#the way your brain could literally rewire itself

[kindred-spirit-93]

crazy to think that the tiniest chemical imbalances of the simplest compounds or even elements can have such diverse & far- reaching effects. the human body truly is a wonder to behold :)

I like the fact that the two most well-known uses for lithium are treating people who are bipolar, and making batteries, which are also bipolar but in a completely different way.

[thecaffeinatedwitch]

The Science Behind the Law of Assumption: Is It Backed by Psychology?

The Law of Assumption sounds almost magical, doesn’t it? Think it, assume it’s yours, and poof—your desires come to life. But let’s bring it down to earth for a moment: is there any real science behind this idea? Spoiler alert: yes, there is. While it’s not wrapped in cosmic glitter, psychology offers some solid evidence for how changing your assumptions can genuinely transform your reality.

So, let’s dive into the psychological nuts and bolts behind the Law of Assumption—and maybe crack a smile along the way.

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT): A Fancy Way of Saying “Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life”

CBT is a superstar in the psychology world. At its core, it’s based on the idea that your thoughts shape your feelings and actions. Sound familiar? It’s essentially the Law of Assumption in a lab coat.

Here’s how it works:

Negative Thought Loop: You think, “I’ll never be good at this,” which makes you feel anxious and unmotivated. Naturally, you avoid the task, and voilà—you prove your own assumption right.

Positive Thought Shift: In CBT, you challenge that belief: “What if I can do this?” That little mental shift changes your actions and eventually your results.

The Law of Assumption takes this principle a step further by saying, “Don’t just question your limiting beliefs—replace them entirely with assumptions of success.”

Example: Instead of “What if I could be confident?” assume, “I am confident.” Yes, it might feel awkward at first, but just like a new pair of shoes, it’ll feel natural the more you wear it.

The Placebo Effect: Proof That Belief Changes Reality

Doctors have known for ages that the placebo effect is real—and honestly, kind of mind-blowing. If you believe a sugar pill is medicine, your body can actually heal as if you’ve taken the real thing.

Think about that for a second. Your belief literally changes your body’s chemistry. Now apply that same concept to your life: if you assume success, love, or abundance is already yours, your brain and body start working in ways that align with that belief.

The Science-y Bit: Your brain releases neurotransmitters and hormones based on your thoughts. Assume positivity, and your brain produces feel-good chemicals like dopamine. That positivity influences your actions, which influences your outcomes. Boom—belief becomes reality.

Example: Assume you’re a charismatic speaker. Your confidence increases, and you speak with ease. People respond positively, reinforcing your assumption. Suddenly, you are that charismatic speaker.

Neuroplasticity: Your Brain, the Ultimate Shape-Shifter

Neuroplasticity is your brain’s ability to rewire itself based on repeated thoughts and experiences. It’s like Play-Doh—but, you know, way more sophisticated.

When you consistently affirm a new assumption, like “I am successful,” your brain builds neural pathways to support that belief. The more you repeat it, the stronger those pathways become, until it’s your brain’s default setting.

Think of it like this:

Repeating “I am successful” is like carving a trail in the woods.

At first, it’s slow-going, and you have to hack through some underbrush (a.k.a. your old limiting beliefs).

But the more you walk that path, the clearer and easier it gets. Eventually, it’s the brain equivalent of a six-lane highway.

Changing Beliefs = Changing Behavior = Changing Reality

Here’s where the science and the Law of Assumption truly align. When you change your internal beliefs, you naturally start to act differently. Those actions create new opportunities, relationships, and results in your life.

Example: If you assume, “I am deserving of love,” you’re more likely to set boundaries, seek healthy relationships, and radiate confidence. These behaviors attract the kind of love you’ve been looking for, and—voilà—you’ve manifested it.

But What About the Doubters?

Now, I hear you: “This sounds a bit too good to be true.” Fair enough. Change doesn’t happen overnight, and you can’t just sprinkle affirmations on your problems like fairy dust. The magic lies in consistency and persistence.

Think of it like working out: you don’t hit the gym once and wake up with six-pack abs. (If only, right?) You repeat the process until the results show. The same goes for your mindset.

So, The Law of Assumption isn’t just fluffy self-help jargon—it’s rooted in solid psychological principles like CBT, the placebo effect, and neuroplasticity. Sure, it might feel a little weird to assume you’re a millionaire when your bank account says otherwise. But science backs you up: your thoughts shape your reality, and with practice, your brain will believe what you tell it.

So, go ahead. Assume you’re living your best life. And if anyone raises an eyebrow, just smile and say, “It’s science.”

[beanmachine69]

Melting | Sebastian Vettel

Ferrari!Seb is literally my husband so here's a little fluffy drabble about him. Can you tell I don't like the summer?

(Implied smut, nothing too intense)

(picture credits to user sloane on Pinterest!)

-

"I'm going to have a heat stroke." You huffed, annoyed at the weather.

You slumped on the couch with a loud thud, sunglasses and purse still in hand, shoes carelessly kicked around the hallway. Your dress was clinging onto you, and the house felt a tad too warm too, sure it was better than the oven you just stepped in from, but you still felt hot.

Opening your eyes after a few moments of cooling down, you looked around for your husband. Where did he go? You were just about to get up to look for him when he emerged from the kitchen, a smile plastered on his slightly damp face, two icecream bowls carefully balanced in his hands.

The sight in itself was adorable, and you couldn't help but smile. The icecream was a bonus to the cheery expression he had as he sat down on the couch next to you, handing you a bowl- the coldness of which was welcome by your sweaty hands. He adjusted himself to be closer to you as the two of you sat in silence on the couch, cooling down.

"Can I ask you something?", You asked, breaking the silence.

"I've already told you, I'll find a way to love you even as a worm." Sebastian replied, barely missing a beat.

"Oh shutup," You laughed as you gently hit his arm, which had snaked around your shoulder. "I was going to ask if you wanted to try something new."

At this point, the heat that had gotten to your head had given you the confidence required to ask the question. However, the heat cooled down pretty fast the moment you uttered the words, and you couldn't look up from your icecream. You and Sebastian were pretty vocal about your preferences in the bedroom and overtime you two had learned each other well enough- so technically, you didn't need to be blushing or hesitating this much anyways. You were just asking your husband to try something new in bed because you saw it online.

You definitely didn't need to look up to know that not only had Sebastian finished his icecream and was staring directly at you, but his face had also adorned his signature smirk. God, it was impossible to look at him at that moment without wanting to bury your face in his chest and just hide from those bright eyes. You already knew the jokes he'd say and all the teasing that would result from the question.

He nudged you a little, and you knew if you'd look up, you'd see that ridiculous smirk and that silly little shimmer in his eyes that indicated he was going to tease you.

"What's the matter?", You could practically hear his lips being tugged upwards, "Can't finish your request?" He asked. God, the cockiness never died with him.

"It's nothing." You mumbled, praying to God for a distraction so you wouldn't need to look up at him and talk to him.

You two had had these conversations before, you were a married couple, you knew your preferences and you two had tried several new things because of conversations like these. But somehow, right now, you couldn't get your mouth to open. All the effort you were using to talk seemed to be reallocating itself into blood that made your cheeks red. It was infuriating, you wanted to talk to him, he was your husband for crying out loud.

"Oh, don't back away now." He cooed, leaning closer to kiss your cheek, his stubble brushing against the soft skin. He placed the empty bowl down, freeing his other hand to creep around you.

"Seb, cut it out, its nothing." You mumbled, turning your face. Maybe the heat had rewired your brain, because you really did want to tell him, but you just couldn't. You almost hoped he'd just read your mind and get this interaction over with already.

You heard him chuckle, as his other arm wrapped around you, turning you to face him entirely. His blue eyes locked in with yours and you couldn't help the blush that had probably turned you entirely red by now.

"Oh baby, you weren't even this red in the sun." He teased, pushing you back, making you lay flat on the couch, caged under his arms, with your icecream bowl still in your hands. "You wanna try something naughty, don't you?"

Suddenly, everything was more eye-catching than your husbands' piercing blue eyes. Not wanting to be teased any further, you hummed an acknowledgement, which didn't seem to satisfy him. He brought his face even closer to yours, to the point where you could practically feel his lips mere millimetres away from yours. At this proximity, there wasn't much else to look at apart from those stupid eyes you fell in love with in the first place.

"That's my good girl." He smiled, knowing you had nowhere else to go, and definitely no where else to see. "Now, what was it that you wanted to try?"

After not hearing a response for a few moments, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He knew you were too shy now, all of a sudden, to say something, so he pieced it together himself. He was a smart man, and even smarter when it came to satisfying you. It was only when he did piece it together did that silly, devilish smirk find it's way back to his face.

He leaned in for a kiss, which you gladly accepted, bringing your hands to his face- leaving the half empty icecream bowl on your stomach. You felt him put his weight on one arm as the other moved towards your torso. He reached directly for the icecream in the bowl, hooking two fingers in the semi-solid contents, scooping it out and bringing it to your neck.

The sudden shock of cold startled you momentarily, making you gasp into the kiss. He placed the icecream in the dip in the middle of your collarbone, pulling away from the kiss and licking the icecream on your neck, inadvertently sending chills down your spine. You gasped his name out as his beard made contact with your soft skin and his lips began sucking the area where the icecream was.

"Is this something my baby wanted?" He asked, momentarily detaching his lips from your neck.

You nodded an eager response, making him smirk in your neck. Pulling his face back up to yours, he gave you a soft kiss before looking at you. God, he looked so good on top of you like this- even after all this time, he managed to make you blush and swoon like you would the first time you met him.

"Do you wanna take this to the bedroom?" He asked, knowing your answer already.

You blushed a bit as a smiled crept onto your lips. You nodded a yes, leaning up to peck him again. You were so glad he'd manage to figure out what you couldn't say, because frankly- given your state- you weren't sure if you would have been able to ever string that sentence out anyways. You were incredibly close to him, but sometimes he just had that stupid effect on you that left you smiling, giggling and blushing like a schoolgirl.

You knew there was going to be plenty of teasing in the future, but in that moment, it seemed so worth it.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N: i love seb so much, he makes me giggle sm. truly the love of my life, light of my eyes. I'm quite surprised I haven't written more about him.

As usual, send in requests or criticism, both would be appreciated! :)

[randomalistic]

first off. i can't believe that i already followed you- your spam blog -and didn't know.

second. i literally just had a dream shere i was rambling to someone about turbo using stuff from your essay. apparently it rewired my brain so hard it, and you, manifested in my dreams lol (i even made a bad joke that "you can say he's Turbo-tastic!" hah)

and congratulations on making such great work of art that is the essay, you can feel and hear the love(and hyperfixation) poured into it.

i do wonder tho, what was the hardest part when making it?

I’m so glad you enjoyed it yay :)❤️ and also recognized me from my sneo blog LOL

I feel that so horrendously much. I legit had a dream a few nights ago about someone APPROACHING ME cuz they recognized my voice from the essay (girl get an ego check) but they then said “dude it’s so obvious you’re into him” or something. And I was like. 🧍‍♀️Well you don’t have to say it out loud

Anyways you’re not the only one cuz the video haunts me too. even after its birth.

The hardest part?? Oh Man. Can I say Everything.

There were a few stretches that were REALLY TOUGH. short answer: Entire first half of the video. Also the longer parts like the Manipulation section, Turbo reveal section, and the Cybug King Candy section. I had a lot to say for these and it was tricky to condense it into something Comprehensible

Long answer:

I completely overhauled the entire first half of the video (EVERYTHING before the kart breaking scene) because I wasn’t satisfied with the writing/delivery etc. (Which was a good choice because my arguments were pretty half baked before) but oh my god that was like a week and a half of 7 hour recording and rewriting sessions it was brutal. Especially annoying because those arguments were super old and I was getting sick of thinking about them. So instead I used them as a backbone to structure better arguments and revamp the script so that kept me from going insane. However it was also really fun because I got to see my old ass arguments finally be explained to their fullest capacity. And also I got to write shit like ☝️🤓Excuse me sir your turbo is showing..

The biggest issue with this being my first ever video essay and it taking so goddamn long: you could SEE my writing/editing/voicing skills improve over the span of the video itself. Which is really cool improvement wise but REALLY . REALLY BAD CONSISTENCY WISE. Like the first half of the video is the part people are gonna see first. It SETS EXPECTATIONS. IT HAS TO BE PEAK

I think I re-edited the synopsis upwards of 5-6 times. Which makes sense as that was like the first thing I started the project with but ouhvhhhgghghr. Making a section from scratch is WAY easier than going back and having to redo something

Early on I cut out an entire fully edited/scripted/recorded 3 minute section of me talking about Megamind and its sequel because I realized. This is pointless and everyone has TALKED ABOUT MEGAMIND BEFORE AND THIS HAS NOTHIBG TO DO WITH WRECK IT RALPH. There were a lot of scrapped ideas

Audio was also really challenging, just entirely. Making sure the levels were consistent (I had absolutely zero voice volume normalization I did it all manually 😭 I’m gonna have to figure out how to do that) Also just the concept of recording my voice and having to speak out loud in a space was Real Bad for my anxiety but You Do it Scared. Had to wait until I was home alone or like 99% sure I was alone before I could say anything without worrying. Also training my voice to sound engaging and consistent was so hard and it took maybe 6 months for me to get it down. Also I had no fucking idea where to record, like at first I was recording in a CLOSET (and later under a piano??) and then I was wondering why my lines sounded so weird. Then I realized I could just Record in a room and it would sound JUST FINE. So basically uhhh every single part was the hardest part. But it was worth it and very fun I think 🫶

[duskier]

okay fem ghoap has literally rewired my brain chemistry and i've been thinking about it all day. fem ghoap x reader where ghost is the dom and she instructs soap to make you cum while she sits back to watch. soap's so eager to please!! her thick fingers fuck your hole while she laps at your clit. after you cum, she looks up at ghost, trying to read her face for any sign of approval. ghost just stays stone-faced and silent before she grumbles out "i didn't say stop".

after your fourth orgasm, you're tired, spent, and overstimulated. you try to move away, only for ghost to finally get up from her chair and pin you down with her hands that easily fit around your wrists <3

cw light petplay?

OKAY THIS ASK FULLY KILLED ME WHEN I FIRST READ IT

Christ thinking about inexperienced, super Catholic Soap who's still coming to terms with liking women!! Ghost and her are so entwined she doesn't question it when they fall together, it feels natural. You're new though, new and shiny and fuck if Soap doesn't want to just ruin you. Energy in her body wanting to burst out but Soap doesn't know how. Ghost always took the lead, always took care of Soap’s needs. Never the other way around. So Ghost takes it upon herself to teach Soap how to take care of you, their perfect girl.

Ghost sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, cigar on her mouth and her eyes on both of you. She's naked, save for her boxers. Legs spread wide and you can see the fat tip of her clit just bulging against the fabric. Soap’s nervous, her mohawk mussed from tearing her shirt away with too much enthusiasm. She's kissing you sloppily- your mouth, your cheeks, your neck. Practically vibrating with excitement as she's hastily pulling your clothes off.

"Slow down." The command stills Soap for a moment, before she follows it- slipping your bottoms off more gently, fingertips grazing your thighs in a way that makes you shiver and huff out a breath.

Soap's rough hands grasp you beneath your knees, spreading your legs and pushing them back. She's looking down at your cunt like it's a damned treasure she's just discovered.

"This is the one time you're allowed to play with your food, love." You giggle at the cliche words from Ghost, but gasp as you feel Soap kissing your soft inner thigh.

She spreads out the chaste little kisses along there, across your pubic bone, over to your other thigh. She spreads little kitten licks above and around your clit until you're bucking your hips, whispering pleads for her to just give you what you want. You can feel her hot breath against your clit as she laughs before resuming her work- you can feel slick dripping out of you from the teasing. Just before you think you'll finally break and grab Soap by the hair, Ghost clicks her tongue twice.

You nearly scream when Soap finally pulls your clit into her mouth, her tongue swirling around and around. It's too much and not enough at the same time. Soap is moaning deep and rich in her throat at your taste, her lashes fluttering shut.

"There's a good girl. Sweetheart, do you want Johnny to use her fingers? Yeah?" You're nodding before you've processed the question. You try to open your mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a broken, whining moan. "Go on and see if you'll fit two in our girl then, Johnny."

She clicked her tongue once again and you felt a single finger circling your hole. Gathering the slick on her index and gently pushing itself in. You're already so tight, clenching down on the finger as Soap never stopped her gentle suckling at your clit.

Well- not enough that is. Ever the motormouth, she's mumnling into your clit praises about how good you smell and taste, how warm and wet you are, she could do this all day.

"Quiet. Focus on making her cum, pup. I wanna see her pretty face."

[icarus-suraki]

1, 7, and 9 for the movie ask!

It occurs to me that I could just answer Goncharov (1972) for all of these…

Movie Questions Ask Bait!

->what is your favorite film of all time? Very possibly Mad Max: Fury Road. That movie rewired my brain. That movie scraped the rust off my soul. That movie sneaked up behind me and stole my spine. And it was great.

I literally went to see it in the theater seven (7) times. Seven. If you dig back in my blog here to June 2015, you'll see that this place was full of Fury Road. Stills, gifs, music, meta, fic, shitposts, all of it. All of it.

Sidebar: I think my absolute love of Fury Road is what's keeping me from wanting to see the new Furiosa prequel: Fury Road didn't explain everything to death so we, the fandom, had a great time imagining explanations or making things up. We dissected that movie and we also left it alone. I don't want to know too much. I like that world being left a partial mystery. We, like Max, get thrown into it and we're both figuring out how it works as the story progresses. I love that.

I can't exactly explain why I love it so much. The colors, the action, the fight scenes, the music (holy shit the music), the characters, the weirdness, the story itself, the callbacks and parallels, the newness and the oldness of it (it really is a train robbery movie at its core), the sense (ultimately) of hope, the presences of women (old women even!) in action roles… Something about it, maybe everything about it, were just perfect for me at that time and in that place.

Yeah. Favorite movie ever.

->name a movie you’re emotionally attached to? There's so many ways I could take this. Positive attachment? Negative attachment? Very Strange Time in My Life attachment?

Like, I know I can never watch L'Illusionniste, Les Triplettes de Belleville, or Grave of the Fireflies again because I cried just too fucking hard at each of them, which I think is an emotional attachment.

Or I could say the Lord of the Rings movies (all of them). They came out when I was in college and a handful of us were counting down the days to the premiere, watching this miniscule clip of video taken by a fan from a train that showed a glimpse of the Minas Tirith set endlessly, gobbling up any news or leak or rumor about production on Livejournal, engaging in the fandom of that era (which was a whole thing in and of itself), even going to midnight local premiers. So while I'm not a huge fan of the movies, they certainly were a constant presence in my undergrad days.

Or it could be the other movies that rewired my brain: Mad Max: Fury Road (see above), Princess Mononoke (baby's first Studio Ghibli film in 1999 at the local art house theater), Star Wars (only episodes 4, 5, and 6 though; I kind of deny that any others exist), Kiki's Delivery Service (which I had on VHS in college and would watch when I was stressed and depressed because I love the city), Voices of a Distant Star (the concept really got me)…

Or it could be the kids' movies from my own childhood, you know? Robin Hood (1973) is very near and dear to my heart. And Panda and the Magic Serpent is what started me down the weaboo road way back when I was 6 years old.

There's so many possible answers here. But that's a few movies I have emotional attachments to. How's that?

->guilty pleasure movie? Do I have to? Okay, okay, okay: I like a good cheesy, gory giallo movie, red tempra paint blood and all. Spaghetti westerns are amazing with their half-understandings or misunderstandings of USAmerican history to the point that it becomes something different, something bigger and more epic (I love The Good, The Bad and the Ugly so much). Martial arts movies full of dramatic scenes and wire-fu are so much fun (and I get to practice my Mandarin or my Japanese). Gothic drama, especially from the 1990s, is great like the original IwtV, Crimson Peak, The Crow…

But I paid actual, real, hard-earned money for a (digital) copy of Bloodsport and it's so bad. It's so bad! But I love it--maybe as much for meta reasons as anything.

Like, the whole thing is based on this Canadian-American guy Frank Dux's memoirs about being trained in ninjutsu by a mysterious Senzo "Tiger" Tanaka (who probably didn't exist at all and has the same name as a character in You Only Live Twice) and then going on to compete in this international full-contact underground martial arts competition in Hong King (the "Kumite"). Oh and he was also in the military at the time, doing covert missions, so he had to go AWOL to fight in this competition of course. Which he does without being caught. And he keeps outsmarting the CID officers (one of whom is played by a young Forest Whitaker) when they chase him to Hong Kong, meanwhile picking up an April O'Neill-style beautiful American journalist ("reporter" because it's the 1980s).

The whole thing is so clearly ridiculous bullshit but it's marketed as being based on a true story because Frank Dux insisted his bullshit was true. And it was produced by Cannon Films, which is another can of worms entirely (I highly recommend the documentary Electric Boogaloo: The Wild, Untold Story of Cannon Films for more backstory on the company; it is bonkers). And did I mention that Frank Dux is played by Jean-Claude van Damme? And yes he does do the most epic of splits.

And the whole thing is simultaneously so deep in meta layers (self-proclaimed martial arts masters, which ties into Count Dante and the dojo wars, Frank Dux's amazing bullshit and stolen valor, Cannon Films) and yet so incredibly shallow at the same time.

There's minimal plot, zero depth to the characters, massively long flashback sequences, even longer training montages, a totally ridiculous amalgamation of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean cultures into just "Asian Culture," the dubbing in some scenes is practically criminal, there's minimal exploration of the location (Hong fucking Kong!!!) outside of a chase and a throwaway scene about bad restaurant food, and even the fight scenes during the tournament aren't really all that great.

But the Kowloon Walled City gets some screentime (except that it's just a set sometimes). And there are tons of locally-hired extras and bit players, along with a slew of international actors and/or actual martial artists, even if a lot of them have been cast as nationalities other than their own???--like Bernard Mariano, who is Filipino by descent but was born in Hong Kong, had no martial arts experience but got scouted while he was working out, was cast as a "Middle Eastern" fighter named Hossein, but used his pay from the movie for university classes to go on to be an English teacher in Hong Kong. Meanwhile, Jean-Claude van Damme is busy taking his shirt off and wearing super tight spandex underwear (he snaps them in one scene; you're welcome). Leah Ayres is a "reporter," which is really "journalist" and one of the few adventurous jobs acceptable for women in 1980s movies to have, who maybe lives in Hong Kong or maybe doesn't but she's super cute and deserves better than she got in the script; she's The Girl (Leah Ayres is now into pseudoscience). And Donald Gibb is playing this American bar brawler who somehow got invited to this elite fighting tournament and he looks like Kurt Russell in The Thing if he were still infected by the Thing and living out on the ice alone.

Like, I could just keep going. I love this shit. There is so little that's "good" in terms of filmmaking, scriptwriting, cinematography, anything in this movie and yet it entertains the fuck out of me.

Hence: guilty pleasure film.

[beefromanoff]

Project Mockingbird Ch. 8

summary: Charlotte deep dives into her backstory and all the dark, twisty parts. Bucky has flashbacks. It's getting angsty.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

author's note: another long one, I'm so sorry it took me so long! the next one is ALMOST done too so it'll come out super soon! thank you so much for reading!

tag list: @bangtanxberm (let me know if you want to be added <3)

chapter list

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chapter aesthetic

In the quiet hum of the infirmary, the Avengers gathered outside Charlotte's room, concern etched on each face, She’d barely vacated the room for a week before landing back in the same place. The atmosphere was tense, the air heavy with unspoken worry. Benchmark testing had abruptly ended six hours earlier with Bucky emerging from the woods, Charlotte’s body draped across his arms. She hadn’t woken up yet. 

Tony paced back and forth in the laboratory, one room over from the infirmary. "This is absolutely unacceptable. We knew this could happen. Bruce, we let this happen."

"Tony,” Bruce sighed heavily. “We weighed the risks, she deserved freedom of choice, she insisted on competing. I’m sure she’d stand by her choice. We can’t sideline her based on a discovery we didn’t even give her the courtesy of telling her about."

“I’m sorry,” Natasha crossed the threshold into the lab, arms crossed. “Care to let the rest of us in on your little secret?” Steve and Bucky strode into the room behind her, looking equal parts concerned and angry. 

Sighing, Tony rubbed his jaw. “We…took a second look at her brain scan after she was released. Then a third. We found an…alteration.” He chanced a look at Bucky. “Courtesy of our friends at HYDRA.” 

“They tampered with her ability to self-regulate…” Bruce added sheepishly. “Her mind has been rewired, it’s like they took away her ability to govern her own physiological limits. Most people have mental limits, lines they can’t cross when their body needs to quit to save itself. They took that away from her. She, quite literally, doesn’t know when to quit.”

Nat leveled a pointed gaze at the two scientists. "And you just…let her compete with all of us today. What did you expect? You said yourself he doesn't know her limits, and now she's paying the price." She glanced back through the doorway, leading to the room where Charlotte still lie unconscious.

“We didn’t think it was our place to take away her autonomy.” Tony’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. “Until we had enough information to give her and let her decide for herself what she wants to do, we decided to keep it to ourselves. Clearly we didn’t work fast enough.” 

“Clearly.” Bucky spoke for the first time, his gruff voice cutting through the room.

Steve’s brow furrowed in concern. "Whatever happened before, that’s in the past. We convinced her to come here and told her she’d be safe with us. We need to figure out a solution or our word means nothing."

Tony ran a hand through his hair. "Look, we have some information. We pulled every single file we’ve extracted from HYDRA over the past decade and cross referenced it with the limited intel we have on Charlotte." He winced. “It’s not great.” 

Bruce interjected, "We're working on something, a way to regulate abilities without sidelining her completely. But it's complicated…and it’s far from ready."

Natasha's piercing gaze shifted from Tony to Bruce. "Complicated or not, we can't have her collapsing every time she pushes herself. We need a fix, and we need it now."

Steve stepped forward, taking charge. "Tony, Bruce, we appreciate the effort and the discretion, but we owe her all the information we have. Even if it’s incomplete. Ready or not, let her make her own choice. It’s what we all would want if we were in her position."

Bucky pushed off the wall, his face twisted in an expression between frustration and pain. He said nothing.

Tony nodded solemnly. "Fine. We'll expedite the process. But this is risky. It's experimental, and we can't guarantee—"

"We don't have time for guarantees anyways," Natasha interrupted. "We just need to try. Charlotte deserves that much. I didn’t bring her here so we could put her at risk and make decisions for her. I brought her here so she could be around people like her and be safe."

The hushed tones of concern were abruptly disrupted as Bucky, still standing at the periphery of the conversation, tensed. His keen senses caught a sound, soft but unmistakable—a groan emanating from Charlotte's room. Without a word, he swiftly turned and made his way to her room.

The group followed, their collective worry etched on their faces. They filed into the room only to find Charlotte blinking back into consciousness. The relief was palpable. Bucky couldn't help but mutter, "Welcome back to the land of the living."

Charlotte, still groggy, managed a weak smile. "You guys always know how to throw a party."

Steve quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah, and you sure know how to make an exit."

She chuckled, a raspy sound, and shifted on the bed. "Well, sorry to ruin the mood. Next time I'll make sure to schedule my collapses better."

Tony smirked, relief evident in his voice. "You do that. Maybe put it on the Avengers calendar."

The others couldn't suppress a few chuckles at the banter. Natasha leaned in, her tone dry, "You know, collapsing is very last season. We're aiming for superhero landings now."

Charlotte groaned as she shifted to sit up in the bed. "Noted."

Bucky, satisfied that Charlotte was -- at least for the moment -- all right, turned abruptly to leave the room. His departure didn't go unnoticed.

"Where are you going?" Steve called after him.

Bucky shot a glance back, his expression guarded. "She's awake. You guys got this." He disappeared into the hallway, leaving the others to surround Charlotte. 

Natasha, a wry smile on her face, remarked, "Buck’s gonna give you a run for your money in the dramatic exit department."

"Dramatic? An angel like me?” Charlotte croaked. 

Tony added, "An angel with a penchant for collapsing. Very celestial."

In the hallway just outside the room, Bucky leaned against the wall. He heard the exchange from the room but couldn’t stomach the jokes so soon after the scare. Rolling his eyes, he pushed off the wall and strode for the doors.nSteve caught up with Bucky in the hallway, jogging to match his friend's brisk steps.

"Hey, Buck," Steve began, concern etched across his features. "Why the rush?"

Bucky didn't meet Steve's gaze, his jaw set in a tight line. "They say she doesn't know her limits, but she knew. She knew and she kept going. You didn’t see her in the woods, Steve. She was laughing. She's playing with fire and doesn't even realize it."

Steve placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "She's been through a lot. You know that. We don’t even know the extent of it all yet, and maybe we never will. You know as well as anyone that it’s not easy to acknowledge your weaknesses. It's not easy for her, either."

Bucky's frustration spilled out in a sigh. "I get that. I do. But seeing her collapse like that, it... it brings back things I'd rather forget."

Steve's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. He guided Bucky to a nearby bench, encouraging him to sit. "Buck, I know this is hard for you. Seeing someone go through what you went through with HYDRA—it's like reliving your own nightmare."

Bucky clenched his jaw, his metal fingers tapping an agitated rhythm on his thigh. "It’s not just that - I mean, it is, but…I don’t know. I’ve been getting…glimpses. Maybe flashbacks." He ran his hand along his jawline. “I can’t tell if they’re memories or nightmares or just my mind messing with me.”

“What do you see? When you have them?” 

“It’s…blurry. I get bits and pieces at a time. When I saw her for the first time, that’s when it started. I got a flash of us running, in the woods. I couldn’t tell who was chasing who. Then when she…blacked out in the gym, I had another one. We’ve fought before. I don’t remember when or where, but it was familiar. In a God awful way.” He stared down at his hands in his lap. “Then, in the woods, seeing her bleed and collapse…I saw a glimpse of what they did to her.” 

The pained look on Bucky’s face made it clear he was done talking. Steve let out a sigh, leaning back on the bench. “Well, this isn’t really an easy thing to give advice on, but you have to remember you’re still in recovery too. Just because you’ve been here longer, you’ve broken the brainwashing…it doesn’t mean nothing ever happened. You’re gonna deal with a lot of trauma for a long time. It’s okay to take a step back if you need to.”

“I shouldn’t be the one who needs to take a step back right now. She needs more help than I do.”

"You are helping her, just by being here. But you're not her keeper, Bucky. You can't control everything. She has to make her own choices, even if some of them worry you. We’re all figuring out the best way to help someone we just met.” Steve gave a half smile, nudging his friend. “If you recall, you didn’t exactly give us clear instructions on how to help you, either.” 

Bucky forced a smile. "Guess not. Should’ve taken it a little easier on you guys.” He leaned back on the bench. “It just... it feels like I'm back in that damn lab, watching people suffer because of me. At the end of the day, she’s in this position because of me.”

“That’s not fair, Buck. You know it. You didn’t ask for this any more than she did.” He raised a hand and waved off Bucky’s protest. “I know that Project Mockingbird was a response to the Winter Soldier Project. But last time I checked, you didn’t sign up to be the Winter Soldier. You’re both victims of the same sadistic scientists. We’re all here for you both, but at the end of the day, no one else went through what you two did. Don’t let them win by keeping a divide between you.” Steve's voice was gentle, a steady reassurance. 

“Damn.” Bucky gave a half smile. “I guess some of that therapy finally stuck.” 

__________________________________

The morning sunlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow across the medical wing. The aroma of fresh coffee lingered in the air. Agent Hill sat in a chair beside the bed, Natasha perched on the edge near Charlotte’s feet. 

Maria, her expression businesslike, clicked through her notes on the tablet in front of her. "Let's go over this one more time. There are still some gaps here.”

Charlotte sipped her coffee, her gaze fixed on the swirling steam escaping from the cup. "I told you everything I remember."

Natasha shot Maria a warning look as she opened her mouth to protest. Her face softened. “I know this is difficult, Charlotte. I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through. But, if you’re able to give us anything else, it will get us that much closer to bringing HYDRA down for good.”

Nodding, Charlotte steeled herself. “What else do you need to know?”

“They’re known for their incredible discretion and secrecy. No one gets in or out. Hell, it took Bucky seventy years to escape and that was through a freak accident at the Triskelion. You escaped from the facility, from the headquarters. How?”

Charlotte's eyes glazed with the distant recollection. "I was kept in a different part of the facility than the Win - than James was. Bucky." She shook her head. “I don’t remember much, but I was able to pick it up over time. Piece things together. Things people said, glimpses I got at files here and there…it wasn’t the full picture, but it was something.” 

The two women stayed quiet, letting her continue. 

“To my understanding, I was one of around a dozen people in Project Mockingbird. All of us were brought in just before 1950. The Winter Soldier project had gone well, too well. I remember hearing screams, hearing him take down agent after agent. They said he was too strong. That he couldn’t be controlled. That was before they perfected the memory wipe. He knew who he was, and that was why they couldn’t stop him. I always wondered what he was fighting so hard to get back to.” Charlotte gave a soft, sad smile. “The rest of us didn’t have much of a life before being captured. I think that’s why they went after orphans. When Captain America, er, when Steve came in and raided the base to free Bucky and the rest of the soldiers…they learned. They stopped taking prisoners that someone would miss. I didn’t really get to know anyone else in my group, or if I did…I don’t remember. I know we were all around the same age, sixteen to eighteen. About to age out of most orphanages, if we hadn’t run away already.” 

She took a slow sip of her coffee, seeming lost in her memories. 

“I don’t remember much about the experiments. I remember pain, needles, being restrained. Some didn’t survive the first dose. They tried to alter the serum they gave Bucky…it killed two immediately. A few didn’t survive the brainwashing, it made them go insane.”

“What happened to them?” Maria’s voice was unusually gentle.

“They got shot.” The nonchalance in Charlotte’s voice was chilling. 

“I believe, well, I was told…they tried different methods on all of us. Some got a serum, some got brainwashing, some were…enhanced in other ways.” She winced. “Prosthetics. But they ran out of vibranium, and their version ended up poisoning the whole group they used it on. So, you know.” She mimed a gunshot to the head. “I was in the lucky last group. They took everything they got right with the others, the ones they deemed most likely to survive anyways. Their best chance. I know there was a version of the serum, very diluted. It enhances the senses and makes us…me, stronger and faster. Not as strong as him though. They believed they made him too strong. We had to be enhanced enough to contend with him, but not so strong that we posed a threat to HYDRA.”

Nat reached a hand out, squeezing Charlotte’s knee. 

“Things got a little blurry for a while. I didn’t know how much time had passed, how long I had been there. I think I was kept in cryo for long stretches while they figured out what to do with me. I know they used to make us run hunting exercises.” 

“What were the hunting exercises?”

Charlotte took a slow, shuddering breath as she raised her eyes to look at Maria.

“They would release us into the woods. The group of Mockingbirds…and the Winter Soldier. No weapons. Miles and miles of cold, Siberian wilderness. No food. They made us hunt him. To see if we could actually survive, track him, and to see what we’d do if we caught up to him.”

“Did anyone ever…catch up to him?” Neither Maria nor Natasha knew if they were prepared for her answer.

“Yes. I don’t remember, but I remember hearing them talk about it after I was wiped. How one of the best Mockingbirds caught him and was about to snap his neck when they shot him. They had HYDRA snipers in the trees the whole time. We were never meant to kill him. They just wanted to see if we’d be able to give ourselves the chance.” 

Natasha’s stomach turned as she wondered if Bucky knew. 

“I don’t know how many or how long those…exercises went on. Eventually they got better at brainwashing, so control became less of an issue. Bucky spent more time in the chair…we spent more time in cryo. They’d wake us up every so often, every decade or so? I don’t remember what they told me. Just to make sure we were still alive. Eventually, I was the only one who woke up. I felt like I should be sad, but it had been so long since the last time that I didn’t even remember their names.” 

Charlotte looked like she wanted to cry, but no tears came. 

“We can stop, Char.” Nat spoke softly. 

“No, it’s okay. I want to help.” She swallowed. “I’m almost done anyways.” She sat up straighter in bed, pulling her legs towards her chest. 

“The only real memories I have started about five years ago. Right after -” 

“The Triskelion.” Maria and Natasha both muttered. 

“Right. When the agents returned without the Winter Soldier, everyone lost their shit. Or at least, I’m assuming. They were still losing their shit when they woke me up. I couldn’t even get my bearings before they were outfitting me in tactical gear, yelling at me to track him and kill on sight. I was in a helicopter within the hour.” She grimaced. “They dropped me all over the United States, sending me to track him down anywhere they thought there was a sighting. Every time, I came up empty. That didn’t go over well.” 

As if feeling phantom pain, Charlotte absently rubbed the side of her face. “It just went downhill from there. The longer we couldn’t find him, the more leads that went cold, the angrier they got. With me. They tried to punish me, thinking it would make me work harder or find him faster, but it just made me weaker. We finally went back to the base…and I remember thinking how I must really be in Hell if I was relieved to go back there.” She chuckled to herself. “I was hoping they’d put me back in cryo and never wake me up.”

“But when we got back to base…we didn’t go back to the cryo chamber. We went back to the lab.” Color drained from Charlotte’s face. “They had the scientists all working on something…anything that would make me better. It was awful. They were under duress too, not that I could ever feel bad for the bastards. But it wasn’t exactly the environment for a breakthrough. Once, an agent shot one of the scientists for making excuses. They didn’t move his body for two weeks as a reminder to the others.” 

She sighed. 

“But, just like with me, the punishment did the opposite of what they wanted. It made them sloppy. One day, they forgot to secure my restraints.” 

Charlotte raised her eyes, looking straight at Agent Hill. “So I killed them all.” 

A stunned silence hung over the room. Not once had Charlotte’s voice cracked. Although Natasha had a feeling her hands would be shaking if it weren’t for the vice grip she had on the bedding. 

“I know this sounds redundant…but can you tell me the rest?” Maria’s eyes were almost apologetic for dragging this on further. “You overpowered the scientists, but what about guards? The rest of the base?” 

“There were two guards outside the lab. I jabbed them in the neck with whatever bullshit serum the scientists had been prepping for me, grabbed their weapons, and didn’t look back. Although, judging by the way they screamed, that serum wouldn’t have done me any favors.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “They had been in such a hurry to get me into the lab once we returned that no one thought to wipe me. I knew exactly the way out. I wanted, so badly, to find my file and have answers. But I was tired. So tired. I only had one chance. I took it.” 

“From there, you escaped through…?” 

“The woods.” Charlotte grinned. “The same goddamn woods they used for the hunting exercises.” 

“And then you hitch-hiked across Europe,” Nat joined in. 

“Which is exactly where the story I already told you picks up.” Charlotte’s face showed relief, whether it was over the end of the grueling discussion or in finally sharing her burdens with someone. 

“Did anyone ever come after you? Try to find you?” Maria frowned. 

“Not once.” Charlotte shrugged. “I was careful, at first. I changed my hair every few weeks. Kept moving. Didn’t have a phone or a footprint of any kind. As time went on and no one came, I stopped hiding. But I never stopped looking over my shoulder.” 

“I just find it strange that HYDRA would give up with not one, but two of their most lethal assassins just…out in the world.” 

“With what I left behind, there wasn’t much of a team to rally.” 

Maria raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but Natasha waved her off before she could continue. Pressing the button to stop the session recording, Nat grasped Charlotte’s hand. “I think that’s enough reliving trauma for one day. What do you say to wine and pizza, and Peter bringing the big TV in here for the night?”

Charlotte squeezed her friend’s hand. “I’d say…I hope you like pineapple on pizza.” 

As Natasha breezed out of the room, promising to be back bearing gifts within the hour, Bruce caught up to her in the hallway. Jogging to keep pace, he stammered a protest. “You know, with the damage to her kidneys, from uh - the run…she really shouldn’t be having wine. If I could just do another urine sample to make sure she’s okay, then -” 

“Bruce.” Natasha whirled to face him, stopping in her tracks. “Go back and listen to the session recording and then try and tell me that girl doesn’t deserve a glass of wine. Because if I had to take one guess, you’ll be bringing her something much stronger before you even get through it.” 

[terrence-silver]

we see kreese interact with physical snakes very often - what would terry do with a snake, if he ever met himself with one/procured one for whatever purpose he needed, and how would he go about it?

---

Of course, it is nothing but speculation on my part, but it would be immensely interesting if Terry Silver was actually deathly afraid of snakes...but he simultaneously handles them like he was born to handle them. Like he's more snake than man.

Meaning that he had this trauma and lingering unease embedded in him ever since Vietnam and the looming treat of what was down in that pit with a place initially meant for him if someone else hadn't stepped in literally rewired his brain even though he never fought over that pit himself. It was someone else, yes. Notwithstanding the natural terrain of Vietnam itself and how, legitimately, it would've been teeming with reptiles on a daily basis out in the bush. And, precisely due to this reason, he took his weakness, his vulnerability, the life changing stress associated with that one event in his life and sought to squash it ensuring he taught himself exactly how to handle snakes so the crapsack baggage of trauma would stop, the way he'd see it, slowing him down in life. Dulling his edges. Making him a feebler man in comparison of what he could be. Preventing him from reaching his full potential. As a result, he knows how to feed them. Get them to like him as much a coldblooded reptile can like. How to pacify them. Pet them. Clean them. You name it. His knowledge is extensive and if you were ever looking at this man and how smoothly, elegantly and effortlessly he manages a serpent, you'd think, well, this guy's a natural. Is he a cobra charmer or something? But, he ain't. Then again, is anyone? But, like any skill, much like martial arts itself, it can be learned and I think he learned it. I imagine it took a willpower of steel and unimaginable discipline for him to get to the point where he can hold a snake, let a snake slither all over him, hey, even bite him because the pain is nothing and the pain should be taken and even relished. He was terrified, once upon a time, particularly once in his life, when it mattered most, yes and then he forced himself to cease being terrified until he...simply wasn't anymore because I feel he wouldn't ever want to be put in a situation where he's covering in a corner, dreading what's out there. There was weakness there once and now there's nothing. I think Terry Silver was sadomasochistic enough to expose himself to snakes deliberately to get over what it means being afraid, uneasy or squeamish of them, and it is not unlike purposefully tossing yourself into a raging sea to learn to swim and then by happenstance, through a state of shock, actually managing to desperately flap your limbs to shore because the option was that or drowning.

You learned, alright, but nothing about that was sane.

And Terry learned too.

I think he learned to handle snakes with a smile on his face because he'd never admit to the fact he doesn't feel like smiling. He'd never let himself capitulate with a frown. Except when he wraps his fist around the snake's neck. Oh, then he feels like smiling and it is genuine. Then the gesture of that, having your hand over what could kill you, and what could've killed him in Vietnam, feels like the ultimate act of control. Of victory. He forced himself to handle snakes --- get snakes to like his presence --- and through that, he triumphed over them. As a result, man's just as likely to have a beloved pet Cobra...as well as have it skinned for his latest leather jacket he gets to wear like the Great Hunter.

[doodle-pops]

I'm Jealous Darling

Feanor x reader

Request: Hi darling I hope you're doing well! Can I please request a fic featuring Fëanor with a wife!reader where they have an argument and then she decides to annoy Fëanor by flirting with Fingolfin or something, followed by jealous rough sex and Fëanor being Fëanor, literally. It's okay though if you wouldn't want to write such a fic or the idea doesn't interest you! Love you and your writing! - Anon

Warnings: fembod, teasing, spanking, use of slut once, begging, mentions of overstimulation, multiple rounds and orgasm denials, rough sex, small aftercare

Word: 1.6k

Synopsis: Flirting with anyone was never a good idea when Fëanor was your husband, even worse when it was his half-brother, Fingolfin.

Slap

Your ass jiggled the brightest shade of red, flushed from the impact and stained with his signature.

“Are you sure you’re sorry mirё? I didn’t quite catch your apology the first time,” his lips ghosted the shell of your ear, prompting the stirring sensation already working up in your stomach. His voice was enough to melt your insides and do wonders, now that he was twice as displeased with your behaviour from earlier, it gave him enough reason to reduce his tone. Butterflies travelled their way through your stomach and down to your neither regions urging your arousal to flow messily on his cock.

It worked its way angrily into your heat, plunging itself deeper with every thrust as if it were attempting to rewire your brain and not only your insides. You could feel the venom from his wicked and tactical thrusts all because you made an effort to stir jealousy between him and his brother. Fёanor was making sure when he was finished, whether you wished to anger him through jealousy or not, your brain would never suggest his half-brother as an option.

Slap

“Are you just going to remain quiet…?” the lips that once ghosted your ear now travelled lower until they reached your shoulder blades and pulled back to reveal his pearly whites. Brilliantly they shone under the pale light from the fireplace, yet they sharply sunk themselves into your skin, desperate for a taste of the flesh he long desired for months. Your whimpers and cries were a result of his actions along with broken syllables of begging him for mercy due to how apologetic you were.

Face pressed into the mattress and tear-stained, you drooled and sobbed from the incessant pounding. It felt so good to be on the receiving end after months, but this was your fifth, sixth, or eighth time for tonight? You lost count of how many orgasms you received and were denied. All your brain was able to comprehend during the entire night was that you were being tossed about to his pleasure and liking. “Fёa-Fёanor—shit…slow down, pl-…please—ah!” voice squealing at the feeling of his fingers coming down to rub against your clit while the other entangled itself in your hair and yanked your head upwards, sending you into a pain stretching arch.

Bending his body for better access, his tongue slipped past his lips and licked a long, bold stripe from the centre of your spine to your left shoulder before placing another bite. “You don’t get to command me after your little stunt darling…I’ll have you for as long as I desire,” he breathed laboriously into your skin when his hips stuttered as you clenched around him, leaving another perfect ring of cream that was smeared further down his length as his pace picked up. His entire cock was covered in your arousal, cream and spit, and it pleased him to see how much you still wanted more. You were his hungry little wife.

The way your cunt sucked him inch by inch, refusing to let him breathe—to let him go—made his eyes roll into his head for a split second before he regained control. You had him slipping and getting too misplaced in the ecstasy he sought for.

“I-I’m so-…sorry Fёanor, please, you kn-know I have eyes f-for you—ngghh,” sounding broken and whiney as you begged for forgiveness, he scoffed and sent a harsh thrust your way, loving the fluttering of your walls around his cock. The little grip you would attempt to place on his every time he withdrew from your heat, fighting to choke and keep him lodged deep within, perfectly nestle, it made his heart flutter.

“Then why flirt like some slut with my half-brother, huh? Am I not enough!”

Within seconds, another round of precise and skilled rhythmical thrusts while his fingers toyed with your clit so delicately produced loud squeals and the beautiful sound of the pita-pat of his balls slapped against your cunt. Even in the distance, between the mix of pleasure and insanity, there was the unmistakable music of the bedsheets tearing beneath your nails. He paid no mind to them because one: it was not the first time it occurred and two, far worse things had been broken and torn up in your chambers; the sheets were replaceable. All that mattered was that your lesson was well-taught, and you got it through your skull to never go around Fingolfin or any half-brother for the matter.

“Y-Yes you are eno-…enough! Never you br-brother…ngghh.”

“I find that impossible to believe when you were all over him.”

Choosing to release your hair at the moment and watching as you flopped face-first on the bed, the same hand that held your hair trailed down your back and pressed down to send you into an arch. At that moment, he was able to reach deeper and allow his tip to hit your soft spot right off the bat. The spine-tingling convulsing your body gestured to as the pleasure knocked on your door thunderously had Fёanor grinning like he won a gift from Eru. There was never a dull moment with him especially when it came to granting you an orgasm. Though, this one came on harder given the consecutive denials he presented in the last couple of unknown rounds.

“Someone’s close, I can feel you…are you going to apologise?” his patronising voice rang out irritatingly with all the obvious and nowhere near underlying self-righteousness. He wanted you to know who was in charge and how much power he held over you. His pretty wife needed to know her place and never slip up again. “Come on darling…I’m waiting. Time is ticking…”

“Fёa…nor, pl-…please, I’m sorry—won’t d-do it ‘gain…”

Slap

“Hmm…not convincing enough mirё.”

Crying out in frustration because you knew what was coming next, you began to mumble apologies left, right and centre, hoping that it pleased him enough to reward you with your orgasm. You were working for it all night and daylight was breaking soon. Your limbs are sore and your voice scrapping against your throat the longer you whined and plead with him, trying your best to sound as persuasive as possible. “I promise, I promise, I swear to you that I-I won’t…please. Y-You kn-…know I love only you.”

Humming loudly, his hips never slowed neither did his fingers on your clit as he absorbed your pleads. They sounded worthy enough to some aspect to be tolerated, but he wasn’t going to allow you off the hook with just one apology— as your husband, it was important for him to ensure that his wife respected him and kept away from his siblings.

Instead of giving a snarky response like he normally did, the hand that rested against your spine applied more pressure and pushed you into the foulest arches of all time. His abdomen clenched as beads of sweat ran down his ivory skin, dripping onto yours and displaying the tempo of his newly set rhythm. All the muscles in his body appeared ripped and taunt from the tightness he was experiencing at the increased contraction around his length. The sheer power and force he placed into his thrusts were sending not only him but you into a frenzy. It was all too much to absorb and focus on at the same time. Everything was coming at you like an asteroid.

The incomprehensible mumblings, the drooling, the painful gripping of the sheets, the tears pouring down your face, and the twitching of your gummy walls around him were all the signs he needed to know you were approaching high. It was all too easy, and yet he wanted to keep it from you, just because he can. But a promise was a promise: you apologise and he’ll let you cum, the fact that to swore to him made his ego swell and heart tingle. The terrifyingly beautiful power he had over you. “Let this be the last time you ever pull this stunt—shit!” his voice somberly echoed from behind, yet it was chanted vociferously in your head like a prayer.

Being cut off mid-warning as both synchronously came, his body doubled over and landed atop yours, pushing you into the mattress.

Loud sighs and panting reverberated throughout the room as you both lay atop the other, sweaty and sticky from a long, laborious activity. Your body was filled with aches and sores from head to toe, barely able to move a muscle much less lift a finger, you lay there with his firm body resting against yours. He laid halfway on top of you for what felt like aeons before there was a slight stir followed by him shifting himself to pull out and roll onto his back. From his angle, your body appeared like one of the finest pieces he completed in the forges; soft bite marks and hickeys everywhere accompanies by his signature handprint on your ass.

He watched you lying there in silence, slowly drifting off to sleep before scooting closer and giving you a gentle shake, waking you, “Don’t fall asleep yet melda, we need to clean up.” His hands felt soothing on your body compared to the heat and weight they carried just minutes ago. You didn’t want to move from the tenderness that radiated, but he was adamant about having you two cleaned up.

Groaning when you felt his hands lift your deadweight body out of bed, there was a distant chuckle and a small whisper, “Lesson learnt…for now.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @rain-on-my-umbrella @the-phantom-of-arda @starborne0661 @singleteapot @asianbutnotjapanese

[johaerys-writes]

I ADORE your writing! Do you have any book recs? 💗

THANK YOU!!! I do have some book recs, and I'm going to separate them in two categories: a) all time faves (aka books that rewired my brain), and b) my fave books I read this year.

All Time Faves

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller: if you follow me for my patrochilles writing, then you already know I love this book 😅 It literally altered my brain chemistry when I read it and I have never been the same.

RotE: short for The Realm of the Elderlings series by Robin Hobb, it's like 16 books long and I recommend each one. Fitz is my pathetic little meow meow and the Fool is one of my favourite characters of all time. Read at your own peril LOL

Earthsea and Lavinia by Ursula K Le Guin: I'm on a quest to read everything Le Guin has written because her writing is just *chef's kiss*. I adore her prose and the way climaxes and conflict are handled, and I love the worldbuilding. Her Earthsea stories are just so wonderful and poignant, I particularly love the Tombs of Atuan and Tehanu. The latter is permanently on my reread roster, I read it once a year towards the end of the year when I start feeling blue because it's just so comforting. And I have to include my favourite quote:

"You are beautiful," Tenar said in a different tone. "Listen to me, Therru. Come here. You have scars, ugly scars, because an ugly, evil thing was done to you. People see the scars. But they see you, too, and you aren't the scars. You aren't ugly. You aren't evil. You are Therru, and beautiful. You are Therru who can work, and walk, and run, and dance, beautifully, in a red dress."

Please read it you won't regret it 😭🙏🙏

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte: another long time favourite and one I reread at least once a year. It’s just one of the best books ever written (sorry I don't make the rules). I'm not sure if that is where my love of childhood friends to toxic, copedepent lovers and of unhinged, violent men in fiction came from but it sure contributed to it LMAO. I don’t consider it a romance book but I do adore the way it handles love and romance, among other things. It's just so bleak and cynical but also highly comedic in places and I could talk about it forever. TL;DR please read it haha.

On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong: I didn’t like this book very much when I first started it but it had become a favourite by the time I finished it. I've reread it several times (I think just this year I've read it twice), it's just so heartbreaking and beautiful.

Fave books I read this year:

Captive Prince by C.S. Pacat: technically I finished the trilogy end of last year but I still think about it a lot. It's very well written and imo the perfect balance of angst, plot, intrigue and horniness.

Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik: I read it earlier this year and I literally can't stop thinking about it lol. It’s SO well written and very immersive and even though the plot itself isn't like... comforting, it felt like a great comfort to read it. Ever since I finished it, every time I start a new book I'm like "gah I wish I could read it for the first time again" haha. I'm going to be rereading it for Christmas I think!

The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells: another series I enjoyed a lot this year! I listened to the audiobooks and the VA is just so good, he's Murderbot in my mind lol. I should probably reread the last few books because my attention span was awful while I was listening to them, but overall they're very entertaining but also touch upon important issues in a really interesting way.

She Who Became The Sun by Shelly Parker-Chan: I really enjoyed this book, the plot, characters and worldbuilding was very interesting and I absolutely love the way that gender queerness and "otherness" was explored. I am eagerly awaiting the next book 👀

Villains series by V.E. Schwab: a highly entertaining read, I was pleasantly surpised by how much I enjoyed this. I love me a close friends to sworn enemies story, especially when they are obsessed with each other in as homosexual a way as these two LMAO. The supporting characters were also very well written which isn't easy to find in stories with such a busy cast. Once again, eagerly awaiting the next book!

[gust-jar-simulator]

Okay time for unhinged crossover logic.

There are two Links I like to subject to vampire drama: Four (I really need to invent a tag for those rambles) and Wild. To sum up the way I write them fast and dirty, the methods are as follows:

Four: In Four Swords Adventures, the split Links explode into force gems (crystallized life that is also money) when they die, and in either that game or Four Swords can be resurrected by sacrificing force gems. In addition, the Four Sword itself feeds on/must be powered up by force gems. Therefore, considering how closely tied his existence is to the sword by this point, Four must feed it (and by extension himself) life force or suffer consequences. He can improvise to a limited extent by feeding on elemental magic, or living blood, but none of it is as efficient as force gems.

Wild: After being killed by magic lasers that may or may not have been able to infect his body with Malice like a horrible STD, his brain got completely rewired by Sheikah tech. An argument could be made that he's a cyborg on some level, the Shrine of Resurrection flooding his veins with nanobots or any other sci fi method of keeping a corpse breathing. As such, like other forms of Sheikah tech, he is vulnerable to infection by Malice and the call of the Blood Moon, and might be able to literally cannibalize Guardians to repair himself as well as drain energy from shrines and towers.

(Also as a side note, considering the horrors of teleportation tech, the Sheikah database has likely memorized what makes Wild and how he was put together, and could theoretically generate another one of him if he dies again.)

Where am I inputting my crossover logic?

I've been sitting here for the past hour thinking about the concept of diablerie from Vampire: The Masquerade. To distill it to the essentials, diablerie is the act of a vampire drinking another vampire's blood to the point of final death, consuming even the soul. This has advantages in that you obtain their power level and abilities. A major disadvantage, however, involves the "consuming the soul" bit- if you're not strong enough, the vampire you ate could overwhelm your consciousness. Uno reverse is a bitch.

Diablerie also happens to be addicting, because getting a little sippy of life force is nothing compared to the pleasure of completely consuming a soul.

I started my idea of vampire!Wild with a singular image in my head: Wild's face and arms smeared with bluish fluids, sucking on a broken hose yanked from the undercarriage of an upturned guardian.

The thing is, most every guardian in the game has been infected by Malice. Wild is absolutely the type to investigate new things via biting and ask questions later, and he can successfully eat monster parts (as well as monster essence) without many complications. We've all tried to cook guardian parts into an elixir at least once. But I can't help wondering if it's like the difference between mineral iron and organic iron- chewing on metal won't give a human any nutrition, but we can get the iron we need from meat. Maybe Wild's augmentations can filter out the consequences of eating raw hinox liver, but they might be vulnerable to Malice that has adapted to the shape of a magitech electronic virus.

I love the idea of his normal instincts (food heals) getting influenced by magitech input (cannibalize broken tech), and it's not like he has commendable impulse control that would second-guess the urge to drink robot coolant. Stuck in the middle of Hyrule Field with the last of his kebabs gone, why not try it?

Have you ever been so thirsty that you go for a sip and then start chugging because the water feels much better going down than you expected, jaws practically latching onto it like a stubborn wolf?

I keep thinking about it. I keep thinking about the idea that if Wild feeds on guardians to fuel his own internal systems, he's insanely vulnerable. And if he goes too far, is the infection something that would burn out? Would he just have his own private Blood Moon event, ripping through the countryside until he finally blacked out, or would the virus puppet him past the point of consciousness? I don't think the Sheikah really understood the concept of firewalls or antiviruses. Why would they need any?

Four, by contrast, is less vulnerable to any kind of corruption (barring, perhaps, dark magic) but much more vulnerable to the pitfalls of being a well-adjusted civilized human faced with the urge to devour life energy. Starving even though he's eaten a three course meal. Thirsty even though he's drank an entire bucket, or tried to. The human body doesn't have the signals necessary to covey your sword is starved for energy, wires are bound to cross in confusing and ugly ways. Headaches, weird cramps, until finally the sword he reshaped starts altering him in turn.

Hylians eat with their mouths and kill with their hands. A sword eats and kills with the same organ, but the base instinct of magic could get the point across well enough. If he won't eat by stabbing, maybe he'll eat if the magic makes his Hylian body more effective- steel claws and steel fangs, the better to gut monsters with. Or people. It's not like the sword has preferences, it just has hunger. Symbiosis is a two way street: Four made the sword, infused it, empowered it. The sword, in turn, broke him down and remade him. They're the same creature with the same needs, now. He just needs to realize it before the hunger gets out of control.

The thing is, he's used to fighting dark magic. Depending on your take, and if you utilize the manga, he could find a lot of comfort in the presence of dark magic. If they suspect they're becoming some kind of demon, or infected with some demon urge, Shadow would be their first thought. If they were to confide in anyone about dark urges, who better than the demon who asked them to indulge those in the first place? They miss him. He'd comfort them. He'd soothe whatever burning need this is.

If you don't want to use the manga, dark magic is still a comfort in that it's a preferred target, uncomplicated and simple. You don't have to worry about the morality of attacking a creature made of shadow. It's fine. It's quite possibly the only fine target to have.

Whenever I think about the possibility of vampire!Four losing control, I come down to two options. He's an extremely controlled person by necessity, considering the state of his brain. He thinks twice about literally everything he does. It would take quite a lot of pressure for him to drop that control, past the point of manageable and straight into "you cannot afford to be afraid to injure him, because he's Ruthless and Not Listening". With Wild, preferred prey would be Sheikah tech followed up by whatever the Malice wants dead. With Four?

He's going to find the nearest source of dark magic and bite the fuck out of it, either because Shadow is safety Shadow can fix this, or it's okay to rip and tear a thing this dark, I can let go and be a monster to a thing like this.

In other words, Twilight is in danger. Dark is also in danger, he's just not typically close enough to bite.

I'll come back to this at some point, but I wanted it out here.

[carmenlire]

i LOVE your thoughts about the guards the tension really is so good like now their captain is going to be their prince? theyd be so happy for him and want to protect him even more :') so true the habits yeong has as a guard will def be present when he's prince and gon is so fond but also like: can u let the guards protect u. can u let ME protect u for once. yeong glares and says absolutely not. but gon does it anyway and ho-pil is just so exhausted. gonjo with kids?? theyd be SUCH good parents-

+ theyd be so protective and loving. and id argue that gon would be the most protective (not in a helicopter parent way) since his parents died when he was little, but now that he has his own lil family?? he's going to protect love and cherish them at all costs. and the guards have to deal with both yeong and gon when it comes to their children :') also pls write ALL your thoughts when it comes to gonjo or SE i always love seeing a big response it makes me so happy!!

I just think that there's a lot of (in character) fun that could be had with the guards being so happy that yeong and gon are together-- there was a bet going around? There Are Always Rumours so as the people closest to the captain and king, the guards would HAVE to know something (omg what if they have a separate group chat that's just 0 days since gonjo made us facepalm at their obliviousness dkdksjfgxsa).

and OMG! imagine the angst? SCANDAL?? if they're out and about and an incident happens and gon tackles yeong??? the media would have a frenzy!!! the nation's heart would swoon!!! and yeong is both annoyed that gon risked his own safety but also can't help but feel warm that it happened? (but yeah the guards are just like literally wtf is our job then pls let us protect Both of you).

oooh and you're so right about about gon, having had that experience as a child, would be just really Aware of his kids. also, plus, even if he's a king he's still a husband/father first and i live for him making it to all their recitals or games?? and they have at least one meal together a day where gon is engaged and the guards watch as the kids climb all over him and yeong and the whole palace staff is just really happy to see their monarch so happy (it's like an invisible weight has been lifted from him) and yeong, with his kids, just completely sheds the no-nonsense captain role and he laughs! he's caught in awkward positions! he's a total softie!!! (omg if one of the kids is playing and, like, skins their knee and yeong is the first one to go to them and he makes a little silly story to distract them and because the kid is afraid or idk plot reasons, he ends up wearing a ponyo bandaid too :') omg it would be so CUTE).

I also love the idea of gon/yeong being Those parents at first and the first time the kid goes somewhere without them, they both are calling the security team every 5 minutes with strict instructions not to tell the other lmao!!!

ahhh I just really love the potential of them:') I wasn't like this the first time I watched TKEM in the spring but idk when I rewatched it in September I feel like something in my brain just rewired itself lol.

anyway!! I wanna leave you with a few gonjo fics I really enjoyed and if you're ever in the mood, maybe you'll wanna check them out?

And It's Just Around the Corner, Darling

127k words. This fic has literally ruined my life. I've read it deadass like over 50 times since the rewatch back in the fall and I just think it's the perfect fic in general let alone just for this fandom.

and now good-morrow to our waking souls

39k words. This is by the same author as the one above and it's really fun!!! I really enjoyed the premise.

Did You Wait Long

8k words. this is pure fun and chaos and the first time I read it, I caught myself laughing out loud several times. I just reread it this afternoon and was smiling so much!

Open Like a Hinge

37k. This is the fic I mentioned last time? That came out of the same challenge around Christmas that the SE fics did. I LOVED this fic. I love the plot, the emotion, the narrative, the characterization. I think that the author did a masterful job of taking canon and wildly running away with it to suit their own purposes. I've already reread it and i just think it's one of the best fics I've read.

Algebra

11k words. This was one of the first gonjo fics I read and I really loved it! I ended reading everything that this author (and their pseudo writing partner) have written in the fandom (except for like one thing that I have bookmarked to read later)

The World Ends with You

3k words. this is a shorter piece and on the more comber side but it's beautifully written and i've read it a handful of times at this point!!!

[galaxys-things]

so, a couple months back i found out a lot of closure about myself, who I was, who my true friends were, and going into college, so a lot has happened, and during all of this I've also spent healing, and here's the things I've learned.

So not only was I healing from ADHD (meaning I found management and coping) I was also learning about bpd (borderline personality disorder). One of the most important phrases I learned during my entire journey was, "This isn't your fault, you didn't ask to be built this way, but it is your responsibility to manage it." The reason that this helped as much as it did was that if anyone has a disorder or an illness that isn't treated, it can lead to thoughts of you just being like this, it's extremely nice to have that closure that something is medically wrong with me. Again, it might not work for anyone but it helped me. The second thing I learned was all of the habits I was doing, and what exactly bpd is and where I got it from. so it was all like a breath of fresh air when I saw the answers for questions I've had for years, and after the first little breath of fresh air, comes the biggest wave of anger, frustration, upsetness, at least in my case. See, I didn't grow up in the nicest family, my dad was a drunk and abusive, and my mom, a toxic mother. So a lot of the habits I've had where from years of neglect and abuse, to either cope with situations, or to try and earn someones love. So my people pleasure habits were the first to go. and it hurt so much seeing how many friends just disappeared. it felt like withdrawal the first couple of times I was breaking habits, i couldn't eat, I hid in my room, there were certain nights I thought was gonna be it. the only truth that I've heard in my past that still sticks with me is, "it does get better".

So, after the first couple of days 2 weeks at max, it was getting easier, I was journaling my moods and a whole journal for triggers, things about me, self care, what I have rights to/how to self care, and after I basically had the instruction guide to healing, it was getting so much easier, once you start you never really do end, you're constantly learning new things, even when you don't mean to, it's literally like your brain is rewiring itself, and it gets so normal to do things you could only dream of after, but don't take this as anything more then just, one phrase

"my illnesses may not be my fault, but they are my responsibility to manage"

[polyamorouspunk]

Hey! To follow up on my last ask (advice): so I’m non-binary, and in the past I’ve IDed as a trans man (on T for 3 years, then stopped). I don’t at all regret my HRT, but my presentation has also shifted from pretty masc to being pretty femme. I know that I’m not actually a “trans imposter” or “transtrender” but there’s this part of my brain that keeps telling me I am (b/c I stopped HRT, present femme now, and have a Weird Gender). I guess what I’m asking is, do you know of any ways to help combat these thoughts? They’re honestly really distressing to have so any advice you could offer would be amazing. I hope you’re having a great day! :)

I don’t know if I have any real concrete tips but like for just trying to change mentality the idea of like “there’s nothing more punk than fucking with people’s perceptions and fucking with gender stereotypes” but like yeah. Honestly I look femme dress femme use she/her pronouns and go about my day as someone who just seems to be a cis wlw unless I have those days where I’m like nope it’s time to be trans today (but not really because I’m still comfortable with my agab) so like it’s 100% A Thing™️ for sure, I never really “felt trans” and quite honestly I don’t know if I ever really “feel trans” except let me tell you today I had to do the 1 thing that makes me dysphoric and let me tell you (again) that I could be having the most femme day ever and as SOON as I have to do that I’m like *blarg* I hate myself I hate my body chop my boobs off we’re running away to live a genderless and secondary sex characteristicless life. Other like really generic not-concrete advice is also just like “labels don’t matter lol you don’t have to ID as trans or if you want to just go for it even if you don’t fit the stereotypical trans image wow you’ve never heard this before I know it’s is revolutionary and you’re never going to have a gender crisis again tada” but like yeah. And like hey maybe some people are into really femme trans guys. Honestly I have one mutual on here who is a trans guy and he literally loves wearing skirts and bows and pink and being super femme and like honestly he is living his best life and I love it for him. I’m also mutuals with a drag queen on here which is like hell yeah live your best girl life you funky little genderfluid dude. I don’t think that part of your brain is just going to rewire itself to not have those insecurities unless you put real effort into it. We all have a little voice in our head and it has to tell us SOMETHING and if yours is telling you that you aren’t trans enough then that’s just what it picked and guess what if tomorrow you wake up and suddenly you feel trans enough it’s just going to pick something else to tell you. You just can’t let it get to you, and I’m saying that as someone who hates being told that because they let EVERYTHING get to them.

[woodswolf]

4, 11, 18, 21, 35, 49. Feel free to answer as many or few as you so desire

writing ask game

4. Have you ever been published, or do you want to be published?

i have not been, but i maybe would like to be someday. i have some original ideas floating around (most of which have been for years), but it's like. i have a 9-5, i have games to play, i have other hobbies i like to do. if i DO happen to find an original idea that's just so wild that i HAVE to write it that's one thing, but im not gonna go out of my way to write something just to get published.

11. Books and/or authors who influenced you the most

there's only one thing that specifically comes to mind for this question and it's a fanfic that i first read when i was 16. but that's not necessarily an influence in terms of writing style, more like it literally rewired my brain and my analysis of it strongly influences my personal philosophy to this day: "hope is in everything but it is most present in places where it feels absent".

it's easier to break things down by individual works. for instance, my current wip is explicitly a "response" to two other fics i read last year that pulled off the same concept in different ways, with nods to other stories i've read and liked. (i also just realized as i was answering this that it's probably also a subconscious response to another fic i read a few years ago? it had really good disability rep but then kinda undercut itself via stapling on a romantic subplot — it blurred the very sharply-focused themes of disability rights and empowerment by mixing that with "oh but your new boyfriend is evil so :/". it's still a really good fic but this specifically irked me.) and by virtue of being a story about hope and its absence it kinda is indirectly a tribute to that first fic lol

18. If you could collaborate with anyone, who would it be, and what would you write about?

ooooh kinda hot take but i actually Don't like collabs all that much. i've only done a few, but none of them were great experiences. it's probably due to the fact that basically all of them were group-events-with-random-partners kinda things and someone always has to get matched up with the 13y/o, but i've never been able to look on the end results as something i was proud to participate in — they've always ended up pretty mediocre and left me with the feeling of "if i just wrote all of this myself it would suck way less".

a one-on-one more focused collab with co-plotting and more coordination and so on would probably be more fun, but i don't really have any writer Friends (at least not that i talk to on the regular) so it's kinda a moot point. me and my partner have talked about doing a combo collab at some point, though — they have a lot of very interesting ideas for a splatoon au that would play nicely into both of our strengths (writing/art) and i think that could really go somewhere interesting.

21. Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write?

i've really been enjoying the hocotate ship. kinda kooky, kinda smarmy, kinda sarcastic, just a really interesting bag of traits that i haven't previously written all that often.

in general, though, i would have to say olimar, and yes this is accounting for all of the years and years of julien ninjago. olimar is that same kind of "very introspective character who has a strained relationship with their family due to external forces", but unlike julien, who i've always written as being very anxious about keeping up appearances, olimar isn't really anxious at all (at least more than would be normal for someone who ends up in the situations he does on the regular). his problem is that he has a martyr complex taller than the empire state building and zero awareness that Actually That's Kind Of A Bad Thing.

35. What scene/story are you least looking forward to writing?

a few weeks ago i would've said DLDP2, which is the (mainline) sequel to my current wip, but i did a bit of thinking about how to plot things out there and it's a bit better now. it probably still is DLDP2, because there's a lot of other shit i still have to figure out there, but at this point it might be a case of "the devil you know" since DLDP3 and DLDP4 are almost certainly in vaguer states than DLDP2 is. but those two are also years off from being written probably while DLDP2 is Less. but who knows if i'll ever get around to it anyway, the only story i will be MAD if i don't get to wrte it is the DLD's spinoff sequel since that's where a lot more of the disability stuff is going to come into play.

49. Which character would you most want to be friends with, if they were real?

man i have no idea. definitely NOT olimar though at least if he was still 1 inch tall like that. i am afraid of him i would need to kill him to put him out of his misery. what cruel God has condemned them to such forms (and surely it must be a cruel God)?

[gothsuguru]

ARI. YOUR LOVE FOR SUGURU & WRITING COMES THROUGH SO GENUINELY THROUGHOUT THIS FIC IT’S ACTUALLY SO BEAUTIFUL TO SEE. <3

i told you that i would get my brain & fingers ready for this fic and i wasn’t playing. FIRST OF ALL. THE SIKEN QUOTE AS THE TITLE??? WAR OF FOXES BABY i read the poem and wow… “i am faithful to you, darling.” is the ESSENCE of this entire story i’m so MOVED. okay let me ramble overall a bit and then i’ll get into specifics! i’m so glad you took your time writing this fic because the care & love for the story/concept and the CHARACTERS/dialogue/imagery/symbolism really shines through :’) i need you to know that if this was an actual novella in stores i would buy it and mark it up/highlight like we’d do a siken book so. i’m abt to do JUST that <3 you weren’t kidding when you called this your magnum opus like… i’m actually not kidding when i say this rewired my brain… remember when i said to be prepared bc of how insane this would make me and how this is gonna be long as FUCK bc i got a lot of Thoughts? yeah. yeah… <3

a dream of cold metal, dark thickets, iron-scented skin — and a knight. (or… a wolf?)

- already you had me GAGGED with this. i love love LOVE the threes and the imagery in this (i could actually smell the iron) like IMMEDIATELY i know what type of vibe you wanted to give off (cold, imposing, slightly sinister). the coolness of cold metal (a knight’s armor), dark thickets is such a beautiful way to explain a bushel of branches/plants/twigs, & iron-scented skin… blood. bloody knight (or wolf.) and we as readers ultimately know they’re one and the SAME. (suguru…… hiiiiiiiiii sexy wolfman)

wilted sunflowers stumble under their own weight, and dragonflies buzz in a frenzy, manic, driven to hysteria. in the distance you think you hear the shrieking of ravens.

- i LOOOOOOVE the term manic so much and i also ADORE how mania shows itself in multiple ways throughout this fic (obvi i’ll talk more abt it later but suguru going insane trying to find kidnapped reader & reader being manic-excited abt the fox sketch hehe) <3 i love the “wilted sunflowers” symbolism… i think it also ties into how reader views their life as of rn like it’s suffocating to be them and it feels like a weight is on their chest sometimes as well with how maids/the king treat them. & THE DRAGONFLIES??? (I TOLD YOU YOU’RE EVIL AS HELL FOR THIS 😭 KENJAKU WOULD BE PROUD FR) & RAVEN SHRIEKS!!!!!! i love raven symbolism sooooo much it’s sooooooooo suguru and i love when it ties at the end of the fic w the two ravens hehe it makes me Insane and makes me Obsessed

and there’s a knight, just ahead, tall and imposing, covered in steel from head to toe. holding a blinding sword, facing the sky, doing nothing to stop the pitter patter of raindrops ricocheting off his burganet.

- outright. Sexy As Fuck imagery <3 maybe it’s just me but the knight wants me sooooooo bad omfg… i LOVE how the knight is tall and IMPOSING… covered in STEEL… imposing & cold & in a way untouchable. love that the knight just stands there as it rains too i think it adds to the atmosphere beautifully… literally feels like i’m in a stand off w a terrifying knight in a cold barren clearing wowowowow

widening its maw, a silent fury on its tongue. from this angle, it looks a little like a grin.

- MAW MENTION CAN I GET A HELL YEAH 🗣️🤝 “silent fury on its tongue” MHMMMMM. IT LOOKS LIKE A GRIN. OHHHHH I LIVE FOR THE SINISTER VIBES I LIVE FOR BEARED FANGS I LIVE FOR UNRESTRAINED WILDNESS

but your eyes remain glued to the woods. far ahead, but still close enough to see — the woods you long for. the ones you’ll never get to see up close. 

- it’s also fascinating how all the reader wants to see… is the WOODS. out of anywhere it’s just the woods. in sight but out of reach… the woods are kinda like suguru now that i think about it…

“no, i mean it!” you ensure her, throwing a fleeting glance behind you. ”he just had that rugged look about him, you know? the scar and everything…” a blissful little exhale, as you gush over your would-be killer.

- MIND YOU THIS IS WHEN I FELL IN LOVE W READER LIKENDNDNDNDNDN they’re JUST like ME fr 😭😭😭 put toji in front of me… the kingdom is gonna see something they’ve never seen before… if y��all are shocked that a sexy dilf assassin is now king LOOK AWAY! THAT’S MY MAN! I’M KEEPING HIM W ME IDGAF! if he tried to kill me then maybe i deserved it idk it’s not even a big deal fr <3 RUGGED SEXY W THE SCAR YUHHHHH

all humans have one; a clockwork heart, of sorts, ticking down to the moment they run out of leftover kindness

- oh the clockwork mentions you had throughout this fic was absolutely FASCINATING. i don’t think i’ve ever even thought of/seen something like this before… what a very interesting way to express someone’s limit of patience… i reallllllllllly like that a lot omfg… a clockwork heart ticking down moments of patience/until they run out of “leftover” kindness… leftover is very important here bc tbh who would have patience/overt genuine kindness for a royal? i like the way you described this a lot and i also really liked the “tick-tock” you put throughout the fic to show this exactly!

“toji?” the gears of your mind turn, clicking into place; zenin. a family of assassins, a man with a scar on his bottom lip. ”ohhh — the hottie.”

- REAL ASF. a family of assassins…….. damn is it bad if i kinda still want toji like omfg bring his ass back rn……. “the hottie” EXAAAAAAAAACTLY. I’M A SUCKER FOR HOT MEAN DILFS AND SO IS READER! THEY’RE ME! i feel so seen <333 toji wants me to kiss the scar on his lip so bad omfg… forgot this was a sugu fic for a second my bad………… </3 (toji pleek call me back 🙏🏼)

a velvety voice. silky, smooth, tailored by the finest seamstress — tucked between the slightest raspy vowel, a hint of something deeper. it sounds like honey, wine, a molten mass of spring clouds. 

- ari. ARI. ARIIIIIIIIIIIIII. your imagery is just SOOOOOO beautiful it makes me want to caress your brain (in an oddly comforting kenjaku way) <3 velvet, silky, smooth (all things to describe a voice AND clothing!) love the way you tie it into “tailored by the finest seamstress” & don’t get me STARTED ON THE DEEP RASP. “honey, wine, molten mass of spring clouds.” HOW DO YOU THINK OF SOMETHING SO BEAUTIFUL AND SO TRUE??? sweet elegant and beautiful… that’s suguru to a TEE

he’s beautiful. gorgeous, even. fair skin, sharp facial features, no scars to be seen. a sword hangs in a scabbard by his hip, and he’s wearing a set of armor, still glistening with the aftermaths of the rain beating down outside. his hair cascades down the metal like a black river, loose and silky, a single strand obscuring his pretty face. and his eyes are a soothing shade of brown; you’re almost certain they’d look warm, if there was any sunlight to engulf them. as it is, in the shadow of a murky spring morning, they’re a dark cedar, almost obsidian. but they look kind. 

- sharp, elegant, angular visage <3 love that his face is honestly SO noble like you’d think that HE would be the king! and i like the emphasis on the “no scars” on his face… like no one can get close to damaging the moneymaker iktr! RAIN ON HIS ARMOR… LIKE THE RAIN ON THE KNIGHT IN READER’S DREAM……… OMFMDMFMDMDM // “his hair cascades down the metal like a black river” this was written so beautifully that i wanted to drink his hair. imagine making ME want to drink HAIR bc you wrote it so PRETTILY. you’re EVIL. SICK even……… love that honestly <3 dark cedar to describe his eyes is so <333 obsidian too BUT! regardless, they look kind :’) my sugu

“i promise to be the most insufferable lord a knight has ever had. i won’t make your job easy for you.” / and suguru only chuckles. raspy, like the bark of a tree, claw marks on the ground. ”good,” he grins, eyes rich with mirth, golden pears hanging off the branches. ”i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

- reader is SOOOOOOOO brattyteen!toru coded i’m not kidding… obsessed. your tags were so right like methinks suguru is a brat-tamer at heart (he’s had practice w satoru) ALSO!!!!!! mirth is such a fun word i can’t stop using it 😭 ANOTHER ALSO!!!!! “golden pears hanging off the branches” IS THAT TO DESCRIBE HIS EYES??? IF SO THEN THAT’S UNBELIEVABLY STUNNING

suguru smiles. you have a cute side, he thinks. for no more than a mere moment, he finally feels as if he’s getting somewhere; getting closer to breaking that thorny, thorny shell of yours. closer to meeting the little lamb beneath the wolf’s hide.

- BITCHDHDJDHDJDJ he thinks i’m cute :3 he wants me so bad it makes him look STUPID <3 “closer to meeting the little lamb beneath the wolf’s hide.” ari you’re soooooo fucking insane……… reader always baring their teeth and wanting to test people’s patience but DEEP DOWN (not that deep down) they’re just. a lil goober. like someone who just wants to see the world and find friendship and who just wants to PLAY! they really are a little lamb <3 i think it’s cool how reader tries to act like a wolf but they’re a lamb and suguru tries to “act” like a lamb (he just has an air of natural placation) but is a wolf

when you look down to the floor, you find that suguru is already looking at you; a furrow to his brows. angry, for once. just a tiny, tiny flicker of distaste. you reward him with a cold smile. 

- I FUCKING LOOOOOOOVED THE EVENTS THAT LEAD UP TO THIS!!!!!!!! this is when i REALLY started liking the reader <3 them being cold to the child and shooing them away and then we see WHY they did that… but obvi suguru didn’t know and was just genuinely put off by it… loved that he was a bit angry and i LOVE that reader had a “cold smile” like i see you… they know sugu’s weak for the defenseless (bc he’s a protector. papabear. mamabear.)

“quiet.” suguru stiffens, ever so slightly, following your sharp whisper. ”don’t fuck this up.”

- reader was real as fuck for this like omg shut up sugu you’re boutta fuck this up for both of us rn

(there’s a shame in his eyes that you don’t turn your head to see.)

- i LOOOOOOVE seeing suguru’s shame so much 😭 like he also fell into judging reader by an overt action which i don’t blame him for but then you also see how reader probably was just so used to taking the blame for EVERYONE… like. willing to be labeled the “brat” or the “problem-child” and in actuality they’re saving all these kids from the wrath of the king/a higher up

“that was very, very kind of you.”

- i’m glad also that he had so many paragraphs of just praising the reader :’) like he really is starting to UNDERSTAND them! a genuine kind person who masks it under a facade of brattiness and funny disrespect <3 (honestly! at first i was a bit hmm when you first mentioned that the reader would be bratty bc i didn’t know how you’d write them but i actually found reader the FUN type of bratty! endearing, funny, disrespectful but it’s with reason! i actually am quite fond of them :’)

“go wild, your highness,” he grins, offering his arm up like a lamb to a hungry fox. a teasing mirth in his eyes, his voice coming out as a low purr. “i don't mind a mark or two.”

- FOX SYMBOLISM. READER BEING LIKE A SLY LIL FOX IS SO DELICIOUS TO ME <3 teasing mirth… low purr… damn he wants 2 kiss me so bad……….. “i don’t mind a mark or two.” ME EITHER! MARK ME UP SUGU! if he bit me i’d take it like a champ idk

in the blink of an eye, he’s making his way towards you. beckoned by his duty, his natural instinct, a protective itch that curls around his ribcage and crawls up his throat. large strides, much swifter than usual. he moves without thinking, and he’s there before he has the time to form a coherent thought.

- THIS SCENEEEEEEEEEE. is it natural protectiveness or a bit of jealousy…….. more protectiveness methinks but maybe like 2% jealousy. ALSO RIBCAGE MENTION 🗣️ i love how fast he tries to get to reader like it’s almost as if he’s on autopilot - “moves without thinking” “he’s there before he has the time to form a coherent thought” like it’s just second nature protecting reader rn oh WOW

“here,” he says, voice set to a mellow tilt. upon closer inspection, he’s holding a bottle. transparent, see-through, stuffed to the brim with sea glass. smooth little colourful pebbles, green and blue and pink and orange, like frozen little camellias. ”for you, my lord.”

- 🥹🥹🥹 PLEASEEEEE THIS WAS SOOOO PRECIOUS!!!!!! you can’t see the world so let me bring a little bit of the world to you :’) this was so soft and sweet sugu is deffo the type of give precious lil gifts like this

“protecting the weak,” he says. recites. like he’s said it a million times before, in the face of beasts, in the reflection of broken mirrors, a mantra to live and die by. “protecting those who can’t protect themselves.”

- WHAT A STUNNING WAY TO SHOW HIS DEVOTION TO PROTECT!!!!!!!! he RECITES it. “in the face of beasts, in the reflection of broken mirrors, a mantra to live and die by.” like are you affirming it to yourself or reminding yourself lest you forget suguru? that line……… had me so obsessed i reallllllly love the fact that he would say that to himself against foes. to himself. a mantra. wowowowow

the look in his eyes frightens you. deeper than the deepest lake, dark and murky, dragging him down. a devotion that smells of iron, tastes like steel. mania disguised as loyalty.

- ANOTHER ONES OF MY FAVS!!!!!! DEVOTION THAT ENSNARES YOU FULLY WITHOUT ANY INTENTION OF LETTING GO!!!!!! AND YOU DON’T WANT IT TO EITHER BC THIS IS THE ONLY THING YOU KNOW!!!!! “dark and murky… dragging him down” the fact that you made it a point to explain the extent of his devotion in this manner is WILD. “devotion that smells of iron, tastes like steel, mania disguised as loyalty.” the only way suguru knows how to exist is by extreme intensity and bouts of insanity. like for REAL. i don’t think he can love normally bc he just throws himself head first and will envelope himself inside the mania of whatever the fuck he does… love the imagery of iron and steel for devotion… hard & cold and perfect for a knight. “mania disguised as loyalty.” it’s devotion and mania wrapped in one and it has no other way of showing it except baring its heart & teeth. blood and all. i think that’s how he likes it and that’s how he prefers it

suguru makes a choked out noise, a little comical, breath hitching in the back of his throat. stabilizing you with a palm on the small of your back, patting it softly, once or twice, before retracting his arm and pulling away. clearing his throat. “… you’re welcome.”

- WHAT A GOOBER 😹😹😹 point and laugh he got GOT! he was SHOOK! it’s so funny seeing him be thrown off like that’s my fav thing to read in fics like it’s so fun seeing the poised elegant man be shy hehe

everything smells of life, earth, oak wood and thinly veiled secrets. you want to live here forever.

- WHAT A BEAUT WAY TO TALK ABT THE WOODS! also the oak coming back……… oak is a very strong & tough & steadfast type of tree and i like that it shows up a few times in this story!

his long hair sways with the breeze, smooth and unburdened, black like the night sky above you. a starry glint in his eyes. his voice comes out deep, a raspy lilt, like the scraping of metal against concrete… sharp teeth… “will you trust this wolf to keep you safe?”

- unbridled joy and a bit insane that’s the way i like my suguru <3 SHARP TEETH “will you trust his wolf to keep you safe?” OHFJDJDJDJDJDSJDJ I’M BARKING this made me so <333 HE KNOWS HE’S A WOLF!

a knight, a wolf, a friend.

- 🥹🩷🥹🩷🥹 STOPPPPPPPP THIS PART WAS SO CUTE!!!!!!! bc he’s ALL of them!!!!! he’s a protector in every sense of the word <3 in a knight way in terms of his actual duties, as a wolf would protect their pack, and as a friend would protect anyone they cared about!

everything blurs into a puddle of red. murky, sticky, everywhere all at once. all he sees is red, all he feels is burning. his heartbeat pulses at the base of his throat, bottom lip bruised and aching from hours of sinking his teeth into the flesh, over and over — every single nerve of his body running on adrenaline and nothing else.

- the way you had MY adrenaline racing was crazy too btw… like. RED!!!!!!!!! EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!! just INVADING his senses… it’s all he sees it’s all he smells it’s something that he’s been designed to be used to but now it’s different bc he doesn’t know if you’re safe and it’s his JOB to keep you safe…

suguru certainly isn’t. cutting his way through the bandit’s den, practically growling, sword painted such a dark shade of red that he doubts he’ll ever be able to wipe it clean. harsh slashes, pure instinct, wildfire inside his veins, iron on his tongue. 

- THIS PART. his sword being so BLOODIED that it’s a dark shade of red is actually such a beautiful yet violent sentiment… wow. “he doubts he’ll ever be able to wipe it clean.” ari do you know how insane that makes me? also the way him as a knight shines through in this… “harsh slashes, pure instinct, wildfire inside his veins, iron on his tongue.” what a WILD way to describe how he’s feeling… again your imagery is always so unbelievably entrancing it’s like i’m actually THERE.

suguru isn’t thinking, he’s hunting. sniffing like a bloodhound. eyes scanning the area before him like a hungry beast. suguru is hunting — for you.

- TELL ME RN WHY HE GIVES ME WOLF!KENNY VIBES…………. “hunting. sniffing like a bloodhound. scanning like a hungry beast. hunting — for you.” his mania showing itself in this………. he’s so frantic and i think full of fear but also pure unadulterated anger. at himself at the bandits at the whole situation

bloodied armor. sweaty, messy hair, sticking to his forehead. pure panic in his bloodshot eyes. he cradles your face, cold metal on your cheek, dirty and smelling of iron. he moves his mouth; you delude yourself into thinking that his bottom lip is trembling. forming around familiar vowels.

- oh my………. you describe his panic & fear so beautifully. bloodshot eyes and him being all tousled and dirty….. COLD METAL ON YOUR CHEEK AND HE’S CRADLING YOUR FACE!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! him crying…… but also FINALLY saying your name but you’re barely conscious enough to hear it 😭 oh my HEART

another sensation. he’s touching your hand, now, cold metal on warm skin, bringing it up to his lips; a shaky little exhale brushing against the knots of your knuckle. his lips are chapped. 

- THE GENUINENESS OF THIS ACTION. DEVOTIONAL BUT ALSO SOOOOOOO HUMAN. CAN I GET A HELL YEAH FOR A KNUCKLE KISS! THE MOST DEVOTED THING ANYONE CAN DO! knuckle kisses will always get me a in a tizzy like i was literally wiki-howing how to write a knuckle kiss 😭 back then it was reserved for royals so ooooooh love this so much <3 also like the tidbit that his lips are chapped! it’s very human

then he’s scooping you up, cradling you close, as close as metaphysically possible, as if willing to cut his stomach open to fit you inside. a firm grip, comforting, stable. desperate, a mother wolf carrying her cub to safety, by the skin of her teeth. his hair tickles your skin, but you don’t mind.

- ARI YOU NEED TO KNOW THIS ENTIRE PARAGRAPH HAD ME SO INSANE I WAS HOWLING. him cradling you as close as humanly possible me and him wanting to literally CUT himself open and fit you inside his torso/ribcage to keep you safe… MOTHER WOLF SUGURU. BARK BARK BARK at the end of the day you’re his baby…

he’s smiling, but it’s weak, as flimsy as a piece of paper. his lying smile, tight-lipped, betrayed by the redness of his eyes, the puffy skin beneath them. dark crescents. he sits by your bedside and looks a little like he wants to curl into a ball. 

- this part was sooooooo sad omfg. his weak smile and his red eyes… he wants to curl into a ball. oh i just know the guilt ate him ALIVE. and it makes sense too why he would feel that way like the ONE time he was away from you and this shit happens??? it’s his JOB to protect you! ofc he’d be pained and so guilty/ashamed that his duty was to keep you safe & he wasn’t able to! i totally get where he’s coming from but also omg sugu it’s ok bc reader is fine rn they’re safe and sound bc YOU’RE here

you want to tell him that he has nothing to apologize for, that you’re fine now — that you could never be mad at him. not really, never truly, never at him. you want to tell him that he’s your favorite person, not just your favorite knight, that he’s allowed to make mistakes without demanding that he suffer for them. 

- i think this paragraph was one of the sweetest bc we get to see the true vulnerability of the reader and how genuine/soft they are for suguru. “he’s your favorite person, not just your favorite knight.” like the fondness that reader has for suguru??? my HEART. AND I AGREE W THEM SO HARD!!!!!!! “he’s allowed to make mistakes without demanding that he suffer for them.” i think you just understand such a core part of suguru as a person… like he’s ABSOLUTELY the type to always blame himself/overthink like we even saw this in jjks2 when he blames himself and satoru has to REASSURE him that no it wasn’t your fault. shit happens. please don’t let it eat you alive……… (i could go on a whole rant abt satoru and how empathetic he is and how his trauma shaped him and how his childhood shaped him into always being the one to take care of things/fix them…… he’s like a father figure too actually i won’t let me get into this rn but just know. satosugu are both papabear coded but in diff ways)

“i think you’re my favorite person.” / ”wha — where did that come from?” he stammers, a strawberry hue to his ears, his neck, the tips of his fingers. / “hehe.” you poke at his flushed cheek, and he cracks a single eye open. ”you’re blushing.” / (the word knight sounds very pretty, when it’s falling from your lips.)

- SHY SUGURU MY BELOVED!!!!!!!! I LOVE THAT READER SAID THAT HE WAS THEIR FAVORITE PERSON HEHEHEHEHE <3 THE STRAWBERRY HUE <333 i gave sugu a raspberry hue in my fic i’m writing rn omg me 🤝 ari: fruit hues to describe blushing suguru <3 AND SUGU SAYING THE WORD “KNIGHT” SOUNDS SO PRETTY FROM YOUR LIPS AHHHHHHHH (he’s so down bad……… real)

a painting of a wolf, in the middle of the woods, empty armors and wilted sunflowers all around it. dragonflies and dragonflies, a knight just out of view.

- THE TIE IN BETWEEN SUGURU & THE READER’S DREAM. I’M SOBBING………. the wolf, armor, wilted sunflowers, dragonflies, & a knight out of view……… what if i cried this is so PRECIOUS like giving a painting to your beloved??? love how this ties back to the title of your fic too AHHHHHHHH

“i’ll treasure it,” he vows, meeting your eyes, voice dripping with warmth. hand on his heart, and you can’t even poke fun at it. ”always.”

- A VOW. he genuinely is so thankful and adoring of reader like i bet this is the first time anyone has ever gifted him something like this??? the hand on the heart like you KNOW he means it. “always.” the fact that reader won’t even make a joke bc they know how genuine and earnest he’s being oh i’m so soft

“i'm gonna frame it,” you repeat, eyes shining with sincerity. a little manic. “i’ll hang it on the wall of the castle hallway so everyone can see it. it’ll be there for centuries to come, passed down —” / “please don't —”

- MANIC!READER IN LOVE YAWPPPPPPP. PLEASENDNDNDND THEY’RE SO REAL LIKE OMFG LEMME MAKE SURE FUTURE GENERATIONS KNOW MY MAN’S TALENT! also it being a FOX sketch <333 NDNDNDMDMDNDNDND PLEANDNENDNDND. NOT THE “please don’t” HE WAS SCAREDDDD 😭😭😭

“if it was someone else — anyone else…” he trails off, tasting the words on his tongue. “i doubt i’d feel this way. i doubt i’d want to protect them as fervently.” his voice flows out like a river of gold, just a little scratchy. it always is, when it sounds this sincere. / “you’ve become precious to me,” he admits. “i can't remember what it felt like to not be yours.”

- SUGURUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU OH MY GODDDDDDD. THE CALLBACK TO WHEN READER FIRST ASKED THE QUESTION AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! omg ari your callbacks and cohesion of the storyline are A1 i’m shook…… ALSO SUGURU BEING SO HONEST that he’d only protect reader w such ferventness <333 river of gold and sincere ohhhh that’s so pretty <3 // “you’ve become precious to me,” “i can’t remember what it felt like to not be yours.” AND I JUST KNOW READER FEELS THE SAME WAY!!!!! their souls are tied i just KNOW it <3 p.s. you always have such amazing dialogue like you make it so REAL like it actually feels like real conversations that people have! you have a wonderful grasp on when to make jokes and when to make proclamations of love and they never sound corny or out of place like that’s a real TALENT

his tongue curls around a familiar set of syllables, and your name seeps from his lips like a prayer, a vow, a trickle of honey and wine. devotion sticks to his tongue, to the vowels, a heavy fondness — something devout. something you've only ever heard from the mouths of priests.

- HE SAID THEIR NAMEEEEEEEEEEE. “LIKE A PRAYER.” “HONEY AND WINE.” “DEVOTION STICKS TO HIS TONGUE.” “HEAVY FONDNESS — SOMETHING DEVOUT.” “SOMETHING YOU’VE ONLY EVER HEARD FROM THE MOUTHS OF PRIESTS.” OH MY GOD?/$/!/$/$/$$/&/: THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL FUCKING WAY TO SAY SOMEONE’S NAME AND THE LITERAL DEPTH BEHIND IT. THE REVERENCE. LIKENING IT TO SCRIPTURE??? MY GOODNESS.

“i promise,” he whispers, fingers intertwining with your own. a perfect puzzle piece, a functional clockwork. lifting your hand, bringing his glossy lips to your knuckle; where they belong. ”until death tears me away from you.”

- AN OATH A PROMISE A VOW A DEVOUT WORD! BACK TO THE CLOCKWORK TOO AHHHH I LOVE THE TIE IN! AND NOW HE KISSES THEIR KNUCKLES W GLOSSY LIPS. not even death can tear him away from reader he won’t let it <3

his lips meet the crown of your head. it’s not much, but it’s a start. and it’s tender, tender enough to get you choked up, to get you to close your eyes to stop any tears from forming. because one person in this kingdom understands you, and he tells you that he’ll never leave. and you think you can actually find it in you to believe him. 

- I’M GONNA CRYYYYYYYYYYY. THE SOFT KISS. THE TENDERNESS. AT THE CROWN OF YOUR HEAD IDK IF YOU MEANT IT THIS WAY BUT I LOVE THAT THE “CROWN” ALSO CAN WORK FOR THEIR ACTUAL HEAD AND THEN ALSO IN THE FUTURE OF THEM AS A ROYAL! “because one person in this kingdom understands you, and he tells you that he’ll never leave. and you think you can actually find it in you to believe him.” SUGURU HAS THEIR BACK AND READER HAS HIS. HE UNDERSTANDS THEM!!!!!!! I SOBBED

“you can sleep, if you’d like,” is whispered against your hair. soft, soothing, his palm on your spine. “i’ve got you. always.”

- “i’ve got you, always.” my goodness he’s so fond and in love i can feel the honey seep through his words

your favorite knight, always and forever, a sword at his hip that was forged to protect you. or so he’ll tell you, years from now, when he’s got you in his lap, when there isn’t any need for him to act anymore.

- KDKDKDKDKDKDKDKSKSKSKD CAN I GET A HELL FUCKING YEAH FOR THE KING MOST LIKELY KICKING THE BUCKET! NO NEED FOR HIM TO ACT ANYMORE……… IS READER NOW THE KINGDOM LEADER??? also sitting in suguru’s lap hehehe i’m giggling twirling my hair kicking my feet 👉🏼👈🏼

and you dream a perfect dream. a dream of a wolf, and a fox, and a garden of stars.

- WHAT A BEAUTIFUL WAY TO END IT :’) wolf, fox, & a garden of stars and they wouldn’t wanna have it any other way <3 OMG ARI THIS WAS BEAUTIFUL

ari this was seriously such a beautiful story i’m so in love w the way that you took the story!!!!!! i love how you characterized each character and how you gave them depth - even the side characters! the child, king, maid, TOJI & HAIBARA MY LOVE & MY BESTIE <333 and OF COURSE. reader was so fucking fun i actually ADORED their personality omg one of the most fun characters methinks <3 and suguru OBVIOUSLY he can be written anyway and i’ll eat it up but you wrote him w such care and fondness i absolutely LOVED IT!!!!!! your imagery prose scene-setting dialogue ALL of it was so amazing and your cohesion throughout the whole storyline was so fkn good!!!! AHHHHHHHH i truly am at a loss for words rn <3 THANK YOU FOR MAKING THIS FIC!!!!!!! sorry this got so long but you made me clinically insane idk friend <3 make sure to rest up and give yourself some well-deserved me-time!!!!! SUGURU WOULD LOVE THIS 🩷

the paint doesn't move the way the light reflects ; suguru geto

synopsis; when the king puts you under the supervision of a dashing knight, you promise to make his job as difficult as possible. unfortunately, suguru geto is the patient sort.

word count; 21.1k (this accidentally turned into a novella idk how it happened nobody look at me :’3 this is a love letter to sugu ok…)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, knight!sugu x royalty!reader, royalty au (not accurate to any time period ever), technically a bodyguard au, slowburn, reader is a brat and suguru likes it a little more than he should, reader also has thinly veiled daddy issues, protective sugu :3, he goes feral in one part (descriptions of violence and bloodshed), reader gets briefly kidnapped lol, very fluffy overall though!!, includes shifting povs & time-skips, also lots and lots of devotion, knight!sugu is real & beautiful & loves you specifically <33

a/n; HAPPY late BDAY SUGU MY BABY THE LOVE OF MY LIFE this fic has been in the works for a WHILE now and means a lot to me much like sugu himself :’3 dedicated to my beloved @kissxcore for infecting me w this concept & also my dear @mossmurdock for bringing knight!sugu into my life, both of u have made the brainrot infinitely worse and i will never be free (and ofc @softgirlgonehaywire & @dollsuguru & @jtkys for being the sweetest always) I LOVE U ALL!!!!!!!!

like most things, it begins and ends with a dream.

images form in the depths of your subconscious, wild and vivid, splattering on the canvas of your mind. a dream of cold metal, dark thickets, iron-scented skin — and a knight. 

(or… a wolf?)

before you is a small clearing. trees sprout from the rugged grounds, blooming proudly, clogging up the wool-coated sky. all around you lie empty, discarded suits of armor, dirty with rust and something that smells of death. wilted sunflowers stumble under their own weight, and dragonflies buzz in a frenzy, manic, driven to hysteria. in the distance you think you hear the shrieking of ravens.

and there’s a knight, just ahead, tall and imposing, covered in steel from head to toe. holding a blinding sword, facing the sky, doing nothing to stop the pitter patter of raindrops ricocheting off his burganet. you stand by the entrance of the woods, and watch him in silence. 

he looks a little lonely. 

and in comes the wolf. gracious, growling, big and bad, snarling and showing off the white of its fangs. dragging its claws against the ground, unruly fur ruffled by the harsh breeze; widening its maw, a silent fury on its tongue. from this angle, it looks a little like a grin.

the wolf begins to chase the knight. or maybe it’s the knight chasing the wolf — you can’t really tell. they run in circles around each other, like the sun and the moon, an orbit of violence, matching their steps. almost in harmony — almost, but not quite, because suddenly they’re closing in on you, great and ugly, beasts wearing different hides, and —

and that’s when you wake up.

”your highness!” 

a groan pushes past your lips, groggy with fatigue, and your eyelids flicker open like the drawing of a flimsy curtain. a series of mismatched little blinks, until your vision clears. 

above you waits a familiar face; impatient. one of the maids, your foggy brain tells you. and she isn’t pleased.

but all you do is drag your limbs up to cover your pillow-creased face, sluggishly, muttering beneath your breath. ”a wolf…”

silence. 

the maid tilts her head, with a furrow of her brows. 

”… excuse me?”

”there was a wolf,” you echo, a dreamy exhale muffled against the skin of your palm. stifling a yawn. ”and a guy… he was cool.” 

she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. settling back into her usual rhythm. mildy berating. ”did you have another one of your dreams?” she asks, a little irritated, and for a second you think you hear a tick-tock ticking down. ”at any rate — you need to get up. the king and queen demand your presence.”

ah. of course.

a huff, displeased, even as you force yourself into a sitting position. stretching your limbs like a grumpy feline. ”demands…” you murmur, a click of your tongue. ”they think they can just wake me up whenever they want? at the crack of dawn?”

”it’s 11 a.m, your highness.”

”early as hell,” you rasp, willfully tuning out her murmur of mind your language. letting your legs hang off the bed. ”what do they want, anyway?”

following your silent cue, she hums, walking towards the edge of the room. picking up your discarded blouse, and bringing it to you. ”i was told it was of utmost importance,” is all she says, lifting the fabric as if getting ready to dress you.

”i can do that myself,” you hiss, snatching the white silk from her outstretched hands. as always, she does nothing but sigh, sigh, sigh. it’s all they ever do. ”i’m not a toddler.”

from your position, still cozied up in bed, on messy sheets and fluffy pillows — you can see the view beyond your translucent window’s glass. a sky so gray it’s almost comforting, dark clouds forming in the distance, silently ruminating. when the maid pushes it open, and a cold breeze slips through the gap, you can smell the rain; heavy, earthy, daffodils and oak wood. in the distance, sunflower fields seek shelter from the downpour. 

but your eyes remain glued to the woods. far ahead, but still close enough to see — the woods you long for. the ones you’ll never get to see up close. 

a bitter taste blooms on your tongue. 

(spitefully, your teeth sink into the tender flesh of your bottom lip.)

”fine,” comes a heavy sigh, ruefully resigned. forcing yourself into compliancy. before you can change your mind, you hop off the mattress, running your fingers through tousled strands of hair. ”i’ll go see them.”

and she brightens, visibly, disapproving frown smoothed away with the breeze. for now. ”thank you. they are worried, i’ll have you know.”

a scoff, as you cross the threshold of your private quarters. humorous. ”i bet they are.” 

”your highness,” she calls, following close behind. her tone is reprimanding, now; you will yourself not to shrink. ”we almost lost you.”

”i almost got kidnapped,” you huff. ”not the same thing.”

again, that exasperated sigh. it’s a wonder her lungs haven’t run out of air. ”do you have any idea who that man was?” 

the question makes your mind still. shifting gears, a clockwork coming to life, repeating it inside your head — do you have any idea who that man was? 

”… he was hot.”

sigh. you hear it before it comes, and raise your lips on instinct. 

”no, i mean it!” you ensure her, throwing a fleeting glance behind you. ”he just had that rugged look about him, you know? the scar and everything…” a blissful little exhale, as you gush over your would-be killer. ”what a waste. if only he had gotten away.”

”with you in tow?” the maid quips, raising a brow. her words are steeped in irony.

”of course!” another disapproving glance. ”i mean, did you see those biceps —”

”behave.”

with a flutter of your puffy sleeves, you turn around to face her. and ah — there it is. the hardness of her jaw, those frosty pupils, the impending signs of her dwindling patience. you can see it, hear it, that eerie tick-tock signaling the breaching of her limit. all humans have one; a clockwork heart, of sorts, ticking down to the moment they run out of leftover kindness to give unruly heirs. 

over the years, you’ve gotten expertly good at making the clock tick quicken. a skill you’re very proud of.

”and what if i don’t?” you bite back, just barely restraining your growing grin. delighted at the attention. ”he had nice biceps! what, am i not allowed to tell the truth?”

and the tick-tock quickens. she stills, just behind you, hands on her hips. frustration bubbling beneath her sharp syllables. ”my god, you are impossible today!”

for a moment, you stop to look at her. weighing your options. should you reel it back in, try and appease her? or keep pushing? the answer, as always, is push. it’s all you’ll ever do.

so you turn on your heel, and take a step forward, a spiteful grin curved into your lips. ”deal with it, or leave.” a beat. ”i don’t remember asking you to accompany me.”

before you round the corner, your ears pick up on one final harsh sigh. she makes no move to follow you.

(hmph.)

”where is your maid?”

in front of you stands a throne, proud and luxurious, polished marble, two seats right next to each other. the quarters of the royal pair are the same as always, vivid paintings hanging from every wall in sight, wolf pelts thrown over tables and windowsills. the scent of dried lavender seeps through the air, suffocating you. 

and, of course, the king. speaking to you with the same judgemental voice as always; one you’ve grown painfully accustomed to. 

”i wanted her to get me breakfast,” is the lie you decide on, finely tailored in white. just to make sure she doesn’t get into any actual trouble. ”you didn’t exactly give me time to eat any.”

the king sighs, mild disappointment laced into the breath. nothing new. when he says your name, it comes out sounding like a bad joke. ” — you aren’t a child anymore. one day you’ll be ruling this kingdom; forcing the maids to do your bidding won’t win you any favours.” 

”mhm.” absently, you fidget with the sleeves of your blouse. not quite listening. ”so, what did you want? it’s not often i’m allowed here.”

an evil glint shines in your eyes, for a moment. you cast a meaningful glance at the maid by your father’s side — his personal favorite. 

”don’t you have, ah…” you taste the words on your tongue. ”more pressing matters to attend to?”

he doesn’t flinch. as always, he pretends not to know that you know — that everyone knows. 

yet he still gives you that cold, cold look, colder than the howls of wind beyond the castle walls, cold enough to send a shiver down your spine. it makes you want to push, push, push. break the clockwork in half.

but he’s wise enough to follow your lead. “let me get to the point, then,” he cranes his neck, showing off the fox pelt snug around his shoulders. ”the queen and i thought it best to hire a new knight for you.”

you blink. eyelashes fluttering. all you can hear is the pitter patter of rain against the windowpane. 

then you groan.

”another one?” you whine, barely resisting the urge to stomp your feet on the floor. ”please, no. it’s such a pain getting rid of them. you know they won’t last long!”

”we aren’t talking about any ordinary knight,” he tuts, as monotone as ever. ignoring your little temper tantrum. ”after what happened with toji zenin, we aren’t taking any chances.”

you tilt your head. confused, for a moment. ”toji?” the gears of your mind turn, clicking into place; zenin. a family of assassins, a man with a scar on his bottom lip. ”ohhh — the hottie.”

your father pretends not to hear you. 

”it was a close call,” he hums, and you muster the strength not to crack another joke about his biceps. it takes restraint. ”we need someone who can protect you properly. indefinitely, from even the stealthiest of assassins. so…”

your eyes meet his. gazes overlapping, the same colour, one above and one below. he’s always, always towered over you. for as long as you remember. 

that is what royalty means — absolute dominion. 

(it makes you want to curl into a ball.)

”today, you’ll be meeting with the greatest knight.” he says the words with an odd sense of pride, an inner satisfaction. ”he’ll be here any moment. i thought it best for you to get acquainted as soon as possible.”

a moment passes. you’re broken out of your bout of compliance, like a rubber band snapping. a clock tick quickening. ”wait, what?” you gape. ”father —”

”your majesty.” 

…

the correction is stern. gritting your teeth, you force the words from out your throat. ”… your majesty,” there’s a slight grumble to your voice, ”what the hell? now? i haven’t even —”

”you have no choice in this matter,” he cuts you off. coldly, coldly, coldly. ”behave, and there won’t be any complications.”

behave.

behave, behave, behave. it’s all they ever want from you.

(you might as well be a pet.)

the queen is silent, as always. eerily so, not saying a word, like a puppet on a string. she hasn’t looked you in the eye even once so far, not even a passing glance. not like you’d expect her to. her clockwork heart stopped beating for you a long time ago. 

automatons, the both of them. making decisions for you, like there isn’t a sliver of rational thought in your brain. how irritating.

you’re just about to part your lips, when —

”… am i interrupting?”

you still.

a velvety voice. silky, smooth, tailored by the finest seamstress — tucked between the slightest raspy vowel, a hint of something deeper. it sounds like honey, wine, a molten mass of spring clouds. 

the king ahead of you brightens, suddenly, lips curling up into a smile. it looks almost warm; you didn’t know he was capable of making that kind of expression. ”ah, suguru!” he calls out to the source of the noise. ”no, certainly not. forgive me for the short notice.”

when you turn around, you see a knight.

he’s beautiful. gorgeous, even. fair skin, sharp facial features, no scars to be seen. a sword hangs in a scabbard by his hip, and he’s wearing a set of armor, still glistening with the aftermaths of the rain beating down outside. his hair cascades down the metal like a black river, loose and silky, a single strand obscuring his pretty face. and his eyes are a soothing shade of brown; you’re almost certain they’d look warm, if there was any sunlight to engulf them. as it is, in the shadow of a murky spring morning, they’re a dark cedar, almost obsidian. but they look kind. 

and they’re fixed on the king. he’s smiling, too, a dangerous little tilt. disgustingly charming. he hangs his head in a bow, hand on his heart — reverent.

(ah. he’s one of those knights.)

”my king,” the strange knight greets, tongue wrapping around the vowels like a dragon curling around a pile of gold. ”not at all. i’m always grateful for an opportunity to see you.”

(oh god. it’s even worse than you thought.)

”i should say the same of you,” the king echoes, with a warmth that you’re wholly unaccustomed to. your stomach churns, swirling with discomfort. ”our nation’s pride and joy.”

the knight chuckles; muffled by his closed fist. he’s feigning embarrassment, you can tell. ”you flatter me,” he purrs, words flowing smoothly from his lips. too smoothly. ”i’m simply doing my duty as one of your subjects. but, needless to say — i’m honoured to have earned your respect.”

finally, his gaze shifts to you. and you think he must notice how disgusted you are, the reproach you feel for him, that silent contempt. because you aren’t trying to hide it; it’s there, clear as day, in the crease of your brow, your frosty pupils. lips pursed, like they’re aching to bare and to bite.

but he continues to smile. warm, still, like a mellow summer breeze. a well of pizzicato drops.

you feel a little nauseous.

”ah, and you must be the royal heir?” a tilt of his head, knowing. a shimmer of recognition painted in those ashen eyes. ”or should i say…. my liege.” 

he walks towards you, in long strides, slow and steady, only to get down on one knee. ew. ”forgive me; my name is suguru geto. your knight, from this day forth.” his palm unfurls, cedar eyes crinkling with feigned endearment. holding it out towards the subject of his newfound devotion. ”i’m delighted to finally meet you.”

(suguru geto. you’ve heard of him, of course. who hasn’t?)

his hand stills in the air, waiting patiently for yours; to bring it to his glossy lips. but you don’t do anything. nothing, other than studying his smile, picture perfect, tailor-made, sweet enough to melt on your tongue. so sweet you know it must be at least a little bit fake — the smile of a liar. 

it’s a smile you know well.

so you mimic it, a bitter glint in your eyes, only for your hands to retreat to your pockets. and out comes a purr. ”you’re a bad actor.”

silence. the knight doesn’t flinch, not even close, but he blinks, a flutter of his dark eyelashes. like a raven taking flight. that everlasting smile never falters, but for just a second, a clock-tick or two, you swear you catch the slightest hint of something flickering through his keen iris.

interest?

”forgive them, suguru,” the king is quick to chip in, finally stepping down from his throne to join you on the floor. the queen doesn’t move, but she gives suguru a fond smile, and it makes your grimace deepen. ”they woke up on the wrong side of bed this morning. and they’re a bit of a problem child — i’m sure you’ve heard.”

that makes you snicker, silently. maybe just a little bit smug. you’re sure it must be a headache for him to deal with.

”i can’t say i haven’t,” suguru chuckles, raising himself up from the marble floor. your smile falls. ”but it’s not an issue. i understand.”

he looks at you, really looks at you, and you give him an unimpressed stare. wholly disinterested. trying not to squirm under his scrutiny. 

”i’m sure it must feel suffocating — being under this kind of supervision.” he gives you a tilt of his head, strands of charcoal following the movement. smooth, like a waltz, one you didn’t agree to. ”isn’t it?”

ah. the sympathy card.

before you can answer, he bows; hand on his heart. knights and their rituals. ”i’m at your service, my liege. if i make you uncomfortable, at any point, just tell me.” once more, he meets your gaze, a sincerity in his own — reserved just for you. ”really.”

… ugh.

to your right comes a pleased voice, deep and satisfied, as self-affirming as ever. ”i knew i could entrust them to you,” the king speaks, placing a palm on your shoulder. you try not to flinch. ”aren’t you grateful? this handsome, kind man is all yours.”

a sharp scoff is all you can muster, nails digging into the skin of your palm. but suguru only chuckles, good-natured.

they continue to speak, about this and that. you tune out most of it, caught up in preparing for the long headache ahead. sure, you’re an expert at getting knights to quit, but it takes time. weeks, sometimes, just to make them finally crack, push and push until their patience reaches its limit. and suguru seems resilient. more than anything, he seems thoroughly loyal to the king; that really doesn’t bode well for you.

but before you can formulate a step-by-step guide to making his job a living hell, the sound of your name snaps you out of your trance.

it’s the king, of course, as always. you hate that you still instinctively respond to his call. like an obedient puppy. ”show suguru to your quarters. he’ll be accompanying you indefinitely, from now on. don't give him any trouble.” his voice finally sounds cold again; a warning. ”i’ll hear about it.”

(indefinitely.)

a moment passes. then you sigh, deep and heavy, haphazardly hiding a roll of your eyes. ”yeah, yeah, yeah,” you cross your arms. ”i got it.”

suguru meets your furrowed brows with something gentle, a soothing little smile. offering his arm, for you to hold on to. knights and their rituals. ”shall we?”

but you brush past him. stubborn in your independence, in your desire to make this as discomforting for him as it is for you. ”follow me,” is all you say, a dissatisfied huff. loud enough to pick up on.

to your great displeasure, he matches your hurried pace. side by side, as you walk down the halls, the clicking of his shoes echoing against the marble. a shadow you can’t shine away; one that’ll stay with you indefinitely. you feel his gaze burn into you.

”my lord.”

”don’t talk to me,” you sigh, sharp like the sword by his hip. a low click of your tongue. ”just so you know, i didn’t agree to this.”

”that was my question, actually,” he grins, ever so slightly. fingertips tapping against his scabbard. ”i am sorry, you know. i meant what i said — i’m sure it’s difficult for you.” he casts you another one of those meaningful glances, a meaning you have no intention of discerning. ”but i have my orders.”

you bite back a laugh. ”you guys love those, huh?” when you turn your head to face him, still walking forward, he’s met with a taunting smirk. ”your little orders.”

but his smile doesn’t falter. damn.

”not a fan of knights?” he asks, instead, a playful lilt to his syrupy voice. coaxing, accommodating. infuriating.

”nope.” your footsteps quicken — but he keeps up, effortlessly. curse those abnormally long legs. ”you’re all just bootlickers. especially you.”

”oh?”

”don’t oh? me,” you snap, practically growling, ”like you weren’t seconds away from making out with the king back there. it’s all so fake.” the comment makes the corners of his lip quirk up, but you don’t turn around to see it. ”now that you’re alone with me, you’re already acting way less uptight, see?”

he hums. ”i figured it’d make you feel more at ease.”

”god, will you just cut it out?” a hiss breaks out of your throat, sharp and exasperated. tired, drained. you just want to go back to sleep. ”quit acting like you care about what i think. you’ll do whatever the king asks of you — that’s all you really care about.”

suguru stays silent, this time. matching your steps, observing you silently, out of the corner of his eye. the frown on your lips, the crease between your brows. etching them into his memory. you’re pissed, that much he can tell. and you definitely, definitely don’t like him. 

(”you’re a bad actor.”)

the knight comes to a standstill. parting his lips, enough for his voice to flow through, silken sheets and molten honey. a raspy tilt he tries his best to hide.

but his words carry a sincerity he could never fake. 

”from now on, i serve you.”

when the clicking of his shoes against cold marble flooring fades away, you halt. turning around, hesitantly, quirking a questioning brow. rain beats on beyond the window to your left, flicking against the glass, droplets clinging to the translucent surface. marigold petals kiss the windows in a flurry of cream and orange, fluttering about with the harsh bites of the wind, carried from the castle’s orchard. the endless hallway you find yourselves in smells of rainwater and spring.

suguru looks steadfast, where he’s standing, immovable. a little like a pillar of salt. when he speaks it sounds like he’s reciting a scripture.

”i’m loyal to the king. i have to follow his orders.” 

there’s something about his words that you can’t quite pinpoint. is it guilt or pride? ”but i am at your service. certain things are set in stone, but not others. i’ll let you decide how this goes.”

the hallway goes silent. he smiles, again, smaller this time. somehow more genuine.

”from now on, i’m your knight.” the pitter patter of rain mashes with the steady beating of a clock; rhythmic, soothing, a lullaby of rust and time. ”that’s all. i won’t be anything else.”

you stare. lips pursed, awaiting a clarification, but it doesn’t come. he’s giving you time to respond.

(he’s your knight, now. indefinitely yours.)

an inhale. the clock hands of your heart begin to move. ”in that case,” you exhale, lips curling up into a taunting smile. pleased with yourself. ”i promise to be the most insufferable lord a knight has ever had. i won’t make your job easy for you.”

and suguru only chuckles. raspy, like the bark of a tree, claw marks on the ground. ”good,” he grins, eyes rich with mirth, golden pears hanging off the branches. ”i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

he looks sincere. sounds sincere. all you do is blink, a sense of frustration nibbling at your heart, but the knight before you doesn’t falter. he only offers his arm to you, once more; a silent step towards reconciliation.

you watch him, silently. 

then you’re turning on your heel, swiftly, a low grumble at the base of your throat. ignoring him and his offer, walking towards your room with irritated steps that fade as you turn the corner.

behind you, suguru’s smile only grows.

”good morning, your highness.”

blinking sleepily, still regaining your ability to form coherent thoughts, all you can do is stare. studying the figure above you, towering over your half-asleep form, the deadpan expression on your face.

black hair, and amber eyes. a disgustingly charming smile. 

the gears of your mind finally click into place.

a whine flows from your lips, meek and disapproving, and you roll over to your side. pulling the covers over your head, as if to protect you from the existence of your newly hired knight. so it wasn’t just a bad dream.

but he doesn’t fade away, like an apparition. he stays right by your bed, crouching down next to it. you feel the weight of the mattress shift when he rests his elbow on the cushion. ”still too early?” he asks, soft enough not to grate your sensitive ears. ”i was told you usually get up around this time…”

a muffled groan. ”leave.”

”i’m afraid i can’t,” he hums, but you don’t sense much remorse. ”i’m not supposed to let you out of my sight for more than brief intervals at a time… that’s one thing i can’t compromise on.”

”i don’t care,” you whine, petulant. tightening your grip on the blanket surrounding you, desperate to savour the leftovers of your fuzzy dreams. ”’m not getting up…”

a click of his tongue. quiet, contemplative. until he decides on a course of action.

”would you like me to bring you breakfast, then?”

…

slowly, your eyes flicker open, consciousness beginning to stir. the tasty temptation rouses you from your half-slumber, ever so slightly; because he sounds sincere. he sounds like he really will bring you breakfast, if you just give him the order. 

it’s tempting. dangerously so. 

(how long has it been since one of the maids actually bothered to serve you breakfast?)

”… whatever,” you croak, finally. weighing the value of your own response — putting effort into not sounding too excited. (but you are.) ”sure. do what you want, just let me sleep.”

a relieved little breath slips from suguru’s lips, as he watches the lump under the blanket stir. ”alright,” he breathes. ”what would you like, my lord?”

(suddenly, you get an idea.)

a smug grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief on your mind. ”figure it out yourself,” you chirp, awfully pleased with yourself. 

silence. 

then, you hear him hum — rising to his feet with a quiet groan. ”understood,” he quips. ”i’ll be back as soon as possible, your highness.”

when you hear the creaking of the door, as he steps over the threshold, you barely restrain the urge to kick your legs in victory. now he’s sure to get you the wrong breakfast; and then you can be as difficult as you please, demanding something else, over and over. an ungrateful, spoiled little brat. that’ll definitely make him quit. 

— sadly, it seems you were underestimating him. just a tiny, tiny bit.

before you, on a silver tray, lays a wide variety of breakfast foods. everything from syrupy pancakes and buttery croissants to neatly cut sandwiches and porridge, slices of fruit and fresh lemonade, coffee with cream and sugar, tiny jars of marmalade and jam. sparkling, glittering, begging to be devoured. handmade, you can tell, meticulously crafted by someone who knows what they’re doing. with a gulp, you attempt not to openly salivate — you had no clue the kitchen workers were this talented. 

for just a moment, you’re entirely speechless. he really went ahead and got you some of everything.

stumbling for the right words, any words, the only thing that escapes your throat is a meek huff. meant to sound displeased, but coming out just a little awestruck. ”this is… way, way too much. are you insane?”

he only shrugs. a sweet smile on his lips, sharp jaw resting on the heel of his palm. ”well, you wouldn’t give me any specifics,” he reminds you, a bit too smug for your liking. ”just eat what you like. i’ll keep your preferences in mind.”

you want to protest, want to put up a fight. want to resist his charms, his little peace offering.

but your stomach growls, suddenly. loud enough that you’re sure he hears it, but you don’t turn around to see any silent laughter — just picking up the fork, embarrassed, eager to just get rid of the ache in your gut. eager to get a taste of the delicacies in front of you. with hesitance, you cut into one of the fluffy pancakes, slathered with syrup, trying to ignore his expectant gaze. biting into it with your eyes closed.

when the sweet taste curls around your tongue, you physically feel yourself perk up. letting your eyes flutter open, your eyebrows raised, a sweetness that makes you sit up straighter. it practically melts in your mouth, honeyed and buttery, and it takes all your willpower to withhold a blissed out little sigh. 

it must be evident, on your features. because suguru sounds amused when he asks; ”good?”

”... better than usual, i guess.”

despite your half-assed attempt at hiding how pleased you are, his ever-present smile extends. ”oh, really?” he leans back in his chair, right next to the bed. exhaling in relief. ”i’m glad. i was worried my cooking wouldn’t be to your tastes.”

…

you pale.

silently, both awestruck and horrified, you look up to meet his teasing gaze. ”wait. you…” a pause. silent, palpable, dreading his answer. ”… made this?” 

”yes.”

another pause. 

”… like. all of it?”

”mhm.”

your gaze falls down to seek solace in your lap. avoiding his own, biting down on your lip, not quite enough to sting. fuck — you accidentally complimented his handmade breakfast. not off to a great start.

wallowing in your silent loss, you simply dig in; desperate to savour it, despite the lingering taste of failure on your tongue. once you’ve sipped the last of your coffee, foamy and rich, the knight to your right speaks up.

”so, your highness,” he begins. tactful, careful. clearing his throat. ”now that you’ve woken up a bit… and, forgive me if i’m overstepping, but —” he searches for your guarded gaze, playing with the beginnings of a smile. ”i was thinking it’d be good for us to get to know each other better.”

”ugh.”

a chuckle — seriously, does nothing offend this man? — flits past his lips. ”oh, don’t be like that, your highness. don’t you think it —”

”cut it out.” you shoot him a glare, voice set to a shivering tilt. ”stop acting like some perfect servant. it’s so obvious you’re playing it up.” a tiny huff, as you pop an apple slice into your mouth. ”makes me sick.”

”… right. you called my acting bad, before.”

”it is,” you nod, a mocking imitation on your tongue. eyes fluttering shut as you bring a hand to your chest. ”oooh, look at me, i’m so humble and loyal! why, of course i don’t mind being summoned with no prior notice! would you like me to lick your shoes, my sweet king?”

and, honestly, you expect him to get at least a little bit angry. the last guy certainly was.

but suguru laughs, suddenly, from the bottom of his gut — a genuine sound. sunshine spilling from his lips, amusement laced together with the octaves. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, like the leaves of a golden ginkgo tree. ”okay, okay,” he puts his hands up, as if readying for a smooth surrender. still amused. ”i’ll try to be more… unguarded, then. would that satisfy you?”

you give him a look. 

he returns it with a smile. ”i’ll take that as a yes,” is all he croons, reaching a hand out. it hangs still in the air, waiting patiently for a response. a familiar sight.

you blink. looking at it, silently, as if trying to solve a puzzle in the pattern of his fingertips. 

then you sigh. ”for the last time, i’m not letting you kiss my hand, you —”

”a handshake,” he cuts you off. soft, a tilt of his head; awfully charming. reassuring you. ”no kissing involved.”

a handshake.

(come to think of it, you don’t think anyone’s ever tried to shake your hand before. it’s something you see other people do; maids, knights, butlers. people on equal ground with each other.)

after a moment of silence, you avert your gaze. there’s a slight, slight flush to your cheeks, one you hope stays hidden from his keen eyes. you grumble, intent on not appeasing him. ”… i’m not shaking your hand, either.”

suguru quirks a brow, smile yet to fall, waiting a few moments more until he gives in. ”you are difficult,” he chuckles, and it sounds almost pleased. ”kento was right.”

kento? now, why does that sound familiar…? 

”— but that’s okay. i look forward to getting to know you better, either way.” his hand retreats to his lap, pliant. ”eventually.”

”that’s not happening.”

”oh?” you swear that smile of his grows, just a little. a man who enjoys a good challenge. humming, closing his eyes for a brief second, switching tactics as if shifting gears. ”then, tell me — is there anything you’d like to know about me?”

hell no, is what you want to say. and you almost, almost do. eager to move one step ahead of him, stubborn in your desire to scare him off.

but then you remember the tale.

so you still, ever so slightly, and suguru leans forward. by a hair, noticing your expression, maybe, the curiosity simmering in your veins. seeping out, little by little, and even though you know you shouldn’t — you just can’t resist the temptation to ask…

”… is it true?”

he tilts his head.

”the … you know.” you move your hands, a bit, as if hoping they’ll say the words for you. they don’t. ”your sword. did you really…” a pause, as your eager gaze trails down to his hip, the scabbard attached to his belt. and then a gulp. 

”… pull it out of a stone?”

a series of silent blinks. then suguru chuckles — dripping with fresh amusement, a glimmer of teeth behind his lips. ”oh, so you’ve heard?”

and, like a pair of shooting stars, your eyes flicker over to meet his. almost gleaming with newfound excitement, a little erratic. ”is — is it true?”

”it’s an old folktale,” he’s quick to intercept. ”gets said about basically every great knight… or, what the public deems as good, anyhow.”

(ah. the humble facade slipped away.)

in a matter of seconds, you seem to deflate, slumping back until your spine meets the headboard. sulking silently. ”so you didn't pull your sword out of a rock?” you huff, mood souring again, a lemony flavour in your veins. ”lame.”

”stone,” he corrects, unperturbed. ”and i'm afraid not.” he gives you another one of his placating smiles, barely concealed amusement swimming in his amber eyes. ”i pulled mine from an oak tree.”

…

”wait, really?”

the gleam in your eyes is back. suguru almost, almost feels bad.

”depends,” he quips, shooting you a lazy grin. ”how gullible are you, my lord?”

(... oh. he was teasing you.)

an embarrassed heat crawls up your neck, rooting itself into the column of your throat, and all you can do to distract him from it is to scoff. sharply, as if hoping just the sound will be enough to cut into his smooth skin. ”whatever.”

suguru continues to smile, crows’ feet by his eyes, something deliberate in his silent stare. so you stumble for something, anything to say.

”also, can you quit the my lord stuff?” you settle on, taking a shallow sip of the lemonade. sour and sweet, nice and chilled on your tongue. ”it’s creepy.”

he blinks. a flutter of his dark lashes, fingers tapping at his bended knee. he looks contemplative, for a moment. ”does it make you uncomfortable?” he asks, tilting his head. ”i can stick to my liege, if that’s better. just say the word.” 

”god, you’re so annoying,” you groan, licking the lemony residue off your lips. ”just use my name.”

suddenly, suguru stills. fingertips frozen, for a moment, no longer tapping at his thigh. he traps his bottom lip between his teeth, a hesitant hum crawling up the confines of his throat. 

”that….” he trails off, thumb absentmindedly smoothing over the leather of his scabbard. ”seems a little much.”

when you turn to look at him, he seems a little put off. uncomfortable, maybe — or just caught off guard? it’s hard to get a read on him. for someone who smiles so often, his emotions don’t appear very bright.

a pang of something grasps onto your clockwork heart, and a frown pulls at your bottom lip. frustration gnawing at your veins. ”you’re here to service me, aren’t you?” you ask, with a shallow huff. ”just do as i say.”

”well, i still have my boundaries.” suguru leans back, crossing his legs, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. ”and, on paper — i’m only here to protect you. the servicing is my own choice.” 

a very, very judgemental look. he returns it with a tug of his lips. 

”… you really do like being ordered around, don’t you?”

suguru shrugs. playful. ”makes me feel needed,” he purrs, watching you wolf down the breakfast he made.

once you’ve had your fill, he’s quick to gather the silver tray in his steady arms, and you do your very best to hold back from thanking him for the meal. it aches a little, but you can’t give in — you don’t have a choice. you can’t allow yourself to be anything other than the most ungrateful, annoying royal in the kingdom.

anything to snap his clockwork heart in half.

— a week passes with no particular developments. you try your damndest to bother him, but suguru is stubborn. stubborn enough that you’re starting to doubt he’ll ever leave you alone, no matter how much you ignore him, or hiss at him, or whine at him to make you an annoyingly specific assortment of breakfast foods.

he never stops smiling, no matter how bothersome you’re being. the tick-tock of his patience remains unbroken. 

(so for now, you figure you’ll just have to adjust.)

a sense of contentment simmers in the open air, when suguru knocks at your door, waiting for a groan and a grouchy come in. it takes you a few moments longer to respond than what he’s used to, and he notes that you sound a little less irritated when you do.

as he steps over the threshold, bowing his head instinctevely, he’s met with the sight of you fully immersed. holding a paintbrush between your fingers, lifting it, movements delicate, self-assured. like it comes to you without thinking. you’re seated right by the window, enough for the would-be daylight to flicker in. as it stands, the weather is still sour. 

he walks up to you, as always, never more than a few steps away.

and, for a moment, all he does is watch you. silently, as you dip your brush in smeary cobalt paint, a splatter of colour on the white canvas. melting together with the indigo and obsidian. there’s a certain rhythm to it, a kind of dance between you and your mind and the painting in front of you — not even close to being finished. a dip of your brush blooms into a jaw, a flick of your wrist into a set of fangs. cobalt cream and silvery edges, an imitation of what you saw in your sleep. murky, blurry, a dream-like clearing in the woods. 

as you work, a sense of relaxation smooths along your sinuses. coaxing you into breathing out, into letting your clenched jaw rest for a while. turning all your irritation into brushstrokes. into a hungry, hungry wolf. 

finally, your knight opts to break the silence.

”you’re quite talented.” 

it’s an earnest comment. filled with respect, not the idle flattery you’re so used to. and despite yourself, you can’t help but grin — glowing a little beneath the praise. prideful, smug, almost giddy. he watches intently as your expression shifts, as those fleeting flickers of joy dance along the contours of your cheekbones. as you lap up his praise like the chamomile tea he served you this morning.

suguru smiles. you have a cute side, he thinks. for no more than a mere moment, he finally feels as if he’s getting somewhere; getting closer to breaking that thorny, thorny shell of yours. closer to meeting the little lamb beneath the wolf’s hide.

but your mind quickly catches up to your body, realizing that your lips are curled up into a pleased smile, and you clench your jaw again. mindful not to let him see it. painting makes you far too careless, too unguarded; you have to be mean.

stuck in a bout of frustration, you put a little too much force into the motion of your fingers, a small slip of the hand. but that’s all it takes. suddenly, the smooth, calm sea of fur on the canvas turns violent, a little more unruly, and you withhold a wince. doing your best to mend the damage. flick, flick, across the canvas, as if to appease the hungry wolf. 

from behind you, a tiny exhale. laced with a kind of stifled amusement, one that makes you snap your jaw in his direction. brows knitted in anger.

”what?”

suguru clears his throat. ”nothing, my liege,” he hides a smile behind his knuckle. eyes gliding across the murky smear of fangs and fur, interest piqued. ”i’m just curious… why a wolf?”

a huff. briefly, you consider ignoring him, but….

(something in his tone convinces you not to.)

”… i saw one,” you admit, absently, staring at the blue and gray of the canvas. flick, flick. violet, navy, a little more depth. ”in my dream.”

silence. your knight doesn’t respond. surely, he must think you childish; everyone else does. why would he be the exception? why did you tell him anything at all? 

a sense of regret mixes with the paint. the weight of a brush in your hand truly does make you careless, doesn’t it?

”… huh.”

a clenching of teeth. you muster the will to turn your head, just to give him a questioning look, a silent aggression. biting before he can. but he’s not looking at you; he’s looking at the painting, the wolf that isn’t quite a wolf yet, just blue and gray on paper. a blur of messy motions.

then he shakes his head. ”no, nothing.” 

you quirk a brow. 

but you don’t say anything. falling silent, falling back into the rhythm of it all, painting until you grow bored of it. the wolf looks at you both, still thoroughly unfinished, jaw half-painted, no trees or knights to keep it company. solitary, blurry; baring its fangs towards no one at all. a sorry spectacle of teeth.

— a couple days later, as you’re walking through the castle with suguru in tow, still adamantly refusing to curl your fingers around his bicep, a loud crash breaks you out of your hushed banter.

the two of you share a look. it came from farther away, just beyond the next turn, a certain hallway decorated with delicate vases. one the castle maids desperately tried to keep you from, when you were younger, worried about your habit of jumping around while pretending to be some sort of feral animal. worried, of course, about the safety of the porcelain rather than the safety of the child.

it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the source of the sound. and, lo and behold, what waits beyond the turn ahead is a crying boy and a broken vase.

fat tears cascade down his reddened cheeks, silent fear knit into the way his face is scrunched up. he can’t be older than six or seven; one of the maid’s children, you assume, the kind that doesn’t have the luxury of making mistakes. he looks panicked, down on his knees, holding a large piece of porcelain, painted flowers etched into the front.

what a mess.

when the clicking of your shoes reaches his little ears, he looks up at you with wide, shameful eyes. still sitting amongst the littered shards, the spilt water and irises soon to wilt. it reminds you of something, a memory you don’t quite want to recall; a different child, tiny and alone. taught to feel shame at the moment of their birth. 

it makes your pace falter, a bit, but suguru moves without hesitation. long, careful strides, one foot after the other. 

he crouches down in front of the boy, gentle as he takes the shattered piece of porcelain from his tiny palm. so he doesn’t hurt himself. ”hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothes, speaking even softer than usual, his voice like a flurry of feathers and jasmine petals. ”are you hurt?”

he’s patient. smiling comfortingly, considerate, grounding, a blanket of wool like the one forming on the border of the horizon. but the child continues to sniffle and hiccup, curling into a ball as if readying for a strike. like an abandoned puppy.

you sigh.

after a moment’s hesitation, you’re stepping forward, figure slipping from the shadows and coming into view. joining the miserable pair, the jagged shards on the marble floor. 

there’s a cold, cold look in your eyes when the boy raises his head to meet them.

a flick of your wrist; you wave your hand once, then twice. ”shoo. hurry up.” 

he blinks. tears clumping his lashes together, cheeks flushed from the panic of it all. he stammers when he parts his lips. ”b… but —”

”didn’t you hear me?” comes a scoff, harsh, cutting through the air. right through the fear and panic. ”that was an order. just run back to your mommy already.” you cross your arms, shaking your head in disapproval. mimicking the king, though you think it’s lost on your spectators. ”all that crying is making my head hurt, geez.”

a series of hesitant blinks. crumbling beneath your commanding gaze, the child stumbles to his feet, sparing suguru one last unsure little glance before scurrying off. the sigh that slips from your lips is quiet, barely audible, tinged with relief. 

when you look down to the floor, you find that suguru is already looking at you; a furrow to his brows. angry, for once. just a tiny, tiny flicker of distaste. you reward him with a cold smile. 

(so this is how you get under this skin. cruelty, aimed not towards him, but towards the defenseless. 

what a picture-perfect, self-destructive little knight.)

just as the child turns the corner ahead, you hear the echo of a maid calling out from behind you. her voice is dripping with fatigue, exasperation, a flurry of sighs you’ve grown far too familiar with.

”your highness! what have you done now?”

there it is, you think; the curtain call you’ve been waiting for. with a swift turn of your heel, sheepish expression ready to go, your focus shifts onto one sole objective — act annoying.

”walked into a vase,” you chirp, proudly, just the slightest bit theatrical. gesturing dismissively towards the broken spectacle, as suguru raises himself from the floor. ”my bad. not my fault you make them so easy to break, though.”

she inches closer, with a disapproving stare, and you hear a tick-tock in your ear. sensing the limit of her patience. ”i’ll have you know these vases are expensive,” she clicks her tongue. ”do you truly think you can go around breaking whatever you please?”

”… well. i mean… i do kind of own this place, don’t i? or — i will.” you tilt your head, faux contemplation on your features, shifting into a spoiled smile. ”so — technically — i broke my own vase. no harm done!”

”… my lord —”

”quiet.” suguru stiffens, ever so slightly, following your sharp whisper. ”don’t fuck this up.”

he looks at you, silently. not saying another word.

(there’s a shame in his eyes that you don’t turn your head to see.)

it doesn’t take long for the maid to shoo you away, pinching her brow at your carefree laughter, bitter at the prospect of cleaning up your mess. she makes sure to give suguru a sweet smile, though, and doesn’t bother to hide the sympathy in it. sympathy for him, such a handsome, well-behaved knight, forced to service such a brat.

the smile he gives her in return is a stiff one. almost, almost cold. but he bows, and follows your retreating form, until you’re all alone together.

the walk is silent. maybe just a little heavy, as you try to ignore the stare burning into your skin, trying to swallow your own displeasure. it’s subtle, something you learned to internalize long ago, but it’s there; a slight sadness. you don’t enjoy getting yelled at.

a thick silence stretches on, before crumbling into dust. you aren’t sure how much time has passed when a certain velvety voice curls around your senses.

”your highness.”

he’s come to a standstill, again. you really should just ignore him and keep walking. but you still, anyway, following his cue, turning towards him with a look that says what now? — you aren’t sure what to expect. certainly not the sentence that ends up spilling from his lips, like a spring breeze through an opened window, tinged with something you fear may be close to fondness. 

(in your chest, your heartbeat tick-tocks.)

he smiles, gentle, with eyes that see right through you. and he speaks. 

”you’re actually kind, aren’t you?”

…

”… huh?”

he pays no mind to your stupefied expression. continuing, unperturbed, eyeing you with a look you distinctly dislike — as if he’s trying to glimpse into your mind. ”the vase,” he hums. ”you took the blame, even though you didn’t do it.”

a huff escapes you. face hardening, setting into firm lines. ”that wasn't intentional,” you grumble, defensive. ”i just wanted him to leave.” 

but suguru shakes his head. ”you could’ve left when the maid came. but you stayed, and lied, and got yelled at so he wouldn’t have to.” a second passes, silence thick with meaning. intentional on his part. ”is that not what you’d call kind?”

another moment gone, little tick-tocks of your heartbeat counting down. you part your lips, but no sound comes out, as you stumble for words to say. irritation stirring in your veins. or is it nervosity? you think your skin feels a little hot, suddenly. 

just what the hell is happening?

”i’m… i’m not — ” you bite down on your lip. harshly. stammering, voice cracking a bit, to your great dismay. ”… not kind. i hate all of them.”

”but you protect them,” he whispers, ”look after them.” his smile doesn’t waver, never ever, but you’ve never seen it look quite this knowing. and suddenly, he’s closing in on you, gazing at you with laughter in his eyes. 

you try to stand your ground, wanting nothing more than to flee, curl into yourself, scratch at him until he leaves. but your throat feels so dry, all of a sudden, a sensation that only deepens with the next words he breathes into life. 

”a little sweetheart who pretends to be all big and bad…” he eyes you up and down, a meaningful look, raven locks moving as he tilts his head. towering over you. ”is that what you are?”

nothing. no smart reply comes to you. all you can muster is a harsh glare, a low hiss crawling up your throat, like you’re preparing to lunge at him. it serves as a warning, but the amusement in his eyes doesn’t fluctuate. ”you…”

he chuckles. raspy, breathy, a shiver down your spine. ”your acting is even worse than mine.”

”shut up,” you snap, baring your teeth. it comes out almost like a growl, hot and heavy in your veins, and you don’t understand where all this emotion came from. strangling you, bubbling up within your bobbing throat. ”you don’t — understand me, okay?”

no one does. 

and that’s fine. you don’t want them to. 

(you just want him to stop looking you so fondly.)

”not yet,” he admits, eyes fluttering shut. a thoughtful hum on the tip of his tongue. ”… but i think i’m beginning to.” 

he’s looking at you, again, amber and honey and raven lashes, lapping up every hint of a tell in the way you shift from foot to foot. speaking like he knows you, like he’s known you all his life. ”you act difficult — scare everyone away… but deep down, you love them, don’t you?”

a scoff. desperate. ”no.”

”you want to loved,” he continues, not allowing you to flee. relentless in his pursuit of whatever he imagines must be hidden inside your soul, beneath all those layers of frost. ”understood. everyone does.”

”not me.”

”your highness.”

…

the knight continues to look at you, and you avoid his gaze like it could burn you into cinders — like it could turn you into dust. but he parts his lips, anyway, and speaks. so sincere it makes your chest hurt. words that echo through the endless hallways of the castle, against the surfaces of glass that line the walls. words that make your skin flush under the shadows of rain soon to fall.

he smiles, wide, teeth showing. and he speaks. 

”that was very, very kind of you.”

silence. so thick you wonder if you’re about to faint, or fall to the floor, or something equally embarrassing. a sentence so simple shouldn’t be making you feel this way, this weird. you don’t understand why it makes you feel anything, anything at all, and you don’t understand why your eyes suddenly feel a little glassy.

(someone saw through the act.)

”… whatever,” you squeeze out, at last, but it sounds a little meek. a tiny puff of air. turning around, sharply, blinking rapidly to shoo the tears away. ”i just didn’t want to hear that brat whining. it was hurting my ears.” 

suguru bites back a coo.

as he watches your back retreat, hurrying back to the comfort of your room, he’s almost certain that he’s making progress. that your walls are beginning to crumble, slowly but surely, bit by bit. the path before him clears — a thorny, foggy path through the woods, until a sunsplatter falls on the ground and tells him where to plant his feet. 

it’s not much, barely anything, but suguru’s always liked his hunts blindsighted. 

you turn a corner, and he follows suit. sparing a passing glance at the clouds on the boundary of the horizon, the sole ray of sunlight breaking through. and then he’s catching up to you with long strides.

(it’s his duty, yes, but he doesn’t think he’d mind it so much — getting to know his kind, misunderstood little lord.)

sadly, disappointingly, to your great shame — you begin to grow used to suguru’s presence in your life. constant, always close behind, always ready to be of service. as infuriatingly patient as ever. it’s a stretch, but you may have become just the slightest bit fond of it. 

maybe, possibly, you’ve even silently decided to stop trying to scare him away. stop acting so difficult with him, all the time.

or, well — sometimes.

”take me outside, please?” you whine, bottom lip jutting out into a deep pout, accompanied by a flutter of your lashes. 

the voice that spills from your lips is hopelessly meek, pleading, so sweet you’d get cavities if you didn’t know how fake it was. effortless, perfected, your one god-given talent; an irresistible pair of puppy dog eyes. 

suguru answers with a smile, tight-lipped. ”no.”

a beat.

”aw, come on,” you whine, barely resisting the urge to stomp your feet. frustration bubbles up inside your veins, trickling down to your wrist, nails digging into your palm. ”why not? you’re supposed to listen to my every command!”

”still no, sweetheart.”

a series of grumbles scratch at the base of your throat, but suguru pays them no mind. patient, patient, patient. he’s even kind enough to ignore the way you pointedly avoid his gaze after the term of endearment slips past his lips. ”sorry, but that part is non-negotiable. you know i don’t have a choice.”

you do know. but it still makes your mood sour, pulls a sigh from out of your lips. he moves closer, familiar silver tray in hand, dragging a chair to where you’re seated by the windowsill.

”i did bring you this, though,” he gestures towards a particular glass bowl, filled with red berries. they shine like rubies in the light. ”strawberries, like you asked for. wasn’t easy to get a hold of.”

he places the tray right next to you, smiling as he takes a seat. ”cheer up, hm? don’t be so grumpy.”

your pout remains, but you do settle down a bit. just the teeniest, tiniest bit. definitely not because he was kind enough to indulge your cravings.

”… thanks for breakfast.” 

suguru beams, and you avoid his gaze, like always. biting into one of the rubies, the soft murmur of thanks still burning your tongue, soothed by sweet nectar. he lets you flee, lets you continue on like nothing happened, like it isn’t obvious how much you’ve warmed up to his presence. 

”you’re welcome, my lord.”

…

(even after spending more than a month together, he still won’t call you by name. won’t even entertain the idea. why does that bother you so much?)

peacefully, your morning ritual continues. the same as always; you eat, while suguru watches, a sweet smile on his lips. the silence remains until he opts to break it.

today, he sounds a little hesitant.

”say, your highness…” he picks at a piece of lint on his cloak, absentminded. ”could i ask you for a favour?”

you almost drop your fork. gaze snapping up to meet his own, as a few silent seconds tick on by. tick-tock, tick-tock. then you clear your throat, regaining your composure. trying to sound nonchalant. 

”what is it?” you probe, cutting across the yolk on your fried egg. watching the orange seep out, trickling down, sinking into the crust of your toast. suguru hums. 

”a friend of mine — he’s also a knight…” he wrings his hands together, legs parted. tapping his heel on the floor. ”we’ve been sparring together for a while. once a week, at least. but ever since the king hired me, we haven’t been able to.”

you watch as his gaze flickers down to his lap, then up to you again. it’s smooth, charming, but you still think it seems a little out of place. he must not be used to asking for favours.

”i was wondering if you’d be willing to accompany me? just down to the training fields by the castle.” his fingers tap against his bended knee, slow and methodical, from pointer to pinkie. ”the king gave us permission to spar there, but i’m obviously not allowed to let you out of my sight…”

you bite back a huff. obviously. he waits for a response that doesn’t come.

”… so?”

you meet his gaze, expectant. hopeful, maybe. it’s a nice touch — matches with the amber of his eyes.

”would that be alright with you?” he inquires, again. you think he sounds just a tiny bit unsure of himself.

a moment passes. silently, you look down at your lap. folded hands, itching to do something. something fun, new, exciting. 

your tongue forms around a wish. it spills into the air like a shooting star, a meek little whisper. ”… i wanna swing a sword.”

suguru blinks. once, then twice. ”you…” he tastes the words on his tongue, turning the image of you around in his head. ”want to swing a sword?

you nod. glancing at him, coughing a little under your breath. summoning just a bit of audacity, eyes trailing towards the sword by his hip. longingly. ”… i’ll only watch you spar if you let me try it.” 

a brief pause. he studies you intently, a mystery he’s yet to solve.

then he chuckles, light and airy, full of mirth. a sound you’ve grown fond of. ”well, okay. that’s fair.” he rises to his feet, smiling down at you. ”thank you, my lord.”

you don’t respond. but your eyes glitter with excitement, as you dutifully finish your breakfast, wolfing it down. waiting patiently for him to head down to the kitchen with the tray, for him to change into his training gear. 

when he knocks at your door, he’s wearing a flimsy little blouse. almost see-through, if you squint your eyes enough, exposing his bare skin. you think you see a scar curling up from his chest, reaching for his shoulder, just below it by a hair. and you can see his biceps, the fat, the muscle, practically begging to be bitten.

(tantalizing.)

he’s speaking to you, saying something, but you tune him out. focused on trying to restrain your growing urges. when he reaches up to fix his hair, tied up into a bun, the muscle of his arm twitches.

and, suddenly, you can’t contain yourself. 

giving in to the salivating temptation, you grab hold of his bicep, sinking your teeth into it — gentle, but enough that he feels it, enough to leave a set of teeth marks soon to fade. gnawing at it like a dog with a bone.

suguru blinks. pupils wide, quirking a silent brow, quick to smooth over the surprise in his eyes. 

you don’t move. teeth planted against the fabric, the firm muscle beneath it, surprising even yourself; his arm just looked so biteable. you wonder if he’s put off. upset.

but, as always, he’s eerily placating. like nothing you say or do could rock the ship of his patience, an endless sea. smooth, airy laughter flits past his lips, giving way to an indulgent smile. he studies you with fascination, like you’re a creature he hasn’t encountered before.

ever so gently, he grabs hold of your jaw — and the warmth of his touch shocks you into letting it go slack. before you can say anything, he’s rolling up his sleeve. exposing the tender skin.

”go wild, your highness,” he grins, offering his arm up like a lamb to a hungry fox. a teasing mirth in his eyes, his voice coming out as a low purr. ”i don't mind a mark or two.”

to your horror — it flusters you terribly.

you cough. taking a step back, averting your gaze, suddenly disinterested. feigning indifference, anyhow; that was definitely a scar. and a cool one, too. you think you might even have caught a glimpse of a birthmark or two. 

”i’m… just keeping you on your toes,” you stumble for an excuse, still unable to look at him properly. missing the way he stifles a bout of laughter. ”for your training, y’know? gotta stay on your guard.”

”of course. i appreciate the help,” he quips, fond, as he gestures for you to take the lead. ”he’s waiting for us. are you ready?”

for a second, just a second, you consider grabbing his arm. letting him guide you. but the thought is fleeting, like a bundle of peach blossoms, brushed away by the sunshine seeping in through the window’s glass — illuminating the marble flooring. 

a mellow excitement simmers in your bones. 

you head down to the training grounds with a pep in your step, and your loyal knight follows suit. just behind, always, wearing a smile you can’t see.

”suguru!”

the man that greets you with cheerful fervour, seated cross-legged under a peach tree, isn’t quite what you expected him to be. 

when you heard knight, you imagined someone a bit more… intimidating. but this guy is far from imposing. a little shorter than suguru, brown locks stopping right around his ears, exposing his sunkissed skin. freckles scattered across his nose and cheekbones, a happy little grin curled right around his lips. 

he’s cute. a bit like a puppy. not very knightly, though.

”haibara,” suguru greets, a mellow warmth to his voice. the man in question shoots up from the ground, stumbling towards you both, excitement in his hazel eyes. suguru gestures towards you. ”this is the royal heir. the one who doesn’t like having their hand kissed.”

your head whips towards him, an angered flush to your cheeks — you’re almost sure that he’s smirking, giving you a teasing glance, but haibara’s exclamation prevents you from voicing any protests. 

”hi!” he beams, bowing deeply, so sudden that you jolt a bit. his head whips up instantly, brown locks stirred by the breeze, voice warm and smooth. like honeysuckle nectar. ”thank you so much for letting us spar, your highness! i’ve heard so much about you!”

”… um.” your gaze falls down to a pebble on the ground. unsure of how to act, murmuring under your breath. ”you — it’s… no need to thank me. i wanted to get some air, anyway.”

he continues to look at you, eyes shining with a pure kind of cheer. glittering, honeyed and sweet, too bright to look at directly. you hear suguru exhale amusedly to your left. he’s looking right at you when you glance towards him. 

his hand inches closer to his scabbard, fingertips trailing down the leather. ”should we get started?”

haibara brightens even further, if possible. ”oh, right!” he exclaims. ”you wanted to try swinging a sword, your highness? that’s so exciting! is this your first time?”

a blink. you aren’t really sure how to handle this guy; he’s a bit too sunny to be snarky to. like a fuzzy ball of sunshine given human form, bouncing on the balls of his feet, tail practically wagging behind him. all you can muster is a weak cough. ”uh, yeah.”

”well, you’re here to learn.” suguru speaks up. guiding you both towards the center of the field, hand still at the sword on his hip. ”let me show you.”

in one smooth motion, he’s pulling it out of its sheath, a stripe of silver absorbing the rays of the sun. glimmering, slicing the blue sky in half. 

you’re a little awestruck.

and then he’s facing you. leaning forward, with a familiar tilt of his head, offering the blade with a smile. ”do you want to try swinging it around a bit?”

barely containing your excitement, you nod. making grabby hands at it.

that makes him chuckle. he makes no move to stop you when your fingers curl around the hilt, only parting his lips for a quick warning, a split second too late. you take it into your arms. ”careful, it’s a bit —”

— the sword clatters to the ground with a thud.

silence.

haibara breaks out into laughter, sudden, fond and warm, but enough to have your cheeks burning. fresh with embarrassment, humiliation, before you even hear the breathy chuckle that slips from your knight’s lips.

”… i was gonna say it’s a bit heavy,” he hums, closed knuckle in front of his lips and obscuring his smile. ”i’m sorry, my lord. do you —”

”whatever.” a hiss escapes your throat, and suguru winces. he knows where this is going; knows a bundle of thorns just erupted from the stalk of your spine, knows you're about to get defensive. ”like i’d ever want to touch your dusty sword. get — get real.”

he tries again. patient, patient. the familiar tick-tock of his never-ending kindness. ”hey, we aren’t making fun of you,” he soothes, hoping it’ll make your edges soften. like scratching a feral dog behind its ear. ”it’s understandable. you weren’t expecting it. i’ll let you try again, hm?”

a tiny pause. 

(you’re being childish, again.)

brows furrowed, hanging your head, you kick at a pebble on the ground. having collected yourself a bit. ”… maybe next time,” you finally speak, still grumbling. after you’ve spent some time lifting weights in your room.

suguru tilts his head. speaking softly. ”you sure?”

”yeah.” taking a step back, you raise your head to meet his gaze. ”i’ll just watch you. it’s fine.”

”… okay,” he exhales. leaning forward to pick up his sword from the ground. ”i can spar with you next time, if you want. you’ll be a pro in no time.”

he gives you another sweet smile, bangs fluttering with the breeze; painted in cerulean sunshine. he’s so gorgeous it makes you angry.

a sharp huff. ”don’t patronize me,” is all you can mutter, meeting the eyes of the knight by his side. standing up straighter. ”haibara,” you call. ”knock him around a bit for me, okay?”

from the corner of your eye, suguru pouts.

but the puppy-knight only grins, as bright as the sun in the sky. ”you got it, your highness!” he salutes, cheeks flushing with giddy excitement. 

as you sit on the benches a little farther away, dragonflies buzz in the air. fleeting glimmers of chartreuse and cerulean, chirping happily, keeping you company as you watch the knights spar. the clangs of their blades, the elegance in the way suguru moves. a violent little waltz. he’s sweating, just a bit, but you can see it, droplets glittering in the sun. he looks like he’s having fun. 

he looks like himself. like he isn’t holding back, isn’t acting obedient or well-mannered for the sake of pleasing his superiors. like this, here and now, he looks wild, free, a dog that turns into a wolf under the glow of the sun. 

for a second, your eyes meet — just as he narrowly avoids a slash. 

and he smirks, ever so slightly, suddenly gaining a little more momentum. flashing a brief grin, sunlight reflecting off his white teeth. you huff. heat crawling up your neck. 

show off.

”excuse me, your highness?”

the sudden voice snaps you out of your stupor. mesmerized, by the spectacle before you, the glimmer of their blades and the sight of your knight’s smile. it’s an unfamiliar voice, close, close enough that your head turns to meet the stranger’s ugly grin — inching closer still.

(uh oh.)

— just up ahead, lost in their own worlds, are two knights; huffing and smirking and narrowly dodging each other’s strikes. suguru takes the lead, as always, guiding haibara into improving his swordsmanship. but they both learn from it. and it’s fun, lighthearted, a respite from their more gruesome duties. 

it’s helped suguru more times than he can count; those tiny flickers of normalcy, in a wholly unpredictable profession. a life of bowing and bowing and killing what needs to be killed.

slash, slash, and then two steps back. the same old dance. haibara’s starting to lose momentum, he notices, adam’s apple bobbing with his heavy breaths.

so suguru stills. ”alright, that’s enough for now,” he calls, stretching idly. craning his head, looking around him absently. he wonders if you’re still watching. ”i think i see what the problem is.”

haibara perks up, obeying without a word, wiping the sweat off his forehead and walking towards his friend with a sunny smile. ”okay, great!”

but suguru isn’t looking at him, anymore. 

he’s looking towards the benches, where his little lord is seated, speaking to an unfamiliar man. one who currently has his hand on their forearm, caressing it. you look guarded, irritated, a little like you’re about to bare your teeth. trying to pull away, but he doesn’t let you. and suguru recognizes that look — the one that means you’re about to start biting and hissing, inching your claws into whatever’s within reach.

(not to injure, but to ground yourself, he’s learned. like how you clutch onto the fabric of your clothing when you’re nervous, sink your nails into your palm. not to injure, but to feel safe.)

in the blink of an eye, he’s making his way towards you. beckoned by his duty, his natural instinct, a protective itch that curls around his ribcage and crawls up his throat. large strides, much swifter than usual. he moves without thinking, and he’s there before he has the time to form a coherent thought.

with as much gentleness as he can possibly muster, he grabs hold of the stranger’s arm. smiling, tight-lipped, cold. ”excuse me, sir,” he greets, ”i need to borrow them for a moment.”

the man meets his gaze with a sour look. bitter, ugly, oddly possessive — like he thinks he owns the arm he’s holding. it makes suguru want to teach him a lesson, show off his sword, but he resists the temptation in a way you never could. his expression is a warning, though, enough to scare most rowdy drunkards and snobby royals away.

and it works. the stranger looks to you, briefly, before finally letting go of your poor arm. something rigid in suguru’s jaw finally relaxes. ”who are you?” comes a question, as the man turns to face him with a look full of contempt. ”their knight?”

before suguru can say anything, you’ve hopped off the bench. clinging to him, with a firm nod; your arms around his bicep. ”yeah. he is.”

(suguru fails to stifle a smug smile.)

with a string of bitter mumbles and a silent frustration, the man scurries away. hesitant, only after being met with another warning glance from the knight in front of him. intimidating, far less subtle, towering above him like a predator over their prey.

as soon as he’s out of sight, your knight turns to you, scanning your face for signs of discomfort. loyal, attentive. ”are you okay?” he asks, a silent shame in his voice. if only he had noticed sooner. ”did he do anything to you?”

you shake your head. ”it’s fine. probably one of the king’s friends — stops by every now and then.” a sigh, a little fatigued, following your explanation. ”they’re mostly harmless. just creepy and touchy.”

”that doesn’t sound very harmless…” suguru lets you pull away, quick to hide the disappointment that flashes in his eyes as you do, waving haibara off with a silent gesture of give us a minute. ”don’t worry. i’ll keep an eye out, from now on.”

still a little guarded, you nod. letting suguru guide you by the small of your back, taking a seat on the solid bench once more. together, this time. 

”there are a lot of those types around the town square,” he exhales, weary, stretching out his limbs before leaning forward. elbows resting on his bended knees. ”they’re a pain to deal with. i’m sorry you have to.”

”are there?” you ask, tone laced with curiosity. ”in the town?” 

”well, i’m sure you’ve heard. that place is a bit of a mess, these days…” a click of his tongue. ”more work for the knights.”

a dragonfly settles on the bridge of his nose. suguru blinks, smiling gently, until it flutters away with a raspy squeak. fading away, melting into the blue paint of the sky. you bite down on your lip. 

”… i haven’t.”

he turns to look at you. raising a brow.

”i haven’t heard about it at all. the king told you, right?” you meet his eye with a rueful smile, before leaning back, nose turned up towards the sky. for a second, you think the air smells a bit of rain. ”i’m not allowed to go out into town.”

your knight falls silent.

so you continue. grinning, with no humour to it. maybe a bit eager to overshare, to break the silent rules you’ve been given. the secret tastes like honey on your tongue. ”i’m a bastard child. he probably told you that, too.” you wouldn’t be surprised. ”thinks it's optimal for everyone involved if i just stay cooped up in the castle.” 

closing your eyes, your voice drips with something close to longing. barely above a whisper. ”i haven't been to the town in a couple of years, now.”

…

he only hums. ”i see.”

(there’s sympathy, in his amber eyes, but you don’t turn around to see it. you don’t turn to look at him until he’s finished sparring, and haibara’s about to leave. 

you wonder if he’ll meet your gaze the same way as before.) 

— that evening, suguru knocks at your door right as you're about to fall asleep. three rapid knocks, the same as always, knuckle against wood. rousing you from your rest.

when you open it, he’s holding something out towards you.

”here,” he says, voice set to a mellow tilt. upon closer inspection, he’s holding a bottle. transparent, see-through, stuffed to the brim with sea glass. smooth little colourful pebbles, green and blue and pink and orange, like frozen little camellias. ”for you, my lord.”

blinking sluggishly, you take it into your arms; holding it up in front of your eyes. when the light of the moon flitting in through the curtains hits it just right, it blossoms with colour, sparkling with every shade you’ve ever seen. shining like a heap of jewels, in your hands, like something out of a picture-book. magical.

it’s mesmerizing. 

”i asked haibara to get it from the town,” he explains, drinking in your expression of awe. ”this one lady — she collects them herself. i see her by the beach nearly every time i go there.”

when you look up, his smile is serene. peaceful, if just a little bit tired. but he looks pleased, lips curling around silky syllables. ”i thought of you.”

it’s odd, you think. you aren’t a stranger to gifts; you get most of what you desire if you just say the word, an easy way for the king to keep you compliant. as if to make up for the plethora of experiences you’ve missed out on since your birth. and you’ve had more than a couple suitors, men and women, eager to gain your favour. 

but this — this particular gift…

…

”it’s pretty,” you murmur, finally, unable to voice even a sliver of the emotions clogging up your chest. shying away from his gaze, feeling your heart pulse against your ribcage. ”… i guess.”

suguru just smiles. always, always, always. no matter what you do. ”i’ll get you something else next time,” he promises, ready to go back to standing guard outside the castle. ”get some sleep, okay? be good.”

and you can’t bring yourself to protest. not even a tiny huff of don’t tell me what to do. you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod, soft and pliant, still gazing at the bottle of sea glass in your hands. like you might turn into one of those transparent pebbles, if you wish for it enough.

that night, you dream of waves crashing against sand, the taste of seafoam on your tongue. every colour in the world. a newfound, reawakened wish — a wish to see more of it.

”are you trying to sneak out again?”

owlishly, all you can do is blink. propped up on the windowsill, immersed in the process of tying pillowcases and bedsheets together to form a rope. caught in the act — by none other than suguru, standing by the threshold, hand on his hip, watching you with silent disapproval. you didn’t think he’d come check on you this late.

a gulp. ”… no?”

and he sighs. walking towards you, brows furrowed, running a hand through his raven locks. you can tell he’s trying to be a little more sympathetic, this time, but it only makes the bitter taste on your tongue thicken. 

”look — i know it’s not fair to you, but the king and queen specifically ordered me —”

”i get it,” you cut him off, with a hiss, a little harsher than you meant to. you soften your voice before continuing. "i know. okay? i know.”

resigned, but frustrated, you clench the silken material of the bedsheets. glaring at them like it’s somehow their fault that the queen couldn’t bear an heir, that your father has a knack for sleeping around. like it’s their fault that he’s so ashamed of your existence that he doesn’t want you integrating into society on anything other than his own terms, until he’s dead and gone and doesn’t have to take accountability anymore. 

like it’s their fault that it’ll always be like this, forever, that it’s better not to hope for more.

(why can’t you just accept that?)

the knight before you exhales. troubled, watching your nails dig into the fabric, watching the way you bite down on your lip and rapidly blink. all signs of your frustration, your sadness, that you always try so hard to hide. 

”hey. how about this?” he tries to get your attention, voice soothing enough to coax you into raising your gaze. ”i’ll tell you a story instead.”

he stifles a chuckle, at the dubious look you send his way, teetering on the edge of a glare. slithering towards you. ”i’ve seen a lot of places. i can tell you about them, if you’d like.” he takes a seat right next to you, on the windowsill, a slice of the moon in bare view. ”what do you want to know?”

you’re silent, for a second. gnawing at your bottom lip, in contemplation, the tiniest bit of nervosity. like you aren’t quite sure if you’re allowed to speak your wishes aloud.

”… the woods.”

suguru blinks. a little caught off guard. 

his silence makes you want to bare your fangs, a bit. misinterpreting it as judgement. your voice comes out cold. ”what?”

but he’s quick to smooth over his features with a smile, as always, cocking his head amusedly. ”sorry — i was expecting you to say the sea, or something,” he stifles a chuckle. “it's the woods that you're so curious about?”

you pout. ”… you can see them from here.”

his head turns towards the window’s glass, squinting his eyes to see the sea of dark green in the distance, a cluster of thick trees. he hums. ”yeah, you can. well… that particular spot isn’t too bad. not many bandits or beasts.” your gaze stays glued onto his lips, every word that spills from them. ”there are wolves, though. this side of the kingdom is crawling with them.”

”they sell their fur,” you state.

(that’s one thing you do know. you spent more of your childhood around wolf pelts than your own parents. they might as well be your legal guardians.)

suguru nods. ”they do. it's a big portion of the kingdom’s exports… general market, as well.”

a frown tugs at your lips. you think of your fluffy childhood guardians, unable to howl or even make a sound; hunters turned decorations.

”isn’t that… kinda fucked up?”

he smiles, revealing no emotion. ”do you think it is?”

you only shrug. ”i’m not surprised that they eat us.” you think of all the stories you’ve heard, the fairy tales you grew up with. ”… if i was a wolf, i’d hate humans too.”

”would you, now?” familiar amusement, seeping from his tongue, soft crows’ feet by his cedar eyes. ”good thing you aren’t a wolf, then. we’re lucky.”

”mhm. you’d be my first target.”

that makes him chuckle, a little deeper this time, and you drink in the glimpse you get of his teeth, the fondness that dances across his face when he looks at you. 

a sudden urge overtakes you. 

”… i wanna know about something else.”

”oh?” he tilts his head, soft locks framing his kind eyes. ”and what would that be, my dear?”

”you.”

… 

for a moment, the mask falls. a silent, subtle kind of surprise, something in the way the tips of his fingers twitch that tells you he’s caught off guard. it coaxes you into continuing, following through with your question. swallowing the embarrassment. ”i wanna know more about you. how you became a knight, and… stuff.”

suguru looks at you with a strange glint in his eyes. undecipherable, unspoken, just watching as moonrays glide across your soft skin. ruffling your hair. 

a hum buzzes in his throat. he scratches at the back of his neck, resisting the urge to dodge your question. clicking his tongue. ”… well.”

anticipation blooms in your eyes, and you cross your legs, waiting patiently to hear him speak. he can’t deny you, when you look at him like that — so suguru simply exhales. a breath of indulgence. 

”it’s not a very interesting story,” he leads, closing his eyes in remembrance. ”they scouted me when i was pretty young…. a bit of a troublemaker, honestly, but i got lucky." memories flash behind his eyelids, fresh bruises, sliced fruit. bittersweet. ”ended up around some powerful people. they liked me. knighthood felt like the right choice.” 

he meets your entranced gaze, speaking with sincerity, devotion dipped in honey and holy water. sinking deeper still. ”it’s my purpose in life,” he breathes, a flurry of whispers on his tongue. heavier than either of you know. ”truly.”

you cock your head. ”being a knight?”

”protecting the weak,” he says. recites. like he’s said it a million times before, in the face of beasts, in the reflection of broken mirrors, a mantra to live and die by. ”protecting those who can’t protect themselves.”

the look in his eyes frightens you. deeper than the deepest lake, dark and murky, dragging him down. a devotion that smells of iron, tastes like steel. mania disguised as loyalty.

(knights love duty. almost as much as they love dying for it. that’s what your father always says.)

”but, honestly — this kind of thing isn’t bad,” he breaks you out of your trance, grinning sheepishly, almost boyishly. ”it’s been a while since i had so much fun on the job… thank you for that.”

he’s looking at you, right at you, into your eyes, with an expression reserved for you and you alone. earnest, grateful, a sincerity he wouldn’t show anyone else. ”honestly.”

you can do nothing but avert your gaze. swiftly, meekly, feeling heat crawl up your neck, blooming across your cheeks like the branches of a plum tree. suguru grins, gulping down the slightest coo — but he can’t resist the urge to poke fun at you a bit.

”… you’re a shy one, aren’t you?” he searches for your gaze, chuckling when he doesn’t find it. when you don’t let him. ”can’t even look people in the eye if they’re being nice to you… how precious.”

”oh, shut up,” you groan, glaring out into the night sky. blinking slowly, drowsily, biting back a yawn that your attentive knight still manages to notice. 

(he looks a little enamored.)

”ah… is my sweet little lord getting sleepy?”

”no,” you scoff, far too quick. ”i’m… tired.”

”of course.” he reaches out, carefully, to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. ”tired — not sleepy. that would be outrageous, wouldn’t it?” 

a yawn. ”it would.” 

low laughter bubbles up at the base of his throat, like seafoam, melting roses. deep and summery. ”alright. that’s enough stories for tonight, i think.” and with that, he gets up. ”let’s get you to bed, hm?”

rubbing your eyes, absently kicking your legs, you give him a slow nod of your head. making grabby hands at him that you’re sure you’ll be embarrassed about in the morning — but it feels easy, to be greedy, to know that your wants won’t be ignored when you’re with him. ”carry me, suguru.”

an indulgent smile. he doesn’t say anything, only curling his arms under your thighs, lifting you up and cradling you to his chest. you can feel his firm muscles, like this, trace them with your fingertips, hear the beating of his heart. tick-tock, tick-tock. a lullaby. a sense of safety, when you can’t tell where your heartbeat ends and his begins.

lost in that fuzzy, sleepy feeling, a blink away from falling into dreamland, fatigue washes over you — but you cling to his sleeve, even as he tucks you in, dragging the blanket up to cover you properly. 

”suguru,” you murmur, so quiet you doubt he hears it. ”will you tell me more stories tomorrow?”

”of course.” right before sleep coaxes you into its cradle, you feel the weight of his palm on your head; ruffling your hair. ”as many as you want, your highness.”

he smiles, as your eyes flutter shut, at the soft little breaths that flow from your lips. before he slips out, he blows out the candle on the nightstand, a silent prayer that your dreams will be kinder to you than his. 

— one week of nagging later, suguru’s resolve finally crumbles. it’s progress, at last, a tiny crack in his clockwork heart. 

but for once, it works in your favour.

”do you really want to see the outside world that badly?”

he’s got an arm locked around your waist, stopping you from one of your numerous escape attempts. you’ve gotten bolder, sneaking away the moment he takes his eyes off you, but suguru isn’t easy to fool — catching up to you just as you stepped outside the castle, now stuck in place under the portico. it’s to be expected, with that sixth sense of his, the one that seems to alert him as soon as you think the thought to get him in trouble. 

but you still can’t help but pout, huff and puff, pushing at his chest in a helpless attempt to break free. he’s sweet about it, gentle, but entirely unmoving. like a big, annoyingly handsome rock.

”what do you think?” you scoff, narrowing your eyes at him. ”no, of course not. this whole time, i’ve just been trying to escape for fun. like, as a bit. how could you tell?”

he rolls his eyes, and you break out into a grin. ”mind the sarcasm, please.” he barely resists the urge to pinch your side; letting you loose, instead, trusting you not to scurry away. he’d catch up to you instantly, anyhow. "i’m just saying, it might not be as interesting as you think —“

”what are you, stupid?”

”what did we say about letting people finish their sentences?” he raises a brow, stern, and you try not to cower. rolling your eyes instead. suguru just sighs. ”i understand why you want to leave. but you have a good life, here. better than most.”

”… i know that,” you grumble, biting down on your lip. a resignation in your eyes that your knight can't protect you from. ”i just —”

you sigh. 

”it’s just so suffocating.”

suguru falls into a contemplative silence. weighing his options, studying the flicker of emotions in your eyes, the tapping of your idle fingers. hands eager to fidget with something. 

moments pass, one at a time, a familiar lullaby of pitter patter ricocheting off the ground just outside your vision. the air smells of marigolds, burning wood, wet concrete. the beginnings of summer.

finally, he makes up his mind. 

”… okay, okay.”

when you look up from the ground, what awaits you is an outstretched hand. a familiar palm, and a familiar knight, with a familiar smile on his face. ”but don’t get used to it, alright?”

…

you part your lips, but no sound comes out. gaping like a fish out of water, hunting for the right words. suguru waits. patient.

”w — hold on,” you stutter, eyes blooming with hesitant hope, studying him intently for any signs of trickery. ”you mean — seriously? like, for real?”

he shrugs. ”it’s my duty to keep you happy.” devotion clings to his tongue, sweet indulgence. ”figure i can make an exception this once.”

another moment passes.

(there isn’t a hint of deceit in his features.)

a grin breaks out across your lips, like a joyous bolt of lighting, and you lunge into his chest — throwing your arms over his broad shoulders, jumping up and down, planting a wet kiss against his cheek. bubbly, giddy, heart racing with disbelief. you don’t even have it in you to be a little bratty. ”thank you, thank you, thank you!”

suguru makes a choked out noise, a little comical, breath hitching in the back of his throat. stabilizing you with a palm on the small of your back, patting it softly, once or twice, before retracting his arm and pulling away. clearing his throat. ”… you’re welcome.”

(his ears burn a cherry red.)

”but this is our little secret,” he reminds you, firmly, collecting himself. or trying to. ”got it?”

”yep.”

”if anyone asks, you —”

”yep, yep, understood.” you brush him off, still grinning brightly. ”don’t worry! i won’t tell a soul, i promise. swear on my mother’s grave!”

your knight exhales. worried, maybe, a little exasperated — mostly just trying to mask how infectious your joy is. how addicted he is to it, now that he’s seen it up close. he’s only caught glimpses in the midst of your painting sessions; to see it directed at him instead of the wolf on your canvas is a treasure he won’t soon forget. 

sneakily, stealthily, like a pair of bad dogs, the two of you begin your journey to the woods on the horizon. wearing cloaks, sticking together, until the sun begins to set and the sky drains of colour. 

and before you know it, it’s right there in front of you. a narrow path into the woods, a cluster of trees, a world you’ve always dreamed of. dark and gritty, beautiful, brimming with bugs and sights yet to be seen. creatures you could only ever see in picture books. a dreamlike world that takes shape before you, like paint splattered on a canvas, as you follow suguru’s lead — right behind him, clinging to the fabric of his cloak, excitement flooding your veins. heart thumping erratically in your chest. 

when you’ve made it to a tiny clearing, you stop in your tracks. suguru’s holding a lantern, a flicker of orange in the dark green world before you, attracting fuzzy moths. proud trees stand tall all around you, keeping guard, mushrooms and forget me nots scattered across the dewy patches of grass. keeping them company. 

everything smells of life, earth, oak wood and thinly veiled secrets. you want to live here forever.

suguru turns to look at you, noticing the way you’ve stilled. completely mesmerized, bewitched, eyes gleaming with childlike happiness. he tuts, doing a bad job at hiding how pleased he is. the sound makes you meet his eye.

”careful,” he croons, inching closer. fingertips ghosting over your wrist, right above your pulsepoint. ”could be wolves around. stay close.”

you tilt your head, feigning confusion. ”i’ve already got one right next to me, though?”

the comment earns you a flat expression, unimpressed, and it pulls a giggle from out your throat. the corners of suguru’s lips curl up, unwillingly, as he shakes his head; exhaling a tired breath. exasperated. 

then he hums. ”well, at least you're aware.”

suddenly, he’s walking forward, slipping away, cold air replacing the buzzing warmth of his skin on yours. hot blood, ever flowing, hidden within his veins — pumped out from his heavy heart. it’s there and then it’s gone. tick, tock, one step after the other, until he’s turning around to face you again. unfurling his outstretched hand, waiting for you to grab hold of it. 

his long hair sways with the breeze, smooth and unburdened, black like the night sky above you. a starry glint in his eyes. his voice comes out deep, a raspy lilt, like the scraping of metal against concrete. 

when he smiles, you think you catch a glimpse of sharp teeth.

”will you trust this wolf to keep you safe?”

under the web of shadows cast by the trees, barely illuminated by the shivering moon, all you can do is watch him. his gleaming eyes, the curl of a toothy grin on his lips. a knight, a wolf, a friend.

your protector. 

finally, finally, you grasp onto his offered hand. his fingers intertwine with your own, a puzzle finally solved, and his palm feels a little calloused. skin littered with tiny scars, years of training and killing, but it’s still somehow so soft. nice and smooth. 

he’s warm. and now he’s smiling at you, like you put all the gold of the world into his palm. 

”yeah,” you grin, a little cheeky. stepping closer, clinging to him without restraint, knowing he’ll indulge you. ”keep me safe, wolfie.”

his laughter rings out into the air like a cicada song, sweet and nostalgic. or a howl, maybe. it makes you want to gnaw at his bones; memorize his taste, so you’ll never quite be without him. it’s not your fault he looks so chewable when he’s smiling like that.

”i will,” he promises, vows, pledges, hand on his heavy heart. knights and their rituals. ”you don’t have to worry about a thing. not while i’m here.”

and you don’t. you know you don’t. because suguru is the greatest knight, the coolest wolf, and his clockwork heart never ceases to tick. it won’t break under pressure, no matter how much you push — so you don’t bother holding back. wrapping both arms around his bicep, cozying up to him, tugging at his cloak with a pep in your step. 

”c’mon, c’mon!" you beckon him forward. "i wanna see how everything looks up close.”

and he just lets you manhandle him, for a bit. following your lead. ”of course,” he croons. ”your wish is my command, your highness.”

the night stretches on, seemingly never-ending, like the branches of the oak tree you find in the heart of the woods. broken, beautiful, stretching out in all directions — as if wishing to engulf the world. a garden of forking paths, covered in jagged bark, but still somehow so warm to the touch. you’re sure there’s a heartbeat in there, somewhere. maybe a couple of swords too.

all good things must come to an end. but you refuse to leave the comfort of your mossy haven until suguru promises to bring you back, someday, maybe, if you play nice. it’s a deal that you’re willing to take.

only then do you begin your journey back towards the castle. having gotten your fill, for now, left to wallow in the newfound sights etched into your memory. still clinging to your knight like a child with their favorite doll, babbling into his ear about something or another. about how you’re almost sure you saw a wolf in the bushes, about how pretty the cicadas’ songs were. how you’re gonna convince him to take you there every single day.

the sun is yawning, stretching its endless limbs out, getting ready to rise and envelop the world. the sky is a calm blue, soon to be painted orange and pink, but you aren’t tired at all. you must sound a little incoherent, but suguru nods along to your every word. listening attentively.

so kind. so patient. sure, he’s a tease, and more than a little patronizing — but you don’t think you’ve ever liked anyone this much before. it’s weird. it’s fun. 

(you wonder if he feels the same.)

”hey, suguru?”

he keeps his eyes locked on the road ahead, but still spares you a brief glance, just to let you know you have his full attention. a second of hesitance is all your sleepy brain allows you, curiosity enveloping most of your functioning thoughts.

”would you… i mean. if i was, like… a different person —” you pause. suguru quirks a brow, and you suddenly feel a little flustered. ”um, what i mean is! like, if the king ordered you to be someone else’s knight… would you protect them like you do with me?”

he blinks. once, then twice, meeting your hopeful gaze. stifling a yawn, and parting his lips. 

”obviously.”

…

your face falls. lips dropping down into a soft pout, rich with disappointment, paired with a barely audible huff. suguru furrows his brows, playfully, smiling in the way he always does when he’s about to tease you.

”ah, my bad,” he croons. ”were you expecting something else? a… forbidden romance, perhaps?”

before you can begin to protest, warmth rushing to your cheeks, he stops walking. dropping down on one knee, dramatically, with a flutter of his cloak. theatrical. 

gently, he grabs hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips as his eyes flutter shut. you bite back a squeak. his voice comes out low, sultry, honeyed — so heavy with emotion that it’s obvious he’s faking it. ”the only person i yearn to protect is you, my liege,” his breath feels hot against your skin. ”i could never love another. i exist for you, and you alone.” 

suddenly, he’s smirking. you feel it against the knots of your knuckle, right before he cracks a single eye open. glimmering with deep amusement. ”… is that better?”

and you huff. sharply, doing all that you can to avoid getting flustered, his heavy gaze burning right into your own. it really, really doesn’t work. ”you’re so mean.”

”not mean,” he chuckles, rising to his feet. dusting off his cloak. ”i’m just… managing your expectations, my lord. they’d have my head on the chopping block if i so much as touched you without their consent — you know that.”

another little huff. ”i never said i wanted you to…” 

(you do, though.)

suguru hums. ”i’m your knight,” he reminds you, as always, until you get tired of hearing it. steadfast, irrefutable. ”that’s all. remember?”

something bitter settles on your tongue. 

but you nod. ”that’s right,” you hum. ”mine.”

a teasing mirth flickers through his eyes, like the first setting sunrays reflecting off cathedral glass. reverent, dyeing the world in all the colour it asks for. and he chuckles, raspy, amused. ”possessive little thing…”

that’s right, you remind yourself. he’s your knight. your lying, teasing, playwright of a knight. always wearing a mask, hiding behind a suit of armor, playing one role or another. only baring himself under the light of the sun, when no one is around to see. he’s infuriatingly patient, endlessly loyal, the greatest bootlicker you’ve encountered in your life. but he’s kind, too. maybe a little too kind. 

and he always, always kneels. 

such a large man, all toned muscle and tall stature, broad shoulders and a firm chest — kneeling at your feet. like a loyal dog. with a rustle of armor, a flutter of fabric, a sigh and a smile. as soon as you ask for it.

”c’mon. let’s hurry back,” you hear him say, biting back another yawn. ”before anyone finds out i kidnapped you. don’t want me to get in trouble, do you?”

”i kinda do.”

a silent look. unimpressed. it’s the most sincere expression he knows how to make, and also the most comical. ”careful,” he looks ahead, hiding his amused smile. ”wolves eat bratty heirs, you know? better stay on my good side, your highness.”

a bout of sleepy giggles. you curl an arm around his bicep, putting your weight onto him, but he doesn’t stumble. ”sorry, mr wolf! please, by all means, eat my dear father instead.”

”don’t be disrespectful.”

”sorry,” you quip, entirely unapologetic. ”i forgot you had a crush on him. that’s my ba — ow!”

suguru brushes by you, walking forward, hiding his growing grin. leaving you with an ache in your hip and two wide eyes. 

”hurry up, my lord. we don’t have all day.”

”wha — you pinched me!” you stumble after him, barely containing your quiet delight. ”they’ll have your head for this, you know!”

silent laughter. you don’t need to hear it to know that it’s there, just ahead of you, tucked into crows’ feet and a curl of his lips.

suguru always kneels.

but, sometimes, he talks to you as if you’re equals. sometimes he takes the lead, pinches your hip, tells you off a little. teasing, patient, but there’s an edge to him that he doesn’t always hide. sometimes, he lets you see it, and you figure that must make you at least a little bit special.

sometimes, he feels like your best friend.

careless, careless, careless.

how could he ever be so careless?

everything blurs into a puddle of red. murky, sticky, everywhere all at once. all he sees is red, all he feels is burning. his heartbeat pulses at the base of his throat, bottom lip bruised and aching from hours of sinking his teeth into the flesh, over and over — every single nerve of his body running on adrenaline and nothing else.

(adrenaline and fear, maybe, but they’ve always been synonymous. never one without the other.)

the slaughter is mindless. suguru knows that’s how they like it, anyhow — knights aren’t supposed to think. they don’t need to. 

suguru certainly isn’t. cutting his way through the bandit’s den, practically growling, sword painted such a dark shade of red that he doubts he’ll ever be able to wipe it clean. harsh slashes, pure instinct, wildfire inside his veins, iron on his tongue. 

suguru isn’t thinking, he’s hunting. sniffing like a bloodhound. eyes scanning the area before him like a hungry beast.

suguru is hunting — for you.

and when he sees you, at last, tied up and barely conscious, he’s almost certain he’s going to grow claws, fangs, matted fur. that he’s going to turn into a beast beneath the fading moonlight.

but he falls to his knees, instead, like a wounded dog. throwing his burganet off, with a clatter, crawling closer. heaving breaths, untying you with shaky hands, greedy fingertips hunting for a pulsepoint —

and only when he finds it does he allow himself the luxury of breathing again.

when you come to, veins dragged down by a fuzzy sensation, your vision is blurred. foggy, dull colours on the canvas of your mind, gradually washed away as you struggle for control. you stir, and finally see the figure above you. 

what you see is a knight, a wolf, a beast beneath the moonlight. a kind, kind man.

suguru.

bloodied armor. sweaty, messy hair, sticking to his forehead. pure panic in his bloodshot eyes. he cradles your face, cold metal on your cheek, dirty and smelling of iron. he moves his mouth; you delude yourself into thinking that his bottom lip is trembling. forming around familiar vowels.

he’s saying your name.

there must be something wrong with you, you belatedly realize. the last one to do so. because you’re hurt, scared, but you still feel a skip of your heartbeat. 

(he finally said it.)

you muster all the strength at your disposal, eyelids fluttering. and you try to answer, you do, reaching for that thread between your brain and your tongue — but it comes out as a garbled little thing, more air than noise. 

it’s enough. the tense crease between his brows melts away, and he sighs.

”oh, thank the heavens.”

another sensation. he’s touching your hand, now, cold metal on warm skin, bringing it up to his lips; a shaky little exhale brushing against the knots of your knuckle. his lips are chapped. 

then he’s scooping you up, cradling you close, as close as metaphysically possible, as if willing to cut his stomach open to fit you inside. a firm grip, comforting, stable. desperate, a mother wolf carrying her cub to safety, by the skin of her teeth. his hair tickles your skin, but you don’t mind.

only when he brings you back to the castle does everything fall into place. he explains everything, as you sit in bed, still recovering. a sudden attack, from within the castle, a kidnapping. some enemies of the king, a scandal to do with you and your blood. something, something, something. you’ve grown used to not understanding why you keep getting hurt. 

and you’re too distracted by the sullen face of the knight in front of you to pay attention.

suguru wasn’t there to stop it — wasn’t there to save you, be your knight in dashing armor. the king had invited him to a game of chess, and you had been adamant in your refusal to join them.

so you don’t understand why he’s apologizing.

he’s smiling, but it’s weak, as flimsy as a piece of paper. his lying smile, tight-lipped, betrayed by the redness of his eyes, the puffy skin beneath them. dark crescents. he sits by your bedside and looks a little like he wants to curl into a ball. 

”i’m sorry.”

and ah, you think; there it is. guilt. always, always clinging to him, a ghost haunting him wherever he goes. it’s been there since the beginning, in the scar reaching for his shoulder, the nature of his never-fading smile. guilt, guilt, guilt. you wonder if he's ever gone without it. you wonder if knights begin to crumble when they stop feeling ashamed. 

he looks sad.

with a breathless inhale, you part your lips. you want to tell him that he has nothing to apologize for, that you’re fine now — that you could never be mad at him. not really, never truly, never at him. you want to tell him that he’s your favorite person, not just your favorite knight, that he’s allowed to make mistakes without demanding that he suffer for them. 

you want to tell him that it’s okay, really. seriously.

but all that leaves your lips is a meek little sniffle. as the shock of it all finally settles, sinking deep into your bones, the fear of being captured, the dull ache of your skull meeting the ground. you can’t tell him any of the things you want to, and you feel so awful — 

because suguru’s face falls. like you just thrusted a knife into his sternum and twisted it. he looks like he could cry, too.

”i’m sorry,” his voice cracks, right down the middle. like a broken vase. ”i’m so sorry.” it’s not at all what you want to hear, but you can’t tell him that either. he’s bundling you up before you know it, dragging you into the comfort of his chest, one large palm on the back of your head; tugging you closer still. he smells of soap and oak wood and peach blossoms. ”it was scary, wasn’t it?”

and you nod. into his neck, wet tears brushing against his skin. not stable enough to act tough. you don’t think he is, either.

suguru exhales, shaky, clutching you like he could lose you if he lets go. lose himself. he knows you’re scared, but you let him soothe you. 

it means something, he thinks. it means something that you let him come so close, closer than anyone’s ever been. so he swallows the guilt until it’s no longer clogging up the back of his throat, if only so his voice can flow out through the gap, give you the comfort you need. just rubbing your back until you calm down, apologizing silently — over and over again. manic, like the tick-tock of a clock.

until your voice breaks him out of it.

”it’s not your fault.”

he stiffens. still holding you, feeling your heartbeat settle down, hearing your voice break out of your throat. it comes out as a weak croak, with just the slightest hint of disapproval.

he gulps.

”don’t worry about me, right now,” he hushes you. a silent plea. ”i’m not the one who’s injured.”

”suguru —” you sigh, almost a hiss. ”i hit my head. once. that’s all.” you wipe away the wetness of your cheeks, biting back a sniffle. ”… you’re acting like i’m fucking dying. cut it out.”

(for once, he’s relieved to hear that sharp edge of your voice. it means you’re feeling better.)

a weak inhale. ”… they kidnapped you. it must’ve been terrifying. please, just…” and a tired exhale. ”please just don’t strain yourself.”

”it wasn’t your fault.”

…

”your highne —”

”i’m serious.” you’re pulling away, suddenly, clasping onto his cheeks with your tearstained palms. squishing his face together. ”it wasn’t your fault. it was mine.”

he shakes his head, eager to protest, so you squish his cheeks with more force, and shake his head for him. like a misbehaving dog. ”nope. if you even think about apologizing, i’ll start crying again.”

he lets out a huff. frowning, sadly, a downcast pair of eyes.

”don’t pout. i’ll bite you.”

it’s slight, barely even there at all — but you think the corner of his mouth twitches upwards, just by a hair, exhaling through his nose with just the slightest hint of amusement.

he places his palm over yours. 

a moment passes, slow and steady, both of you catching your breaths. calming down, letting the fear of it all seep out of your aching bones. you hope the warmth of your skin against his soothes him as much as it soothes you. 

”… you know, your highness,” he murmurs, softly. meeting your puffy eyes with his tired pools of amber gold. ”there’s something i never told you.”

you blink. he continues.

”just the night before the king reached out to me… i had a dream.” he musters a weak, exhausted little smile. ”dreams… i don’t have them very often. and when i do, they’re nothing good. but this dream…” 

his eyes flutter shut. a curtain closing, a raven taking flight, the tick-tock of a heartbeat. you can’t look away. ”it stuck out to me.”

silence.

your voice comes out soft, like the bedsheets beneath you, the man before you. a tiny breath of a question. ”… what was it about?”

he smiles. smoothing a thumb over your knuckle, reverent, as if memorizing every ridge and dip.

”a fox.”

…

”it had…” his hand slips from the small of your back, reaching for your cheek, pinching it gently. ”a cheeky smile.”

your skin heats up, beneath his touch. and you blink, not saying a word, because there isn’t any need to. all the words you could ever want have already been painted out.

(well, maybe not quite all.)

”suguru.” you lean close, just a little, drinking him in. and he listens, as always, so you don’t bother beating around the bush. swallowing any embarrassment your tired mind can still feel. because your knight is right in front of you, eyes still red from crying, and you want him to be happy. “i think you’re my favorite person.”

he stills.

then he burns up. 

”wha — where did that come from?” he stammers, a strawberry hue to his ears, his neck, the tips of his fingers. enveloping him like a blanket of warmth.

you only shrug. ”you told me the truth. figured i should return the favour, for once.” a giddy, exhausted smile. “we’re both awful liars, huh?”

suguru opens his mouth. then he closes it, again, desperate to collect himself. you think he must be a little too exhausted to, and you wish you could say you felt bad. ”you… you can’t just —”

he squeezes his eyes shut. sighing. giving up, the gears of his mind grinding to a halt. your grin blooms wider.

”hehe.” you poke at his flushed cheek, and he cracks a single eye open. ”you’re blushing.”

he huffs, leaning away from your touch, and you find yourself enjoying the reversal of your usual roles. very much so. he tries to smile, tries to get one up on you, but he only blushes a deeper shade of red once your words reach his ears. 

so he settles for using cheap tricks.

”you’re hallucinating,” he scoffs, shoving your head into the fluffy pillows all around you. ever so gently, listening to your muffled giggles. trying to stifle his own joy. ”go back to sleep.”

”my blushy knight,” you coo, and he drags the blanket over your head. biting down on his lip to stop himself from joining your bubbly laughter, blushing more than ever. 

(the word knight sounds very pretty, when it’s falling from your lips.)

”i swear,” he exhales, heavy and exasperated, but you can hear the smile in his voice. ”just what am i to do with you?”

it’s fond. delicate, even in his bouts of teasing, the light instances of manhandling. and you’re happy, because he’s not apologizing anymore, and he’s happy because you aren’t crying anymore. give and take. there’s a rhythm to it, a point where everything else becomes background noise, whether it’s memories of a kidnapping or a decade-old guilt.

he stays with you all night, even after you’ve fallen asleep. just watching you, safeguarding you, checking your pulse every now and then. content to watch as your chest rises and falls, with the tender ticking of your heartbeat.

that night, you dream of a kind, kind wolf, and a painting yet to be finished. 

before you lies a field of stars.

you’re seated on a blanket, with a pretty knight to your left, up on top of a grassy hill. daffodils bloom around you, sweet nectar hanging in the air, a field of sunflowers waving at you from below. dragonflies greet you with a scratchy song. 

everything is perfect. a midnight rendezvous, a picnic under the stars — suguru’s own idea. to celebrate the time that you’ve spent together.

(well, that part was your idea. but you’re sure he appreciates it, too.)

the basket next to you is filled with fruit and berries, marmalade and jam, bottles of herbal tea. suguru’s delicious sandwiches. you bite into one of them, humming happily, and he’s quick to brush the occasional crumb from the corner of your lip, ghosting over your skin with a smile.

there’s another basket, too, just in front of you, that you brought on your own. hiding a secret; one you're just about to unveil. 

you clear your throat to get his attention.

like clockwork, he’s looking at you. listening, when  you tell him to close his eyes, only giving you a questioning raise of his brow and an amused exhale. 

you’re quick to lean forward, uncovering the basket, revealing the secret you’ve hidden so well. suguru is still waiting, indulgent, patient. you feel a little hesitant, but still part your lips.

“… okay. you can open them, now.”

he does. instantly, two ravens taking flight, and the sight that awaits them is that of a painting; a painting of a wolf, in the middle of the woods, empty armors and wilted sunflowers all around it. dragonflies and dragonflies, a knight just out of view.

he stares, silently, and you do your best to hide your growing nervosity. even as he takes it into his lap, and your gaze falls to the blanket below you. ”it’s… not my best work, but —” his eyes stay glued onto the painting, as you stumble blindly for the right words to say. wringing your hands together, clutching at the fabric of your sleeves. ”i’d… like you to have it. i mean, unless you —”

”thank you.”

you raise your head.

suguru is gazing at the canvas with the softest pair of eyes you’ve ever seen. melting amber, crinkled at the edges, accompanied by a sweet grin. 

”i’ll treasure it,” he vows, meeting your eyes, voice dripping with warmth. hand on his heart, and you can’t even poke fun at it. ”always.”

his earnest acceptance is enough to fluster you, enough to make you feel as it your heart is about to collapse, but he continues to look at the painting with enough awe to fill an empty lake with water, and it makes you terribly shy. 

until his smile drops.

”uh, actually — i…”

now it’s your turn to stare, silently, as he fumbles with something in the basket at his feet. gentle, as he takes out glass jars and wrapped sandwiches. out comes a sheet of paper. 

then he’s clearing his throat. handing it to you, pointedly avoiding your gaze. ”i’m not an artist, so you know. i just…” he coughs, a little out of his element. “well. here.”

with delicate hands, you accept it, bringing it down to your lap. big, curious eyes taking it in.

it’s a sketch — made with coal, a little smudged, but awfully charming. pretty, delicate.

it’s a sketch of a fox.

wide-eyed, all you can do is stare. gaze flitting up to meet his own, his nervous expression, before falling back to the little canine. ”you — this…” back and forth, over and over again. ”for — ?” 

you point to yourself. 

suguru only chuckles. ”yes, it’s for you. who else?” he taps the pads of his fingers against the handle of the basket, watching you silently admire the mischievous fox. not saying anything; so he continues.

”like i said; i’m not an artist. you can always throw it away, if you’d —”

”i’m gonna frame it.”

…

”i'm gonna frame it,” you repeat, eyes shining with sincerity. a little manic. ”i’ll hang it on the wall of the castle hallway so everyone can see it. it’ll be there for centuries to come, passed down —”

”please don't —”

”d’you think a gold frame would fuck up the vibe? maybe a modest silver is best.” you turn to face him, ignoring his blatant embarrassment. ”oooh, hang on! father knows this guy who makes them with real minerals. i’ll just —”

”your highness,” the knight cuts you off, almost with a squeak. ”please. it’s just a dumb drawing. i just… wanted to give it to you. that’s all.”

a pause. you look into his eyes, flickering with hesitance, an earnest desire for your approval only. so you hum, albeit a little hesitant.

”… alright. if you say so. i’ll hang it in my room, then.”

he sighs; relieved. ”that’s better. really, you —”

”thank you.” you whisper, blinking away the wetness at your lash-line. staring at the sketch with a dreamy, dreamy smile. ”i love it.”

you grin, happily, practically beaming. suguru wants to keep it there, always, on those pretty lips; he wants to lay his life on the line to protect it. but something tells him that would just make it fall. 

finally, everything clicks into place. the air fills with the scent of herbal tea, fresh strawberries, acrylic paint and hushed whispers. your own ritual, repeated over and over, like a loving waltz. 

as always, it’s suguru who breaks the silence. shatters it with the tip of his tongue. 

”hey,” he calls, softly. “my lord.”

mouth full of bread, you simply look at him. chewing silently, attention piqued. swallowing with a gulp. he places his folded hands on his lap, exhaling a little breath. ”… i’ve been thinking.”

”uh oh.”

silently, he gives you one of those flat, unimpressed looks of his, and you quiet down with a grin and another mouthful of bread. he quirks a brow, exhaling amusedly, then shakes his head and continues.

”i retract my earlier statement.”

when you glance up again, he’s smiling. showing more teeth than usual, a little wider, a little wolfish. a little more himself. you want to paint it, keep it hidden away somewhere only you can see.

”if it was someone else — anyone else…” he trails off, tasting the words on his tongue. “i doubt i’d feel this way. i doubt i’d want to protect them as fervently.” his voice flows out like a river of gold, just a little scratchy. it always is, when it sounds this sincere. 

he meets your eyes, and everything falls into place. 

”you’ve become precious to me,” he admits. ”i can't remember what it felt like to not be yours.”

his tongue curls around a familiar set of syllables, and your name seeps from his lips like a prayer, a vow, a trickle of honey and wine. devotion sticks to his tongue, to the vowels, a heavy fondness — something devout. something you've only ever heard from the mouths of priests.

and then he’s smiling. 

”i think i’ll be your knight until the day i die,” he breathes, and deep down you know it’s a vow. “even if the king discards me of that title.”

silence. except for an increasingly loud mantra of tick-tocks, from the depths of your own chest, echoing in your ears. your knight is in front of you, and he’s yours, and he’s smiling like he loves you. like he always will.

”… suguru.”

he hums, eyes lidded, blinking slowly. serenely. he lets you cling to him, pull him close, practically dragging him into your lap.

”stay with me,” you plead, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. too desperate to feel embarrassed. ”forever. promise me.”

an exhale, right by your ear. it sounds so fond you could cry. 

“i promise,” he whispers, fingers intertwining with your own. a perfect puzzle piece, a functional clockwork. lifting your hand, bringing his glossy lips to your knuckle; where they belong. ”until death tears me away from you.”

”it won’t,” you deadpan, partly to distract him from the growing heat of your fingertips. mostly because it’s true. ”you won't let it.”

he smiles against your knuckle, breathing out an airy laugh. ”clever little thing…” his free hand goes to rest on your spine, as always, and you lean back to see him properly. knowing he’ll catch you if you fall.

“.. but yeah," he sighs. "i won’t.”

before you know it, you’re leaning back in. because his eyes are the warmest shade of brown you’ve ever seen, and his hair is just a little tousled, and he looks so kissable it aches.

his jaw trembles, a little, when you press your lips against the curve of it. his whole body seems to still, for a moment, and you pull back just to see if he’s blushing. he is. 

but he must have anticipated your teasing, because he’s tucking you under his chin before you can see it through. pressing you close. and he tuts, a click of his silver tongue. ”… you little tease,” comes a whisper. ”how am i supposed to hold back now?”

”don’t hold back, dummy,” you grin, muffled against the column of his throat. you just barely resist the urge to sink your teeth into the skin. ”you’re a bad actor, anyway. the worst.”

and he is. he’s been looking at your lips this whole time — he couldn’t be more obvious if he tried.

suguru laughs, breathy, overflowing with fondness. chest rumbling with the noise, blending together with the rhythmic thumping of his clockwork heart. ”okay,” comes a soft lull of his tongue. ”i won’t, then.”

a drowsy feeling overtakes you, just as you feel his lips meet the crown of your head. it’s not much, but it’s a start. and it’s tender, tender enough to get you choked up, to get you to close your eyes to stop any tears from forming. because one person in this kingdom understands you, and he tells you that he’ll never leave. and you think you can actually find it in you to believe him. 

one person’s clockwork heart never breaks for you, and maybe that’s enough to convince you to stop trying to push it there.

”you can sleep, if you’d like,” is whispered against your hair. soft, soothing, his palm on your spine. ”i’ve got you. always.”

(one person in this world can make you feel safe, with just four little words. and isn’t that something?)

so you doze off, on the shoulder of your very own knight. your favorite knight, always and forever, a sword at his hip that was forged to protect you. or so he’ll tell you, years from now, when he’s got you in his lap, when there isn’t any need for him to act anymore.

and you dream a perfect dream. a dream of a wolf, and a fox, and a garden of stars.