. Especially out of the blue. Especially after this sudden reunion.

Deciding what to show you and what not to, he triple checked that he had grabbed the right book before making his way back over to you. He found you exactly where you were previously, mug in one hand with the other holding your phone, quickly typing something with just one thumb.

At the sound of his footsteps, you placed your phone down on the counter and glanced up at your ex. Finding his place across from you in the kitchen, he extended the notebook out towards you. It was clearly worn in, little scribbles of words across the leatherbound cover.

You recognized it. From being perched over his lap, tucked in his bag, next to him on the nightstand. You knew it. 

“This was from that winter – actually think I filled it the last time we were here.” His voice was low, nearly distant as he tried not to look at you.

He didn’t know why he was sharing this with you now – maybe he felt like he needed to prove something, maybe he just missed you.

Wordlessly, you grabbed the worn book from him and tentatively opened it in your palm. Glancing up at him, he was clearly nervous and doing his best not to watch you read his every thought about you.

His eyes were cast to the side, looking out the window as if watching the heavy snowfall. With his arms now crossed over his chest, the thick knit of the sweater he was wearing bunching under his arms, you realized he looked more than nervous, almost worried.

You wondered if this was all a terrible idea.

Having not realized that you were still watching the profile of his face, looking at the way his eyes flicked from the window and down to the untouched mug that sat still on the counter. He grabbed it in a hand, the soft clink of the rings he had on against the ceramic being the only sound in the room.

You were sure he could feel you watching him, so much confirmed when the next place his eyes moved to were your own. Neither of you spoke, instead watched each other closely from either side of the small kitchen.

His expression was practically unreadable to you, something that you didn’t encounter often. You briefly thought he was upset with you, before he muttered. “Going to make dinner, if you’d like to stick around for some.”

Slightly surprised by the offer, even though you realized that when he had invited you to trudge up the hill with him to read a few half finished songs that probably wasn’t the complete intention.

Nodding, you answered with a low “thank you,” as he turned his body around and left the kitchen, no doubt searching for something elsewhere and leaving you to read alone.

Finally flipping open the book to a random page, turning a few pages until it looked less like a mess of scribbles and you could pull out several coherent sentences.

You found a small date written at the top of the page, and realized that this had been right in the middle of your last vacation in Annecy together.

You had to read over every word three, four times, before your hands moved without thinking and you were flipping the page to find more. Laying the spine of the notebook down against the kitchen counter, you leant over above it, completely captivated.

It was all so overwhelmingly beautiful. You didn’t realize that a small puddle of tears was gathering on your waterline until you blinked, and a few of them escaped and slid over the tops of your cheeks. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea.

It was everything you remembered about being with Harry. Everything you remembered about the last time you were together in the little French town. Every ‘I love you’, every stolen kiss, every touch and feeling shared. It had been the happiest you ever remembered being.

It took you months to forget, or maybe not forget but not think about. And in a flood of it all coming back, you couldn’t help the tears that seemed to come flooding out as well.

Shutting the notebook a bit too quickly, you remained in your hunched position as you sponged at your tears with the back of your hand, wiping them away the best you could. You hadn’t thought about the reality, that there was no possible way you’d be able to handle reading everything that Harry had to say about you.

“Done already?” Harry’s voice startled you, not having heard him rejoin you in the kitchen. You quickly blinked your eyes, knowing there was no possible way to hide the fact that you had been crying but you hoped it wasn’t too obvious.

“No, I –” you cleared your throat lightly, turning around to look at him. You didn’t know what to say to him.

You watched his eyes scan your face, expression softening slightly before offering you a small smile. You assumed the whites of your eyes were reddened, and the skin surrounding was damp and still shiny from the little spill of tears.

He didn’t ask you anything else, and instead grabbed a pot from where it sat cleaned next to the sink and brought it over to the stove. “Do you want to chop the vegetables?”

Nodding with a murmured agreement, he handed you what needed to be cut along with a cutting board and a knife. You were grateful that he glossed over the topic, and now you found yourself biting back a smile. Spending time with him in such a mundane way was comforting. He put on some music, a soft background song playing while you both started to cook in a smooth harmony.

Conversation was light. He asked how living with Eloise was, you asked how long he had been in town for.

It wasn’t until you were both sitting across from each other with steaming bowls of soup and warmed bread, each having poured a generous amount of wine into your glasses that conversation got a bit heavier.

It started when you asked if he had been out to the lake yet, even though the cold weather obviously meant swimming wasn’t much of an offer. 

It ended, however, with a heavy silence when you both started to recall the last trip to the lake. Nearly a full year ago now, it was the second day of March and your last weekend away in this undisturbed paradise. The air was still very much crisp and carried a winter bite, and on a barely warm night, the two of you had the terrible idea of taking a little night dip. 

After about thirty seconds in the cold water, you couldn’t bear it and had to step out into the even colder air. After shivering back to your rental, you had drawn a burning hot bath to enjoy together and both decided that you would come back during the summer months to fully benefit from the lake and hikes.

But then you weren’t together over the summer. 

Harry had immediately noticed your change in demeanor at the bittersweet reminder of the memory, silently cursing himself for bringing the conversation that way. He had hoped that it would maybe spark something in you, some kind or romantic nostalgia, but instead it seemed to just upset you. 

A crushing silence had fallen again, and at least you had dinner to distract yourself with. Harry instead decided to change the conversation again, asking if Eloise still had those two little grumpy cats, and if you were enjoying staying with them. 

You were lightheartedly laughing again by the time you were clearing the dishes, both the wine and Harry helping in the warm feeling under your skin. Your cheeks had been rounded with a smile and your mind a bit fuzzy, intoxicated not as much by the liquor but more so by the loving feeling around you. 

It was quiet when you came back to the rental outside of town, the tiles of the floor cold under your feet after you had peeled your socks off. The rain had only increased in your short trip out to the nearby Monoprix, picking up what you needed to make a nice hearty soup for dinner as well as a bottle of wine. 

After getting far too wet on the walk you had gone on during the afternoon, initially wanting to go hiking but the weather got in the way. Harry had stuck back while you grabbed your groceries and a fresh baguette as you had finished off the one you had during breakfast. 

Hanging up your damp coat and taking off your too itchy sweater, you called out Harry’s name after placing the groceries down on the counter of the little kitchenette. 

A faint reply was heard, as you followed the sound of his voice to the closed bathroom door. He told you to come in, and you were met with a warm steamy bathroom and your partner relaxing into the back of the tub. 

“Didn’t feel like a shower,” he murmured as you smiled down at him, eyeing over the bubbles that covered the surface of the water. 

“Hi,” you whispered, leaning down to press your lips to his in a quick greeting as he extended his neck out towards you. “It’s still dreadful out - you have the right idea taking a bath.” 

You sat down on the edge of the tub, feet flat on the tile of the washroom floor as your upper body twisted to gaze down at Harry. The weeks so far spent in the small French town were like taking a break from reality - time was still and you could spend all the time you wanted wrapped up in each other. 

“Missed you,” he murmured, wet hand raising from under the water to grab at your wrist. Pulling it towards him, he pressed a light kiss over your pulse point. You let your hand fall over his shoulder when he let go, when he instead decided he wanted to feel your lips on his again. 

You easily complied, bending lower once more to slot your mouth over his with a lingering touch as he sighed over you. “Lips are cold.” 

You chuckled an apology, shifting yourself closer to him as you still balanced on the ledge of the tub. Your hand wrapped around his neck, feeling the damp strands between your fingers as one of his hands grabbed a light hold of your arm.  He traced a pattern over your bare arm, before shifting his arm around to the small of your back. 

You remained like that for a moment, sharing sweet kisses laced with soft affirmations of affection, hands not wandering further from light grasps over each other’s bodies. 

Though at a sudden move, a not so light move, an unattractive squeal left your mouth when your boyfriend hooked a hand under your bent knees and gripped you firmly, pulling you over the edge of the tub and into the water with him. You giggled his name after recovering from the initial shock, the heat of the water a sharp contrast to the chill in your bones and the sudden movement had your head spinning just the slightest bit. 

You surprisingly didn’t mind all that much – in fact you didn’t mind at all. Wet clothes could be dried, and the way he held you so tightly and gazed down at you so lovingly you didn’t even realize that you were fully dressed in the bathtub. 

Harry held you tightly, your legs now resting over him with his arm still under your knees as you found your place in his lap.

“My clothes are all wet,” you bit your bottom lip down, eyes catching Harry’s with a gleam as you rested your cheek against his chest. You looped your arm tighter around him, easily supported against his frame. “Could’ve given me a little warning.” 

“Thought you liked spontaneity,” his mouth sought out yours again, this time landing a peck just over your cupid's bow. “And you just seemed so cold.” 

You laughed over him and he pulled you even closer, as the water seeped through your clothes. You lifted your upper body a bit, not minding the way your shirt clung to your body as you brought your other hand to graze along the top of his cheek. “Really missed you.” 

“Wasn’t gone that long,” you whispered. “Picked up some more bread - the woman at the bakery recognized me.” 

You could feel the hum from his chest before you heard it, as he stole another quick peck from your lips. “Becoming a true local, aren’t you?” 

“Guess I am,” you mindlessly trailed your fingertips over his features, tracing the curve of his lips as he spoke. 

There was a small pause, a quiet comfortable silence. “What d’you say we stay a little longer?” 

You didn’t really need to think about the offer that much. “How much longer?” 

Harry shrugged, although knowing you both had responsibilities that were eventually needed to go back to. “Maybe a few more weeks?” 

“I’d love that,” you pressed your lips to his, knowing that you’d eventually work out the details later. 

He muttered something against your mouth, something you couldn’t quite catch as he returned your kiss. His hands wandered under your shirt, quickly pulling the soaking material from your body and throwing it with a wet slap to the tiled floor. Another problem to be dealt with later. 

Your lips parted as his tongue grazed over yours, a soft hitting of teeth when you tried to reposition yourself over him. His lips slid down your chin and your jaw as you brought your legs to straddle him, the growing uncomfortable heavy corduroy of your pants needing to be the next thing to be taken off. 

A soft curse escaped your lips both at the feeling of your lover’s hands on you and at the cool air, when he tugged your bralette over your head and again threw it somewhere to be immediately forgotten. His hands cupped your breasts, warm and wet and pulling deliciously at your nipples while his mouth sucked over the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“Help me get outta these,” you whispered into the air, one of your hands fumbling with the button and zipper of your trousers while you held onto him for support. 

After much moving around – splashing water, and slipping over the smooth bottom of the tub –  the heavy material was tugged off your legs and thrown over the edge of the tub. Finally feeling his skin completely against yours, you repositioned yourself over his lap with a leg on either side of his as your mouths met.

You sank into his arms as he whimpered your name, holding you tightly around your hips. One of his hands wandered lower, brushing lightly over your underwear covered heat.

You were both incredibly hot - from the water and from the increasing tension - as you blindly grabbed at each other in quick desperation. 

Your hips pressed over his, while his lips were wandering over the damp exposed skin of your chest, and he moaned lowly against you, “love you close - love you everywhere.” 

He raised his swollen mouth from your skin, pressing his words over your mouth. “Gonna spend the rest of my life with you like this.”

“You should stay the night.”

You turned your head towards Harry from where you were carrying over the stack of dishes. “What?”

“Snow hasn’t stopped,” he motioned to the closed window. “And it's getting late. Better idea for you to stay tonight.”

You only stared at him with your mouth slightly parted as if to speak, but didn’t know what to say. You figured that you hadn’t really thought this through, and it wasn’t completely crazy that it was a better idea to wait out the night out here with Harry.

“Not stay the night stay the night,” he continued, easily noticing the little lift in your lips.

“So it was only ever about the writing then?” The teasing tone in your voice was evident, though Harry couldn’t help the way his heart skipped at the possibility of you wanting to be here with him just as much as he wanted you.

“I think it’s always good to hold out some hope.” He answered, watching your eyes linger on him for a moment longer before glancing away with a small chuckle.

“I know you’re right,” you hummed, turning on the tap to begin washing the small load that needed to be done.

“About holding out hope or staying over?”

Biting your bottom lip between your teeth, you watched him approach you from the corner of your eye before answering. “Both.”

He tried his best to hide his smile when he joined your side by the sink, each settling in without much discussion of you as the washer of the dishes and him as the dryer. “So you’ll stay?”

You didn’t think about it too much. “I might need a shower,” you started, keeping your eyes on the soapy water that you pulled a ladle out of. “And to borrow some things.” 

“Still have the same face cream,” his hip bumped yours – almost so lightly it could’ve just been him readjusting his feet. ”Welcome to anything you’d like, always are.” 

This time it was obvious that it was on purpose. Not so much of a bump but a nudge, a slow one as he leaned his body closer to yours and rested against you for a brief second. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” you said lightly as your agreement, trying not to think too much about sharing a bed with your ex.

The quiet that came when you worked through the dishes together didn’t last all that long before Harry asked.

“Been seeing anyone?”

You glanced at him briefly. A cheek was half lifted, the hints of a smirk forming on his lips as he eyed you.

“Why’re you asking?” You countered, the answer to the question obvious.

“Why do you think,” he let out a chuckle, although was unable to help but feel a little anxious at the answer to the question, especially in your silence.

“There was one,” you spoke slowly. “A friend set it up – a double date. Saw him one more time after and that was it.”

“That was it?” Harry repeated your words, clearly looking for more of an explanation.

“Haven’t seen him again,” you turned off the tap, wiping your hands on the dish cloth hanging off a hook before facing Harry. “And you?”

“Twice,” he said – if you were going to be honest so was he. “Different person each time.” 

“Busy boy,” you mused, trying not to wonder how long after you split it had been, or how recently. 

His smirk had died down, meeting your eyes earnestly. “Never saw either again. You're a hard one to get over.”

His words hit you hard in the chest, like a little stab of a knife deep and sharp. He had spoken lightly, but you didn’t miss the slight clipped tone of his voice. 

“Did anything… happen with the guy?” He asked immediately after, not giving you much of a chance to react to his confession.

You only bit your bottom lip down, holding your mouth shut. The soft lights from above seemed like they had dimmed, the space around you feeling smaller and more intimate.

He took your silence as the answer, a pit of jealousy building at the mere thought of someone else's hands on you. 

“Just a kiss,” you told him, barely able to recall the short end of date kiss shared between you and the man you hadn’t even thought about. “On the second date.”

Harry only hummed, arms crossing over his chest as he leant his hip against the counter. The dishes were nearly done and long forgotten by now.

“D’you wanna see him again?”

“Harry –”

“If you haven’t seen him since then it doesn’t sound that way,” he mused, cutting you off with his petty rambling. “Especially now that you’ve come here.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t like what?” His tone was quiet, but as you looked up to see him again his eyes held something more, begging for your attention.

“I just wanted –” Stopping yourself, you couldn’t continue. I just wanted to stop thinking about you. Instead, you spoke a quiet “I don’t know.”

A heavy silence surrounded you for the millionth time that day. It had only been a few hours since you’d run into each other, since he’d invited you up and you’d easily agreed. You only looked away from him when his touch was felt over you, glancing down at the hand landing over yours on the counter, resting his palm over your knuckles.

His thumb softly brushed the skin. “Why did you come here?”

Harry couldn’t help but ask you again. He knew why he had come here, and he had a growing suspicion that you had come for the same reason – you were both just too stubborn to say anything.

“I told you, Eloise offered –”

“You could’ve gone anywhere though, I didn’t even know you were close with her.” Harry again, couldn’t help it.

You knew very well what he wanted to hear.

After a moment in silence, he spoke quietly and earnestly. “Did you miss us?”

You had to look away. You could feel his eyes burning into the side of your face, able to hear the heavy swallow in his throat before he spoke once more. “Did you miss me?”

You watched his hand lightly rest over yours, the way neither of you moved but once and a while there would be a small flinch or twitch of muscle as if the need to grab onto the other rested right below the surface.

“Of course I did,” his hand held yours a little tighter when you spoke. “We were good.”

“We were,” Harry repeated, quietly pondering on the past tense of the sentiment.

The decision to invite you up had been innocent at first, or so he wanted to tell himself that, but having you here with him was something he’d never thought to experience again. He asked you the same question once more. “Is that why you came here?”

Daring a few more steps towards you, the hand that was not over yours raised to brush its knuckles under your cheek, before grabbing a hold of your jaw. You were watching him closely, needing to swallow a thick gulp of air when he neared you.

Deciding not to answer him, as you both seemed to be aware of the true answer, you avoided the question entirely. “Is that why you came?”

You dropped your eyes down to his mouth when the corners of it quirked up, quickly looking back up to his eyes, almost hoping that he would avoid truly answering just as you had.

“It is, yeah.”

His earnestness shouldn’t have surprised you. You felt his words before you even processed them, momentarily reveling in your closeness. You were sure you were going to start crying again if he didn’t say anything else.

“Remember last time we were here,” Harry said, again quickly changing the subject. His hand that rested over yours moved up, sliding over the bare skin of your wrist before looping around to hold the counter behind you. Keeping himself impossibly close, he kept speaking at your nod. “Remember one of the first nights, in the park by the lake, the dancing, what was that called?”

“Bal musette,” you said without having to think about it all that much .

“Yeah,” his lips curved to a wider smile at the memory. “All the men wanted to dance with you.”

“They were all in their eighties,” you hummed, letting yourself lean into his touch over your cheek.

“Still,” he grinned. “We were good.”

You remembered the cool air, not quite spring yet but the ends of winter were apparent. Harry had held you close, he always did. It had been an evening of uncontrollable laughs, interlocked hands, and stumbling home in a rush. The late dinners, the indulgence in delicious chocolates, the walks by the lake; it was all too good. The entire time really, was a blissful month.

You knew it, you both knew it. Right now, neither of you could even remember what had led to a break up in the first place.

He was all around you, his arms keeping you in while the tip of his nose nudged your cheek and his face grew closer to yours. There was only a soft orange glow in the room, hitting off the top of his features in a way that drew you in. So close he became a blur to you, something you hadn’t experienced in nearly a year.

But it was when he tilted his chin down that you processed what he was about to do, that you let your head fall to the side in a quick move to avoid his kiss, only a brush of his cheek over your jaw being felt.

Harry let himself fall forward, his forehead landing on your shoulder as he let out a quiet chuckle into the crook of your neck. Neither of you moved from where you were, still standing pressed to one another with his chest pushing against yours and his arms on either side of you.

Moving your head back, you couldn’t help the breathless laugh that blew through your nose, not doubt tickling the skin of his neck.

“What was that,” you hummed quietly.

He tilted his head slightly, lips brushing over the skin of your neck. “Sorry,” he spoke, although he didn’t mean the apology all that much. He had wanted to kiss you; he still does. “Felt right.”

It was overwhelming, being close and personal with you once more. Harry moved his nose to the column of your neck, smelling the familiar comfort of the perfume that lingered on you.

“Felt right,” he repeated, voice muffled from his mouth resting over your neck. He didn’t miss the way you tilted your head again, this time not to avoid his touch but to allow more space along your neck as he pressed the lightest of touches onto the sensitive skin. “Didn’t it?”

He also didn’t miss the soft hitch in your throat, breath getting caught when he let his lips linger. Getting lost in you for a moment, when you lifted a hand to his shoulder, and wrapped your arm around him in a desire to keep him close. His lips pressed harder, parting to allow a quick lick of his tongue over the familiar skin. You sighed softly above him, feeling everything at once in a breathtaking moment.

But then you found your breath again, and spoke his name quietly before shifting away from him. “Harry –”

“I know-”

He sighed, a deep pull of air through his lungs when he pulled away from you. Just enough to meet your bewildered eyes, just enough that he could see every detail on your face without having them blur. “Let’s get to sleep, yeah?”

You only nodded, peering into his eyes as if it would help you read his mind. His gaze flickered away from yours, falling to the spot of floor between your feet before willing himself to move away from you. “We’ll feel better in the morning.”

You had no idea what he meant at all, but only watched him walk away from where he had just been. The quiet music that had still been playing was abruptly turned off, the lack of sound making the rapid beating of your heart that much louder. Taking a minute for yourself, you slowly followed him out of the kitchen.

“D’you mind if I shower?” Your voice sounded foreign to yourself, after an uncomfortable silence settled in the apartment.

“Go ahead,” his voice was distant, and you simply made your way to the washroom for a quick shower before likely not getting any sleep through the night.

Seeing the array of his toiletries laid out over the countertop was once more far too familiar, most of them being the same ones you had seen nearly everyday. Helping yourself to them since you were here for the night, you did your best to scrub off what makeup you had one before getting into the shower.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice suddenly invaded your senses, as he nudged the door open just as you were about to pull your sweater up over your head, hand stuck halfway up your chest.

Immediately dropping your hand back down as the knit fell back over your body, you saw Harry's eyes raise up to yours through the mirror. “Sorry,” he spoke quietly. “Just bringing you some clothes that you can sleep in.”

“Thank you,” you only looked at him through the mirror, watching as his eyes fell back down to where your hands were still holding your sweater by your hips.

Another moment too long passed with neither moving or saying anything, and just as you parted your lips to say anything, Harry cleared his throat. “I know, I know.”

He sighed, as if you had been about to scold him for lingering again and shut the bathroom door behind him, leaving you alone once more.

You showered as quickly as you could, washing your body and keeping your hair out of the water. You tried your best not to think about the way Harry’s eyes had slowly dragged over your body, even your sweater covered one. You tried not to think about the way he smelt the same, or the way his hands felt so good around you and the way he had wanted to kiss you. Or the way his lips felt so familiar over your neck, that if you hadn’t stopped him there might not be a wall separating the both of your right now. 

And it didn’t get better when you came around the corner dressed in his clothes, sweats bunching at your ankles and the crewneck looking warm around you. You shot him a nervous smile from where he was already in bed, placing your belongings next to the bag you had on the floor, before turning back to glance at Harry.

“Well come on in,” he smiled, trying not to let his gaze linger on you for too long and lifted the corner of the duvet up on the other side of the mattress. With the sleeves of the crewneck pulled over your palms, you tentatively slid in on the bed, trying your best to maintain as much distance as you possibly could.

Harry turned off his phone, placing it on the table next to him before leaning over to shut off the only source of light.

You rested on your side, daring to face Harry as you hugged the pillow under your cheek. “It was a nice surprise seeing you today,” you started, not wanting to go to sleep on an awkward note. 

He faced you when you spoke, mirroring your position from the other side of the mattress. “What are the odds that we both came back here,” he posed it less of a question, more as a quiet wondering. “Would never have thought -”

Humming in response, you didn’t know what the odds were really. Must have been pretty low, and the fact that you were both here and now found yourselves sharing a bed was not at all where you thought you’d end up when you got up this morning. 

He turned from his side to his back, looking away from you and instead chose to stare up at the ceiling. The urge to be close to you was strong, and it felt incredibly odd to not be near you as you both went to sleep together. 

“Goodnight,” you spoke quietly. You shuffled down the mattress and rested your head over the pillow. There was no way you were going to sleep tonight.

“’Night,” Harry hummed from the other side of the bed, lying just as stiff as you were.

You rolled onto your side with your back to the man you couldn’t believe you were sharing a bed with once more. You begged your mind to turn off, to let sleep take over your body so that it could be morning, and maybe everything would make sense in the morning.

But instead your mind wandered to every possible thought regarding Harry, and you rolled onto your back to stare at the ceiling. Trying your damn hardest not to pay attention to Harry’s breathing, or his own shuffles on the bed.

You didn’t know how long it had been, but you were starting to grow hot. Sticking a leg out from under the covers didn’t help much, and then you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You couldn’t stop thinking about Harry – about how you felt with him, about how he made you feel when you had been together. In and out of the bedroom.

Rolling onto your stomach for the thousandth time, hoping Harry was asleep so he hadn’t been hearing your constant shuffling, you squeezed your thighs together and cursed yourself for thinking what you were while lying in a bed with your ex. Wasn’t so much arousal, but just… neediness.

Not only could you not stop thinking about every touch you shared, the linger of his hands and his lips, but you couldn’t take your mind off of every single word you read in his old notebooks. It was haunting you nearly, an old ghost that was sitting on your chest and leaving you heavy hearted. 

It was when you rolled from your stomach to your back again with a quiet sigh, that Harry muttered against his pillow with a low voice, “stop movin’ around.”

Slightly embarrassed that he had obviously been awake the entire time as well, you rolled your head to the side to see him over the space of the middle of the mattress. “Sorry – can’t sleep.”

He did the same, turning his head so that your eyes could meet in the nearly completely dark room. “Me neither.”

You simply looked at each other for a moment, trying to let yourself relax enough so that you could eventually drift to sleep before Harry spoke again. “It feels odd, doesn’t it? Sleeping but not being close.”

You nodded, realizing he couldn’t really see your movement before speaking. “Yeah – I can’t relax.”

This time there was no pause between words. “Come here,” Harry said quickly.

“What?”

He shuffled closer to the middle, closer towards you. “Friends can cuddle, can’t they? Just – come here.”

You didn’t think too much of the offer..

You moved away from the very edge of the bed, closer to where Harry layed. He extended an arm out, wrapping it around your shoulders as you came closer and pulled you in to lay next to his chest. Tentatively raising your hand, you laid it flat over his chest before sliding it around him as you hugged him from the side.

It felt nice – normal even, being in his arms. He let out another sigh, murmuring a quiet “goodnight” before settling back down into the mattress.

You felt his hand fall lightly over your shoulder, fingertips brushing on the fabric of the borrowed jumper. You were hyper focused on your breathing, trying your best to steady it in a lame attempt of getting your heartbeat to calm down. But when you realized Harry’s heart was beating just as fast, you relaxed even more against him.

Sleep came slowly, but it eventually did come. At one point Harry moved positions, just the slightest bit, but just enough that he was able to push a leg against yours. Slowly moving your own legs, you let him rest his calf over yours with the small tangle of your legs. That was the last thing either of you remembered before falling asleep.

The morning held a bit more tension.

Harry woke up before you, and spent far too long contemplating on whether he should get up or not. So long, in fact, that you had woken up and made the decision for him. While he feigned being asleep, you quietly shuffled out from under the covers. 

Following the sound of your footsteps to the washroom, he heard the door close behind you and the quiet hum of the tap after a moment. He wondered if you would leave immediately.

Getting out of bed himself, he first went to go adjust the thermostat as the air was far too cold after being out of the cozy warmth of the bed, and went to go turn on the kettle.

You were by his side moments later, each sharing quiet “good mornings” while he tried not to stare at the way your eyelids still drooped down and the way you pulled the sleeves of his jumper over your hands.

He knew the offer of coffee would get you to stay for a cup, but by the way you had rushed back to the bathroom with your clothes from the day before told him that you weren’t planning on sticking around for too long.

By the time you reappeared by his side, you were dressed just as you had yesterday. He knew he’d find the clothes you’d borrowed folded over his bed. You seemed fresher faced than last time, even catching a whiff of his lavender scented moisturizer that you always used to borrow.

Biting his lips together to hide his smile at the fact you had in fact taken your liberties with his toiletries just as he’d offered, he quietly prepared you a cup of coffee while your attention was drawn down to your phone.

You mindlessly answered texts, none of them that urgent that they required your full attention as you still couldn’t help but pay close attention to Harry’s every move.

“Sleep okay?” He finally broke the silence.

You paused, needing to clear your throat before answering. “I did, yeah.” Only after he had invited you to lay peacefully in his arms. “You?”

“Did as well,” he hummed, filling the two mugs with the wonderful smelling coffee. “A lot better after you stopped moving around.”

“Sorry again,” you suddenly felt hot at his mention of your irritation – at the reminder of how incredibly needy you had gotten for him to even lay a hand over your own. Taking the mug of coffee as a welcomed distraction, you cupped it in two hands to bring it up to your mouth, blowing over the hot liquid.

He dropped the subject, though, as he mirrored your action and you both took a moment to let the coffee stall the inevitable goodbye that was about to be shared.

“What’re you up to today?” 

He thought it over for a second, not actually having planned all that much. “Need to grab a few things from the store, otherwise not a whole lot.” He thought aloud. “And you?” 

“Driving to Aix-les-Bains with Eloise, some store over there she wants to see.” You had just seen the text from your friend, deciding to not answer all the ones questioning what had happened with Harry. 

You both took big sips of the still too hot coffee. “No writing today?” 

“Not that I’ve been that successful,” you mumbled into the mug. 

“You’ll find it,” he affirmed. “I know you will.” 

Your chest warmed, not from the heat of the beverage but from the sincerity of his statement. You hid your face behind your mug, taking a nearly too big sip that you nearly choked on. 

“Thanks again, for letting me stay and for… everything.” You placed the mug by your side, the caffeine suddenly making you nauseous. The words you had read in his old notebook still haunted you. 

Harry realized that you were about to tell him that you were leaving, and a small bout of panic rose through his stomach. “Of course -” 

He watched, dumbfounded of what to say, as you walked from the kitchen to where you had left your belongings and started arranging them in your bag and put your phone into the pocket of your trousers. Harry couldn’t stop watching every small move you made.

His eyes followed you around the kitchen, mind racing to find anything to say to you anything that would at the very least have you coming back to see him.

“Can I see you again?” He suddenly blurted, voice louder than it had been before, making you stop in your movements and turn to face him.

Your mouth parted and for a moment he thought it was forming into a ‘yes’, but it never came. And he didn’t realize that it never came because his attention caught on something else. Something that had been hiding beneath the tight knit of your sweater yesterday, something that he had forced himself to forget about.

He moved without realizing, taking the two small steps needed to stand right next to you. Noticing his sudden action, you turned yourself so that your body faced his with a small crease of confusion forming between your brows.

He couldn’t help it. Reaching out to where the small locket rested below your collarbones, he caught your attention with the small tug of the chain.

Oh.

Remaining quiet, you watched his focus fall to the necklace that had never been taken off. His bottom lip fell with a quiet exclamation, one you couldn’t hear no matter how close you stood. He turned it over in his hand, briefly wondering whether it was too far to open the little locket.

“Couldn’t take it off.” You said, as he remained quiet due to his current fascination.

You both watched as he toyed with the light metal in his fingers. Grazing over the small flat pearl that graced the front of the pendant, seeing it just as he’d last remembered it.

He had once again found himself standing desperately close to you. If he had moved closer while looking at the jewelry, he wasn’t sure. But when he let it fall back against the light purple knit of your sweater to meet your gaze, he realized that he could see every twitch of your eyes when they moved to gaze up at him.

His hand didn’t fall far, landing with a light touch over your wrist just as he had the night before.

“Give me a shot.”

You tilted your chin up, his words settling in with a flip of your stomach. “You said it yourself – we were good.”

“I know,” was all you could muster, the clear confidence in his words making your heart beat a little harder.

“And I’m having a hard time remembering what went wrong,” a humourless laugh shook from his chest, as he kept his eyes focused on the little locket that had been gifted to you nearly a year ago. “And seeing you here, out of all places. I can’t be the only one.”

“I know,” you repeated, very aware of the intense emotion that had been clouding your mind in the past twelve hours. “You’re not the only one.”

He lifted your wrist that he held, gently placing your arm over his shoulder to move in closer to you. You didn’t object, sliding your palm over the crook of his neck. You were unable to help but take a quick look at his mouth, at his lips that hovered so close to yours.

“Give us a shot,” he whispered, breath hitting the inside of your wrist when he titled his chin towards your arm. His lips skimmed the skin, pressing feather light kisses over the inside of your wrist. With the same light pattern of kisses on the inside of your forearm, he moved his lips away to instead focus on your face.

Placing his hand under your jaw, a similar position that you held him in as he seemed to be moving ever so slowly. Tilting his jaw up towards you, he let his lips skim so slightly across your cheek, so light you nearly thought you had imagined it. Just as he had last night, his nose brushed over your own first while he took a moment to savour you.

Waiting for any sign of hesitation on your part, which never came, he let his lips slowly fall over the corner of your mouth. Wet trail of touches that moved away from your lips and instead over to your cheek, he took a moment to hold you against him.

He whispered something over your jaw, you couldn’t hear him. With your eyelids fluttered shut and your head spinning, all your focus was set on what his lips were doing rather than what they were saying.

This time it was you, who slid your hand to the back of his neck with a much firmer grip. It was you that led his mouth to capture yours.

It was just lips on lips at first, a quick kiss that lasted barely a second. You pulled away before he could even have a chance to react, a small smile curving at your lips when you glanced up at him.

His hand slid up your arm to hold a tight grip around your back, while the other circled to the back of your neck, thumb brushing over your skin in soft circles. He pulled you in again, both relaxing into the kiss as his lips eased over yours.

Kissing him was everything good you remembered. The way he gripped you tightly against him, the soft touch of his lips, the way your name was rolling off his tongue in a quiet incredulous breath. 

His mouth was warm, inviting, fitting so perfectly over yours as you tentatively parted your own lips to invite him in for more. Your free hand joined the other around his neck, letting his tongue graze against yours as you tasted each other for the first time in nearly a year. It was all the same – like no time had really passed at all.

Feeling his hand circle around your hip, holding you close as a quiet moan rumbled from deep in his chest. You couldn’t help the content sigh at the sound, completely melting into him. He was pressing tight against you, mouth completely capturing yours while your breathing mixed and lips dampened. 

Your chins hit awkwardly when you tilted your head to the side and he went to lightly suck over your bottom lip. Though you didn’t mind the slight sting of his chin knocking yours, in fact you found yourself welcoming everything about him. 

It wasn’t until you realized you were sharing heavy breaths, and when your lips had been growing more and more desperate for the other that you needed to separate for a quick deep breath of air. 

He breathed your name with a quiet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that was easily heard in his voice. “We’re still good.” 

Your head was spinning. His head was spinning. Nothing seemed to be real, at the moment but at the same time everything seemed far too real. 

Just as he leant in again, searching for your lips once more, you slid your palm down from his shoulder to the center of his chest and pushed yourself back an inch. “Harry…”

You wanted to feel his mouth on yours again, you really did. You just couldn’t bear to think what would come of it – you couldn’t revisit all the pain that you had managed to push away. 

He shook his head, not believing you were about to turn him down again. Especially after that. He knew he shouldn’t be upset with you about it, he knew it was completely valid on your end but in this moment he felt like everything was coming crashing once more.

When he heard the quiet and pained tone in your voice, he bit his lip down – his lip that could still feel the whisper of yours – and shook his head in disbelief.

“We shouldn’t.” 

A sharp pain came from your chest as Harry seemed to deflate against you. “If you don’t –” he had to look away from your heavy eyes as he spoke. “You can’t kiss me like that and then push me away.” 

He was right - of course he was right - but you were so incredibly confused and couldn’t seem to process a single thing that you were feeling. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, neither of you moving. “I didn’t mean to…” you didn’t know what to say, because you really did want to kiss him. You still do. “I’m really sorry.” 

Harry shook his head. “Don’t be sorry –” he sighed, hands falling from your body.

When he didn’t say anything else, you slowly dragged your palm over your forehead, feeling the sudden tension of the situation manifest in a growing pain in your head. “We can’t keep living in the past.” 

He hated himself for the sliver of hope he felt when you said ‘we’. 

“We were so fucking good,” he knew he needed to stop entertaining the topic but he really couldn’t help it He knew you saw it too. “We were a team, we were solid. I just don’t know,” he cut himself off, running the back of his hand over his mouth.  “I don’t know.” 

A thick moment of silence passed – you couldn’t bear it. “It’s too…” you had to take a deep breath as you felt a sob build in your chest. “It’s too painful to go through this again, Harry – this has been the hardest year of my life I can’t –”

You need to cut yourself off, shoulders shaking as you kept your eyes glued to the floor. “I should go.”

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #26

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Opera-phile

I had a hobby that I couldn’t tell anyone about. People like me were no rare breed.

Amongst the hobbies I had heard about from my friends until now, the one that made me think “this might be a bit hard to tell someone” the most was that keeping ice cream lids when they finished eating it. They said they would write down the date on each lid and store them in one of those clear files sold at 100-yen shops. They could only eat ice cream on special days when they were little, and they still couldn’t get over the habit of that time. The face of the person who had told me about this seemed simply satisfied in some way. Regardless, this may not have been something so difficult to say because it was revealed at a drinking party.

Now. Bringing the topic back to me.

If you were living alone in a foreign land called Sri Lanka, you could do whatever you wanted. I could get up at any time, eat whatever I felt like, study the things I enjoyed and go wherever I wanted with my Three-Wheeler. I didn’t have much, but the prices were cheap. My culinary repertoire was also noticeably increasing. Even if I danced alone in my room, no one would be watching. No, my dear dog ​​Jirou would stare at me with a bit of a strange look, but there were times when he’d eventually jump up and down and start dancing with me. Even if I listened to music at a loud volume, the same went for my neighbors.

Therefore, I was now thinking that maybe my stopper had come off a little.

I had bought the CD in Colombo, the real capital of Sri Lanka. As one would expect of the biggest shop in the country, they sold a lot of things that were unlikely to be available in Kandy.

The jacket featured a black-haired woman with a spellbound face, both of her arms outstretched. It was an opera CD with twelve songs.

I went back and forth in my room, shouting, “ah~, ah~”. What an opera was? No, I did know. It was traditional singing style – something like a musical, in which singers such as tenor, paritone, soprano and alto would perform along with a play. But something about them that diverged a bit from musicals was that the words used were old, the melodies weren’t excitable, and they were mainly either Italian or French, I believed.

I had no choice but admit it at this point. I liked opera.

Nakata Seigi had the words “I’m in love with opera” floating about in his head. I was driven by an urge to scream “gyaaah” and make said words disappear, but on the CD jacket, Maria Callas was making a spellbound face as usual, and that made me happy. I had purchased this CD after much hesitation over buying this or buying that. There was no way I wouldn’t be happy about it. Still...

Somewhere in my head, I recognized this as something embarrassing.

My dear boss was always telling me to think rationally at such times. He told me that whenever I thought my mind was moving in absurd ways, it always happened that there was some sort of timid development in me, which I either hadn’t noticed or, even if I did notice it, I’d ignore it – but once I understood it, it would stop being absurd.

Why would opera be embarrassing in the first place?

How I had come to like opera? The trigger was the radio. When I was staying at a hotel for a while back in Tokyo, I tended to feel down because I had nothing to do other than study, so I’d sometimes listen to the radio broadcast at the hotel while devoting myself to physics and English.

The singing voice I heard at that time was – how should I put it? – tremendously wonderful.

I couldn’t think that it was the voice of someone from the same world as myself. Someone was singing in a place just a few ways away, and as I listened to it, my body felt like my body was airily floating up – it was that kind of voice. I didn’t have any preferences for either male or female, and if anything, I liked both. The title of the song being streamed was written in the hotel’s guidebook, so I went to a video streaming site and searched for the same song by other singers and the songs that came before and after said piece. Faust. Madama Butterfly. Otello. Rigoletto. The Magic Flute. Don Giovanni. Whenever an opera song was used on a TV show, i became able to at least tell which prelude it was from.

And this passion hadn’t cooled down even now that some time had passed since then.

I walked around the room again, shouting, “Uuuh, uuuh”. Jirou energetically followed me from behind. It was almost as if he meant to say, “It’s fun to go a stroll even inside a room, huh, owner?”. Sorry but it’s not like I’m taking you on a walk, I thought, yet Jirou couldn’t care less, letting out a sweet voice as I held him up and rocked him, and then running off to the yard as if he had gotten excited. Just as I felt relieved, thinking about what a cute fella he was, I found myself imagining something. I could see myself at the drinking party, talking about how I liked opera. The reaction I pictured was an explosion of laughter.

“‘Opera’, you say. What’s up with that? It’s that thing where fat people raise their voices like crazy, right? You like that? Why? No way, Nakata, didn’t you just want to have a rich people hobby just ‘cause you’ve well-off these days? Like, those that feel like you’re superior. That’s exactly what opera is. Okay, I get it, but that ain’t very interesting, so how about we change the topic?”

It gave me chills.

I wasn’t creeped out by how people might talk about my hobbies. However, it was painful to have the whole genre of opera, which had saved me back when I was put in a spot like a light reaching out from the sky, be judged by people who didn’t even know the difference between Callas and Pavarotti and not be able to defend them. I had to protect what was important to me. Or else, it would get damaged. I wasn’t referring to the long-standing form of art that had been cultivated for hundreds of years. I meant my own heart. That was painful to me.

Yeah, I was somewhat aware that this wasn’t an “embarrassment”. But I was scared.

I was low-key terrified of having people pointing their fingers at me from behind with words such as “eccentric”, “weirdo” or “pretentious” for having a preference that was different from other people’s – and something that I seriously liked, no less.

With a deep breath, I took the CD’s vinyl cover. Unlike Japanese CDs, there was none of those convenient little ears that made the cover come off when you pulled it. I slowly cut it with a pair of scissors, set it on a nostalgic stereo radio and played it while referring to the table of track numbers on the backside.

Just from the intro, I already knew who was singing and what song it was.

Maria Callas’s “Casta Diva”. It was a song from an opera called “Norma”, and the meaning of it was “chaste goddess”.

What it made me reminisce to was a seriously horrible time, when I had to prepare for my death to a certain extent. Whenever this song played in the hotel’s radio program, which repeated itself over and over, this song would connect me with paradise, telling me that I didn’t need to worry about trivial matters, so I was able to leave it all aside and relax. It was that kind of song. Without a doubt, my biggest and best saver was that beautiful jeweler, but from the sidelines, opera had definitely helped me keep my sanity.

That was amazing.

I was grateful from the bottom of my heart that this form of art, which couldn’t be classified as mainstream at all in Japan and probably overseas as well, had maintained its thread of life across the centuries. It had saved me. Would the CD sales be of any help to it? Thankfully, I had some money to spend and was probably able to buy a set of all-track CDs per month. Would that be a form of repayment of any kind? It would be great if so, I thought wholeheartedly.

“Casta Diva” wasn’t too long a piece. With a voice that sounded like it was vanishing, the song ended. For whatever reason, it made me feel like crying, no matter how many times I had listened to it. It was too beautiful. It was an impossible speculation, but if Richard turned into a song, I felt that his form would change into something very close to this one.

Once I finished listening to the track, the “aaah”s and “uuuh”s had disappeared from my head. I liked opera. Opera turned into my strength. So I wanted to cherish it.

Even if someone ridiculed me for it, the problem was with the person, not with me or with opera. And my precious, beautiful shopkeeper had stated that “no discriminating other people based on their preferences” was one of the main principles of Etranger. What was I going to do by discriminating myself?

I was going to keep buying opera CDs from now on too, I swore proudly to my heart, yet secretly decided not to write about it in my blog or talk to Richard about it. Not because it was embarrassing. But rather because I had the gut feeling that I couldn’t predict what would happen in the end if I told him.

On that day, I was busy with preparations for cooking. First Saul-san, and then Richard would come to Kandy to hear the reports about the progress of my studies. It was also like a test. But I hadn’t studied half-assedly enough to chicken out at that. Above all, thanks to the negotiations in Ratnapura, I was conscious that my eyes were well-trained, if I could say so myself.

If it didn’t go well even with this, that was fine. I was happy to find new challenges. Lots of things became easier once I started feeling that studying was fun.

And since they were coming over, they wouldn’t get angry if I prepared a bit of a feast. More than anything, being able to cook a few people’s share in this house had me overjoyed. After all, I was basically living alone, so just how many times had I found delicious-looking and cheap food but had to tearfully give up because I wasn’t sure if I could eat it all by myself?

Being surrounded by things that made you happy was extremely good for the heart.

Deciding to go for an additional blow, I set the CD in the radio. A long aria began at the end of the first opus of all songs. It was a French opera called “La Fille du Régiment”, and being fond of this one had greatly helped me when I was studying French.

The man who started to sing that he was going to marry the army was a world-renowned tenor.

In the beginning, the man sang that he was going to do meritorious deeds in the army, cheered on by his companions. Since I had been listening to the words ever since back when I could only hear them as katakana spelling, my mouth moved without any reference. Of course, my voice didn’t sound like that of a tenor, but it had the same gist as somehow trying to sing in the range of a singer from some music show. Just that was fun enough.

A fish pie was baking in the oven. There were three types of curry in the smaller pots. My Nakata-style sliced veggies pickled in soy sauce, which were a mixture of chopped coconut sambal and dried fruits, were lined up on a cutting board, and the fresh fruits that I planned to make into mixed juice were all completely ready. The only thing I had left to do was preparing watalappan for dessert. It had to chill in the fridge for a while, so it was necessary to make it in advance. However, since it was my third time making it, I had the procedure memorized. No worries.

The tenor raised his voice amidst joy. The man who sang, “Ah, I’m going, I’m going to marry the army” didn’t like the army in particular, he was just in love with the abandoned girl that all the men from the regiment he was enlisted in were raising together.

The key switched to waltz. The true value of the tenor would ensue from that point onward.

The oven beeped, indicating that the pie had finished baking. With light steps, put on my gloves, took out the whole iron plate with the pie on it and gently slid it into a white porcelain plate.

A series of splendid high Cs. This referred to when the tenor raised their voice a great deal. If the composer was wonderful in reproducing the feelings of happiness into the music so keenly, then so was the singer who sang them so faithfully, I believed. The feeling of excitement turned into the melody just the way it was.

I arranged the dishes on the table and peeled the fruits. The high Cs continued one after another. I opened a can of coconut milk and mixed the contents with nut paste. The song was approaching the end. “What a fate, what a fate,” he sang, sounding merry. The highest note was near.

The song was coming to a close while celebrating happiness with the highest note. The feelings of the singer weren’t recorded in the CD, but I could hear them as comfortably as could be.

It wasn’t nearly high enough, but I sang along at a fairly loud volume.

At the same time as the song finished with a flashy grace note, I lightly kicked the open lid of the oven. It closed up neatly. With this, everything was all set. I was going to put away the CD set before the guests arrived.

Or so I had planned.

After the peak of my excitement, I noticed that someone was standing outside the window. He hadn’t come in from the front door. Hence the chime didn’t ring.

“Bravo, bravissimo.” A beautiful man wearing a white shirt and sunglasses, said glasses charmingly pushed up above his forehead, was smiling while applauding at my stiffened self.

The test was terrible that day. I didn’t think there was any issue with the contents of my answers. However, since I was stuttering so much, Saul, my mentor who was so picky about manner of speech as well as the contents of it, pointed out that I should “act more dignified”. I knew that better than anyone. There was too much noise interference in my head with things such as, “Why did I put opera on in such high spirits? What did he think of me now? As I thought, does he think that this hobby doesn’t suit me? No, that’s definitely impossible when it comes to my teacher, so I have to take control of my self-consciousness”.

And so, this is a story that happened more than half a year after that. Something that took place in Sri Lanka in May.

“Eh?”

“Happy birthday, Seigi. Here is a little present.”

“A bank deposit transfer certificate?”

“Good job reading it. That is from the USA.”

“USA...”

“There was a seat that you would probably like, so I purchased a year’s worth of it.”

“A year”? This wasn’t potato chips or cup noodles. What kind of seat was that? Was there a truck coming to deliver it? While thinking about such things, I continued reading the A4 paper, and when I got to half of it, I roared loudly. I let out a voice that sounded like a crushed frog, I believed.

The seat that Richard had given me was indeed a seat. But at a music theatre in America, which was likely the world’s most famous. It was a one-year membership card.

This was proof that “a seat will be reserved for you”. A seat just for me, for any performance, that I could use whenever I went there.

I felt lightheaded. Just how much had this “seat” cost him? What was he trying to do by giving something like this to someone who sat in swivel chairs sold at mass retailers? I did have such rational retorts in my head, but above that, I was so, so happy that I started jumping up and down. I could go to a theatre that I only knew about from CDs. Anytime, as long as I had the plane tickets. No matter who was singing.

“Can I really have this?!”

“Do you think I’m some sort of boorish lad who’d take back the treasure after making the other person happy?”

“No way! Uoooh, I’m too excited; that’s bad!”

“You are reacting like a dog again...”

“I’m gonna run in the yard for a bit!”

As I, with a messy katakana pronunciation, sang to myself the chorus part of the aria that had just finished while rolling around in the yard, Jirou ran over and mounted on me without restraint. “Owner, we’re going to play here, right? We’re going to play here, right? Come, let’s play,” he seemed to say, energetically wagging his tail. I was so happy that I hugged him and rolled about, but then I could see Richard laughing. The yard was on a slightly lower level than the house, so the house was wholly visible, so I didn’t think I was mistaken. He really was making a happy-looking face. This might have been my first time seeing that man laugh with such a child-like expression.

At that moment, something suddenly came to mind.

When Richard told me for the first time that he “likes pudding”, did he also think for a bit that it was embarrassing or wonder about what I was going to say? This man had thorough knowledge about the so-called “society”. There was no way that he hadn’t considered the possibility.

But he had told me about it.

Did I not say anything weird to him back then? “A man, liking pudding?” or “Why would a foreigner like a Japanese dessert?” It gave me the creeps. Back then, I didn’t have as much care as now regarding how to handle such circumstances. I just had words jumping out of my mouth like knives. This still applies even now, but I wanted to think it had gotten better, even if just a little.

Had I not said anything to him? Had I not hurt him? I didn’t have any way to confirm that now. If I apologized without knowing what I had said, it wouldn’t be a sincere apology.

But right now, Richard was looking at my happy self and smiling.

So I decided to stop thinking about these things. And from now on too, I would keep making heaps upon heaps of the things he liked.

I had to protect what was important to me by myself. But if I happened to notice something that mattered to someone who was dear to me, I wanted to cherish it too. I had no other choice.

After stroking Jirou, I went back to where Richard was and bowed to him again. He reciprocated the bow with a “you are welcome” and seemed about to start laughing again.

“That’s right, I was gonna make pudding. Wait just a bit more.”

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“You already got me a seat at the MET; I can’t go along with that flattery even as a joke. I’d be happy if you played with Jirou, though.”

“Then, I will take you up on those words.”

Rubbing my chest in relief, I went back to my room, patting my whole body to remove the dirt and dog hairs, and after washing my hands with soap, I returned to the kitchen.

By the looks of it, I was going to be able to listen to an opera in person one of these days – at least within a year’s time. Once I watched it live, all the curtains would close, right? For real? Was such a thing possible? Apparently yes. Hard to believe but it was true.

That man who was like an incarnation of the worldwide definition of “beauty”, and above that, who was a genius at pleasing me, was fooling around with my hybrid brown dog in the yard, illuminated by tropical sunshine. It seemed that the preparations for our feast would still take a while.

“What a wonderful day,” I hummed tentatively in French. A gorgeous tenor voice wouldn’t come out of my throat, but the things I liked would firmly support my heart nevertheless. Almost like a backbone for it. And there was someone supporting this backbone. Honestly, what a wonderful day. For now, I’d be making pudding. And share at least a little bit of this feeling.

[btssmutficslovingfan01]

Friendly Encounters- Chapter Eight

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: A friend challenges you to go out of your comfort zone and talk to one of the cute boys at the café. However, after attempting to flirt with one of them, they reveal that they are in a relationship with each other. It’s fine, though, because you’re all friends now!

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Romance

𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: Smut, Angst

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Racism, Yoongi and Jimin are angels, Graphic depictions of sex, really angsty

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 4.9k

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jimin x Reader x Yoongi

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                         ______________________

“I’m gonna cum, I’m close!” Yoongi’s entire body shakes and shudders underneath you as you voraciously fuck him with all your strength. You aren’t going easy on him at all, using the lube and your hands to simultaneously jerk him off as well. The sounds he makes are delicious, absolutely delightful as your mouth waters at his small, high-pitched whines. Thank God you have pillows, but unfortunately you still had to keep the noise level to a minimum.

As Yoongi cries under you and shudders once more, you lower yourself slowly, spreading his cheeks with your hands. You both were sweaty, horny, and so very exhausted. Yet with the feeling of your strap applying pressure to Yoongi’s boy-pussy, he knows that he doesn’t want it to end so soon. Him and Jimin had spent hours together, playing in bed. Why couldn’t you have the same? Even if you had sex in the cabin and you spent a lot of time together anyways.

There was always something lacking, and that was the sexual intimacy between you and Yoongi. You knew it was a matter of time before you found a dynamic that worked for you.

“Go ahead, baby. Cum on my fingers, I want you to feel good too.” You start acting like you have a dick too, as Yoongi moans loudly into the pillow once more, his release building up as you shift again, your pussy drenched completely from seeing him all vulnerable like this.

“I want you to cum too,” He’s puddy in your hands, as you stroke his arms and press the softest kisses to his shoulders. “Cum with me kit-AH Y/N!” He’s writhing in pleasure as you pump his cock between your hands, and with him hunched over on the bed it makes it even easier for you to lean forward and brush your dildo across his throbbing hole. Despite removing it earlier, his puckered hole is still wide, and so ready for penetration.

You tested him first with a finger before taking your vibrator and bringing it down to the base of his cock.

“Damn, I think you’d cum right now if you saw your ass. So fucking perfect, round and squishy. No wonder Jimin moans so much with you.” You both groan as you decide to stop playing around and actually fuck him again, this time, tightening your belt before rolling your hips against his soft cheeks.

“You’re so sexy, and wonderful. I love you, Y/N.” You softly kiss his lips before pulling out and surrendering to sleep. You need a lot of rest, after that intense workout.

“Love you too, Yoongles. Also, Jimmy’s gonna kill us tomorrow but that’s fine because you looked so hot submissive like that and I had fun. I never thought a fake cock could make me feel so powerful.” His giggles are like music to your ears. You were starting to get used to the sound.

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I play dom most of the time. It’s a hell of a lot more fun when I get to play with you two and I get to use my cock as death.” It’s your turn to laugh, as he makes it sound like a weapon or power move of some sort.

“I hope you aren’t in too much pain, I got a little carried away.” You sigh, rubbing your thighs together anxiously.

“What? Nah, I’m fine. Maybe I’ll be a little sore tomorrow, but I think I’ll be able to sit. Let’s just say, if I can’t sit, it’ll be considered a win for you.” Your blond boyfriend gives you a wink as you reply with an, “Okay, I’ll take that. As long as we get to do this again, and maybe I can even fuck you in the tub!” Yoongi cringes at your words.

“Let’s not get too ambitious. On three let’s say it together, 1,2,3: Let’s not get too ambitious.” You both giggle the rest of the night away, concentrating more on each other than cleaning up your mess made of dildos, lube, and straps. You were too lazy to get out of bed, and Yoongi was keeping you busy, so you didn’t really have a reason to, other than cleaning up.

“Oh, aren’t you guys going back to work tomorrow?” You ask, as Yoongi pulls you in for a tight hug.

“Sweetie, we used up pretty much all of our vacation days with you. It doesn’t mean we won’t ever get time off from work again, but officially, we’re back on full-time duty.” You had forgotten how much older your boyfriends had been than you. You were so close with them that the age difference slipped your mind.

It wasn’t like they were in their mid-thirties, you could understand their problems, since they had no other way of making money. Plus, they were dating their landlord’s daughter, they didn’t want to feel indebted because of you.

As easy as they make the relationship seem, you still feel uncertain at times. Actions speak louder than words, you were thinking of doing a large gesture for them. Something to let your boyfriends know you appreciate them.

“I know you like working at the café, but wouldn’t you like to be a music producer, Yoongi?” Your boyfriend wraps a towel around you before throwing his boxers back on and checking if the hallway is clear first before pulling you towards the bathroom.

“I already sold one of my songs. It gave me quite a bit of money, so I think I’ll keep doing it.” Your heart fell at that statement. You were really hoping your boyfriend was making his own profits from releasing his own albums on spotify, but it seems that he did the opposite, not even getting credit for his own tracks.

“That’s not right. Those people won’t even credit you, now that you sold the rights of that song to some heavily produced company. It’s like some crappy teen drama, where everything is forced instead of being introduced and built on. You can’t just sell your music and expect it to resonate with them.”

“Slow down, I don’t recall telling you who I sold the music to. Don’t jump to conclusions without learning all the facts first.” Yoongi snaps at you before folding his arms together, as you check the water in the shower to make sure it’s warm enough for you to step in.

This wasn’t your first time showering together, you already had that experience back in the mountains, during your first and only romantic getaway with your boyfriends. You felt comfortable being naked in his presence now, enough to trust him to retain a little bit of self-control when he’s in the same position.

“Fine, I see your point. Who did you sell your music to?” You turn around, making sure your hair gets wet too. Yoongi had some shower gel in his hands so he was currently lathering your arms and shoulders. He was saving your more sensitive areas for last, since he saw your nipples harden when you stepped into the water.

“J-Hope. I actually made the beats for Outro: Ego.” Your eyes widened at this new bit of information. Yoongi never bragged about it, or bought it up. Even that time you were actually at that concert, listening to that same song. How did he fail to let you in on something so important? Did he think that telling you was a waste of time?

“Yoongi, that’s amazing. Why didn’t you tell me? I would have supported you regardless.” He sighs, looking elsewhere to take his mind off his thoughts of work. Music was a hobby of his, one that he was good at. He just wanted to make a profit without worrying you. 

He knew if he told you about the side projects he was working on, you would get very worried and then go way over your head before having the entire thing explode in your face. You weren’t the most graceful girl in the world, you were clumsy and that’s why Yoongi fell for you.

Your “I can do it,” attitude had its setbacks, as you often got too serious about simple things and overcomplicated in your head, he knew you were currently doing just that. Your perseverance was admirable, though.

“I’m gonna tell you this just once, kitten. You might have not noticed it but you have a bad habit of meddling, and when you do that, it makes trouble for others. Please understand that I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to stick your head in it. It’s my music, and I know what I want to do with it.”

You weren’t offended. Your first thoughts were, ‘Oh, he’s telling me to drop the subject. I can do that,’ but as time progressed, you found yourself growing anxious. You knew Yoongi deeply cared for his songs, and the little free time he spent with you was taking away from his hobby. You wanted him to focus on his career, and become a better artist.

So, you decided to get Yoongi a whole setup using your birthday money. You were saving up to buy something big, but it seems that Yoongi needs your help more than ever.

You go to amazon, adding foam panels and lots of tech equipment to your cart. You spent exactly $228 after everything and you still had about $300 remaining in your birthday cash. You got $500 from your Grandma.

You yawn before crawling into bed for some sleep. Since you spent your day focused on Yoongi, you failed to remember that you hadn’t seen one of your boyfriends the entire day.

                ༻• Thursday, At School •༺

School took a toll on your mental health. You needed a break, even though you just started. The public education system was seriously messed up, making you work double of what you had to do over break. The only thing that made it bearable was your group chat with your boyfriends.

You lock your phone, uneasiness washing over you like an ocean wave. You wish you could go to the beach. Spring seemed neverending and all you could think of was fucking your boyfriends like a bunny in heat.

School passes by slowly, and just as you’re on your way to the café, Jaehyun stops you.

“Jae, hey what’s up?” He looks bruised and battered. You can tell something is horribly wrong.

“The cops arrested my buddies, it was horrible. If you know me, you know I’m not a bad kid. Those guys weren’t either, they were just chilling in my living room, vaping, when a cop busted my door down and arrested like six of my friends. They were all 14, 15, and 16. Not even legal adults, what the fuck is wrong with the justice system?”

“Do you know where they are?” You don’t ask many questions, immediately getting your phone out to text your boyfriends and mom about the situation, since they all knew your daily schedule. Jaehyun was an old friend of yours, too, you couldn’t just leave him.

“They were taken down to the local police station on 95th street. Oh, it was terrible Y/N. They beat me up and I was actually just asking them what my friends did wrong. After that, my parents kicked me out for good. So now I’m homeless.”

“I thought you said you moved out a long time ago?” You help lower him to sit on a bench so he can calm down.

“I-I did, but then those guys were dealing drugs. I didn’t want to be friends with them anymore. So I moved back home.” He starts crying, tears flowing down his cheeks. You had never seen Jaehyun so sensitive in such a long time, that was probably because you made the wrong assumptions about him. 

“Alright, I’ve texted my mom and two other roommates of mine to let them know the situation. Yoongi and Jimin should be here any minute.” You continue comforting your crying friend as your boyfriends pull up to you and Jaehyun. You help him into the car as Jaehyun looks at Jimin with confusion written all over his face.

“Hey, aren’t you the pervert who tried coming onto my girlfriend?” Yoongi mistakes him for Jungkook, as he gets a bad view of him from the front seat.

“No...and what do you mean your girlfriend? You’re dating that guy, right?” He points at Jimin, confusion apparent on his face.

“We’ll explain later. For now, just tell them what you told me. Jimin, full speed ahead to the police station on 95th street.” 

You arrive at the local police station in ten minutes, despite the traffic being horrid. Jimin stepped on the pedal and managed to reach where you needed to go.

“Officer, where are the three young men you arrested from his house?” Yoongi asks, as soon as you reach the police station.

“Oh, those thugs? Yeah, they vandalized private property so we had to jail em. Bail is $200. You can go see ‘em over there.” Jaehyun runs ahead of you to the temporary holding cell in the back of the room.

“Oh my god, guys. Thank goodness you’re okay. I hope they didn’t beat you up too bad?” A tall dark male with some visible tattoos and jet black hair stands up, putting his hand through the cell to hold his friend’s fingers through the bars. You could tell from the grim expression in his eyes that he was used to this. The horrible treatment from the authorities because they assume they’re bad guys. It’s no coincidence that they’re targets because of their dark skin color. Fuck racists, these guys deserve better.

“Nah, we’re fine. We’ve been through worse, right boys?” 

“But still, this is wrong. It’s illegal! They can’t just-”

“Move aside. We’re setting you free, since your brother who’s a district attorney has connections. Just don’t repeat it, okay?” The boys don’t even make a sound as the police officer lets them out of their holding cell and they walk out with their hands behind their heads.

“Are you really used to it? Getting arrested just because some cop thinks you’re dealing drugs or something?” Yoongi’s curiosity gets the best of him, as he asks the boy who spoke to Jaehyun earlier.

“Yep. It happens all the time. Like Marc here was playing basketball out in the driveway once when he was 10 and before we knew it this cop had him pinned down on the ground with his hands over his head. He said the ball looked like a weapon and gave a half-assed apology to us after our neighbor who saw the commotion came outside and told the cop to let go of him. It was really awful, but he got tougher from the experience.” 

You couldn’t imagine a young boy at the age of ten going through something so dramatic and traumatizing in a quaint little town. Even now, the boy standing before you was just a teenager. He had torn jeans and a stylish leather jacket, but you could tell he was a little younger than the rest of the boys in the group.

“That shit ain’t right.” Jimin shakes his head as another boy smacks his arm in agreement.

“You can say that again. We’ve been through some things but it’s not mentally scarring or anything. You can’t beat those racists, huh?!” You bite your lip. You hated bringing up the topic of racism because it is the root of all evil. You hated how parents taught it to their children and it became engraved in humans. Skin color doesn’t determine a person’s worth.

“I guess you’re right. I was the only asian kid in my class in the fifth grade. No one else in that town had a fleck of gold on their skin, they were all pasty white kids. I didn’t know it at the time, but apparently their parents fed them lies and I was never invited to pool parties because they thought my skin was “dirty.” Racism starts at home, man. It doesn’t just appear out of thin air.”

That was the first time you’ve ever heard your boyfriend recite a story from his past so passionately. You had no idea Jimin experienced such shit, especially after going through everything with Jaehyun and his buddies. You’ve never seen high school students look so calm even in the presence of police officers. It’s obviously because they knew they were innocent from the get-go.

“Well, this is where we part ways. I gotta take this uber to my house, catch you later!” You wave as the guy named Marc hops into a taxi and disappears off into the freeway.

“What about you?” Jaehyun gives his friend a puppy-eyed stare as you can tell he wants him to go with him. 

“I’ve gotta go too, bud. It was nice seeing all of you, thanks again for driving down to the station even though we didn’t need your help.”

“Wait!” You stop him before he can get in the waiting taxi. “What’s your name? I’m Y/N, an old friend of Jaehyun’s.” He gives you a small smile before winking at you.

“I’m Duval. Nice to meet you.” 

                                   ༻• Thursday, At Home •༺

You were back to freaking about your graduation again. Your entire life in school was a waste since you were single, you never hung out with friends, and you spent all your free time doing homework. You wish you could go back and rewind time but you would gladly go through it all again if it means you could meet Jimin and Yoongi again.

You’re so in love with them that you might just marry them. You were at least hoping you could have a commitment ceremony so that you didn’t have to worry about being legally bound to one man when you could be equally committed to both. The problem is, your wallet is more empty than your belly when you aren’t shoving food down your throat.

You dedicated all your time to school that you forgot about the outside world. And now you want to spend it on your boyfriends. Ah, when will the pain end? You needed to start working fast before anything else. There was only two weeks left till your graduation, and your anniversary with the boys was coming up as well.

The very much less anticipated arrival of your father was approaching as well, and you were trying to figure out a way to tell him that you were in love with two boys who you also thought of so fondly that you were ready to give your life to them in exchange of a future of happiness and the fact that you weren’t keen on dating or marrying any of the men your father picked out with wealthy backgrounds.

“Babe, will you stop pacing? It’s making me dizzy.” Jimin sinks in your swivel chair as you walk back and forth in the little space between your bed and the table. Thanks to Jimin’s comment, you were even more antsy, biting your nails out of habit until Yoongi bursts into your room with good news.

“Hoseok said he had a singer friend who heard one of my songs and he loved it!”

“That’s great news, now why don’t you come sit and talk to us so we can get our kitten’s mind off school?” You grimace at Jimin’s attempt to switch topics so nonchalantly as Yoongi excitedly makes his way towards you, cornering you into your own bed as he informs you of his day’s events.

“He said he wants me to go over and play a demo for another song since he’s gonna be in town for a couple more days. Hobi said he got lucky because the guy happened to be in town for his own concert and he was on tour so he would only be here until Sunday evening. It’s a three-day concert.” 

This was great! All the pieces were in place and now all that was left to do was wait for Yoongi’s little surprise to arrive. You were keeping an eye on the online package, since you ordered quite a few items.

“Great, so I’m guessing you’re gonna head on over there after work tomorrow?” You ask, unaware of their current situation.

“Actually, since we took all our time off during your spring break, Jin decided to be extra mean and make us work a double shift on Friday. There’s no way I’d be able to leave in between, even if Jimin covers for me. That’s the only day we can meet, since he planned this on such short notice too.” You stand up, banging the palm of your hand flat against the soft cushion on the swivel chair, Jimin’s head just inches away from your arm.

“I’ll do it!” Your boyfriends stare at you as if you’ve grown a second head.

“No, are you crazy?”

“My grades are fine, plus this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you. You should go, Yoongi. I’ll take your place in work. How long is a double shift anyways?” You want to so desperately express your love for your neglected boyfriend that you’re willing to go through such lengths. That, and you’d be killing two birds with one stone since you could also spend more time with Jimin. Work is work but mixing a little love won’t hurt anyone.

“If you’re sure. A double shift is 14 hours. You’d have to work 6 hours after school, you think you can handle that?” Right on cue, you get a text from your mom. She’s doing the night shift so she probably wouldn’t notice your absence. You’re a good daughter, though, so you text her to make sure she knows what your plan is. She knew about the little setup you were planning for Yoongi, and she supported you in virtually everything you did. Except for your sex life, she definitely had no clue that you had actually gone further than second base, that’s for sure.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Plus, I’ll have you too.” Jimin gives you an endearing smile before pulling you down to his lap. You snuggle into his warm chest, breathing in his sweet scent. You loved your boyfriend with all your heart. The mochi hits differently.

“I’m just gonna...go back to my room.” Yoongi awkwardly makes an exit as Jimin continues nuzzling your neck affectionately. You couldn’t help but feeling a bit guilty, since your other boyfriend seemed a bit troubled and you were sitting here, fooling around with Jimin like some teenage slut.

“He’s more awkward than usual today, you wanna go ask him what’s wrong?” He seems to already know what you’re thinking, as you shift around in his lap and you stay silent for an abnormally long time.

“Normally, I would just give him space but he seems to have a lot on his mind. I hope he isn’t too stressed. The opportunity presented itself and I feel like I forced him to do it.”

“No, baby, what are you saying? Yoongi never does something because someone told him to. He really wanted that deal, you know how long he’s been producing as a hobby? So many people have taken advantage of him in the past but this is the real deal.” You didn’t want to ask Jimin to elaborate, as he shifts in his seat and you feel his body heat rising. He’s sweating as well, so you decide to climb off his lap and onto the bed once again, sitting with your legs and arms crossed when you do.

“I know, that’s why I told him I’d work his shift. He can go visit this producer guy on Saturday and blow the hats off those guys while I flaunt my temporary barista skills.” 

“Honey, if you think I’m letting you anywhere near a coffee machine, you’re dead wrong.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yours and Jimin’s playful banter carries throughout the walls and onto the next room, where Yoongi hears every little exchange between the two of you. To be honest, he’s never felt more insignificant in his life than he does now. With his partners laughing and having fun without him...he felt so self-conscious.

He loved you and Jimin dearly, but sometimes his self-doubts would get in the way of his love for you. He couldn’t trust you because he couldn't completely believe himself. He knew he was in love with Jimin fully, but was he really in love with you? He remembers that very first day when you walked into the coffee shop and openly flirted with his boyfriend. That “friendly” exchange led to something more, something unexpected. 

He never thought he would be the one to initiate the first sexual encounter, but it seemed his fingers had a mind of their own. He developed a little crush on you shortly after you became friends with Jimin, but then his body betrayed him once again when he found out you were living in the same house as him.

He jerked off to the thought of you every day after that, to be honest. He felt dirty, but it felt right. He started getting confused only after you all started dating. You and Jimin were closer than him and Jimin, and him and you. Out of all the combinations, yours was the weakest. 

Sure, you had music in common, but did that really mean anything? Physically, you were more compatible than a glove with a hand, but emotionally, you were distant. He wanted you to follow him out of the room and climb over his back, he truthfully wanted Jimin to kiss his worries away like he always does, and when you were finished, he wanted to be the one to wake you up in the morning just in time for school. He was bad at social interactions, so any dreams of affection were just imaginative unless you took the initiative, or if you were at the right place at the right time.

“Yoongz, I know you better than I know myself. What’s going on in that handsome brain of yours?” His boyfriend is always spot-on when it comes to his emotions. Unlike Yoongi, Jimin excelled at expressing himself and interacting with the world around him. He was like Yoongi’s mouth, at some point. Yoongi had gotten arguably better at expressing himself, though, after meeting you he always put himself out there, just talking to you about whatever was bothering him directly. Of course, Jimin knew this happened only 60% of the time. It’s still a huge improvement for him, Jimin was happy either way. He knows it’s only a matter of time before Yoongi opens up to you completely. A full 100%.

“What if my love for Y/N is just an illusion and my body is addicted to her but my mind is not attracted to her?”

What the fu-

“Think about what you just said. Think about it again, long and hard, imagine her body this time.” Yoongi does exactly as Jimin instructs, feeling his worry melt away instantaneously just by thinking of you. He feels more at ease and a little bit floaty as well.

When he opens his eyes, Jimin is staring at his crotch deep in thought, probably pondering what he just said. Yoongi honestly has no clue anymore. He’s gotta be in love with you, he just knows.

“Just as I thought. You’re craving her again. Go ahead and get her, you dog.” Jimin lets out a short howl before spanking his boyfriend’s ass. Yoongi tries to protest but Jimin simply shoves him towards the direction of your room.

“She’s not some food item, you know? You can’t just say I’m “craving” someone and just walk away.” Yoongi rolls his eyes before knocking on your door.

“Oh, hey Yoongi, you want me to suck you off?” Well, that was easy.

“Really?” You stare up at your boyfriend, looking up from your phone in a bored manner.

“I finished my homework early so I think I deserve a reward, plus I’ve been craving that dick ever since I fucked you. Oh gosh, did you even mention it to Jimin? I don’t think I told him yet.”

“Tell me what?” You and Yoongi both jump back in surprise. Your blue-haired boyfriend is directly behind Yoongi, smiling at you with those half-moon eyes. You love the way Jimin’s face looks when he smiles, it’s simply adorable.

“I threw on a strap and I fucked Yoongi. I’m not joking, I really did.” Jimin’s eyes darken with lust as he stares between the two of you.

“Can you do it again and let me watch this time?” 

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

I Gotta Go My Own Way (Midoriya Izuku X Reader)

Haha only 5 days til Valentine’s Day... XD Delicious irony so here ya’ll go! Servin’ ya’ll up some delicious angst... aww who am I kidding? Lol I cried when I wrote this, hurting my poor cinnamon roll...

ENJOY SOME NOSTAGLIC SAD-AS-HELL HSM 2 YA’LL!!

He really screwed the pooch this time.

You were furious, and frankly, Izuku and Bakugou were lucky All Might and Aizawa got to them before you did. Those two had another fight, you should have known but you thought, or at least seriously hoped that Bakugou would have been damn grateful that your boyfriend risked his fucking LIFE to save his ass.

They didn’t kill each other this time, but you didn’t care. You were tired of Bakugou picking fights with your boyfriend, and you were tired of Izuku keeping things like this from you, AND most of all you were tired of him acting like everything was hunky-dory even though this was almost always after a moment where he could have died.

Needless to say, you wanted to have a little talk with your green-haired boyfriend. Or rather, you wanted to give him a piece of your mind for making you worry for the 100th time. If it wasn’t for All-Might… you didn’t even want to think about what could have happened if not the hero getting in between to fight to talk to them.

And not only that but you were also tired of being third wheel compared to All-Might and Bakugou. It’s been about 2 months since the two of you actually went out, or even got close together without some stupid villain either getting in the way, or with Izuku reluctantly telling you that he had training to take care of even during breaks.

You paced a little bit in the first floor where you wanted to talk, until you saw a very scared looking Izuku making his way to you, slowly because he knew you were upset. “Goddamn it Izuku…” You shook your head, expression calm but Izuku knew that you were pissed off to hell, and he shook in dread at the fury in your eyes. He knew how scary you were when provoked, yet he managed to do that to you whenever he acted recklessly, and he had a habit of being somewhat reckless…

“I can’t believe you, you’re lucky Bakugou didn’t kill you because damn, dammit you could have been killed AGAIN! That’s like what… the 10th time you’ve almost died and barely escaped with your life?” You asked him sternly, crossing your arms and he saw that you were more hurt and scared than genuinely angry, although the anger was still very present in your tone and face.

“(Y-Y/N), please… look I wasn’t going to die, Kacchan and I… we were just… look, he had things on his mind and we just had to fight it out and-“ Izuku tried to explain himself, but you weren’t having it, you were tired of excuses.

“Last time I checked, friends don’t fight things out. Otherwise they wouldn’t be friends. God… this rivalry or whatever is completely fucked up… I mean I get that he’s strong and has SOME admirable traits but God Izuku… he could seriously hurt you, you’re still recovering from the attack at the Summer Camp! You shouldn’t even have been fighting with him! You should have just turned it down, you could have got fucked up beyond repair if you used your quirk again!” You finally raised your voice a bit, Izuku flinching slightly when you did since you didn’t do that often.

“No, I couldn’t have, I can’t just do that. I’m not the same cowardly, defenseless Deku anymore, I won’t turn down a fight anymore because I won’t have a choice when the next one comes.” He reasoned with you as best as he could, and honestly, the assertiveness amazed you but at the same time it was frustrating that he wasn’t backing down even though you were just worried about him, and it hurt so damn much seeing him injured almost all the time now… worse than in middle school.

“Right, you’re just being Stupid-ass Deku now.” You kind of glared at him, and he gasped lightly obviously surprised at hurt that you used that name ‘Deku’ for him, albeit in the derogatory way that Bakugou labeled him with rather than the heroic moniker he chose for himself. “And jerk-Deku… because you’ve been SO preoccupied with everything else whether it’s getting injured or training too much that whatever plans we make can’t happen…I wanted us to remember every moment we would share together... I wanted to remember every moment we both got stronger here at UA...” You said a little lower, and Izuku sighed… it HAS been a while since he last took you out on a date.

“You can’t do that… you can’t make me worry like that, and you can’t turn down dates for the 5th time by pretending that your serious injuries aren’t hurting… I can excuse you turning down a date, I can even excuse a petty argument with Bakugou, and I can excuse turning down dates a third time, but not the fifth… and I especially can’t excuse you downplaying your injuries and still fighting on when you're supposed to be resting…” Shaking your head you looked down, forcing yourself to NOT tear up just thinking about the awful injuries your boyfriend had endured since school started.

“(Y/N)… You worry too much, and you can’t do that either, this is just… this is our life now, I know it’s getting harder… I know I haven’t been able to make plans… even though I want to, and we will! But right now… you can’t worry too much… you shouldn’t have to worry so much about me, it won’t do you any good, and I don’t want you to worry so much...” Izuku said to you gently, obviously trying to comfort and reassure you because he felt that he almost didn’t deserve to be worried for by you, but his attempts weren’t working…

“How the hell am I supposed to not worry about my boyfriend when he seems so drawn to danger? It’s one thing to jump in to save the day, but Izuku… the injuries… I can’t even look at you sometimes when you’re so hurt… God, it looks like you’re in so much pain sometimes… and then I feel pain everytime I see you in pain that you're clearly trying to swallow down for the sake of others…” Your voice nearly broke when you thought about and vividly imagined some of his awful broken bones, how much they repulsed and worried you.

“I’m NOT drawn to danger. I know the injuries are painful… because they are, they still hurt so much but I’ve gotten stronger… I can endure them more.”

“You shouldn’t endure injuries that can potentially destroy you! You’re no good a hero if your body’s destroyed or if you DIE because your body's busted beyond repair and you can't fight, idiot! It’s the same as being defenseless! Don't you get that?!” You weren’t going to stop arguing until he owned up to the fact that you had a point, but Izuku wasn’t budging, if anything he was starting to get a little upset with what you were saying.

“You know… you’re starting to sound like my mom…” He said lowly, getting rather frustrated himself at how much you were arguing and not listening to him, almost like his mother had done when she initially considered not letting him continue attending UA.

“I’m not trying to sound like your mom, even though she had a huge point…” You grumbled, which made Izuku flinch as a spark of anger shone in his normally soft, green eyes. That was a stressful time when his mom nearly made him stop attending school at UA, and it was still a sore thing for him to think about.

“(Y/N)… what makes you think you can just lecture me about how to live my life? You don’t know anything!” He somewhat raised his tone now, and you were taken aback since Izuku never spoke to you like this unless it was a dire situation with villains.

“I only know that you’re setting yourself up for disappointment if all you do is get yourself hurt by either Bakugou or the villains! It's one thing to fight against your rival, but how can you expect to fight if you're just going to keep hurting yourself?! I might not know much but I know that at least!” Despite your initial shock, you kept trying to assert yourself, not for the sake of winning a petty argument, but for the sake of trying to keep your boyfriend from constantly harming himself.

“No you don’t! I don’t need you to tell me how to run my life! And I don’t need you to help me to get stronger because you can’t, just like you can’t even do that for yourself. Ever since we got accepted into UA you haven’t progressed because you’re too busy worrying about me! Well, I don’t need you worrying about me! And I don’t want you to worry about me!”

It hit you like an arrow to your chest, the pain coming more from the truth than anything. You blinked slowly, expressionless once the words sunk into your skin as you let out a small sigh you didn’t know you were holding, bringing your arms over your chest as you gave a small nod once your boyfriend’s honesty sunk in. The worst part is, he was right. Compared to the others, you had been useless in nearly every single incident aside from the USJ.

However, you completely ignored the shocked look on his face, as if he realized that he seriously crossed the line and actually hurt you once he saw how shocked and speechless you were. Everything went silent for an uncomfortable minute until he started stammering an apology.

“(Y-Y/N)… I-I’m so sorry I-I didn’t…” You shook your head with an ‘Mm-mm’, turning around to go to your dorm as Izuku quickly followed you.

“I’m sorry! W-Wait, wait (Y/N), n-no don’t go, don’t go! I’m sorry I-I didn’t mean that! I’m so sorry! P-Please I-!”

“No. I don’t want to hear another word. Just... leave me alone… you’re good at that anyway...” You said that last part sadly once you made your way to your room, shutting the door on Izuku as he stood there, looking desperate and horrified with what he just did, what he just said. He had hurt you, worse than a villain could have. Shaking slightly, he remained at the front of your door as he forced himself not to tear up even though his eyes were betraying him as a tear ran down his face. Giving you space seemed like the plausible thing to do, even though all he wanted to do was give you a million apologies.

Sorry wouldn’t cut it this time though.

-----

The next day was completely awkward, and you deliberately avoided Izuku, even waking up earlier than he did so you could get to class as fast as you could. Every time he tried to talk to you, you refused to listen, telling him that you didn’t want to talk at the moment. And it broke his heart a little more every time you pushed him away.

However, eventually you DID talk to him, at lunch. Sort of.

“(Y/N)… please… please I want to talk to you…” He immediately came over to you after class once it was time to go down to lunch, and for the first time that day, you did look him in the eyes. But he saw no energy or glimmer of exuberance that your eyes normally had, all he saw was pain and melancholy, and it was all his fault. He did that to you.

“Okay...” Finally you said something to him today, “I wanna talk to you too... we need to talk in fact... but I need some time alone for a little bit, I want us to talk together later tonight…” You answered him, and it wasn’t what he wanted to hear but he understood nonetheless as the two of you sadly parted ways. He wasn’t surprised when he saw you sit with other friends at lunch or at least until you got up suddenly to head elsewhere. Everyone could tell there was trouble in paradise, because it was extremely awkward to talk to either you or Izuku. 

Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki, Tsuyu and even Aoyama had tried talking to Izuku, but he didn’t budge. Even when it was about you, it just brought all his guilt back from last night after he told them what you were both fighting about and what he said.

Of course, they agreed with you in how that was out of line (esp. Tsuyu), especially for him, but they each reassured him by telling him to apologize, let out his truest feelings and even do a romantic gesture to show how sorry he is and take you out on a beautiful date and buy you plenty of flowers afterward. That was Aoyama’s suggestion, but Izuku was willing to try anything.

Little did he know though, that nothing he could do would change your mind about the decision you just made for yourself.

-----

It was hard to look at your dorm-room as you took your most important things and would send for the rest of your things later. You didn’t want to imagine how your friends would react to find you gone the next morning.

As soon as you stepped out of your room, you headed downstairs and you there stood your boyfriend, looking extremely anxious and still guilty from everything from last night and before.

“(Y-Y/N)… h-hi…” He perked up once he saw you, his body visibly trembling because he wasn’t looking forward to this talk. It didn’t sound good based on the tone you had used earlier this afternoon. However, this was his chance to apologize and take back every single horrible thing he said to you last night and own up to how neglectful a boyfriend he had been. He’d follow Aoyama’s advice and take you somewhere nice, buy you flowers and whatever sweets you craved, hug you more and kiss you until you forgave him.

“Hi Izuku.” You waved to him with a sad smile, poor thing had no idea what you were going to say. And you weren’t sure how to announce it, other than just being honest with him. “I’m glad you made it here.” That was a lie, even if you knew that you had to break this to him face-to-face, even if it would hurt him and you deeply.

“I think a serious talk is long overdue… last night… wasn’t the right way to do that though… I overreacted.” You talked first, but Izuku shook his head.

“N-No… y-you didn’t… you were right… everything you said was right… but… I said some things last night that I’ve been regretting ever since I said them…” He quickly affirmed, his eyes quivering just thinking about how he had said those hurtful things to you. His dear, sweet, beautiful girlfriend.

Sighing, you crossed your arms. Everything he told you had kept replaying in your head the entire day. “(Y/N) I’m sorry… I’m so, so, so sorry… I can’t tell you just… h-how sorry I am…” Closing your eyes, you heard Izuku’s voice crack ever so slightly, it was killing you.

“I didn’t mean anything I said. I’m serious… I-I don’t know what was going through my head but… I-I really didn’t… I know I can’t take it all back but… I w-want to try and make it up to you… I haven’t been good to you… but I… I want to do better. I can make time… even with our schedules, I can s-still try to make time for you too… it’s not fair… what I’ve been doing to you… making you worry… I know I can’t always help it… but it’s still not fair… and you just worry because you care about me that much… I-I never should have told you that I don’t want you to worry about me… of course I don’t want you to worry yourself sick but… s-still…” Izuku said with a trembling voice, meaning every single word as you paid full attention to him, even though your decision was long made up.

“I know you are… I know you didn’t mean those things you said…so I forgive you Izuku… I forgive you…” Softly, you approached him and put your hand on his shoulder to try and calm him down so he wouldn’t panic or get too anxious as you gave him a little smile, and tilted his chin up to look at you as he looked at you sadly, partially relieved that you had forgiven him for the horrible things he said.

“But I also meant what I said last night Izuku, not the meaner things I said, but... about how I wanted to remember every moment here at UA... but... not like this... almost nothing has gone right here...”

Trialing off, you looked away slightly which made Izuku look at you, a hint of confusion crossing his features. “In fact... that's what I've been thinking about a lot and I made a decision... and I need you to know it...” That got him nervous again, he didn’t know what to expect at this point.

“W-What is it…?”

You gave a deep sigh, trying to regain your composure and not look at him for his remorseful, upset and glossy green eyes hurt you. How you adored his eyes, and his sweet, sincere and practically pure personality is why you loved him so much… but this was enough. You weren’t helping him progress, apparently his friends were doing that for him… why? You’ll never understand, but that’s why you have to go…

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wQzvSFsGX2k)

“Izuku…” You sighed again, hating the way he almost looked right into your eyes as you called him again, but you knew that this would only crush him. “Listen…”

I gotta say what's on my mind Something about us doesn't seem right these days Life keeps getting in the way Whenever we try, somehow the plan Is always rearranged It's so hard to say But I've gotta do what's best for me You'll be okay

“Do you remember when we both got into UA? Together?” Giggling slightly, Izuku smiled just a little bit as he nodded at how long ago that felt when it was only at least a couple of months ago. “Y-Yeah… hard to believe it’s been that long… walking in this school, still feels like the very first time…” He said softly as you smiled and nodded, sharing his sentiment.

“It was awesome… the look on Bakugou’s face when he WASN’T the only one from our school to get in? Priceless… that was one of the best days of my life, not just cuz of that but because you and I did it together, yet with our own strengths…” A fond sigh left you, your smile not leaving even though it was becoming more forlorn and Izuku could see it.

“But… things have been… different between us… ever since the whole thing at the USJ. You’ve been really focused on your hero studies, which is… so great, you’re doing SO great…” You said smiling, and full of praise for your dear Izuku but that was just it… what have you been doing? Other than dragging him down? And vice-versa. You let him distract you from your own training and your own well-being. It was time to go your way, instead of his.

“And the Sports Fest was fun…” Another giggle escaped you, and he tried to keep his smile even though he knew that this conversation was still serious. “You got through to Todoroki… and you impressed a few other pro-heroes… but then you fought off the Hero Killer… totally freaked me out… and then to make matters worse, the final exams with All-Might and Bakugou… I don’t know how you got him to work with you, but you did… of course I’m sure it’s not like he did it for you… he never does…” You muttered bitterly, making Izuku cringe ever so slightly, because you always argued with him about Bakugou, he assumed this was about him…

He thought.

“And for God’s sake… again, Izuku you really fucked your arms up really bad at the camp, yet all you could think about was Bakugou? Not even about how I felt about what happened to you? Or the rest of your classmates?” You kind of chuckled when you thought about it again. Izuku had the grace to look ashamed, because in that moment he realized that he really didn’t think about how it made you feel… he tried so hard to reassure you those times, even though he saw how scared you were for him. Yet still, he insisted he was okay when it wasn’t okay.

“You’ve got priorities. Even though… I don’t think what All-Might’s doing is right… putting pressure on you, Bakugou pushing you around… I don’t think any of it is right… but your goal is. Your goals are right Izuku, but… another thing that isn’t right is us.” His eyes widened as he shakily gasped, this was what he was afraid of. He knew he messed up but this couldn’t be happening…

I've got to move on and be who I am I just don't belong here I hope you understand We might find our place in this world someday But at least for now I gotta go my own way

“Our relationship hasn’t been exactly steady. You have your things, I have mine… I think too much about you, I worry too much about you… and you seem to do less of those things. And you were right, there are things I don’t understand, about you, All-Might and Bakugou… but there are things you don’t seem to understand about me either… which is why… I’m dropping out of the hero course… let another more deserving hero-in-training take it up. Preferably that Shinsou boy… He’ll be better at it than me anyway. He actually wants to be a hero for himself, I wanted to be a hero with you, but that’s not working out…” You finally breathed once you admitted your plan, squeezing your shoulder nervously and closing your eyes when you could practically hear Izuku’s heart shatter right then and there as the panic settled in his bones.

“W-What?! N-No… no y-you can’t… Y-You’re not serious…?” He asked you, extremely reluctant because you looked and sounded way too serious to be joking.

And your nod was further indication that just tore him apart. “I am Izuku… I’ve made my decision, it’s already done and I spoke to Principal Nezu today during lunch. Mr. Aizawa will find out about it tomorrow…” You said, cringing when you could hear the sound of Izuku’s breathing speeding up to the point where the poor boy was hyperventilating.

“B-But (Y-Y/N) you can’t quit! You’re one the strongest girls I’ve ever met! You’re already stronger than you have been before!” The words came out fast. This couldn’t be happening, you couldn’t quit, not when you had the potential to be an amazing hero, and not after you’ve been with him for so long.

“I remember when we were little you said you wanted to be a hero more than anything! And you’re going to be a great hero one day! Y-You amaze me, and you amaze our classmates! I-I mean… you’re one of the reasons I even go to school sometimes… because you’ve always… supported me… even when no one else did… those are… all the qualities of a great hero… it isn’t just your quirk, it’s the way you look out for people… the way you looked out for me… a-all those years when no one else did… I-I can never forget anything you’ve done for me... it’s one of the reasons why I admire you so much...’” Izuku stammered as he spoke of his admiration for you, anxious and trying desperately to tell you how much you DID inspire him, but after everything that’s happened, and after the fight from yesterday, you couldn’t be so sure. Deep down you knew he was telling the truth, but enough was enough.

“Funny, that’s not what you said last night…” You grumbled a bit which made Izuku cringe once he remembered that, and of course the guilt just hit him harder. "Besides, you haven’t even made me feel like that… I’m not one of your heroes Izuku… you already have two.” You sounded somewhat bitter, but mostly sad as you grabbed your backpack and put your shoes on. “And you’re going to be one too… I will be too, cuz I’m going my own way now… my dad’s going to be here any minute now.” Quickly, you moved as fast as you could, using your quirk to create a portal that would lead you outside.

“(Y-Y/N)!” You stepped into it fast so it disappeared and wouldn’t allow Izuku to follow you. You couldn’t let him follow you, it’d make this a lot harder than it needs to be.

“W-Wait! No, please wait!”

Don't wanna leave it all behind But I get my hopes up And I watch them fall every time Another color turns to grey And it's just too hard to watch it all Slowly fade away I'm leaving today cause I gotta do what's best for me You'll be okay

Warm tears slowly ran down your face, but you wiped them away fast, rubbing your cheeks irritably at how worked up you were getting. You hated it. You hated that you loved Izuku so much, but you couldn’t be with him like this, you had to take care of yourself too. Even though it was breaking your heart to get away from him and follow your own path, away from him and your classmates.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t catch up to your classmates, especially not Izuku, Bakugou or Todoroki. And you wanted to, and you wanted to show Izuku that you could be as strong, courageous and inspiring as him. But you weren’t Izuku, and you weren’t Bakugou or Todoroki either, and you never would be. You had to be who you were and hopefully become just as amazing as they were, if not better.

All you wanted was to graduate and become a pro-hero with Izuku, and show him that you could be powerful too. However, with classes slowly getting harder and with all the villains distracting you and your classmates, everything you wanted was falling apart. Making dates became nonexistent with Izuku being either preoccupied with his training with All-Might or worrying about the villains. And then you spent a lot of your time worrying about Izuku which only got worse after he encountered Shigaraki at the mall.

Izuku was the love of your life, but it was clear that he could take care of himself fine. He said it himself, he didn’t need you. Just like that, your dream of being a pro-hero at Izuku’s side slowly disappeared with every incident, every moment spent fearing for his life. A colorful dream turned grey and dull.

I've got to move on and be who I am I just don't belong here I hope you understand We might find our place in this world someday But at least for now I gotta go my own way

You sniffled as you took a bit of a detour and made your way into the dark school, knowing that Aizawa and any other teacher would be on your ass if they found you out of bed and on school grounds at this hour, but you had to give it all one last look before leaving.

A small, weak smile tugged at your lips when you saw the inside of your class, remembering the first time you stood foot into it. Your shoulders shook with snickers when you saw the exact spot Aizawa had been lying in when you and the rest of your classmates first met him. Hard to believe it had been so long ago since that day. There was no other happier couple than you and Izuku, you were so ecstatic when he got in with you, even if he did save Uraraka…

Shame filled you when you thought enviously of the girl, she liked Izuku a little TOO much. And you hated it… sometimes you wanted to push her, but deep down, you knew she didn’t deserve it. At least she would get what she wanted once you left, because after the first day at UA, things spiraled downhill for you and Izuku as he paid more attention to his classmates than you, pondering about their quirks, their strengths and weaknesses. Because he knew all about you, it felt as if you were no longer important enough for him to pay attention to.

It just wasn’t working for you here, it was time for something new for you. You told yourself this as you exited the school’s entrance and took one last glance at the large school. 

“Sorry…” For some reason, you apologized to the school as you closed your eyes with a heavy sigh.

“(Y/N)!”

You gasped in shock when you heard someone call your name, thinking it was a classmate or teacher trying to stop you, until you turned around to see Izuku closing in from the distance.

“Izuku…” Shaking and in near-tears from anxiety, your eyes widened when he followed you and started running towards where you were at. Why did he follow you? He was making this twice as hard, and it was killing you on the inside.

What about us? What about everything we've been through? What about trust? You know I never wanted to hurt you And what about me? What am I supposed to do?

“Please… just wait… y-you… you’re not really leaving right...? W-what… I mean… what about us? W-We’ve been through so much together… ever since middle school… w-what about all of that… t-that we’ve been through?” He shamelessly started crying, his tears shining in the moonlight and dripping down on the sidewalk. His voice sounding pained and full of grief and most of all, remorse.

“I know we have… and I thought that it meant trust between us…” You didn’t give in, no matter how much this was hurting you too.

He knew it. He messed up big time and nothing he could say would fix it. Izuku had unknowingly neglected you, he wanted to make you not worry but instead he ended up downplaying everything and it ended up pushing you away… and he really did it when he said that you weren’t making him stronger, even though the truth was is that you did… even more than All-Might and Bakugou… he adored you.

It was his fault you were leaving, and he knew he deserved everything he was getting right now.

Yet, he couldn’t bear to see you go.

“I’m so sorry (Y/N)… I’m so, so sorry… the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you like this… I-I never, y-you know I never wanted to hurt you…” Izuku apologized as he sniffled and wiped some of his tears away even though they kept falling, sounding the most sincere you had ever heard him, and he was always sincere. But this came from his very soul, it was agonizing.

He looked so hurt it was making your heart ache so badly you feared you would faint from the pain, however you just kept reminding yourself of how many times you both tried to spend time together, only to be interrupted by either villains or his priorities with his training.

“What about me?” You clenched your fists, trying hard not to cry yourself but you refused to give into him when you knew this was for the best…

You guessed…

Izuku knew your mind was made up, but it didn’t stop him from pleading because he loved you too much, he just… didn’t want you to leave. “I-I know… I know I hurt you… I wish I never did… B-But… if you go… w-what am I supposed to do? W-Without you…?” He shut his eyes and trembled, hating how pathetic he sounded in front of you, even though he couldn’t help how he felt.

I gotta leave but, I'll miss you…

“Oh… Izuku… my dear Izuku…” How your heart swelled with such remorse and pity for your poor, sweet Izuku, despite your decision you found it in your hurting heart to cup his cheeks and wipe some of his tears away, “I’m sorry…” You whispered before kissing his lips gently one last time, which steadied his labored breathing as he stopped shaking with every ounce of affection you gave him, caressing his warm cheek gently as you felt his body become more steady. Once the love of your life was calmed down, you slowly, and reluctantly pulled away.

“I’m so sorry… I gotta leave, but I’ll miss you.” You whispered one last time as you turned and began to run off into the opposite direction, heading to the gates of the school.

“(Y/N)!!”

So I've got to move on and be who I am (Why do you have to go?) I just don't belong here I hope you understand (I'm trying to understand) We might find our place in this world someday But at least for now (I want you to stay) I gotta go my own way

You panted and briefly stopped to catch your breath after running off from Izuku just, so you wouldn’t try to fall back into his arms again. This had to be done, you had to go your own way and let Izuku keep going his way. It was the best for both of you.

As you forced your tears to stay at bay, you perked up ever so slightly when you saw a car approaching and you saw your concerned father looking out and searching for you as you waved to him, getting ready to head over to him.

“(Y/N)!” Izuku ran faster than he had ever done before over to you, a sparkling stream of his tears flying in the air as you looked over your shoulder to see him, (E/C) eyes widening in shock and surprise at just how much desperation and adoration shone in his tearful green eyes.

“I-Izuku!” It nearly made you crumble on the spot as you quickly shut your eyes and turned away, fearing that your heart would ruin everything if you looked too long. However, his footsteps paused, and all you could hear was his crestfallen sobbing, “Please… I-I… I want you to stay!” Izuku cried out to you desperately and honestly, hugging his arms as he closed his eyes and didn’t move from his spot in an attempt to calm himself down. He had seen your father’s car, obviously he knew that his pleas weren’t going to get to you, but if this was over he wanted to at least tell you every ounce of love that he felt for you.

“I-I..." You sniffled, hating the fresh tears pooling in your eyes just seeing and hearing Izuku's pleas, but you wouldn't let yourself ignore this decision you made that was best for you. "I know..."

I've got to move on and be who I am (What about us?) I just don't belong here I hope you understand (I'm trying to understand) We might find our place in this world someday But at least for now I gotta go my own way

Izuku tried, but he couldn't stop the tears or the cries leaving him, and he couldn't bring himself to look at you walk away even if he knew your mind was made up. He was trying to understand, and deep down he did, but his heart was breaking and making him fall apart. However, because you still loved him dearly, you went over to him oncemore in a rush, bringing your arms around him to hold him tightly.

"Shhh..." You gently hushed him, not wanting to see him break down anymore to spare both you and him some more pain as Izuku forced himself to stop crying just for a little bit, and embrace the last warm, loving hug he would get from you for a long time until you decided to come back. He hoped you would, he really hoped you would. He gladly hugged you back, holding you close and tightly as he sniffled, savoring every part of your warm arms, your sweet scent and your everything. And you did the same, hugging him a little tighter, reluctant to leave his soft, comforting embrace but you had to go.

It took a while, but you eventually pulled away from Izuku. Tears still streamed down his face, but he appeared calmer at the moment.

“Goodbye Izuku...” You whispered as you slowly walked away from him and approached your father's car. Even though your heart was broken, you looked over your shoulder to see Izuku one last time, green eyes meeting (E/C) eyes. Izuku was heartbroken, but he still found enough energy in him to pick up his hand and give you a wave, wishing you the very best of luck. 

“Bye...”

Forlornly, you picked up your hand to wave back to him even as you got in your father's car, wanting nothing but the best for him too. You knew he would do well though, you loved Izuku Midoriya more than anything in the world, but you had to go your own way and let him go his. 

I gotta go my own way I gotta go my own way

He watched your father drive you away, and once you were gone, more tears gathered in his eyes as his face scrunched up and he fell down to his knees, quietly sobbing to himself and muttering your name in despair. Even though Izuku understood your decision, he was going to miss you every single day, every single hour and every single minute. The only thing that brought him comfort at all was your memory, the hope that you would come back eventually, and his confidence in you that you were going to do just fine going your own way.

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Jess!

You have been accepted for the role of ANDROMEDA TONKS with the faceclaim of Natalie Portman! We really enjoyed your focus on the ambiguity of Andromeda’s beliefs and choices; how choosing Ted doesn’t mean she stopped loving her family, how things aren’t perfect now any more than they were wholly miserable before. We look forward to seeing you dig-into her conflicted feelings and lingering prejudices. We are so excited to have you as part of this roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Jess

AGE: 20

TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m a full time student, but I usually have time to spend an hour or so writing a day, and I’m always reachable by mobile!

ANYTHING ELSE: I have a lot of experience with Tumblr RPs, but I haven’t been part of anything for about a year! I’m really excited to re-enter the fandom with a new character.

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Andromeda Tonks

AGE: 29

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Cis-female, she/her, heterosexual

BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Slytherin

ANY CHANGES: I’d like to use Natalie Portman as her FC- for me, Natalie always comes across so poised and graceful, which is a trait I really want my Andromeda to have.

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

All middle children act out, the Blacks used to say to themselves. Andie’s stubbornness and fire, her petulance and ferociousness were absolutely natural for anyone who grew up aside an elder sister as prominent as Bellatrix, and a younger sister as pristine as Narcissa. Regardless of the occasional dinner table outbursts and the Muggle books hidden under her bed, her fierce love for her sisters convinced Cygnus and Druella they had nothing to worry about. Nobody would have chosen her as the rebel of the family. Sometimes, Andromeda can’t even believe it herself.

While her parents urged her to spend her Hogwarts years searching for a suitable match, Andromeda was almost always found in the library. Slytherin cunning manifested in a thirst for knowledge, a trait that serves her well in the Department of Mysteries. A built-in lie detector and a keen eye for bullshit got her through teenage drama and now, get her through pre-teen squabbles with her daughter. As she grew, she learned when to share her opinion (almost never) and when to keep her mouth shut and listen (most of the time). She prefers to get a good read on people before sharing any of herself with them.

Like every Black, she has her own tempestuous streak. Andromeda can be impatient and particular, liking things done a certain way and at a certain time. A childhood in a controlling family has left her with a need to control her household the same way Druella ruled hers- of course, unlike her mother, Andromeda works full-time and lacks the small army of house elves. Her mother’s influence also left her with a too-sharp tone and a habit of bossing others around. Passion comes easy, but steady, everyday love is harder. Adulthood and responsibility hit her like a brick. She’s a little too measured for spontaneity these days, too concerned about the future to be present in the now. Andromeda is at her best when she’s having fun- but it seems those moments are too few and far between now. Maybe that’s just part of growing up.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Cygnus and Druella never appeared to enjoy having children. To them, children weren’t something to be enjoyed. They were walking trophies, representations of the long and storied history of Black. Andromeda was hardly raised, more cultivated, like a rare orchid or crossbreed of roses. A Black is poised, she is lofty, she is obedient. A Black does not slide down staircases, or speak to the house elves, or make faces at her parents. In time, she became two women- stoic Andromeda, to her parents, and goofy Andie, to her sisters.

Who’s lucky enough to be born amongst their best friends? Andromeda never needed anybody but her sisters growing up- they were her anchors, her compass, her roots. Being a Black was important, as her parents beat into her, but being a sister to Bellatrix and Narcissa was her priority. As her built-in confidants, she confided in them about every impulse and doubt and fear. Until Ted Tonks.

Finally, something was just for her. She hadn’t anticipated how delicious it was to have a secret, how much of an adrenaline rush it was to sneak around. She felt seen for the first time, seen and loved and wanted, and by someone who was indisputably good and kind. Ted shone a light on the fear and confusion that had gradually begun to fill her heart, and in return Andromeda gave Ted her whimsy, her joy- all the parts that were disagreeable to her family. But she also hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to lie to her sisters. Or how difficult it would be to watch them walk away from her. The rejection of her parents hadn’t stung as much as she thought it might. Yes, there was shame, but perhaps more from an accidental pregnancy than from being disowned. The sting was from the upturn of Bella’s nose, the curl of Cissy’s lip. She would have died for them- and they wouldn’t even bend over for her. Becoming Ted’s Dromeda was easy. Shedding Cissy’s Andie was hard. She knows she made her choice, but some days it’s all she can do to keep the lump out of her throat when she looks at her life. It’s worth it, she knows that. She loves her husband and her daughter just as fiercely, if not more so, than she loved her sisters years ago, but that love for them still hasn’t faded. She’s grown to accept that it might never. But even a core as iron as Andromeda’s can fail sometimes, and she sometimes wishes she could have raised Nymphadora in the same palatial luxury she came from.

OCCUPATION:

It’s almost ironic- the woman who’s name is verboten in certain social circles is an Unspeakable. Andromeda loves her work- for the first time in her life, she feels as though she’s contributing to something important, helping people without rocking the boat. The Department of Mysteries is her sanctuary. It feels like nothing from her past followed her here, no petty gossip or snide looks. She’s truly thrown herself into the werewolf project, fascinated by every difference between herself and the subjects that look just like her for all but a few nights a year. She began this study to find a cure for lycanthropy, to make werewolves like everybody else, but the project’s evolved over time to focus on the unique talents and gifts of the werewolf and how they can be exploited. Her whole life has emphasized homogeny, but it might be time for her to start seeing the power of divergence.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

She’s given up her last name, her family, her inheritance. She will not give up her daughter’s safety. It’s not that she doesn’t believe in the cause, because yes, of course she believes Muggleborns have a right to be in this society. She just doesn’t see why she should put her life at risk for it. Of course, the occasional slip of information from her department hardly counts, it’s not as if she’s on the front lines. It could never even be traced back to her. And if she doesn’t tell Ted about it, it’s only because it’s unimportant, not because she’s afraid. Andromeda Tonks would never confess to being afraid.

SURVIVAL:

She flies under the radar as much as possible. Sometimes that means signing her name as A. Tonks in fear of someone putting puzzle pieces together, sometimes that means waiting for the next elevator when the faces inside don’t look friendly, and sometimes it means spending Friday night til Monday morning locked up in their house, afraid of something she can’t put a name to. She’s fortunate enough that her parents are content to only act like she’s dead, but her eldest sister may change that any day. There’s still a part of her that cares for her sister, but if Bellatrix even glanced in the direction of her family, Andromeda would rip her apart in an instant.

RELATIONSHIPS:

The problem with leaving your world behind for a man is that, suddenly, that man becomes your world. High on hormones and righteous fury, Andromeda told Ted over and over he would be all she needed. But she can’t help feeling as though she gave too much and he gave too little. With every slip of the tongue, each not-progressive-enough viewpoint, she wonders if he’ll ever look at her without disappointment in his eyes. If she’ll ever feel worthy of his love. She tries to give hers freely in return, but showing appreciation is hard for her, and recently their relationship has felt more like business partners than man and wife.

She’d love to fill that void with some friends, but frankly, she was too busy following her older sister around like a lost puppy at Hogwarts to make that many. She recognizes surnames in her new social circle from the old- Selwyn, Macmillan, Yaxley- but she doesn’t miss the way these people look at her (she thinks it’s the pity that’s the worst, worse than the disgust or the amusement). And so many others hear the implicit Black when she introduces herself and flee. She never forgets that she still has some family, but Sirius still looks at her with distanced eyes. It doesn’t make sense to Dromeda- in her mind, the two black marks of the family tree should look out for each other, but then again, blood has always taken up a disproportionate amount of Andromeda’s thoughts.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: I think Andromeda really loves Ted, but there’s definitely a lot of room to explore in such a high-pressure relationship! She’s lost her family, given her all in raising a child, and is keeping a secret from her husband about helping the Order, all of which I think could be major stressors in their marriage. I’m really very flexible with ships, I just love to write through conflict like that!

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Andromeda grew up in the lap of luxury, with any privilege imaginable. Having all those taken away from her in a heartbeat (the money, the family cache, the status, the family, oh Merlin, the money), left her with more frustration than compassion. These are things she silently feels entitled to, and wishes she could have given to her daughter! Basic responsibilities were foreign to her a decade ago, but she’s been made painfully aware of what her privilege enabled her to do, and what she no longer has access to. It’s made her colder and more serious, and if she was confronted with any of the privilege she still has (being a white, cisgender, straight pureblood), she’d be highly defensive. I’d really love to explore how this silent resentment is building up inside Andromeda- it’s her own choices that led her here, but self-reflection was never her strength, and it’s just easier to pin this loss on Ted, her family, really anyone but herself.

Andromeda was essentially raised in a fundamentalist cult, and she’s only just begun to really confront those implicit biases. While she can say all the right things when prompted- Ted, of course I don’t think Muggleborns are genetically inferior, would I have married you if I did?- she’s not interested in exploring any deeper. To Andromeda, being a pureblood still means something, she just can’t elaborate on what something is without revealing the blood superiority still in her heart. She works with werewolves, but she still sees them as beasts to be feared. She’d be embarrassed if her daughter was born a Squib, and she’d never let her marry a Muggle. In Andromeda’s world, these aren’t viewpoints, but indisputable truths, and she reacts to any attempts to change these truths with a laugh and a wave of an ivory hand. No point in being naive- this is just the way the world is.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I LOVE exploring duality within characters, especially ones seen as “good” in canon. The focus on the gray in all the skeletons really drew me in, and I would really love to write the messier parts of Andromeda.

PLOT DROP IDEAS (OPTIONAL): It would be really exciting to get to write Andromeda when the threat of Death Eaters becomes more immediate, and she begins to recognize faces under the mask. Her love for her family is still very real, and I’d love to write out that internal conflict.

ANYTHING ELSE? Nothing!

[reefartandwriting]

REALITY CHECK

It didn't seem real.

The day had gone by so slowly that by the time I was off work I wanted to immediately be home. I wanted to see if it was true. I could only walk so fast, and while I did my mind raced with ideas of disappointment.

Have you ever had a dream that seemed too good to be true, but still a possibility? It was exactly like that. Surely it couldn't be real, but you want it to be real so bad you fool yourself.

My worry reached a peak the second I turned onto my street. I could already see my apartment, and a familier car parked beneath it. The tiniest bit if relief flowed through me at the sight if the small light blue Honda, but my mind soon raced again as I grew closer and closer to the building.

The worry turned more to doubt and slight panic. Would I be able to even look at her? What if it had been a mistake?

I stopped at her door, sweating a little and breathing a bit harder than I should have been. I found myself listening though, and the sound of gentle metallic clinking and a few small sizzles, faint but hearable, gave me confirmation she was home.

I closed my eyes and took a breath, still hesitating to lift my keys up but managing to unlock the door and step inside.

"Hey! You're home a little early… did you Sprint?" A light angelic giggle followed, and though it brought a small quirky smile to my lips, it did nothing to calm my nerves.

"Uh… sped-walked, actually." I managed to say. "you're cooking? Uh… something?" I wanted to slap myself. I knew English amazingly well, yet I was stuttering. Instead of slapping myself I ran a hand through my blonde hair, ruining the gelled shape of it.

"Well it's Friday, you know?" She answered. "I… I thought why not make steaks? I know how much you like them! And I made sure to not burn the pea's, you'll be glad to know."

While she spoke I took a few slow steps towards the opening that led into the kitchen, and caught my first sight of her. Her shortish black hair was somehow pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a slightly baggy baseball tee I recognized and matching athletic shorts.

"Oh… thanks, Lapis…" I murmured, wanting to hit myself. It didn't sound as grateful as I would've liked. And it sounded off, making Lapis turn around with an adorable but heart wrenching look of worry.

"Are… are you okay? Are you tired? Sick?" She glanced at the food, turning the oven down then turning back to me, but staying standing where she was. "Did… Is something wrong?" Her voice grew quieter, looking at me like maybe it was HER fault.

The pang of my chest returned, and I stepped forward, but stopping and putting my hands back down at my sides. "I have something on my mind. Other than that I'm fine, yeah?" I shot her a unsure smile, which made her noticeably relax but still hold her worried gaze. It was hard for her, and it sounded as such, slightly forced, but I appreciated it.

"UHM… it's about… yesterday." I breathed out, unconsciously scratching at my thigh and avoiding her gaze immediately in fear I wouldn't be able to finish if I met her eyes. "Uh… last night, specifically. We… you… uh… us?" I choked a bit, closing my eyes and trying to breathe again. Why was this so hard?

"What is it? Or… sorry, uh… do you even want to talk about it?" The uneasiness in her tone, combined with the fact she unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself out of habit, made me sure she was taking my much earlier advice.

"It's gonna sound dumb." I chuckled. It really was stupid, and it struck me just then.

She relaxed a bit more, tilting her head and giving a genuine smile. "You're always dumb, Peri." But then the smile faded again. "But last night… I meant everything. I know we are both really bad at expressing things like that, and I've had so many fights with myself on whether to tell you but… truth is I'm glad I did and I…" she tightened the hold on herself. "I thought it happened… in the right way… I thought it would be good… but I shouldn't think that it would just be perfect all of a sudden."

I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. Oh dear God I made it sound like I was having second thoughts

"No! Lapis I-" I sucked in a breath. "I meant every word. Last night was perfect. I just…" I laughed a bit, covering my eyes. "It just seemed… too perfect. I've been worried all day that it was just like… a dream. It's been stressing me out really bad so I hurried back to uh… confirm what happened, and… oh God I'm sorry… I didn't mean to worry you. It's really dumb, I know…"

But suddenly she was laughing too, and I uncovered my eyes to find her wiping her eyes and taking steps towards me. "Geez, Peridot… you're so paranoid." She relaxed, setting her hands on my shoulder, as a small blush crept onto her cheeks. "Last night… we confessed to each other."

I smiled. "We were both nervous. And I grabbed your hands. I almost pulled away, and…"

"I leaned forward to kiss you." She murmured, shrinking back away from me a bit, blushing harder. "I worried it was too fast…"

"But it was everything." I whispered, setting my hands on her hips. Affection grew in my chest. Remembering it made me want to kiss her again. But I stopped, sighing a bit. "I just woke up in my bed and got ready and I… I thought it was a dream."

"I should've told you to hold me." She answered.

"Why? Not that I would've… uhm… minded���" I gave worried eyes. "Though I don't want to force you…"

"You would've waken up next to me and known it was true." She smiled at me. "And it wouldn't have been forced… you know that."

"Lapis…"

She cut me off with a gentle hand over my mouth, and softening eyes. "I know you worry about me. I'm okay. We're okay. This is… okay." She smiled again. "Now… go change out if those stiff work clothes, I know you want to, and I'll finish up dinner. Then we can watch a movie and… cuddle?"

The question made me relax, and I nodded before she released me and went back to cooking. I stood there a second, but turned and took the advice to change. After a long day… hell a long week, I settled for pajama bottoms and a baggy shirt that may or may not have been Lapis's. As roommates for 2+ years I have lost track on what was who's. It brought a smile to my face.

When I came back into the kitchen there were delicious looking steaks on the table and Lapis looking out a window.

"I think it's gonna rain." She said, before turning back to me. "My car will finally get sort of clean." She smiled.

"On the outside…" I corrected, moving and sitting at the table.

"Oh shush. I'm not a hoarder. Be grateful." She chuckled, sitting as well and giving a content sigh.

"These look really good. I'm surprised you can cook…"

"I had to alot. Uhm… When i was still a kid. My parents weren't around much. I just saw how naturally you assumed title of cook and I let it be. I'll cook more if you want."

I smile at her. "That'd be nice, Lapis."

We ate in mostly silence, but it was nice that it seemed so casual. I took her dish before she would be stubborn and insist she wash them. She stuck her tongue out at me and wandered into the living room. From the sink I could hear the TV turn on and a few clicks before a movie followed.

I wandered in to find her laying on her stomach, taking up just about half the couch. A silent invitation.

But I still hesitated.

Not because she had been hurt before. Not because I could see the small scar on her lower back I knew the origin of. Not because I was scared of her.

But because I saw nothing but beauty and I couldn't move. I blushed, and finally blinked before moving forward and flopping down on my back beside her. "What did you find?"

"Something about chocolate? What is this mom doing?" It was queit and followed by a small chuckle.

"I'd ask what that lesbian is doing."

"You don't know she's gay."

"Did you not see the rainbow flag outside?"

"... Fair enough."

I smiled, and moved a had to wrap around her back. I tensed a bit when she turned her head back toward me, my heart skipping when she gave a lazy smile and curled a bit closer.

"You're cuddly." I whispered.

"I've been cuddly, idiot. I thought you'd notice." She muttered in response, setting her forehead against my shoulder.

I blushed harder and huffed. She had been touchy since we met… I had assumed it was normal. But looking back it had progressed in the time we had been roommates. "I'm not the best at reading people."

"... We both are." She said, her leg shuffling closer and fitting our bodies together closer. "You know what I mean."

"Are you okay?" I asked, flattening my hand against her shoulder. "Lapis I can give you space or-"

"Don't move…" she growled, but sighed and scooted closer. "Don't treat me like I'm delicate."

"I know you aren't. PHYSICALLY. but…"

"I appreciate your concern but if I wanted to stop I would have left by myself long ago." She pulled away from me. "I'm comfortable with you and if I'm ever not comfortable I promise to tell you."

I relaxed, and she settled back into me.

"I've always been one to be overly cautious… you know? I just don't want to mess this up because I really care about you and I'd hate to fuck it up…"

"We…" she paused. "I think we just need to be completely honest, yeah? If we do that we'll be okay. Even if it's hard we have to do our best."

"Thats… yeah. Uhm… haha…" I laughed at myself. "I still feel like I'm gonna wake up anyminute crying because it's all fake." My heart ached. Why couldn't I just accept it?

Lapis sat up. "Why?"

"Cause nothing this good ever happens to me." I murmured, blinking back a tear. "Sorry… it's really stupid I jus-"

But I was silenced by gentle lips on mine. It stayed like that for a moment until she pulled back and we opened our eyes for them to meet. "L-Lapis?"

"I'll convince you it's real." She whispered, cupping my cheek and giving another soft, meaningful kiss. She moved from my lips to my opposite cheek and nuzzled into my neck while her hands ran through my hair. "We are here. We are together. We're an us. Believe it, Peridot."

I smiled.

"I believe you, Lapis."

"And we're gonna be alright."

[bellarkefanfiction]

Let Your Heart Be Right 

2 Sleeps until Christmas ❄

written by: Josefine / @selflessbellamy

summary: Two people who have a one night stand are snowed-in and have to spend Christmas Eve together.

word count: 2231

Though Clarke hasn’t had the most colorful sex life, she’s fairly certain that it’s not common to have hot chocolate before a one night stand — Nevermind the fact that there was a bit of alcohol in the beverage; it’s still weird, but in a good kind of way. The stranger’s dark eyes had a dreamy look to them, which drew her in faster than she anticipated. For some reason, she’d been set on playing hard to get, tease him a little bit before taking him home, yet that’s not how the night turned out. And now, he — Bellamy, she recalls — is lying next to her in bed, sleeping soundly on his stomach, which would’ve been an unsettling sight if she didn’t remember telling him to stay last night.

Not because she would’ve been lonely otherwise. Bellamy, she discovered, is actually great fucking company. He made her laugh out loud with weird, sarcastic jokes that were right up her alley and at some point she just had to know if the chemistry that she was feeling between them would intensify in bed.

Spoiler alert: it did.

After a couple of minutes, being the only one awake becomes a little boring, so she pokes his foot with hers, causing him to grunt. “Jesus, your feet are like blocks of ice. Put some fuzzy socks on them, dammit,” but she only chuckles.

Then he slowly opens his eyes, his long eyelashes fluttering a bit. When a warm smile grows on his lips, she feels heat rise to her cheeks without warning. “Thanks for last night, Princess… Hope you had fun.”

Clarke laughs and dares to run her hand up his spine. “Don’t worry, you know I did. Do you want breakfast before you leave? Coffee? Oh my God, we need coffee.”

At that, his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I thought you told me last night that you can’t cook?”

She huffs. “It’s microwavable oatmeal, Bellamy. It’s not that difficult.”

Chuckling, he moves out of bed, giving her a nice view of his ass as he stands to pull his boxer briefs back on. Although she tries to be discreet about looking, he catches her and winks. Then, he questions, “What’s with the frown? Were you hoping for a second round?”

“You weren’t?”

Licking his lower lip, Bellamy seems to think about it for a minute before he reminds her that that’s not exactly how one night stands work, and she rolls her eyes. Even though she admittedly isn’t the most experienced person when it comes to casual sex, she did have a few hookups in college until she started dating Finn.

Out of habit, Clarke turns on the radio in the kitchen to listen to some music while she “prepares” the microwavable oatmeal. Before she can switch on Bluetooth, however, a radio news host has something important to say.

“A lot of new yorkers seem to have had quite the surprise this morning, because a sudden yet powerful blizzard last night has left most of the city covered in a thick layer of snow. Some buildings have also experienced problems with electricity. This is bound to cause a lot of unpredictable issues for people who wanted to spend Christmas Eve away from home.”

Bellamy looks at her, his brow furrowed in confusion, but then his eyes widen as the realization appears to dawn on him.

“Are we… snowed in, do you think?”

Right away, they go down to check the front door of the apartment building, and yeah… the snow has it blocked, sealed shut so that not even a man as strong as Bellamy is able to push it open. After his fifth try, Clarke sighs, “Come on. It’s not gonna work. Let’s just go back and listen to the news. See if any help is coming soon.”

But of course not. It’s Christmas Eve day, meaning that no one is around to operate the machines that can clear the snow. As the morning progresses with little promising news, Bellamy and Clarke — two strangers who were just looking for a hookup before Christmas — flop onto the couch with heavy sighs. “Who are you spending the day with tomorrow?” she asks, turning to look at him, and he offers her a tiny smile.

“Friends from college… Not the TV-show, though. That would be too depressing.”

In spite of everything, those words manage to make her laugh, but then he asks her the same question and she frowns again. “I don’t know,” is her admission. “My mom doesn’t celebrate the holiday anymore, and… she’s the—she’s the only family I have left.”

Wow, this got heavy real fast. Yet somehow Clarke had the feeling that she wouldn’t be able to lie to Bellamy; he has this empathetic spark in his eyes, which has her believing that he’d be able to see right through her — through anybody, as a matter of fact. Some people have that gift. Wells and her dad had it, too, but they’re both gone.

Carefully, Bellamy reaches out to touch her shoulder. If she didn’t know better, it’d be easy to forget that she had sex with him last night and that he is actually a stranger as opposed to someone who’s known her for years — at least long enough to know what soothes her. Then, to her utter surprise, he replies, his voice quiet, “My friends are the only family I have… You want some hot chocolate? I’ll make it for you.”

Clarke manages a slight smile at his offer. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

There was no forgettable aspect of last night, his hot chocolate included. Still, even though she kindly asks for it, he refuses to give her a copy of his recipe, stating that it’s a “Christmas secret,” which is most certainly bullshit but she’ll let him get away with it, if only because he lets her taste it off the spoon after he’s stirred it all together in the pot.

Closing her eyes at the taste, nostalgia hits her like a train. Of course, it’s not a complete replica of the hot chocolate her dad used to make, but it has the same amazing richness. “That’s delicious…”

He beams at her, pours the beverage into her two Christmas-themed mugs; one of them has Rudolf on it, the other a snowman and she remembers them from her childhood. “Are you a marshmallow person? It’s crucial information. You didn’t have any last night.” Bellamy states, making her chuckle.

“A couple is okay.”

For some reason she didn’t have him pecked as a person who enjoys adding extra sweetness to hot chocolate, but last night she found out that he puts numerous marshmallows — even more than she does — into his own cup. “I drink black coffee. I need some sugar in my life,” was his reasoning when she’d questioned it. He’d winked at her as he said it, and despite the cheesiness of it, she found his flirting quite endearing.

“Why doesn’t your mom celebrate Christmas? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t—“

Clarke smiles a little. “No, it’s fine. My dad loved Christmas so much; it was his favorite holiday, and that was evident in our house during December — decorations everywhere, jolly music playing all day, but he died a few years ago and my mom’s heart hasn’t… well, she can’t bring herself to enjoy it anymore. I’ve tried to tell her that that isn’t what dad would’ve wanted, but… um.”

Before she can tear up, Bellamy moves a piece of her behind her ear, distracting her with his gentleness. When she asks him about why he only celebrates Christmas with his friends, he tells her that his parents passed away many years ago and that he’s estranged from his little sister, which makes her feel sad for a moment until he shrugs. “Well, my friends are amazing. They’re the only family I need. You’d like them… Hey.”

At his sudden change of voice that clearly indicates that an idea has formed in his mind, Clarke chuckles.

“You could join us tomorrow! I’m sure they won’t mind. If we ever get out of here, that is.”

In spite of the kindness of the proposal, she still isn’t sure. “Bellamy, we met last night. We had sex, you don’t think your friends will find it a bit weird if I join your little Christmas celebration?” He had been the one to draw up the unwritten rules of the one night stand a couple hours ago, and she’s pretty sure that you’re not supposed to extend the time you spend with your hookup for longer than necessary, but right now they don’t have a choice. Tomorrow they might — and he’s going to decide to introduce her to his friends? Seems a bit untraditional. Still, he appears unfazed by it, shrugging.

“We don’t have to mention the sex. I’ll just tell them that you’re a friend that I haven’t told them about.”

She grins. “Are you a good liar?”

“No, I’m terrible.”

At that deadpan response, Clarke throws her head back in warm laughter. “Well, we’ll be just fine then.”

To her surprise, hanging out with Bellamy for the rest of the day is far from awkward. Last night in the bar she’d recognized that they had chemistry from the moment their eyes found one another, but she never guessed that spending the day with him would be so… natural. Because they’re tired of hearing the same messages on the radio regarding the blizzard, they turn it off and decide to watch the worst Christmas movies on Netflix together, just to laugh at the horrible scripts and bland plotlines. In the end, it proves to be a very good way of passing time, because when the second bad movie is done, the sky outside has been dressed in black velvet.

“Are you hungry? I can make us something,” Bellamy offers while she tries not to fixate on how his fingers have inched closer to her thigh.

“I think I have some pasta in the fridge. And some wine.”

At the last part, Bellamy’s smile grows to a bright grin. “Perfect, Princess.”

Oh, right. The nickname… It had started last night in the because of the tiny crown that’s glued to the top of her iPhone. To her relief, he didn’t call her ‘baby’ like Finn loved to do; it’s safe to say that she likes this pet name better somehow. One thing she neglected to tell Bellamy last night is that right before she went into the bar, she’d thrown her old engagement ring into the sewer — after two months, she was sick of holding onto it, even though she wasn’t wearing it. Now that there’s a nice, handsome man cooking dinner in her kitchen and humming the melody of ‘Last Christmas’ the decision to let go of the past couldn’t be more liberating.

“How much cheese do you want on your pasta?” Bellamy asks, causing her to chuckle a little.

“LOTS.”

And that’s what she gets. Honestly, he is amazing. Finally, a person who understands with the perfect sauce-to-cheese ratio is without having to ask. Though he could probably be a cook (he could certainly cook for her anytime), he’s already told her that he’s a freelance journalist and historian.

Basically, out of all the people in the bar that night she definitely chose to talk to the right one. This is especially true when you consider that he’s invited her to spend Christmas morning with him and his friends, just so that she won’t be alone.

Then a thought hits her. “Does you inviting me to celebrate Christmas with you tomorrow mean that you want to continue seeing me? Or did I… misunderstand? Are you just being the nicest person ever, and I—“

Blood rushes to her cheeks in embarrassment, but then he releases a warm laugh as he grabs her hand. When his eyes meet hers, there are thousands of twinkling sparks within the dark brown shades of them, which makes relief surge through her. A smile pulling at his lips, Bellamy replies, “If I didn’t want to continue seeing you, I probably wouldn’t have approached you in the bar at all. My days of casual sex have been over since college, but I was willing to do it if you didn’t want more than that.”

“But you didn’t wanna sleep with me again this morning,” she says, a skeptic eyebrow raised.

Grinning, Bellamy moves his hands up in defense. “Okay, I admit it. I was trying to play hard to get. It didn’t work, did it?”

“No, but your Christmas invitation did.”  

His grin morphs into a confident smirk as he puts his arm around her shoulders, but they haven’t been sitting like that for long before he challenges her at a game of cards, which is another thing that reminds her of the Christmases she had while her dad was alive. Every time she glances at Bellamy he beams, golden like the sun — and she is brought to think that tomorrow will be the best Christmas she’s had in years.

(Luckily, it is far from the last one they get to spend together)

[quatschmachen]

375.3

Here is the actual next part hehehe

XXX

Crisp around them, the air snuck in between their bodies, desperate hands fumbling up Ed’s shirt, his back pressed against the brick wall of the alley. Their dance had moved outside, where the other desperate couples were engaging in their drunken passions. Shivers sparked down Ed’s spine as Étienne’s soft lips pressed against his throat, soft kisses moving up towards his ear, the briefest of touches against his ear, then against his cheek, a light teasing kiss on the top of his nose, and finally, sensually, slowly, lips met lips, a chaste kiss with the burgeoning promise of more.  Teasingly Étienne lightly bit upon Ed’s lower lip, as if asking for permission for more, and willingly, Ed opened his mouth allowing the kiss to deepen.  A kiss so familiar yet strange, different, foreign, and where before the new had excited him something did not feel quite… right. Pushing this thought out of his mind, he grinded his erection up against Étienne, moaning softly as the man responded in kind, sexual electricity buzzing between them. Étienne’s hand was behind Ed’s neck, and upon his ass, pulling him closer as if the support of the wall was insufficient for the distance between their bodies, the soft sounds of pleasure coming from him filling the air, mingling with the gasps and cries of the other people around them in the alley pursuing the same course of action. Lifting his leg slightly, wrapping it around Étienne’s so that their grinding could become more intimate, Ed realized with some amazement the feeling that was coursing through him.

Guilt. A mixture of guilt, the soft doubts of how much Calvin agreed to some one-time card, the expectation that he would in fact cheat, apparently a man with no self control, some inevitable action of betrayal. Was this really what he had become? Some puppet in Étienne’s game of lust? Swooning like some virgin maiden into the other man’s arms whenever he was near, some sort of animal in heat? Falling into Étienne like some old habit, one he had worked so hard to quit only to fall back into his embrace? Is this how he wanted to be conducting his relationship with Calvin, with some spectre of him falling into another man’s arms at any moment, Calvin standing to the side like some sort of alien saint? It was a startling realization that he realized the answer was a resounding /no/.

Étienne’s hand had moved from his neck, and was drifting down with purpose, fingers fumbling against his zipper, intent clear.

Goddamit, Ed thought realizing that if there was to be any change it would have to be at this very moment, when his entire body was screaming in lust, in desire, in wanting a sexual release. He knew that if he gave in now, tonight would be a night of giving in over and over again, submitting himself to his past, a past he was trying to put behind him. Taking a deep breath, mustering every bit of gumption left in the fiber of his being he mumbled, “Et—no…” softly he placed his hand on the wrist pressing against him, “We need to stop.”

“Huhhnn?” Étienne’s breathing was heavy, his actions barely pausing, “Mmnn?”

Realizing that he needed to be more forceful, Ed’s fingers dug into Étienne’s arm, “Stop… please…”

Finally stilling, as if an off switch had been activated, Étienne pulled away, resting his forehead against Ed’s and looking into his eyes in puzzlement, “What is it? Are you alright? Is the location not what you want?” he smiled slightly, his voice dropping suggestively, “You want to go back to my place to fully engage, in private?” At this he once more pressed his erection against Ed’s, the suggestion obvious. “I can really make you feel good tonight...”

The action nearly made Ed lose any resolve of being good, the suggestion delicious and his body seemed to be pushing forward memories of many such past events, events where his body felt like a limp noodle in the morning passed out atop Étienne, face resting nestled in his neck...

<Get yourself together, slut,> Ed mentally slapped himself shaking himself free of those thoughts, <You can have mind blowing sex when you get home in three days! Guilt free.> The idea of being able to look Calvin in the eye knowing he had not fucked up managed to strengthen his resolve.

Working hard to regulate his breathing, calm his body down, Ed responded, “N-no not that… please... just... let me go... I... I’ve changed my mind…” he realized he wouldn’t look into Étienne’s eye as he said the next part, and like the coward he was averted his gaze, “I can’t do this with you… not… not anymore.”

“Oh.” It was soft, as if he had been punched in the gut, the sound almost inaudible due to the couple beside them moaning in frenzy, however he did not move. “Is it something I’ve done?” The confusion was thick in his voice, and if Ed didn’t know him any better, he sounded almost wounded.

Giving his head a slight shake, Ed took another breath, a soft laugh, “No it’s nothing you’ve done… can you please let me go?”

“Uh, yeah…”  Étienne slowly removed his hands, and stepped away, taking in a couple deep breaths as if to calm down his own passions, “Alright.” Fumbling a bit in his pant pocket, he pulled out a package of cigarettes, and held them out to Ed with unspoken offer.

Knowing he shouldn’t, Ed took one anyway, glad for anything to distract him from wanting to say to hell with everything and fall back into the other old habit. Lighting his cigarette, Étienne gently pressed the lit end against Ed’s, the act familiar like his kiss.

Ed knew he should probably say something more, he could feel the burning questions sliding off Étienne like oil, knew that if he didn’t it would bother him. “God, I must be getting soft, here I am making out with you and all I am thinking about is my man back home…” he took another drag, and looked up at the patch of sky glimmering between the buildings, “I guess I must actually be in love, hmm?” here he slid a cautious look to Étienne, who was stonily standing beside him looking at the couple who had progressed much farther than they had beside them.

Quickly looking away, Ed sighed, “Sorry for leading you on like this… who would have thought I would get monogamous, hmm?”

Still, Étienne maintained his silence as if processing the words, the cigarette hanging on his lips as an effective prop, however, as the couple beside them reached some sort of sexual completion (it could be assumed from the desperate sounds they were making), he finally looked back at Ed, his expression still unreadable, “Well, it’s nice to get some air anyway,” Étienne said after taking another long drag, his hands slightly shaking, “I mean it was getting stuffy in there anyway.”

Relieved that he was not going to push things further, and feeling a little too grateful Ed nodded, “Mmyeah. It’s been a while since I danced like that, surprised I still knew how to.”

“It’s like riding a bike I think?”

“If you say so…” this was probably not the best conversation shared between them in their lives, but it was distracting enough to let them finish their cigarettes in peace. “Hey, thanks for scaring off Ludovico for me, I was getting worried I would have to actually fuck him at the end of the night.”

“You mean you weren’t planning to?” the question came out amused, “Why were you leading him on then?”

Giving him a playful bap on the arm, Ed responded, “Oh you know, maybe I only wanted to raise fifty percent hell and not the full hundred?”

“Hmm…” stubbing his cigarette out under his shoe, Étienne looked back towards the door of the club, stretching lazily “I suppose I should go back in… it would be ridiculous to not get laid on my birthday.”

For some reason the words stung, but Ed supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Usually he was the easy lay, the one Étienne had fallen in bed with when he was too lazy to bother with anyone else. Perhaps it was because he had scared off Ludovico he had managed to fool himself to thinking that maybe Étienne had been wanting to get him on his own… An idealistic thought, an idiotic thought, but how easily Étienne was shrugging off the situation was acting like some vice upon his heart. Of course Étienne would react this way, of course he would go pursue a quarry that would put out. He had literally just sexually rejected him, so of course Étienne would cut his losses, move on. If there was one merit of him, it was the fact he never pushed where he was not wanted. This was the right decision… so why was he suddenly feeling so crappy making it?

Perhaps it was because he had been silent for too long, but Étienne frowned and directly looked at Ed. Noticing his rather miserable expression, Étienne tilted his head, “Alright, I give. Why are you looking as if you stepped into your own funeral?”

Snapping to attention feeling embarrassed at being caught out like that, Ed managed a rather fake laugh, “Oh no, I’m fine. You go and get someone into your bed, maybe the cute bartender?” He hated how his throat seemed to close up, as if he wanted to just suddenly cry. What the hell was with this onslaught of emotions? Was it because he had drunk too much? Perhaps he should just return to the hotel room and sleep it off.

“She sure was cute, hmmn I don’t think she’s that interested.”

Ed shifted making sure that Étienne could not see his face as he responded, “Well, anyways I think I’m going to get back to the hotel now... if Vernon asks, you can let him know that’s where I went.” His voice wavered on the last word and clenching his fist he dug his nails into his palm hoping the pain would get him through this sudden ordeal, so that Étienne could go fuck off back to the club.

“Sure thing…” Étienne was not fucking off, instead he was continuing to stand there, his breathing almost a little too loud, gently, he lay his hand on Ed’s shoulder turning him so that they were face to face, “Can I just say thank you for coming? It wouldn’t have been the same without you – hey wait a moment.” A little more forcefully Étienne shifted Ed so that the dim light from the main road fell on his face revealing the unshed tears in his eyes, “Wh- are you crying!? Are you alright? Do I need to phone the hospital?”

Taking in a huge gulp, which resulted in him dropping the stub of his cigarette, Ed tore himself away and furiously wiped his eyes, “Oh my god Étienne you don’t need to phone the hospital for something so stupid, I am just being a terrible idiot and you should just go back into the club… I will be fine.”

“Why are you crying!?” Étienne’s voice was slightly strangled, and the couple beside them attempted to cover the awkwardness of the situation by moaning even louder.

“No reason! I just got dust in my eye, I’m gonna go now, I think I might need to puke,” desperate to escape, Ed shoved past the couple aiming for the main street, quickly running out. Behind him he was relieved not to hear pursuit, and he began to slow down as he turned the corner. Breathing heavily, he leant against a lamppost trying to compose himself. That was so embarrassing just cracking up, and why the fuck was he still crying? Perhaps it was the realization that he hadn’t really ever meant anything to Étienne and there was some stupid small part that had continued to pine, even though he was in a perfectly good relationship with Calvin, who had demonstrated to him in numerous ways what it meant to be in a relationship with someone who outwardly cared about you and put your needs as a priority.

Sinking down onto his haunches, tucking his head down between his knees in an attempt to stop crying, to stop the idiotic sobs bubbling out of his throat, he was being so stupid, such an idiot. Head in his hands he desperately searched for the reason, the thought that perhaps he was finally able to mourn that imaginary relationship he had built upon the other man, the intimate relationship that got him through those long drab days when he was home, where he could drift into some imaginary relationship, one that had never existed in the way he had wanted it. As he thought this the tears came harder, the sobs coming out in those small choking gasps where he was trying desperately to suck in the air as fast as it seemed to be spilling out of him.

“YOU ARE CRYING!”

The voice startled him, causing him to lose balance and fall forward smashing his face into the pavement.

“Ed!” strong hands lifted him up, and he found himself gazing into the very worried eyes of Étienne.

“W-why did you follow me?” Ed managed to say thickly, mortified and wanting to sink into oblivion.

“Uh well, because you seemed upset?” Gently Étienne felt Ed’s face for injury, his fingertips lightly brushing against his skin, a soft touch against the wet cheeks, which Ed had begun to lean into as if he had been living a life starved of touch, “Look… there is no way I can seduce some cute bartender worrying about you crying in the middle of the street; do you want to get a coffee or something?”

“Uhnn??” Pulling away a little too quickly, and standing up, he swayed slightly in dizziness, and once more leant against the pole, “Don’t you need a birthday booty call, Étienne?” The question perhaps came out a little more acidic than he intended, but at the moment he was focused on trying not to die of embarrassment to care.

Standing up, but more slowly, Étienne responded wryly, “I have a whole year to fulfill that promise, Ed… plus I am sure I have already had sufficient birthday booties throughout my lifetime…”

“No no, I’m fine… I don’t want to ruin your birthday, I’m just being silly,” came the weak protest.

“Hmmnn I think Joe’s will be open, plus they have food which is convenient because I am suddenly very hungry,” grabbing Ed by the arm Étienne began to march them in the direction of Joe’s Panini. “Don’t drag your feet, can’t keep the birthday boy waiting, right?”

Giving up on the idea of running away, Ed nodded, “Right.”

After about a block, when it had been determined Ed was not going to flee, the grip on the arm loosened, his hand sliding down to grasp Ed’s lightly, “Do you care to enlighten me?”

“There are many topics on which I could do so,” Ed responded, having gotten his crying under control.

Giving him a rather inscrutable glance, Étienne frowned, “You don’t have to, I guess.”

“Honestly? I have no idea why I started to cry…” Ed trailed off attempting to figure out how much to tell, or explain away. Almost as if searching for a distraction he threaded his fingers with Étienne’s enjoying the warm feel of his hand, it was rare that they had ever shared such an innocent touch. When Étienne continued to be silent, Ed looked up into the murky glow of the sky, and said, “Perhaps I realized we can’t go back to… whatever we were. Things have changed so much.”

“Hmm?” Étienne’s grip tightened slightly.

“I mean, you know, I have Calvin now, and I guess in some ways I don’t need you anymore as I did? I mean I guess I was using you as some sort of emotional crutch and let things get too far,” he paused wondering how much more he should say, suddenly feeling embarrassed. It was rare he was so candid with Étienne, perhaps the more open conversations with Calvin were having an effect. “But I am glad we can be friends…” he gave Étienne’s hand a little squish, “Even if we do have such a sordid past.” It was hard to tell the other man’s expression in the dimly lit street, and deciding that it was now or never he added on, “I suppose I was mourning a relationship that never was? Like I suppose in the past I built up some sort of fantasy boyfriend around you – I know, ridiculous, god this is so embarrassing, so when I actually got one it was a fucking shock. Hmmnnn how do I say this…” he paused not sure what words to say, thinking that the alcohol had really loosened his tongue, “Perhaps I was like a baby bird imprinting on the first person who was kind to me in that way?” he gave a soft laugh at the thought, “I like that… you were my mama goose into the land of sinning… oh jeez I just realized I was Calvin’s first… well hopefully he won’t smarten up and still tolerate me for a while yet!”

Étienne’s grip on his hand had gotten uncomfortably tight, but Ed was not sure how to bring this up, wondering if perhaps the other man was thinking what he was saying was idiotic, inwardly laughing at his innocent country boy thoughts, thoughts of fluff and romance, some sort of ideal relationship.

“Ah well, at least I never had to openly express it with you, god, wouldn’t you have run a mile if I showed up with a bunch of flowers proclaiming my love?” here Ed gave a chuckle, the idea deeply amusing him, “For sure wouldn’t be invited to your birthday, I could just see it now, you running a mile to escape the love of some boy from the country, my homemade jam sticky with my finger prints tossed in for good measure…” Here he gave another laugh, wondering why Étienne was not laughing, and glad when he noticed the restaurant in sight, he broke the odd tension with, “Oh hey, we’re here.”

Entering the brightly lit establishment, the music drowned out any need for a response, and Ed’s appetite seemed to appear from nowhere. “You were right, perhaps all I needed was food, uh hey, can you let go of my hand? I don’t think I can feel my fingers anymore.”

As if snapping out of some sort of reverie, Étienne released his grip, watching as Ed took a step forward to look at the menu.

Behind him Étienne stared at the back of Ed’s head, attempting to tamp down the surge of unexpected emotions that were swirling like a dangerous vortex inside of him. Glancing back to him, Ed asked, “What are you getting? I’ll pay… get you back for the drink earlier.”

Trying to cover up the fact that he was suffering an upsurge of emotion, Étienne hastily chose something, not worried since everything here tasted good. “I’ll get us a seat.”

“Sounds good,” giving a mini salute, Ed moved up in line and placed their orders.

Settling down at the table, Étienne glanced around, noticing that as usual, there was a harried student studying with a thousand books laid out around them. Wasn’t school over yet? He mused, but perhaps it was a spring course?

The food was made in record time, and Ed carried a tray with their paninis and large coffees. “To sober up,” he explained as he sat down, looking a little more relaxed, he took a giant bite of his. “Mmm!!! This is divine.”

“Of course, I would never recommend a subpar restaurant to you,” Étienne scoffed as he bit into his meal.

Swallowing, Ed raised a cheeky brow at him, “You sure? Don’t you remember that one time you wanted to take me to that brand-new restaurant that had good reviews, and we managed to get everything burnt and a rubber glove in the cake?”

Shuddering, Étienne frowned, “Don’t remind me… anyways I thought we vowed never to speak of that incident again?”

“Oh right, my lips are sealed… around this panini,” with that, Ed began to eat in earnest.

“Mmhmm,” Étienne responded working to drown the vortex of feelings into his own food. Why the heck had Ed been crying? The explanation somehow seemed unsatisfactory, he felt that Ed was keeping something from him. It was rare that he ever saw the man cry, so to have him blubber like that… however he was not sure how he could actually bring up the topic again, since Ed had managed to efficiently shift the situation. Plus it did not help that the words Ed had said had seemed to cut like knives. Why the hell wouldn’t he want some cute country boy showing up with flowers and jam? Was he so fucking off-putting that the idea of someone romancing him and proclaiming love was such an absurd idea? Yet… to be honest… Ed was completely right. If he had done that early on in their… uh... friendship he would have completely shut it down, fled the country, changed his name and address. But later on? After about ten years or so, when their friendship had seemed to deepen into some undefined more? Would he have reacted the same way? Or… would he have been more favourable? Perhaps it would hinge on how good the jam was.

Deciding this would be a good joke, he lightly said, “Oh you know, about the whole wooing me Ed, perhaps it would depend on how good the jam was? I mean if it was garbage I would of course have to turn it down…”

Nearly choking, Ed took a moment to recover, his eyes wide, swallowing, he finally managed to respond with a shy smile, “Oh? I suppose I never told you… but…” here he squirmed slightly in his seat in some sort of strange embarrassment, “I totally made you eat my jam... you know when I claimed it was from the farmer’s market? You know… whenever I visited? When I took up jam making in the late nineties it was actually all made by me… like that blackberry jam? That was freshly picked on a berry excursion and made the same day… you seemed to be having a foodgasm consuming it… so I think I would have had a fair chance.”

Putting on a shocked expression, so that Ed could not know that Calvin had outed him ages ago (of which he had spent a large chunk of time agonizing over why the hell Ed would not fess up to making jam as if it was some dark secret), Étienne managed to respond, “Whaaatttt? You have been making jam all along and not telling me!? Why would you keep this a secret?!”

Turning bright red, Ed shrugged, “Oh, y’know…”

“No I don’t actually, please enlighten me.”

Taking a bite of his sandwich to stall time, Ed was suddenly looking everywhere but him. Realizing that Étienne was prepared to wait all night for an answer though, Ed rolled his eyes, and finally responded, “Alright, because I assumed you would think it was lame that when I was at home I spent my time making pastries and jam?”

“P-Pastries as well?”

“Uh…. Well… it’s cheaper to make them at home?” Ed frowned, “I mean don’t you cook when I’m not around?”

Étienne shifted uncomfortably, “Ed… whenever you visited you would always be the person buying groceries… when did you ever open my fridge and not find take out?”

“Uh… never? Oh my god, you really can’t cook?”

Looking up towards the ceiling as if trying to call upon the Saint Philipe, patron saint of bagels, Étienne sighed, “Look I even managed to set water on fire once… it was not a good time.”

“Oh my gosssh,” laughing, Ed was unable to eat, and whenever he thought he was done laughing, Ed would start up again.

Embarrassment creeping up his neck, Étienne decided to hastily change the subject. “How are things with Calvin?”

“Oh, you want to know the ins and outs of domestic bliss?” Ed rolled his eyes, “Are you sure you won’t get too bored?”

“Surprise me,” came the challenge.

“Right… so… I have currently moved into Calvin’s because I am getting my house renovated, you know so it’s mostly off the grid with geothermal heating,” Ed became more animated as he began to go into the ins and outs of his home renovation, a spark in his eye that Étienne realized he had missed.  Ed’s actions were getting bigger as he went into more detail concerning how he was going to insulate his house using bottles on the south facing side. He was not even surprised that Ed was knocking down his old bungalow to build some deluxe ecofriendly mansion (well from what it sounded like it was going to be a mansion.)  Quite literally Ed was building a future without him, one that no longer meant he was going to be a big feature, and the thought instead of cheering him up felt bittersweet. In a way, it felt like his own future was being stolen away from him. Get a grip, he thought, you are being an idiot. Your future is here, at home. Not in some weird chicken cult out west (Ed had moved on to describe how wonderful his new chicken coop was going to be with probably a little too much enthusiasm about the recycled pressed wood it was going to be built out of.)

“So using the government rebate, my house should become one of the greenest in the area!”

“Are you going to literally paint your house green?”

“Ew no of course not, can’t be mistaken for a Roughriders fan.”

Laughing at this unexpected answer, Étienne rolled his eyes, “What colour then?”

“Hmmnnn still undecided…”

“You are getting your house rebuilt and you don’t know the colour?”

“Well I am leaning more towards a blue?”

“What, with an orange door for the Oilers?” Étienne joked.

A thoughtful expression crossed Ed’s face, “That might work actually.”

“Uh if that ever happens please count me out from ever visiting… can’t be seen in such a cult to the Oilers.”

“Excuuuuseeee me? How many times have you found me in your own weird bedroom shrine to the Habs? I expect the same damn respect here.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Oh my god you’re being stubborn…” having finished his sandwich, Ed leant back in his chair, and sipped his coffee.  “Eh who says you’ll get an invitation anyway? Maybe I’m only making jam for two now…”

“What? You are going to spend the next thousand years of your life not inviting me to your house?”

Waggling his eyebrows suggestively Ed responded, “Thousand-year honeymoon period with Calvin y’know? Don’t think you want to hear the hot sex happening all over the house 24/7.”

“Ew no. Maybe you’re right in not inviting me.”

“Mmhmm.” Setting his empty cup down, Ed glanced to the clock, “I should be getting back to the hotel now, thanks for sticking with me… I should let you get back to the clubs so you can pick up your birthday booty.”

“Ed… the clubs are going to close soon…” Étienne responded, “By the time I find one I like it will be too late… eh. Why don’t we call it a night? I’ll walk you back to the hotel.”

“Uhmmm? That’s like a half hour walk? And then you have to walk back to your place?? You out of your mind?”

Étienne smirked, “Or we could just go back to my place? I won’t touch you, scout’s honour.”

“Right, and then spend an hour walking to your place? My legs are tired, all we’ve been doing is walking.”

“There are such things called Ubers…”

“No offense, but I feel like going to your place would be like entering the lion’s den,” Ed shrugged, “Old habits right? I think it’s best if I just head back to the hotel.”

“Then stop complaining and let me walk you there?”

“What, you walk me there like some tender young girl, and then you walk back home only to be mugged?”

“Ed… have you ever stopped to consider that perhaps I am enjoying catching up with you?”

Mouth silently forming words, Ed finally responded, “O-oh. I hadn’t considered that… well if you are so insistent, you may walk me home, prince.”

“Good.” Standing up they took their dishes to the front and left. The evening had taken on a more chilly turn.

“Mm, should we get a taxi or something?”

“I said walk.” Étienne responded, knowing he was being idiotic about this… but he was worried that after tonight he wouldn’t be able to have the same amount of time with Ed again. He wanted to drag it out.

“Fine, fine, if I faint you will have to carry me then.”

“Accepted.” As if to prevent Ed from fainting Étienne once more grasped Ed’s hand, entwining their fingers, “I’ll hold your hand in case you faint.”

“Oh, how gallant of you.”

He was being idiotic he knew, but as they walked, their pace unhurried, he could pretend that they were as they had been, the vestige of the past. Hands together he could pretend that they did have the promise of further intimacy between them, where their relationship hung in that delicious middle, words unspoken, where he had been considering Ed to be his equal, where there had been that gut longing that had the possibility of being answered. Of course at the time he had been too busy pretending he didn’t have feelings to acknowledge it, and it was only now when it was too late to do anything about it that he finally understood what it had all been about. Now when Ed had fully moved on in his life, no longer needed him as he had.

Their conversation drifted, and almost unwittingly they passed the hotel entirely, enjoying each other’s company too much to end it so abruptly. Somehow, in a manner that was never quite clear when he thought back on it, they had overshot it and ended up at the old port sitting on a bench gazing out at the water, the light of the city blaring against the clouds in the sky in a soft golden hue which scattered every now and then to reveal a shy star.

“Ahh did I tell you that we joined a local baseball league?”

“We?”

“Mmm me and Calvin... it was his idea originally, I was a little resistant but y’know once he put on the pants that really emphasized his butt and those long socks, figured there wasn’t much to lose… hold on.” Ed took out his phone, “I’ll show you a photo… surprised you haven’t seen, I posted it to Facebook… mm here we go.” After a few moments of scrolling he stopped on a photo, with Calvin in the foreground, ass more towards the camera as he posed with the baseball bat across his shoulders, shooting a coquettish look to the photographer (who was obviously Ed), then there was another photo, of Ed standing there a little awkwardly, his outfit a little baggier, bat in hand.

“I didn’t see them because you unfriended me?” Étienne responded.

“Oh? Did I? Must have been a misclick,” Ed glibly lied, as he went and re-friended Étienne, “See? No harm done… now you can keep up on the glorious baseball adventures. Honestly, I was just going to volunteer to be water boy, but y’know… Calvin managed to convince me how rewarding actually playing could be.”

“Mmm… can’t blame him for insisting. You look good dressed up as a ball player.”

“Why thank you, I do sometimes clean up well,” Ed gave an enormous yawn and put his phone back into his pocket, “God, I could fall asleep right here.”

Almost as if by mistake, Étienne lazily draped his arm around the other man’s shoulders and pulled him in, “I’ll keep watch while you catch a couple winks.”

“That’s silly, my hotel bed is like... six minutes away…” here Ed gave another yawn as he snuggled up into Étienne, his protest weak, and it only took a moment for him to pass out.

Sitting there, Étienne gazed down, feeling somewhere around his chest constrict; as if to make sure the other man was asleep he bent his head down, and gently kissed him on the forehead, before betraying his claim entirely, and resting his head upon Ed’s, comfortably drifting off to sleep himself.

[domina-alba]

Seditionis Adamas

XXIX “I mean the cake sounds delicious, but is there some kind of cultural importance to Lisa and Archamicarus getting married? I mean... their friendship in the books seemed like it was unshakeable. Why was that extra step necessary?” Domina practically shuffled her feet through the sand in an effort not to outpace either Connie or Steven. Connie frowned and adjusted the bag she was carrying with the quartz sword stuck out of the top.

“Pandering in an attempt to create a marketable book. Regardless of whether it makes sense when compared to the text’s previous anti-establishment themes.” Connie said. Steven shrugged.

“Well... yeah, but they really liked each other. ”

“So?” Domina asked, baffled. Connie waved her free hand dismissively and directed a small smile at Steven.

“Steven loves schmaltz,” She said. Steven puffed his chest.

“Yeah, I do!” He said.

“Whatever,” Domina said, shaking her head. “Anyway, now I’m back to reading the journals.”

“Didn’t you say you weren’t ever going to look at those again?” Connie asked. Domina shrugged awkwardly.

“I say a lot of things.”

“Are you practicing with us today?” Steven asked, starting up the steps to the beach house.

“Maybe, depends if The Renegade actually wants me around.” Domina reached forward to open the door for them, only to have the handle move as The Renegade opened it from the other side.

“You don’t have to call me that.” She said, stepping out on to the porch.

“Afternoon, ma’am!” Connie said.

“Connie! I hope you two are ready. It’s looking like it will be quite a group.” The Renegade said, looking at Domina. “I was wondering if we could... talk.” She asked. Domina looked at The Renegade, looked at Steven and Connie, then back to the pearl.

“I...guess?”

“Excellent! I was hoping I could ask you a favor.”

****

Checking in on the ship had become somewhat of a habit. Not that there was much to do on that front, but until her Diamond reformed, Yellow Pearl really didn’t have anything else to do. She clearly wasn’t welcome in whatever Blue was planning. And she certainly couldn’t attach herself to Domina. The diamond had made it clear she was uncomfortable having Yellow wait on her, and that she would look foolish doing so. Attempting to associate with the permafusion and the off-color amethyst would probably end badly.

So, to the ship she went. Pumpkin often followed her around and the lapis lazuli and peridot seemed to tolerate her presence, though she tried to remain as unobtrusive as possible.  Yellow Pearl returned to the beach house early that day, hoping to find a sunny spot on the hill above the temple and attempt a nap. When she warped into the beach house however, and saw the group assembled for training, Yellow had the sinking suspicion it wasn’t going to be that easy. Before she could step off the warp pad and quickly make an excuse to leave the room, Domina spotted her.

“Yellow!” She said enthusiastically. Yellow Pearl stumbled back. Domina was smiling, which was not completely out of the ordinary, though usually her smile wasn’t so mischievous. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a matching one on Pink’s face. Oh no.

“Er... yes? Whi- Domina?” Yellow asked.

“I was so excited when I heard that you were going to join in on practice today!”  Domina said.

“What?!” Yellow Pearl went rigid. Who in stars’ name had told her that? She looked at White who just smirked back at her, even Blue was holding her hand in front of her mouth, stifling a grin. Suddenly, there was an arm around her shoulder.

“This is going to be a lot of fun, don’t you think?” Domina said, looking down at her.

“I suppose ‘fun’ is one way to put it, White Diamond.” Yellow Pearl attempted to pull away and Domina quickly withdrew her arm, the smile had faded slightly from her eyes. “But do you really think all of this is,” Yellow looked around at the group, “... appropriate?”  Not that Domina had ever cared about anything being appropriate before.

“Why wouldn’t it be? Don’t you want to learn to fight?” Connie, Steven’s friend, said. Yellow rolled her eyes.

“Pearls aren’t supposed to fight.” Yellow said, though the ridiculousness of that statement in a room with three other pearls who all already knew how to fight was not lost on her one bit. But those pearls didn’t have Diamonds, or ones that cared.

“Neither are Diamonds.” Domina said. Yellow glanced at her and saw the smile had returned, there was much less mischief in it this time around. “If you’re worried about how Yellow Diamond will react then you can say it was an order or something.”  And there it was, her last possible way out of this. Shattered.

“I...” Yellow Pearl sighed. “Very well.”

“Excellent!” Domina said, beaming. Blue smiled at her, stepping up onto the pad and patted her shoulder. Yellow grumbled as the group packed tightly on the warp pad and disappeared into the stream.

Twenty minutes later, Yellow Pearl had confirmed that going along with this had been possibly the worst idea of her life. She didn’t even need to breathe but she was still panting from White’s warm up drills.

“Excellent!” White said, walking in front of them. Yellow swore she had stolen that posture from an agate. It certainly fit the situation. “We’ll pair up. Steven, you work with Blue; Pink, you’re with Domina; and Connie, if you could help Yellow get started, I’ll be stopping in on each group.” Yellow glanced at Connie. Truthfully, she hadn’t interacted much with the human, though from how much White gushed about her, she knew that the human was a competent warrior. That especially had to be true if White was letting her carry the sword of her beloved Rose Quartz.

Still, there was something embarrassing about being taught by a juvenile human. Connie pulled her off to the side of the sky arena. The sword that the human handed her was heavier than it ought to be.

“Alright.” Connie said, striking a ready position that Yellow had seen in the odd melee exhibition she had attended with her Diamond. “Everything begins with your stance.”

****

The sky arena was much different than it had been when Blue Pearl had visited it with her diamond all those centuries ago. Of course, it had been affected by the war. Statues were toppled, and there were superficial cracks in the arena floor. But there was a different energy here now, the smug superiority of the elites that looked forward to seeing the rebellion crushed was no longer present. And neither was the quiet fear of how far Earth’s rebellion had progressed.

Now the visitors to the sky arena were eager and energetic. A gentle breeze ruffled the area as Domina and Pink awkwardly and playfully sparred with Pink latest weapon attempt. This one was a flail, though Blue didn’t think it fit very well.

Yellow was half heartedly going through the basic stances that Connie was trying to teach her while White helped. Though if that was actually helping or if it was just further antagonizing, Yellow was still up in the air. It was good to hear those two arguing again.

Sparring against Steven was enjoyable. Though there was something unnerving about being on the other side of Rose Quartz’s shield.

She had really only learned to summon her axe in the last century or so and she still wasn’t used to the motion’s necessary to wield it effectively. Though, what little skill she did have had certainly been enough to dissipate her diamond when she had been otherwise distracted. Blue Pearl didn’t think she’d be so lucky the next time.

“Nice one!” Steven said from inside a pink bubble. Blue Pearl nodded and lifted the head of her axe back to it’s ready position. A gust of wind flipped her bangs into her eyes and once again Blue considered releasing her physical form just to deal with her hair permanently. She had tried shapeshifting her bangs out of her eyes before, but holding it for that long was exhausting.

“Thank you, Steven.” She said moving into a defensive stance and dodging as Steven attempted to ram her with the shield. He certainly had the power of a regular quartz, if not the mass. They traded blows back and forth for a bit until White insisted on a break for both Steven and Connie, and by extension, Domina. Blue approached Yellow, who had set the sword down and backed away from it.

“I don’t think it’s going to explode.” She said.

“This is ridiculous.” Yellow said, folding her arms and eyeing Blue’s weapon nervously. “I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m obviously not cut out for fighting.”

“Well no, but neither was White at first.” Blue let her axe dissipate and Yellow slightly relaxed.

“White’s different.”

“She does have 5000 years of practice on us.” Blue said. Yellow rolled her eyes.

“Yes, well, not all of us are cut out to betray our diamonds or run off with a quartz.”

“And not all of us are cut out to reprogram unprogrammable technology.” Blue pointed out. Yellow’s mouth snapped shut and she blushed. “Who knows what we’re going back into Yellow,” She said in a more gentle manner, laying a hand on Yellow’s shoulder. “If anything, knowing as much as you can will keep you safe.” Yellow Pearl pulled away from her.

“Like how not letting me into your discussions with the ‘New Rebellion’ will keep me safe,” Yellow asked. Blue bit her lip.

“That’s different.”

“I’m sure.” Yellow said with a frown before walking away. Blue Pearl sighed and let her go. Yet another thing she would have to deal with sooner or later.