#this is a bit more of a first union than a REunion but I hope you won't mind :)

[hiraeth-doux]

i will always love you (2/4)

written for WonderTrev Love Week 2019

day 6 - AU day 7 - reunion

summary: When a singer and a songwriter Steve Trevor starts receiving creepy messages from an obsessed stalker, his manager hires Diana Prince as Steve’s personal bodyguard to keep him safe.

The Bodyguard (1992) AU, with a twist of magic.

author’s note: hey guys, I marked this as a three-chapter earlier, but there will actually be four chapters, sorry about that! Don’t worry, you are getting them all in the next several days :)

---

“So, this is your kind of scene, huh?” Steve asked as he took in the rustic interior of the bar with its crude-looking tables, framed photos of rock bands and actors who had been popular in the 80s hanging on the walls, and neon lights above the bottle shelves behind the bar counter.

It was busy enough, as any place would be on a Saturday night, but not packed, and despite looking rather worn and shabby on the outside, it smelled not unpleasantly of wood polish and cooking food. Vinyl booths lining one of the walls reminded Steve of a 70s style diner.

Whatever it was that he had expected Diana to pick after she’d told him the night before that she would be in charge of the venue, this place decidedly wasn’t it. But despite its questionable music and rather… interesting clientele – he had spotted two cowboy hats and three pairs of cowboy boots and more leather jackets than he thought existed in Boston - Steve decided that he liked it anyway.

Read on AO3

[1994sunflower]

locked out of heaven. ii (m.c)

pairing: michael clifford x reader

genre: angst, smut

word count: 23.9k

involves: bad boy!michael, college!au, jealous!michael, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, being a bit dirty in public, dirty talk, daddy kink, choking, size kink, face slapping (consensual), spitting kink, praise, degradation/name calling, innocence kink, corruption kink, violence, blood, language, mentions of infidelity, light self-deprecation, mentions of drugs, drinking

summary: months after the breakup, michael has been a wreck. not only in his mind but to everyone else on campus. he’s unmanageable without you. you weren’t faring much better. you’d lost your light and you find yourself trying anything to forget the betrayal. but will a reunion with the very man you had fought against even yourself to avoid be what you needed to fix everything and go back to the happiness you shared with him or will it be just what you needed to finally move on?

part one

Whispers had followed Michael for months.

Different from the whispers he had become accustomed to hearing for the majority of his life. No, these whispers had very little to do with him and everything to do with the sudden breaking of his relationship.

People had become used to seeing the short girl hanging by his arm next to him. They’d finally just started to stop staring every time they saw the colorful clothes and the kind, smiley face next to his glares and dark, chained clothing. But suddenly that was gone and it was all anyone could talk about.

It got even worse when rumors started spreading about the reason of the jarring split. Hushed voices, surprised gasps, disbelieving eyes were everywhere Michael went. Even whispers of the girl’s name, the one he refused to acknowledge, started trailing him. That didn’t last for long though. He went through great lengths to show just how little he wanted to hear of the person that helped him destroy the best thing in his life. And God help whoever tried to bring her, or it, up. It just served to remind him of the night he had began to think of as the ‘night when it all ended.’

Ashton wasn’t really shocked when Michael had started to hole up in his room. Without you to persuade him to go to class, Michael had no reason to. He skipped class and had sworn off parties for the rest of his life. In fact, there were times when he would spend days without ever stepping foot on campus. At that time, he only ever went out to get food. And even then, it was in the late afternoon just to a fast food place or the Union and then right back home. Ashton didn’t even know what he could do in that house, alone all day for days at a time. But Michael managed to do it faithfully for nearly two months now.

After weeks of trying to talk to you, Michael seemed to finally lose his hope. It was over and it was all his fault. He had hurt you, as if he had ever even deserved to have you in the first place. He figured leaving you alone was the least he could do for you to  give you a chance to be happy again, to forget him and move on with your life. Even if it killed him.

And boy did it feel like it was killing him. He was a mess without you, miserable. You were on his mind constantly. Not an hour went by when your beautiful face didn’t enter his mind and he had to clutch his phone painfully in his hand to keep from running out to find you and beg you for just one more chance. He didn’t even sleep the same, not without you. He kept a picture of you as his lock-screen, one he had taken back when both of you were still happy, and a part of him knew it was just to punish himself, forcing himself to look what he had lost. You were it. You were the one.

But he blew it and you were gone. He wasn’t sure he could move on without you, wasn’t sure he even wanted to. Because what was the point of dating if he wasn’t dating you?

Michael had stopped crying a few weeks after your breakup. In fact, to Ashton, the only person to see him on a regular basis, it almost seemed like he had gone empty. No emotions whatsoever. But to Michael, it just felt like he was suffocating with a permanent knot at his throat.

You were gone. You were gone. He hadn’t taken you for granted ever, but even with that, not having you around felt like his heart had left with you, leaving just a cloud of anger and loneliness in its wake with nothing to calm it.

The times Michael would go back on campus, it was just to wreak havoc. He had had a bad reputation before you but it was worse without you.  

“He’s worse now.” Was the talk of the campus. It made the seriousness of the situation obvious when it wasn’t even the students that were saying these things. It was the administration and professors. “I thought he was bad before. He’s just out of control now, it’s like there’s nothing holding him back anymore. I don’t know what we’re going to do with him.”

Before, Michael hadn’t completely stopped his violent streak. But he had restrained himself a lot more than he would’ve without you. And that was just because he wanted to be good for you, keep you happy and unafraid of him. And because, with you, he was a lot happier himself. He had less outbursts because how could he be anything but content when he had you. Now, however, he had that extra anger he wanted to get rid of (granted it was anger towards himself). He wanted to erase what he had done, he wanted you back, but that wasn’t possible. Now he was even angrier and more frustrated than he ever was before.

It only took a look now for Michael to pick his next victim. He had stopped trying to hide his tirade of violence and blood, as well. In fact, it hadn’t become so out of place for a student to be leaving their class building and see Michael beating up some poor soul a few feet away.  

Everything made it very evident that he was his best self when he was with you and without you, he was his worst.

♔

It was considered almost a miracle when Ashton finally got Michael to leave his house, in the middle of the day and for a reason other than to go release his anger. And he got him to even go to the Quad, in the middle of campus. It felt like hell was freezing over.

Now, Michael didn’t do it gladly, of course. It took a lot of persuading and an eventual screaming match that resulted in Ashton physically pulling him out of the house. Michael didn’t crack a smile the entire way there. But he hadn’t been smiling much at all lately anyway. Instead, his gaze kept sweeping the area around them silently and while Ashton didn’t ask and he knew Michael would never admit it, they both knew he was trying to catch a glimpse of you. Anything that could make his cold heart finally start up again. But you were in class.

Ashton knew that because he had started keeping tabs on you. Both for Michael’s sake, looking out for you when he couldn’t, and for your sake, to keep Michael away from you because he didn’t want to see you go through the pain you seemed to relive every time you saw him.

Ashton kind of resented Michael for hurting you in the way he did. He had considered you his friend too, and it was hard to see you hurt. Of course he felt bad for Michael and he knew he would never have done it purposely, but you were such a light in his best friends’ life and to see it be gone, snuffed out by his friend’s own stupid actions made him want to shake Michael. Yell at him for sabotaging his own happiness.

But he didn’t. Instead he watched with barely hidden worry as Michael leaned his head back to rest against the brick wall behind him, holding the cigarette tightly in his hand, the smoke pillowing out of his lips in a rising cloud. His eyes were closed as if this was the only place he received contentment (that nicotine always provided him) recently.

Calum and Chris stood in front of him, their eyes flicking over to the silent Michael ever so often in nervousness, standing apart just enough to give Michael a clear opening to look at the Quad’s center. They were in the shaded part of the area, thanks to the building in the corner they were directly under. Ashton had invited them over just to give Michael more people to be around, he knew he needed it.

Even if Chris and Michael weren’t exactly friends and even if Michael tried everything to not look at Calum; his face reminded him too much of that night, of what he had done and what Calum had stood by and let happen. But he was too good of a friend for Michael to hate, especially when, at the end, the fault fell on Michael’s shoulders. So instead, they just stood silently.

Calum looked intimidating, even in his sweater, and short trimmed hair. He fit right in with Michael and even Ashton but even he eyed Michael with uncertainty. Unsure of what would happen with such a broken boy in front of him. Especially a boy that placed at least some of the blame on him. Not that he had any loyalties to you in the first place, he barely knew you. But still, even he felt a little off every time he saw you on campus. You had lost the bright aura you always carried with you, everyone could see it. Your wide eyed enthusiasm for the world was gone. But you still managed to give him a (now strained) welcoming smile every time you saw him.

So while he had met you only once or twice, he definitely felt a sort of guilt inside himself that his friend had been the one to snuff it out. Which, subsequently just made his own friend get worse in his temper and feelings.

Maybe if he had been more attentive he could’ve, should’ve, stopped it. But he didn’t see it happen. One minute he had gone to get a drink and stopped to chat up some girls, the other Michael was gone. He’d like to think he would have stepped in, snapped Michael out of it, spared you from the humiliation you went through because even he knew you didn’t deserve it.

Chris was the only one who stuck out like a sore thumb in the group. A part of him was excited that he was invited to be a part of such a select group but the other part cursed that Charlie was in class and he was left alone to handle such a sensitive and explosive Michael - and situation.

And that inner turmoil was obvious by Chris’ complete lack of understanding in what okay to talk about in front of Michael and what wasn’t. The topic of you, was definitely on the not okay list.

To be fair, Chris was hesitant to speak but he pushed through the nerves to talk. “Did you hear that Luke asked Y/N out yesterday?”

Ashton shut his eyes in dread at what his friend’s reaction would be and Calum delivered a sharp elbow to Chris’ side.

It was stupid of him to think it was okay to say that. But in his defense, the only real link between him and Michael had been you. So it was the only thing he could talk about with him, really. And that didn’t change even when you broke up just as his yearning to be Michael’s friend hadn’t changed either.

Michael’s eyes sprung open wide as if he had just been punched. “What?”

Ashton’s eyes silently yelled at Chris to shut up, to not say anything more because he knew that if he did, Michael wouldn’t be controlled. He had given you up but that didn’t mean he didn’t still love you, a love that could be deadly in order to protect you and keep you safe, even if he did it quietly so you didn’t realize it. A love that was still fiercely possessive over you because no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t imagine a present where you weren’t his.

Luke was everything he wanted to keep you away from. Especially now when you were at your most vulnerable, when he couldn’t be right there to protect you. A handsome football player that seemed to be stuck in his high school glory days, he was a slime-ball through and through. Rumors of his conquests weren’t like Michael’s, no his rumors were started through his brags and disgusting cat calls. Michael’s were earned. Luke was more well known for his borderline aggressive and down right misogynistic behavior with his prior ‘girlfriends'.

He seemed to have found a one-way rivalry in Michael, though he failed to notice that Michael couldn’t care less about him or his body count. But at the mention of his and your names together, Michael finally felt that burning rage that Luke always seemed to want to induce in him. He couldn’t imagine you, sweet and moral as you were, with someone that would treat you like trash, someone that didn’t deserve you. Though of course, who was he to judge when he obviously didn’t deserve you either, with how much he had hurt you in the end. His fingers all but crushed the cigarette in his hand.

Chris kept his eyes on Ashton, nodding in understanding and was going to stay quiet. Say nevermind and end it there but Michael had his dark, dangerous eyes set on him. “What did you just say?”

Michael was not to be ignored, everyone knew that and unfortunately, Chris was not Ashton, who was the exception. It was the first time Chris had heard that tone Michael was famous for, the threateningly low one that promised pain if ignored. So it was no wonder Chris chose to listen to him over Ashton.

Chris’ eyes were shaking when he answered, “W-well, they’re in the same physics class and I guess he’s been asking for her for help during class and he finally asked her to a movie yesterday.”

And there was Michael’s heartbeat, racing. His eyes flickered every which way, unsure of how to process that. In fact, his mind literally seemed to reject it. You couldn’t have said yes. Even if you knew how much it would hurt Michael, you wouldn’t have. Right? He couldn’t handle it if he destroyed you so much, destroyed your self-worth so badly that you would say yes to be with someone even worse than he was. You were always out of his league. Now, without him, you deserved the world, the happiness Michael couldn’t give you, not to find someone so below your league it was a whole different ball game.

Michael’s mouth ran dry at the thought of you on a date with that bastard who was only doing it to get under his skin. And it was working. Luke Hemmings was finally achieving what he always wanted, to hurt Michael as much as possible - to win.

He could imagine your trusting smile and modest eyes soaking up all the bullshit lies he would throw at you to convince you he was a good guy. His heart constricted at the thought of his hands on you, wrapping themselves around your body like only his were meant to, his words that would surely offend you more than making you feel complimented, ignoring your thoughts and opinions that had always meant the world to Michael (in fact not much mattered more to him). The way he would completely disregard your boundaries and fail to give you the respect you deserved because that was just the way Luke was with women, controlling and dismissive.

It might’ve been luck or it might’ve been the universe’s cruel way of finally making karma catch up with Luke and all his sins. But just as Michael felt like he couldn’t deal with what he was just told, Luke himself walked across the Quad.

Two of his friends trailed behind him, both of them wearing similar shirts declaring which Athletic Department they were a part of. Luke’s blond hair was done up in a quiff and his blinding, charming smile hid well the fact that he was a bad person with an even more tainted heart than Michael.

Michael saw them first, staring at the leader, Luke walking just a few steps ahead of the others. As his eyes followed him, like a predator would look at a prey, he thought about his options. If you had said yes (his heart prayed for the first time in his life that you didn’t), and he beat Luke up, he knew it would hurt you. And Michael didn’t want to hurt you more than he already had. He could put aside his pride for you.

But Luke made the choice for him. And he made it extremely clear.

Luke’s eyes met his and his smile turned into a full blown grin. One filled with taunting malice. His hand went up in a faux friendly wave. “Michael, my man! Asked your girl out yesterday, don’t worry I’ll take real good care of her.” He was practically yelling to make sure Michael heard. He had stopped walking and now stood directly in front of Michael, granted several yards away, right dab in the middle of the Quad. “I bet she’ll be able to take it like a pro too, might have to break her in a bit though.”

He was laughing and his friends chuckled beside him.

Ashton shot his hand out, “Michael don’t.”

But it was too late. Michael had thrown his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it as he began striding angrily towards the smug blond.

It only took a few steps before Michael was close enough to grab the collar of his shirt and punch him square in the face. And once he got that first punch in, he didn’t stop. Punch after punch after punch. He didn’t stop when he felt the blood on his hands and he didn’t stop when he felt the hands of Luke’s friends try to pry him away.

Luke disrespected you. He felt disgusted at the way he sexualized you, like you were nothing but a hole to fuck. When you were Michael’s life, when you were goodness personified, someone who only saw the good in everyone even after the world, and Michael, disappointed you so much. You deserved to be praised, adored.

“Don’t you ever talk about her again. Don’t ever disrespect her like that, you piece of fucking shit.” His angry screams sounded through the now silent Quad.

And then it was the images Luke had planted in his head that bothered him. The thought of your small tight body underneath Luke, moaning his name, blushing beautifully as you made all the small noises you made during sex that he loved so much, calling him daddy, being submissive and letting him do whatever he wanted to you, degrade you, like you always let Michael do, giving yourself to such a piece of shit.

He didn’t want to imagine you that way with anyone but especially not with Luke. The fact that Luke thought he even deserved to talk to you let alone have sex with you. Michael wasn’t ready to think of you moving on in that way, letting someone else have you in a way only Michael had had you before, in a way Michael had planned only he would ever have you. No one knew your body like he did, he had taught you everything and he couldn’t imagine you using that with anyone else. You knew exactly how to please him. Only he knew your body, knew what you liked. No one else. His possessiveness had taken over him.

“She’s mine, you’ll never get to have her like that. You don’t…..deserve……her.”

Each bone crunch that his fists caused wasn’t enough to satisfy his anger like it usually was with others. No, each time he heard Luke’s pathetic sounds, he only got angrier. His fists punched his cheek, his nose, his stomach. Anywhere and it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted to get those imagines, those thoughts out of his head. He wanted you to have said no. He wanted Luke to never even look at you again. He wanted you back in his arms, with him.

You were his. You were still his. Even though he didn’t deserve to think that.

He had ruined that. And that just made him angrier, punch harder. Maybe if he hit Luke enough, all of his regrets would finally stop haunting him. His frustration and self destruction driving him now.

Ashton’s hands were in his hair as he watched his best friend. He watched as Michael kept punching, leaning down further as Luke’s body lost more and more energy, slouching him closer to the ground. His face was almost completely covered in blood.

“He’s going to kill him.” Those were the words he’d always feared he would end up saying.

A few professors had come out of the woodworks, moving closer, calling out for Michael to stop, as if he cared about authority, and of course, to no avail. One professor, a short psychology professor, attempted to pull Michael off but Michael was stronger and just pushed him away.

Ashton didn’t dare try to stop him himself. He was Michael’s friend but Ashton knew his limits and Michael was way beyond his. There was no doubt in Ashton’s mind that he would get beat up quickly if he tried to step in and stop Michael, especially from beating up someone that dared talk about you. Everyone knew when you started dating that you were off limits, you were Michael’s limit. No one was to talk about you, be mean to you, or say anything even resembling degrading to you or they would face Michael. It was the one thing that made him angrier than anything else, even more so if they were to directly attack him. It was a type of anger that didn’t seem to end or be quenched by anything. The rule still applied even well after your breakup. It was worse now, coupled with the anger and turmoil of losing you. Ashton couldn’t number the amount of kids Michael had pummeled after hearing your name spoken in a ridiculing or perverted manner after the break up became well known.

When Michael was beyond his limit, there was no telling what he was willing to do. It was like he had become blinded by rage. He wouldn’t hesitate to fuck everyone up that was in his way.

Well, not everyone.

Ashton cursed under his breath, digging out his phone quickly to find the schedule of the one person that he’d been secretly looking out for, the one person that could stop Michael, if you were up for it. But if it meant you could help someone while simultaneously keeping Michael out of jail for murder, he didn’t doubt you would be. You were too good of a person to say no. Even after everything.

He was still looking down at his phone, ignoring the disgusting sounds of Luke yelling through the gurgling blood in his throat and Michael’s angry grunts only a few yards away when he ordered Chris and Calum. “Try to keep him from killing Luke, okay? I’ll be right back!”

He was running when he called back to make sure they got it, “Stall him!”

He’d gotten your class building and room but to find you and get you there was a race against the clock. Or against Michael.

♔

The whispers that followed you were haunting.

They were worse than the whispers that happened when you and Michael first got together. Because now most of the time, people were talking more about Michael than about you so they didn’t bother to quiet down when you entered the room or walked past.

Instead, you were forced to listen to students and professors alike talk about your boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend now. It felt like you couldn’t have a minute of peace without hearing his name and remembering what he had done to you.

“It’s gotten so bad and no one can calm him down. He used to be a lot more restrained, wonder what happened.” You heard as you entered your small recitation classroom. One of the girls next to you had turned her entire body back to talk to her friend. She was talking animately while her friend listened coolly.

The blonde girl shrugged easily, “I don’t know but he’s literally so scary. Have you seen him walking around campus? He looks like he wants to kill someone all the time. One time I saw him push a girl out of his way. Can you imagine?”

You closed your eyes, willing any and all images of Michael to leave your mind. You knew from experience that many of the rumors of Michael’s angry and aggravated actions were just that: rumors that served to vilify him even more. But you also knew by how much you knew him, that a lot of them were true.

You never saw what everyone else spoke about, though. But you knew Michael’s new actions were a common occurrence just by the sheer amount you heard about it, everywhere. You sometimes wondered if he purposely acted out where he knew you wouldn’t be, to keep you from having to see that violence that he never liked you to be a part of when you were dating.

A part of you felt bad for him because you knew this out of control anger had emerged because you were gone. Especially when he had been trying so hard and working to manage his anger better. And you hated yourself for feeling that way.

You hated that you were the one who felt bad for him, that a part of you wanted to go back to calm him down like you knew you could. Because he was the one who fucked up, who took your heart and stomped on it. But you couldn’t help but know that you were the one who helped ground him and his emotions a lot of the time when you were still together. You knew this outburst was at least partially because you weren’t there anymore.

The worst part was why did you want to help him? You wanted to be with him, you wanted to help soothe his anger and his hurt behind that. It hurt to know he was in pain, to know that, even though you knew he cheated on you, he must’ve felt at least something. He wasn’t completely heartless to your pain. Maybe he had loved you enough to at least regret it. He was making it obvious.

If it wasn’t by how long he had tried to talk to you, gone out of his way just to catch a glimpse of you, it sure was by how he had lost control without you, how his emotions were all over the place with regret and longing for you. But that too stopped after a while. Part of you was thankful for it, you could finally put him behind you, but the other part was hurt even more now that he was giving you the opportunity to forget him. But how could you do that so easily when you had spent so much of your years loving him, seeing a part of him no one else did. The kind, accepting, loving version.

You weren’t sure how much of it was real love and regret and how much was from being caught and losing just a constant in his life he was used to having, a comfort. Any benefit of the doubt and patience that you usually gave Michael had dried out.

Even if it was real, it wasn’t enough to erase what he did, erase your memory of it.

The girl was still ingrained in your thoughts. Michael had made it quite clear that he resented her or maybe associated her with his mistake that he hated so much to remember, avoided all whispers of her name, her face. Avoided her like the plague since then. Even went as far as to warn everyone that mentions of her were to be met with pain, and a lot of it. At least that was what the rumor mill had brought you. You didn’t know who she was and while, at the center of Michael’s wrath, she decided to stay silent, underground and pretend nothing happened, you couldn’t forget. She knew you were dating Michael, everyone on campus did. But she didn’t care and she chose the moment Michael didn’t either.

He didn’t respect you enough, didn’t give a regard to the consequences, what you could have felt in the aftermath. Maybe because he had never intended for you to find out. You had always been okay with his past but maybe that was just a naivety of your part, one he took advantage of. You wondered just how long he had been betraying you while you followed along like being pulled on a string. Maybe that was what had him so messed up, he had still wanted to keep you along for the ride. Just a toy to pick up when he didn’t have other plans. Maybe the Michael you knew wasn’t the real Michael. Just an illusion he wanted you to believe to keep you around.

You hated yourself for still loving him. Despite everything your mind was conjuring up about him, images and thoughts that clashed so violently from the Michael you had known. You still remembered how much he meant to you, how beautiful your relationship was, full of love, protection, acceptance and opening each of you up to new parts of yourself, more adventurous and centered parts. Tainted only by the giant gash at the very end.

You were tainted with it as well. And not in the titillating way Michael had always promised to corrupt you with during sex. No, now, you weren’t the bubbly life loving girl you had been since before you met him. Now you were irreparably different. Life felt gray, as if nothing was what you thought it was. If the man you thought was the love of your life, the one you trusted everything to (including your love and your life), the one you would have been willing to marry, to mother his children, betrayed you in such a painful and humiliating way, what was stopping the rest of the world from doing the same.

The worse thing was that he had given you ever indication of being just as equally devoted to you. How could a man that had been planning so many beautiful things for the two of you end up being such a cheater, a liar?

The relief you felt when your strict TA waltz into the room, forcing the girls into silence was unmeasurable. In fact, you were almost happy to learn about calculus and have only that occupy your mind for the remainder of the hour.

But it seemed like the world didn’t want to give you that happiness, especially when the door behind you was yanked open. The whole class jumped in surprise and swiveled around.

You wished you hadn’t when you turned and saw an out of breath Ashton, grabbing onto the doorway in a sort of panic you’d never seen on him before. His curly hair bounced dramatically as he stepped inside the room.

Even your TA was silent, confused as to what exactly was going on.

Ashton’s eyes search the rows of desks before his gaze finally landed on you. He had definitely ran there as his words came out breathless. “Y/N. I…..I need you to….come…” He leaned forward, his hands on his knees as he tried to even out his breathing. “I need you to come with me right now.”

Your eyes watched him, unamused. You hadn’t seen him since the breakup and you couldn’t deny the hurt you felt at him icing you out, as if you were the villain for breaking it off with Michael and sending him into a spiral of hurt and regret. Especially when you had considered him your friend as well.

“Ash, I’m kind of busy right now.” You gestured to your almost frozen TA at the front of the classroom, standing in front of the whiteboard.

But Ashton was already shaking his head, “No, you don’t understand. Michael, he’s-”

At the sound of Michael’s name, everyone turned away from Ashton and towards you, staring at you in awe. You were Michael’s ex-girlfriend, the one who broke up with him and had started his reign of terror on the campus. The one who made it scary to even just walk to class without the fear of getting beat up or threatened.

Ashton, for his part, looked like he was shaking with how almost afraid he looked. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What was going on?

You shook your head before he could finish, just the sound of Michael’s name had your breath catching. “Ashton, we broke up. I don’t want anything to do with whatever he’s is involved in.”

Ashton looked at the pleadingly door like he was debating if he should just carry you against your will. You were the only one who Michael would listen to, he knew that.

“Michael’s about to kill Luke.”

You blinked, your blood running cold. “What?”

“He’s beating him up at the Quad right now, he’ll only listen to you, you know how he is.”

You knew Michael was mad, that he was hurting, but you never thought it would get to this point. And that feeling of sadness for the man you had cared so much for just spread further.

You were silent for a moment. Unsure if it was that you couldn’t process what you were being told or if you didn’t know what to say.

“Y/N we have to hurry before he does something he’ll regret. I can’t let my best friend ruin his life…again. Please. I know he fucked up - he’s been suffering because of it - but he loves you and you know that, he’d do anything for you. Please.” Ashton was talking fast but none of it registered in your mind.

Because as soon as you understood the gravity of the situation, the very real possibility that Michael had lost himself so much that he could do something he couldn’t take back, you were up. You got up off of your seat quickly, running to Ashton and, when he ran out of the room, guiding you to wherever Michael was, you ran after him too. You didn’t think, you left all your stuff, you left your TA yelling out your name. All that was going through your mind was Michael.

The fact that this would be the first time you saw him in months was very present in your mind. But the dominant thought was his angry face, hitting someone without pause just like you’d seen multiple times before but this time, so much worse. Because this time he had nothing to lose.

You hated yourself a little for caring so much. After what he had done to you, you should hate him. But you tried to convince yourself that you did and that you’d do this for anyone, it was the right thing to do. It was for Luke’s sake too, save him and his health.

But as you finally reached the Quad and saw the back of Michael’s looming figure, it was hard to deny the increasing thumping of your heart beat, the way your breath was taken away at seeing him again. In all his glory.

From afar he looked great. His arms were toned, decorated perfectly with his tattoos, that still made your cheeks flare up in a light blush. He looked as gorgeous as always. In fact, you would’ve appreciated him and his appearance a lot more if his muscles weren’t flexed due to the current beating he was delivering to the boy in your physics class.

If Ashton hadn’t told you it was Luke, it might’ve been hard to recognize him with all the blood. And the fact that he was basically lying on the ground, held up only by Michael’s tight grip on the boy’s shirt.

The sight stopped you cold. You saw everyone else in the Quad, frozen and staring, at the fearsome sight as well.

You’d seen Michael being violent, but Ashton was right to be panicked, you’d never seen it be this bad. Maybe you had a little do to with that; you hated violence and would preach peace religiously, especially to Michael (though he never quite understood your position, he definitely respected it enough to restrain himself). Could this outbreak really be because of your break up? Was he really this uncontrollable without you? A part of you couldn’t imagine him caring so much about something he caused that it would drive him to this point.

But the evidence was right in front of you. As Michael’s face was scrunched up in pure fury and as professors and students alike yelled out his name to no avail. Nothing was stopping him. The only thing that was restraining him from fully exploding was a very strong Calum grabbing around his shoulder blades pulling him back and successfully slowing the assault down as much as possible while Ashton arrived. It wasn’t much, just slowed Michael down but it was enough to possibly stop a tragedy.

You had no idea what Luke could’ve possibly done to him to cause this. They’d had a few run ins before but Michael never seemed to take an interest in him, let alone allow himself to be bothered by his existence.

Ashton stayed behind you and you realized that you were meant to do something. But as you watched the much bigger, both physically and in authority, people surrounding Michael, unable to do much of anything you weren’t sure what. What were you meant to do? Especially as the ex-girlfriend who he obviously didn’t have much respect for. Not enough to stay loyal to anyway.

You took a few timid steps forward, still really unsure of what your purpose was. A part of you felt stupid for running to him as soon as he needed help, when he never even asked for you. What if he didn’t even want to see you?

But as you stared at the violent scene in front of you, you had to do something. You felt sick at it, there was no good in violence even in anger and you knew that wasn’t a feeling Michael reciprocated but when you were together, he had at least started to adopt similar thoughts. He always stopped when he was going too far. But perhaps that was more for your benefit than it was his beliefs. It was hard to believe someone you loved so deeply was capable of being violent to this point.

“Michael!” You yelled out, loud enough for him to hear you over the other voices and his own angry, incomprehensible yelling.

It was magical, almost, how quickly all of his actions stopped. How he froze up at the sound of your voice. You could hardly believe you were the reason, the one who held that power over him.

But it was undeniable as he let go of Luke abruptly, causing the poor guy to drop to the ground with no strength to hold himself up.

Even the professors next to Michael stared at you, wide-eyed. Unsure of how this short, scared looking girl managed to stop the angry giant in front of them. You were just as surprised as they were.

That surprise quickly turned into a deep set concern, one you couldn’t turn off no matter how much you wanted to, when Michael turned around. He turned slowly, almost as if he was afraid his ears had deceived him, given him something he had so desperately wanted to hear: your sweet voice saying his name again.

But it wasn’t a mistake. There you were, in front of him again. You looked gorgeous, though you always did to him. You were finally starting to wear colors again, a light pink dress with small cherries decorated over it. Michael’s heart constricted and his airway felt just a little tighter as he stared at you. You were actually there, for him.

You, on the other hand, furrowed your brows as you looked at Michael’s beautiful face. It was marred with blood (you weren’t sure if it was Luke’s or the blood from his knuckles) and the hints of frustration were still there, along with his red, tear rimmed, eyes. He looked tired, an almost ghostly pallor colored his face. It looked like he hadn’t slept well in weeks. You’d never seen him look this destroyed. You wished you didn’t feel that yearning to throw your arms around him, kiss him and make him feel better.

“Y/N…” Michael’s voice was hesitant yet gruff.

Then he moved forward, quicker than he had in a while, and enveloped you into a tight hug. He wrapped around your entire body and seemed to engulf you entirely. Your head was at his chest and you could feel him nuzzling his face into your neck as much as he could, inhaling your scent. He was finally touching your skin again and that alone let him feel connected to you. Reveling in everything he had been deprived of for months. He missed you so much.

He couldn’t even tell you everything he wanted to say. The million ‘sorry’s he had wanted to say to you since you walked out of his life, the ‘I love you’s were lost to the overwhelming feeling of gratefulness. Grateful that you were there for him, that you didn’t even go to check on Luke. No, the first thing you said was his name.

You, on the other hand, were frozen in his arms. You didn’t move, didn’t reciprocate the hug. In fact, you felt your lip start to tremble. You felt suffocated. Having him this close just reminded you of everything you had lost, everything Michael had thrown away. For a girl who he never even looked at again (he made a point of that).

Wiggling, you hoped he would get the message and let you go. But he was too mesmerized by the situation, wishing to never let you go again to notice. You had a small nagging sentiment that urged you to just let go, enjoy this moment. But the painful hurt that you still felt at just the thought of Michael had you pushing firmly against him.

This time he did loosen his grip on you, giving you opportunity to step back out of his arms. He didn’t want to, you knew it from the pained expression on his face, an expression that told you the last thing he wanted was to let you go.

“Y/N…” He started but your sharp eyes cut him off.

You looked much more sure of yourself than you felt. Your expression was stern and your voice was level. You were really proud of yourself for that.

“We’re over Michael. Don’t.”

How sad was it that even at your harsh words, he took solace in the fact that you had finally spoken to him. Your beautiful voice was finally being directed at him again.

And it was such a small thing compared to your sentence as a whole, but when you called him Michael, he felt a part of him break. Ever since your relationship had gotten serious, you called him Mikey. Such a cute little name for a boy that was anything but. If anyone else called him that, he would hate it and probably hurt the person saying it so they’d know just how much he hated it. But it was a nickname from you, something no one else called him. He’d come to love it just as much as he loved you, because it was something the two of you shared and embodied just how different Michael was with you. He was Mikey.

But it appeared he had destroyed that the moment he had destroyed the relationship.

Sure, you had called him by his full name plenty of times. But never quite with the betrayed and angry eyes, the ones that looked at him as if he was a stranger, as if he was a monster that brought nothing but destruction with him.

His heart felt like it was being constricted to the point where he was afraid it would burst. You walked directly past him without even looking twice at him, as if him having you so close to him for even just a millisecond didn’t kill him inside. He wanted to drop to his knees when you squatted down to check on Luke.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. This shouldn’t have happened. He should’ve had you with him forever, loving each other for the rest of your lives; never worrying about you getting asked out by another man, always feeling loved and needed because that was just how you always made him feel, never missing you because you’d always be there and never feeling alone because all those feelings of abandonment and loneliness he used to feel had disappeared the second he met you.

“I’m so sorry…” He heard your chiming voice say down to Luke, your hands hovering over his face but not touching because of the amount of blood, you didn’t want to hurt him more than he already was.

Michael had to look away. Couldn’t handle seeing your worried eyes, your cutely concerned face directed to the jock. His entire body felt electrified with regret but he wasn’t sure if it was regret at what he had done to you or regret at having beaten Luke, because if he hadn’t, maybe Michael wouldn’t have to witness first hand you solidifying just how much he ruined everything. His entire body was slumped, drained of any energy and any anger he had moments ago. Now all he felt was a deep set longing and regret.

He didn’t think those feelings would ever go away. It felt like they were eating at him.

So when Ashton stepped forward, taking a hold of his shoulders, and began pushing him away; away from you, from the trouble he’d caused, the blood (and away from the responsibility as he knew no one would testify against him), he allowed it.

♔

Your fingers were tapping the edge of your phone nervously. You weren’t really sure what you were thinking, if you were at all. But you had sent the message anyway, forgoing any of your usual overthinking.

You flipped the phone over to illuminate your face in the dusk sky when you felt the vibration of a notification. You held your breath as you opened the text from the man you had been texting nonstop for months now; your sense of security and understanding.

justin

Are you sure? I thought you didn’t like parties much.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. He was right. You didn’t like parties and since Michael cheated on you, it had grown to a full blown hate. You didn’t tend to hate things, it wasn’t who you were. But every time you thought of what happened, the way Michael took a girl home from a party, the way he forgot completely about you because of it, there was no other way to describe the cold feeling pulsing through your body.

So when the invite to a frat party was airdropped to your phone, your first desire was to delete it, throw your phone across the room and cry (or scream, or both). But then you thought about it. Maybe facing the very thing that made you sick to the stomach, made you want to vomit, would be the closure you needed. It could help you finally get over the misguided love and care you still felt for the guy that broke your heart. Even if it didn’t, you were willing to try anything. Maybe you could finally get him out of your mind, get rid of the soft spot, the love you had for him once and for all. Maybe you’d finally be fully happy again, feel like yourself, then.

me

I don’t. But I think it might do me some good to go to one, especially right now. I know you don’t like that scene either but since you’re in town…do you want to come with me?

In town he was. He had flown down for the long weekend and a part of you wasn’t sure what to think about the fact that he had booked the flight right after you told him about what happened with Michael and Luke.

It wasn’t something you liked to think of much. It was jarring to finally see Michael again in that way. To see the man you had been with for so many years, the one you still loved, be so violent and aggressive. You’ve seen him mad, you’ve seen him fight before, but never to that extent. You couldn’t quite get Luke’s bashed face out of your head. You wondered exactly what Luke had done to deserve that, if anything, considering just how much more short tempered Michael had become. At least he was alright now.

It was also a little frightening to see the power you held over Michael, confusing as to why. Who were you to be able to stop him when no one else could, it wasn’t fair to feel as though you were important to him when he had shown you very vividly that you weren’t. That you were replaceable. It was scarier even to have been in his arms again. You hated the way your body betrayed you by longing for it so much, the way you felt instantly calm in his arms, never wanting to leave. The way you still loved him and wanted to go back to him. You pushed those thoughts away as deeply as you could.

When Justin told you all those months ago that you could text him for anything, you took it very literally. And it made you feel so accepted that he didn’t mind you texting him at 3 in the morning to rant about whatever was on your mind. It was what you normally would’ve done with Michael but it felt just as good to do it with Justin. Better even because your memories with the blond boy weren’t tainted. The kiss hadn’t made anything awkward because he was just that great of a guy to know it was something that you did when you weren’t in your right mind. Justin had given you a safe space, one where you could let out all your feelings without being judged or pitied. And you appreciated him for it.

Justin wasn’t one for parties, just like you. In fact, in high school, the two of you would often be together talking about exams, college and homework while the rest of your friends were out celebrating life. And neither of you minded one bit. You were still like that and you definitely knew he was as well. Which is why when his typing bubble came up, you were worried he would deny you and you would have to go by yourself. You’d have to face the shame of going to the scene of the crime alone.

justin

I’ll be right over.

You tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling that was erupting in you.

♔

Michael stared at Ashton incredulously.

“No, I don’t want to go to a fucking party.” He growled at the brown haired boy standing in the doorway of his dim room. He preferred to keep the lights as low as possible, if not off. The last time his room was fully lit was when you were in there. And he wasn’t quite sure he could take that piece of memory and replace it with this much lonelier reality.

Michael had sworn off parties and stopped drinking. In fact, he refused to even hear about it. No one invited him to parties or handed him drinks anymore either because they knew just how sensitive of a topic it was for him. It might’ve been misplaced anger. But it was there nonetheless. As much as he blamed himself, he blamed that culture for what happened. And he refused to be a part of it anymore. Especially when he couldn’t even pass by a frat or sorority house without being hit with the fact that you weren’t his girlfriend anymore and that the reason happened right there. He couldn’t even have a drink in his hand without wanting to chuck it across the room - preferably at someone’s head.

He wasn’t only on a party ban but also on a girl ban. It wasn’t something he was consciously doing but he couldn’t imagine doing anything other than that. And celibacy was not something Michael was used to doing, before or with you. But his body was physically rejecting any girl that came near him, anyone other than you. Not like he went out to find girls, in fact with the way his mind was constantly on you, remembering the good times (before everything went to shit), other women never crossed his mind. Michael only remembered that he was still attracting attention when they approached him and even then, nothing they said ever processed in his mind. All he saw was someone that wasn’t you and he moved along.

Ashton sighed, the only light coming from the living room behind him. He understood where Michael was coming from, he did. Which is why he never forced him to go anywhere, even if he thought it could cheer him up, just like this Epsilon party - his favorite. But after the thing with Luke, it had been hard to get him out of the house at all. It was like he was traumatized from the whole thing, he couldn’t even step on campus.

It had nothing to do with Luke, of course. In fact, when Ashton filled him in that you had in fact, not gone on a date with him, Ashton saw a look of relief on his friend’s face that he had never quite seen before. But it had everything to do with the feeling of drowning, suffocating, coming back after seeing you again; after seeing you and being frozen out of your forgiveness and love. He really fucked up.

Ashton considered his next words. He didn’t want to give his friend false hope, only for it to be snuffed out again. But he knew Michael wouldn’t get up off of his bed if he didn’t, he would stay in that position, listening to angry, sad music alone until he fell asleep and was able to dream of you, dream that everything was like it used to be. He needed out of the house and to confront his sins, instead of wallowing in them.

“Y/N might be there.”

He’d never seen Michael sit up as fast as he did then. And all his hesitancy in giving Michael false ideas had gone to waste, it was evident in the way his face lit up, the way his eyes had the far away look that showed all the what-ifs running through his mind.

“How do you know?”

“Cal invited her.” Ashton murmured, hoping that if he spoke soft and slow, then Michael’s hope might pop, he might come back to reality. “It’s at his frat, Epsilon so he sent her the flyer. I’m pretty sure he said she was interested.”

Michael was already standing up, “What are we waiting for then.” He could put aside his aversion to parties, especially greek life parties for you. He’d do it because of you. If it meant he could see you again, talk to you. Maybe even be able to beg for forgiveness like he’d always wanted to. Like he had been unable to fully do after the fight because he had been too stunned by your presence, at having your beauty in front of him again. It had rendered him too useless to even think.

Ashton struggled to find the right words when Michael pushed past him in the doorway and headed to the front door.

“Right…but, dude, remember she still probably won’t-”

“Don’t say it.” Michael didn’t stop walking but his words were warning. His tone didn’t pack the usual punch though, it was too tinged with choked back sadness to be as threatening as he wanted.

He glanced down at his phone, didn’t unlock it, just stared for a moment in silence. Ashton wished he didn’t see the flash of Michael’s phone before he put it in his pocket, didn’t see your smiling face reflected back at him. Maybe then he wouldn’t have a pit in his stomach at what exactly he was taking his friend to and bringing to you. More heartache?

♔

Michael’s heart was beating a million beats per minute. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt nervous but this was definitely it. Just the thought of seeing you again just for you to brush him off, say you were over him, for you to have finally figured out you were too good for him that entire time. All of that was enough for him to want to go back home, try again some other time. Because he didn’t know if he could handle you not forgiving him and finally losing you for good.

He didn’t care about the calls of his name as soon as he entered the room. He slipped right past Calum who had waited up front to greet Ashton and Michael. He had one goal in being there. To find you. Everything else was irrelevant

He just didn’t expect to find you against the wall, a drink in your hand and Justin standing in front of you, talking to you animately. In the same position you and him had been in multiple times. Justin was leaning down so you could hear him better; the music was so loud. Your lips were slightly parted, your big eyes sparkling like they used to when you looked at him as you nodded at whatever the blond boy was saying to you.

You looked beautiful. You were wearing the short, white dress that contrasted so beautifully with your skin tone. The one he always said made you look like an angel. The one he loved to fuck you in especially, to really solidify him taking away that pureness. But now you didn’t wear it for him.

Michael was already broken hearted. But nothing compared to the feeling of his heart being ripped out of his chest when he saw you with the one man Michael had always felt insecure next to. The one you knew so well, the one who was perfect inside and out and wanted you the same way Michael did though not nearly as intensely and deeply. He hated the blond boy. Why did he always have to be around?

To add insult to injury, Michael watched with frozen horror as you raised the alcohol to your lips and sipped. Your face scrunched up at the taste so at least it hadn’t become a vice of yours. But still, you had slipped into something you never wanted to before. Even if it was just to give you the extra push to let loose, to give you the comfort in a setting that brought you so much pain. Michael pushed you to do something you had been so against. His sweet pure girl. It was his worse nightmare, being such a bad influence in your life. But he had succeeded. And he felt like everything was wrong in the world.

Michael felt a bad taste in his mouth as he saw Justin move closer, too close, so he could whisper in your ear. He wanted to rip off the hand he had on your bare shoulder. When he saw your red cheeks, he wanted to kill something. Your blush was one of Michael’s favorite parts about you, it made your already cute and innocent face look even more so and it did wonders for Michael’s libido and ego, a fact you were very much aware of. A fact that was still true now, even if it wasn’t directed to him. No now, you were blushing for him. For the man that Michael had to fight against in order to keep his relationship in the first place. You had rejected Luke but now it was Justin in front of you. Had he just pushed you back into the rich boy’s arms? Did he give him a free space to finally win your heart?

The bastard was too much of a pussy to even keep that stupid drink away from you like he knew you wanted. He couldn’t protect you like Michael could.

His only solace was when he finally watched Justin move away from you. He watched with jealous eyes as he rounded a corner to find a quiet place to take a call. His phone was already at his ear and his free hand covered his other ear to help him hear the line better.

Michael hadn’t even moved when Ashton and Calum came up beside him, patting his shoulder. “We got you, bro.” And then they followed Justin out of the room, giving him the security that they would buy him some time.

His heart accelerated again, coming alive. Here was his chance, you were alone, right in front of him and he had all the time in the world. But if he didn’t move now, he might lose you forever to the persistent man you came with.

♔

It was so hot.

You weren’t sure if it was the amount of people in the packed house or the drink in your hand. Granted, you’d only taken a grand total of 2 sips and while you definitely figured out it was not for you, the ability of it to help you forget your misfortunes was still to be determined. You were sure it was because you weren’t drunk, if just a bit buzzed, but you had no intention of getting to that level anyway. So for now, it would just be a decoration in your hand.

You touched your cheeks a little after Justin left. They felt burning and you had no doubt you were blushing wildly. More than half of it had to be because of Justin. He was standing so close with those kind blue eyes. He made it so easy to forget.

“Y/N.” But it was impossible to forget completely when you were always within the same campus as the man you were trying so desperately to get out of your head.

It was disheartening the way your stomach dropped at his voice. Especially because this could only mean one thing, he was still partying. Even after what he did, he was still attending, still finding other girls probably. While you were trying hard to forget, he had already forgotten you.

You felt your lips quiver and your ears burned with heat and humiliation by the time he stood in front of you. You were backed into a corner already so there was no way to escape. That didn’t stop your eyes from looking around you from some sort of exit, for Justin to come back, anything. As if his body didn’t block the majority of your eyesight.

So you were forced to just look up, your neck craning to fully look at him. You’d almost forgotten how tall he was, you had stood so far away from him at the Quad it didn’t give you the time to fully appreciate his height.

He looked just as different as he looked at the Quad. His hair was a mess, as if he had just gotten up from bed. Deep purple circles ran alongside the bottom of his eyes from lack of sleep.

But, wearing a black bomber over a black t-shirt, his silver chain contrasting perfectly against the dark fabric, he still looked great. And then you saw them. The tattoos encircling his entire neck were shadowed just right so you could appreciate their dark colors. Then one of his hands moved, allowing you to fully see the artwork that traveled from the edge of his sleeves to the edge of his finger, the ones that drove you especially crazy. Particularly when they were holding your much smaller hand gently, so different from what would be expected. Or when they were around your neck.

You blamed the alcohol for how your body stiffened, a pooling of wetness between your legs. Had it really been that long, were you really so sex-deprived that even just a look at him had you horny? He really had corrupted you. Before, you didn’t think of sex much but you’d gotten too accustomed, spoiled, with the way he made you feel, something that happened so often that just a few months without had left you feeling more lonely than ever.

His eyes explored your face, trailing especially onto your full pink lips before they met your eyes. It was like a trance you were both in and you weren’t completely sure you were breathing.

He took the gross cup from your hands, tossing it aside as if it didn’t contain liquid.

“Who the fuck gave you that?” His words were so familiar and for a moment, you could almost imagine that nothing had happened. That he was still the protective boyfriend you loved so much. “You don’t drink.”

Normally the drink would never reach your hand, Michael would make sure of it. He always wanted to preserve your innocence from any hard substances he partook in. But Justin was just as out of his element as you were, just as nervous. So when you were handed a drink, Justin didn’t do anything to stop it besides looking at you nervously. You wished you didn’t feel the bit of disappointment at just how different he was from what you wanted, from Michael.

The trance was broken as soon as he lifted his hand to your face, to touch your cheek like he had always done without question. But this time you pulled your head back before his fingers could touch your skin.

“Don’t touch me.” Because you were still very aware what him being there meant. The humiliation and betrayal he caused you was still a very fresh wound.

You wished you could take pleasure in the pained look that flashed across his face. His face dropped, much like it did in the Quad, and settled in your neck. He wasn’t touching you but this was his only chance to get you to listen and he wasn’t going to throw it away. Right then, it felt like his entire future was hanging on by a thin strand. He didn’t care what he looked like to anyone watching, didn’t care if he looked weak or whipped. He’d go down on his knees to beg for you back if that’s what it took.

You were blushing again as soon as you felt his breath on your skin. You had to close your eyes and force yourself to breathe, otherwise the breath would be stuck in a knot at your throat.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered so only you heard, his voice was dripping with sincerity. It almost sounded sad. “I was drunk and I thought it was you. I would’ve never….fuck, if I was conscious enough to know, it wouldn’t have happened. It meant nothing. She was nothing. I love you so much, baby girl.” He felt you flinch at the name. “I love you. Too much to do that knowingly and too much to want to. You’re it for me. I know I fucked up, but I’m sorry.”

He repeated his love for you as if there wasn’t enough times that he could say it that would come close to encompassing just how much he did. His heart was thumping so hard he was sure you could hear it. He inhaled your scent, taking pleasure at being so close to you after so long. He finally felt at home again, his heart and body felt like they were buzzing with electricity. You made him feel alive.

“That’s not an excuse.” And then his heart deflated in a way only you had the ability to make it. “If you couldn’t handle your alcohol, that’s your fault. It doesn’t matter if you love me if the way you act the minute I’m not beside you shows the complete opposite. When I did nothing but support and love you, when I was fine even when I knew that you had screwed half of the girls on campus, I trusted you even then. I didn’t deserve that. You humiliated me, Michael, to the entire campus. You betrayed me. I’m not sure you know what love is. Because you’re not the man I thought you were.”

You pushed him away at that point and took solace in the way he let himself be pushed away. Now there were a good couple inches between you and you finally felt like you could breathe again, the fuzziness in your mind at having him so close was fading slowly. Your quick heartbeat, which had started racing the moment he said I love you again, three little words you thought you’d never hear again from his mouth, was still going hard.

Your eyes were watering over, tears threatening to fall but your face screamed anger. The anger you had felt for months finally letting out. But it was an anger mixed with a sad frustration which couldn’t be taken out of your expression. And that was what hurt Michael the most.

Seeing you look so in pain, so broken when all you deserved to be was happy and loved. He had done this. But even when his heart stuttered as he looked at you, he wanted nothing more to hug you, kiss the pain the away. He was selfish. Too selfish for you. But he loved you too much to let you go. You were the best thing thats ever happened to him, the best thing in his life.

His hand moved again, this time, taking a hold of your upper arms. He only meant to hold you, test the waters to see if maybe his touch could bring you back to him. But he didn’t expect the gasp that escaped you as soon as his cool fingertips grazed along your warm skin. Michael watched with wonder as your eyes widened and your blush deepened. You were a goddess.

A goddess with a reaction that Michael knew more than well. Michael watched you carefully, the way your teeth caught your bottom lip, the way your pressed your thighs together as you attempted to step back. He had missed the way your body reacted to him. How could he have ever mistaken you when you were so obviously awe-inspiringly beautiful and magical to watch unfold. Just watching you was enough to get him off.

Sex was what got him in this mess in the first place. But it was also the one thing he knew you would still want him for, need him for. And he was desperate enough to fill in that role, even if it would just result in more hope and heartbreak for him, even if, for you, he would only act as a means to an end. Anything to have you in his life for a little while longer. Anything to hold back to inevitable and nonreversible separation you no doubt wanted. He would take what he could get.

He had said to you once that he would ruin you for all men so that eventually you would always need him, always run back to him, even if it was only to get off. Neither of you had expected to get to the point where it would come true. But here you were.

Michael knew you so well, knew what you liked, what you reacted for. So it was no big surprise when he closed the gap between you two, pushing you against the wall with his lips directly at your ear, taking advantage of your state.

“Missed you, little one.”

The way he ducked down, the way his hands were trapping you in place. Everything made you feel so small, so dominated that you couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your mouth. And he loved it too, seeing your small frame so tiny and fragile, helpless. His for the taking, his to break. His.

You hated feeling this weak in front of him but it’d been too long, you needed it, you needed him. Because no matter how much you hated him at that moment, there was no doubt that no one could make you feel as good, as satisfied as he could. Not that there was anyone else you trusted or loved enough to try.

“You’re still so good for me, bet your body has missed me, missed my cock. Do you remember how good it feels?” You were sure he chose his words carefully. Saying what he knew had you weak to the knees so you couldn’t deny him.

Michael watched your small figure, looking up at him with innocently hungry eyes. His hand on your arm trailed tantalizingly upward and downward. Your skin burned wherever he touched. His other hand rested firmly on your hips, holding you as if you would disappear if he loosened his grip. All he could think was that he was actually touching you again. It was like he could breathe for the first time in a long time.

But this was wrong. You were giving in and you could feel your self control slipping from you. It was replaced with an urge to let him do whatever he wanted to you, to let out all your pent up emotions through one night that you knew would blow you away.

Michael’s eyes focused on your lips, his thumb moving up to them and this time you let him. His thumb played with your bottom lip while the rest of his fingers rested on your jaw. You felt his thumb move into your mouth superficially. Your gaze never left his as your tongue slid on the pad of his digit before he brought it back out, using it to drag your bottom lip down.

You were ethereal and he was nothing short of hellish. But it was the type of destruction you couldn’t seem to stay away from.

“It’s been so long, baby girl. I’ve wanted you for months, missed your tight little pussy taking my cock so well. Jacked off so much thinking about it.” Michael’s words were filthy, too filthy for a public party where the only thing between you and the rest of the partygoers was Michael’s large frame draped around you. In fact, you weren’t sure anyone could even see you as Michael’s broad shoulders covered you entirely. It just seemed as if he was standing hunched over nothing. That particular thought drew a moan out of your mouth.

“Bet you’ve been needy. My spoiled girl wanting to get her pussy wrecked by my big cock like you’re used to, but your fingers just don’t feel the same, do they?” Michael nipped at your neck slightly making you nod out desperately.

You’d missed this so much, the feeling of complete domination over you, the way he treated you so roughly yet lovingly at the same time. That feeling was complete when his lips found your neck while his hand came down to the base of your throat and squeezed. He didn’t kiss your neck, not yet, not without your words. But his lips feathered over your skin like a ghost, enough for you to just get a taste. Enough for you to want more.

“Come on, little one. Let me help. Let me make you feel good.”

Michael groaned out as he saw your blush deepened and one of his knees came up between your bodies, prying your legs open just enough for the fabric of his ripped jeans to touch your damp panties. One of his hands tugged sharply at your hair.

“M-Michael…” You couldn’t think straight. You were turned on in a way only he was able to do. All you could think was of his scent, the way his strong shoulders felt when your hands finally touched him for the first time in months. His muscles felt firm and powerful, the intimidating and possessive aura that seemed to scream at everyone to stay away was held there and as you squeezed them, feeling his body, the fire burning beneath your heart and your sex was scorching hot. You were clenching helplessly around nothing. You needed him.

But then you saw him, the boy you had come to the party with. The one you had invited. The one who had stayed by your side and cared for you. Justin was staring at you with wide eyes. His hand was in his ruffled hair, unsure of what to do or say as he watched you come undone just by Michael’s presence. Calum was right behind him, flustered at having him slip away.

It was almost shameful to think of what you must look like to him. Weak, desperate, lustful, submissive. You felt bad, even after everything, you were choosing Michael again. Even after Justin comforted you, even after that kiss. And he had front row tickets this time. Your face burned as you breathed out for Michael to stop.

Michael moved away, his focus entirely on you, his large hand entwining in yours as he pulled you back from against the wall. “Let’s go.”

Your heart was stuttering when you stared at Justin. There were so many mixed emotions in your mind. You were desperate for Michael at that point, if you hadn’t been gazing at Justin’s hurt face, you would’ve left without question. But Justin was there and worse he was there for you. You were the one that invited him, you were the one who took him out of his own life so he could be there for you. And now you were abandoning him for the guy that hurt you in the first place.

You hoped your eyes translated all the regret you felt at how you were making him feel at the moment. You didn’t meant to play with his feelings or lead him on, in fact you were sure your own feelings were starting to be messed with in the process. But you were too far gone to reject Michael, to think logically. You needed something only he could satisfy you with and you needed that gratification.

When you saw a small nod come from Justin, you almost sighed in relief. You didn’t need his permission but his understanding, or at least acceptance of what you were doing made you feel less guilty when you nodded up at Michael. Not for the first time were you struck with his beauty, he reminded you of danger in a way. But you weren’t scared. Instead you were letting him lead you wherever he wanted. His dark hair swept across his forehead perfectly. His deep eyes still stared at you with the same adoration they always had and the secretive smile that was only for you was still there as well.

It felt especially familiar when he pulled you into his side, wrapping one arm protectively around your shoulder, keeping you there and proudly showing off who you still belonged to, to the entire party. He knew that in the state you were in right then, the horny mess he had left you in, you wouldn’t resist. Michael was on cloud nine. He was finally getting what he wanted, had been desperately needing this whole time. You were back in his arms like you were always meant to be, where you belonged and after finally claiming you again, getting to feel your body again, you could finally listen to him, forgive him even. But you found it ironic; how you came to the party to get closure but you were leaving in his arms.

You didn’t miss the stares your little reunion was getting. It was no secret on campus the breakup had been messy, so messy Michael had become unmanageable. So to see your small figure right next to him again was surprising, even more so to see him looking so content in a way no one had seen him look in months.

The only thought that could make you feel less pathetic was the knowledge that this wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t mean anything. You weren’t docile, he was just a good fuck. Once you got it out of your system, once you got him out of your system, you could officially move on. Just one more night for the books. That’s what you told yourself at least.

♔

Michael pushed you against the corridor walls as soon as he closed the front door. He had his hand where your jaw met your neck, holding your face up to him. The chain around his neck dangled between you due to the height difference of him having to very much lean down and over to reach your lips. You were so small. But you fit so perfectly with him. The kiss was hot and heavy. It was mixed with everything: longing, regret, desperation and lust. He held your jaw still so he could control the pace and you were more than happy to let him. His tongue explored your mouth expertly and you moaned against his lips. You had missed him. He felt like he was in a dream, getting to kiss you again. You wished you didn’t still feel the completeness, the security you always felt with him.

“Missed you so much.” He said as he pulled away, pecking your lips once more before stepping aside. “You have no idea how much I love you, princess.”

Your breath was taken away at the sound of the loving nickname. You could almost cry at how good it felt to feel his love and sincerity again, coming right from his mouth. You had lost so much.

But you didn’t answer, you weren’t there to forgive him. So you didn’t. Instead you walked to where his door met the living room. He let you, following behind you closely but not without the setting of his jaw. But still, he couldn’t shake the disbelief he felt that you were finally back home. He was finally back home with you.

The house felt like you were coming back home. Everything was just as you left it, if not just slightly messier. It was bittersweet walking the familiar corridor to the living room.

That is where you stopped cold. The couch. The stupid couch.

There it was, the black, cracked old couch where Michael had cheated on you. It was still in the living room and you felt as you did when you first walked in on them. To think he didn’t even care enough to get rid of it. Probably sat on it everyday without even caring what happened on it. Physically recoiling, your mind cleared up just a bit to scream at you to leave. What were you even doing back there? Hurting yourself more.

You wanted to run, to go back home and cry your feelings out but you were frozen in place. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sofa. You’d never hated an inanimate object more. You were humiliated all over again.

You didn’t realize you weren’t breathing until you felt Michael slide his arms around your body from behind. One of his hands moved down to hold your hand while the other arm was around your waist. You felt his upper body on you, his chest touching your back. You even felt his hardness poke your thigh. He hunched down enough to place his chin on top of your head. You didn’t want to be comforted, not by him. But you couldn’t help but close your eyes and take in a fresh breath at the security his embrace provided you.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated and you almost wondered if he was going to say anything beside that the entire night. “I’m going to get rid of it, I promise.”

You swallowed thickly, “I don’t care.”

His grip on you tightened and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered, “Don’t say that. I can’t even look at that thing without hating the memory of it.” His thumb drew circles on your hand, “I barely leave my room so I won’t have to pass by it.”

It felt like your heart skipped a beat. You could almost bring yourself to believe that he regretted what he did, that he ever loved you like he claimed. But you weren’t there for that.

So you stepped out of his grasp easily and moved to go into the room that you had come to know so well but had become nothing more than a memory. You had a feeling that, as you turned the lights on in his otherwise dark room, it was the first time in a while his room had been illuminated with light. His room was messy, strewn with cigarette buds on every surface, some blunts laid out in the open. Unidentified pills strewn every once and a while. You stopped looking after a while, it hurt too much to think of just what exactly he had been resorting to without you. You had used academics to take away the pain, Michael had evidently chosen a different route.

Michael did not miss a beat following you into his room like a lost puppy (a way he would only be like when following you), closing his door behind him in anticipation. He didn’t want to risk losing the mood, the spark that was currently burning bright between you two.

When you reached up and, by his neck, pulled him down to kiss you again, he let you. He let himself be guided back to his bed until he fell on top of you. Holding himself up with one hand, the other traveled down to push the straps of your dress off of your shoulders. A part of him wondered how hot it would be to fuck you in that dress, to see you coming undone for him in such a unblemished design. But he needed to see your body, see you bare and vulnerable for him after so much time.

And the sight was everything he remembered it being. The way you were so responsive to him, the small whines of pleasure leaving your kiss-plumped lips. His lips traveled down your familiar body, basking in the fact that you weren’t pushing him away but instead begging for more. You had gone home with him, you had abandoned Justin for him. He was feeling much like a starving man getting his first taste of satisfaction in a while.

“Who’s pussy is this?”

When you first felt Michael’s tongue on you, your back arched involuntarily, a gasp leaving your lips. It’d been so long. You had almost forgotten how good it felt, how good he was at everything. But your body hadn’t forgotten, it had been yearning for him and now that it had him back, you couldn’t help the way you reacted so easily to him.

“Yours, daddy” The words came to naturally to you even then.

Your words were a lot for him. You were submitting to him so beautifully in a way he wasn’t sure you would anymore. But you felt so blissful with him again, more than you’ve felt in a while, you couldn’t help it. To hear you call yourself his again had his stomach in flutters. He hadn’t lost you. Even more so to have you letting him dominate you like he deemed fit again.

You felt his tongue flick up your slit, between your folds. Vibrations sounded pleasurably as he moaned at your taste. He swirled his tongue around your clit as his open mouth encased it, sucking it at just the right moments that felt your eyes almost rolling back into your head.

Your moans were high pitched and desperate as you grabbed onto his dark hair and kept him right where he was. Not that he would’ve tried to stop anyway. He was at wonder with how good you tasted, your body’s sweet reaction to him, and how wet you were - for him. The bulge in his pants was infinitely bigger and more strained than it was before, if that were possible.

He wrapped his arms around your thighs, keeping your writhing form still so he could stay in between your legs. And it wasn’t something you wanted to be thinking about but seeing his tattooed hands and fingers around your own untouched skin, a sight you had missed so much for so long, had you whining, pushing your hips against his face.

Michael took his mouth off of you only for a second. Using his index and middle finger, he spread your lips to leave you completely exposed to him. In the way you only ever were with him.

His glance at you had you biting you lip, “You’re soaking, baby girl. I missed this cunt so much.”  

And then his lips were back on you. His tongue licked your hole and your back arched when he dipped inside you just a bit. But it was enough for you to be pulling at his hair roughly and for you to hear him hiss and curse out in pleasure at the hint of pain.

He teased your entrance just a bit longer before going back to your clit, nibbling it in the slightest way. And you wish you could have the decency to be embarrassed at how quickly you came all over his face afterward.

But you didn’t feel embarrassed. How could you when all he did was lick up your juices before coming back up to his full towering height over you, taking a hold of the back of your neck and smashing his mouth to yours. You tasted yourself as his tongue explored your mouth. Michael’s eyes were dark with his pupils almost blown out with the euphoria of not just having you back with him but having you just cum again because of him. It was like all his dirty fantasies he had dreamed of since the breakup, but this time he wouldn’t have to get off with his own hand, annoyed and alone. This time it was real.

His hand found its way your neck, choking you just so. Both on your knees, your smaller figure had to look up at him by craning your neck. He was still fully clothed while you were in front of him, completely naked. You felt one of his fingers prod your lips open and as he stared down at you, his hand squeezing your neck a little more, you knew what he wanted to see.

“You taste so good.” You opened your mouth easily, trying not to think of the way you were too turned on by what was going to happen. When he spit in your awaiting mouth, you saw him rubbing himself through his jeans at the sight of you swallowing. You were still his. “Dirty girl.”

His words, your submission, it was almost like nothing had changed. Your small hands even reached out and unbuckled his belt and seeing that, coupled with your shy eyes staring up at him, made him sigh in bliss as he helped you get his pants and boxers off.

His dick was harder than it had been for months and he almost forgot the feeling of your tight walls around him but he had definitely still remembered the overwhelming need to be inside you, to be connected with you in such an intimate way that he only ever experienced with you.

He wanted to cherish the moment as much as he could because he wasn’t sure what time would bring after it. But at the same time he wanted to completely ruin you, fuck you until your mind was only filled with his name, until you could barely walk, so much that you wouldn’t leave him, if only for the pleasure he brought you. And you made those dark needs easier with your innocent wide eyes and cute whines leaving your writhing body.

But it was as if the delicate moment was broken the minute Michael laid you down completely and moved on top of you, held up only by one of his hands. Both of you naked, you couldn’t help but stare up at him and only see what that other girl saw the night of the party. You thought only of the same words Michael was using with you tonight being directed to her. She experienced something that was only ever meant for you. And suddenly you felt dirty. His hands trailing up and down your body, the same ones that had felt the blonde’s body, felt as if they were burning you.

“Wait, stop.” You laid your hand on his shoulder before he could even start lining up to your entrance. And a part of your heart melted in appreciation when he did stop, without question. You had lost a great boyfriend that respected your boundaries, consent and wishes. But then you caught yourself. He lost you.

Michael’s eyes snapped to you immediately, looking for any sign of what he did wrong. An apology was already at his lips when your eyes started watering.

“I ca-I can’t. I’m only picturing what you did with…with her.” Michael felt his shoulders sag at the way his actions were breaking you apart, preventing you from even feeling the love he had always been able to translate through to you with sex. “This isn’t special anymore Michael, you-you gave this to another girl, I feel gross.”

But Michael was shaking his head, his eyes never leaving yours. He felt a sense of urgency and sadness strike in him. Sadness that the girl who he loved, the only one who has ever owned his heart more than even himself, felt like she wasn’t special. As if Michael didn’t need to breath you in to feel alive, to feel anything but the anger swirling in what seemed like a constant storm within him. And urgency to get you to see that he didn’t give what you and him had to anyone. No one has ever and will never experience what you experienced with him. How could they? Nothing feels right when it’s not with you.

He leaned as close as he dared, “I didn’t…I didn’t touch her or talk to her like I do when I’m with you. I’ve never done that with anyone else…I’m only like that with you. You’re the only girl I’ll ever show that side to because you’re my girlfriend, you’re the only girl I’ve been with that I love. No one else.” It was the first time you’d heard him stutter. You weren’t his girlfriend, not anymore. But you didn’t correct him.

You felt Michael’s lips on your neck, kissing right where your pulse was. One of his hands moved your hair out of the way gently and that felt more intimate than anything else you had just done. His lips trailed to your ear.

“It was only one time.” He continued and both of you cringed at that. Once or not, it didn’t matter and he knew it. The deep, soul wrenching regret he still felt was proof of it. But still he continued, “And it was a mistake, I regret it. It’ll never happen again. I fucking went soft halfway through because even when I was drunk out of my mind I couldn’t be like that with anyone but you. She’s nothing to me. I haven’t touched anyone else. I haven’t wanted to.”

It was hard for you to wrap your head around; that something that seemed so intimate and special to you, could mean practically nothing to him if it wasn’t with you.

Despite your best efforts to deny his effect on you, his affection had calmed you. Your breathing had evened but you still looked hesitant, “But you still go out partying…” You wished you didn’t sound so jealous when you said it. You wished you could even look him in the eyes.

He nipped at your ear, sending goosebumps down your arms. “I don’t. I only went tonight for you.”

Your eyes set on his at his confession. “You’re more than special.”

You weren’t sure you believed him, or if you even wanted to consider his words and their implications to everything you had thought was true during your breakup; was he actually just as in pain as you were all this time? It was such a break from what you expected him to be, the player who just saw you as another notch in his belt. Either way, your heart felt as if it fell still at the sincerity and intensity in his voice.

When you pressed your lips against his again, it wasn’t in forgiveness. It was a kiss that was more for you. Whether he truly believed it or not, you were going to make him see just what he had given up, just how irreplaceable you were. Because after years with him, you were no longer inexperienced, and you were Michael’s only girlfriend. He was able to teach you everything he liked, in vivid detail.

“Just fuck me.” You whispered through your heated kisses. You allowed his tongue to explore your mouth further as you moaned.

Michael had no issue giving you just want you wanted. How could he not with the way your naked body clung and rubbed deliciously against him. He had the sneaking idea that it was impossible not to be hard around you, constantly. He missed you so much.

He loved how easy it was to control your small frame, throwing you under him without much effort. He dominated you so easily. It was one of the things he most missed about you. The memory of your little body had been enough to get him off during the lonely nights but the real sight was so much better. He cherished the way you gasped slightly as your body bounced after being dropped.

He almost felt giddy as he ran his tip over your wet slit. But that couldn’t compare to the feeling of completeness he got when he finally slid into you raw. He was finally home. After so many months without feeling your pussy around him, he leaned over you as he groaned out. His hand had been nothing compared to this. It took a bit for you to take him in all the way. It’d been so long since he’s been inside of you, your body had grown accustomed without him.

You already felt so full of him when he was only halfway inside of you and he didn’t know what was hotter, the way your small body looked stuffed already with just half of his cock or the way you were still begging for all of it. He pushed fully into you, enjoying the way you mewled and pressed closer to him, finally being relieved a bit of the ache you’ve had since the break up. This was exactly what you needed. He was right, you would always need him to find that release.

It had been too long.

It was punishment to have forgotten just how it felt to be inside you, how tight you were, how you hugged him so deliciously that it almost felt like he could cum right then and there. His hands twisted the bedsheets next to you as he tried to control himself. He needed to relish this, he didn’t want to finish too early.

But then you started whining under him and he gladly began thrusting into you, his hips bucking at the feeling of being squeezed while he fucked into your warm and wet hole. He couldn’t prevent the pleased moaning and growls that escaped him at how good you felt. It was obvious in his mind that nothing was better than this, nothing was better than you. And he felt like a fool, more so than he had felt for months, for having lost you, for fucking up. He was addicted to you.

He hoped you realized that this was so different from anything else he could’ve experienced without you, that you shouldn’t feel gross or unimportant because the way he was touching you, the hands he held you with, the way he fucked you was so different than he was with anyone else. He almost felt like a teenager having sex for the first time, the feeling of wonder and nervousness at finally being able to be with you again, the self doubt, desperate need to please you and of course, the hope.

Your beautiful gasps and moans called him to pick up his pace. He felt his heart constrict at having you moan for him again. Your noises were like music to his ears and he was desperate to keep you making them, get you louder for him, make you feel as good as possible. Because for that moment, seeing your face washed in pleasure because of him, he could almost imagine that you were still his. That you didn’t feel those negative feelings of betrayal, distrust towards him. That you didn’t see him as a monster like everyone else did. This was what you still needed him for and he would make sure he wouldn’t disappoint. That this wouldn’t be a one time thing. Even if that’s exactly where your mind was.

You had forgotten how much of an expert he was at this. How his thrusts seemed to be timed just perfectly that they always reached so deep and rubbed against your walls just enough that your hips were moving alongside with them without you even realizing. You felt stretched out, filled to the brim with his girth for the first time in a while, it almost burned. But it was the perfect sort of feeling. It was a feeling that had you wanting more, begging for more.

At your responsiveness, he seemed to have gotten back the confidence he had always had when having sex with you. He had one of your legs in his hand, spreading you more open for him in a way only he had ever been able to control your body. His eyes never tore away from your withering body under him. He needed to see everything, everything he had been missing so badly. Your innocent little body being tainted by him once again.

“Fuck me harder.” You whimpered out. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be embarrassed. At each thrust, you felt a pit of pleasure pooling hotly in your stomach. You were already moaning loudly, holding on to Michael as you finally felt the delicious drive of him into you after months of deprivation. Each time his skin slapped to yours, at each glance you saw him take to the point where you two were connected, where his dick was currently disappearing into you, you were nearly spasming at the heightened feelings. He was looking at you like he worshipped you.

“You’re taking me so well, little one. You’re so fucking tight.” He murmured, his voice strained as he gripped your hips tightly. He followed your orders, his thrusts became faster, more punctuated and so rough you were clenching onto him. Michael growled under his breath at the feeling of your already tight grip get even tighter. Your skills certainly weren’t lacking, even with your lack of recent practice. He wasn’t sure just exactly how long he would last with you.

You were amazing, and he had been so lucky to be able to not only have you like this now but have had you for so many years beforehand. “Missed it, didn’t you? Haven’t had a cock in you for so long, right? Wanting my dick in your tight cunt. Haven’t been able to get what you wanted without me.”

Your back was arched and you couldn’t answer him. Your moans had increased with his rough thrusts, broken as your body moved in sync with his, bouncing with each thrust. You felt the tip of his cock brush your g-spot and you jolted in his arms before grinding as he bottomed out into you again, desperate for everything he was making you feel. It was hard to breathe. You couldn’t even moan anymore, your mouth just open uselessly at the stimulation.

“Yes, Michael, yes.” You weren’t sure if you were answering his question or his actions.

Either way, Michael wasn’t satisfied. His hand went to your neck immediately, choking you just enough in warning. “Tell me you haven’t been with anyone else. Tell me I’m still your only.”

It was downright sinful for you to see the visual of his tattooed hand encircling your neck. It adorned you perfectly, like you belonged right there in his palm and you spread your legs further to get him deeper inside of you. Your moan was a mixture of his name and a desperate whine.

When you didn’t answer, he slapped you once on your cheek. The sting was so familiar and it was what had you remaining silent knowing what would happen, begging for more. As if he could sense that, Michael chuckled darkly under his breath. He slapped you again, harder this time. His aggressive thrusts never faltered.

“You’re still such a fucking slut for me, still mine. Even your body knows it. Say it.” He needed you to say it again. After so long, he wished he could draw you to say that forever.

“H-Haven’t been with anyone else.” You whimpered, “Fuck…so good…Y-you’re still the only one who’s ever had me. Still yours.” Your hand was on his wrist, keeping his hand to your throat, choking you so mouth-wateringly.

It was so easy to forget with him thrusting into you like that. So easy to pretend that the nightmare of the past few months had never happened and that you were still together, still happy. That this was just one of the many times you had sex that happened so often during your relationship.

“Even Justin?” He said the name like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“He could never have me, couldn’t make me feel as good as you can. No one can.” Your words were cruel. But your head was so clouded that you didn’t care. All you cared was telling Michael exactly what he wanted to hear, to please him like you couldn’t help but want to. Besides, you couldn’t deny that your words were true. Justin was kind and he had a big role in your life and heart but you didn’t feel that magnetic connection with him that you felt with Michael, that all encompassing love and desire. Michael really had ruined you for all other men, no one could come close to him. You needed him. At least for this.

The sigh he let out was of unexpected relief. His smile nothing short of devilish. He hadn’t doubted what the answer would be but he loved to hear you say it. Especially when he had you like this, it fed into an animalistic pride, a possessive pit in his being that had his grip on you tightening and his mouth leaning down to take in one of your tits, licking at your nipple before circling it with his tongue.

“You’re mine.” To hear you say that about the man who had been causing him so many issues, insecurities, felt more than good. He would never get the chance to have you like this, touch you like Michael had just done.  Your body would only respond to Michael. The only thing you could do was push your chest up to give him more access, moaning loudly and wantonly.

Your legs were nearly bent all the way back and he went deeper and harder than before, if that was possible. Your hand went down to your pussy but all you did was feel each driving thrust under your hand as you screamed out obscenities to the air. You wondered briefly how you had been able to go so long without him when it felt this good.

You were both so sweaty already. The heat of your reunion, the entanglement of your bodies, had you frenzied against one another and breathing hard. Somehow he, glistening, looked even hotter than before. His tattoos on full display stuck out even more and you whined, moving to help him move deeper into you.

“Say my name.” His voice was barely a whisper but there was an edge to it. One that screamed to not be defied. Because he needed to hear his name from your mouth while you were under him and moaning for him again. Needed to feel like you had come back to him entirely. His hand was kneading your boob, still glistening from his spit. He loved the way he could do whatever he wanted to you. That you were letting him. Hope blossomed in him uncontrollably.

He stopped his thrusts for just a second before going back to slamming his hips into yours into an unrelenting vigor. And you were sure he did it on purpose to hear how broken and weak your voice sounded when you spoke his name. It ended up being a scream with much more added syllables to his name than necessary.

“That’s right…moan for daddy.” He smirked.

Your cheeks were dusted pink but it wasn’t embarrassment. It was the look of complete submissiveness that Michael loved to see. His hips stuttered at the sight of you. Blushing and ruined.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath. “Such a good girl.”

You shouldn’t feel so happy at his praise, especially after everything. But your heart soared regardless. Because at the end, you still yearned for him and that included pleasing him.

“Look at how perfectly you fit with me.” You felt his hand in your hair, pulling it harshly to pull your gaze onto his cock thrusting into you. Your mouth fell open and you could only moan at the sight. The way you were spread open, the way his cock was glistening from your wetness each time he pulled back. His pace seemed to have quickened impossibly so as you watched. “You were made for me.”

You were gasping, your head tilted back again, a particularly loud moan leaving you as he hit just the right spot inside of you once again. You were unashamed at the noises you were making for him. You didn’t care if it made you seem weak, desperate. You were being pleased like you hadn’t been in months, in a way you had once been accustomed to being pleased, a way only Michael could do to you, and your body was helpless but to respond to it. Only he stretched you out so completely, filled you out perfectly as if he were your missing piece. Your body only responded to him. He was right, your body was made for him. You were made for him.

When he hit that spot again, you came around him almost instantly. It was a shattering orgasm, one that rocked your body until you felt it at the very tips of your being. You finally reached a release, in a violent shake, that has been evading you nearly since the time you broke up, one you couldn’t quite reach by yourself. The one only he had ever been able to give you because he had been right at the party, your fingers weren’t enough. Not when you had already gotten a taste of him and what he could give you.

And this was it. This was exactly why you had given into him tonight and you didn’t regret it one bit. Your body pulsed. Your second orgasm of the night and as he kept thrusting through your release, never slowing down, you felt your third just a few moments later. You were whining against him at the overstimulation but he held on to your weakening figure.

“Where…” He grunted at the feeling of you clenching around him, your juices painting both of your thighs messily. The feeling of you breaking down under him, the feeling of your walls tightening around him impossibly and your cum around him was too much. “Where can I cum?”

He hadn’t said that to you in years. It brought you back tearfully to your first time together. How had things gotten so wrong?

“Cum in me.” You didn’t hesitate to answer. You hadn’t stopped taking the pill, mostly out of habit. Maybe you should have, not giving him the chance you knew he desperately wanted, to claim you completely again. To cum inside you, taint your walls with his cum and watch with possessive fervor as it trickled out of you once he pulled out. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care, you wanted it just as badly as he did. You wanted to feel his cum in you, get the feel of him entirely which you had been missing for so long, feel as if he was still yours just for a while. It was one of his favorite things in the world. Even more so knowing he was the only one to have done that to you, to leave you in that glistening, weak, submissive mess. To fill you up.

It was what he had been wanting you to say, needing to hear from your mouth.  He didn’t know if you were still on the pill. Frankly, he wouldn’t have cared either way. He’d be more than happy with filling you up even with the likelihood of getting you pregnant, maybe even more so. If you wanted that.

You weren’t surprised much at the deep, pleased groan that erupted from deep in his throat. He leaned down, careful not to crush your little body under him, and buried his face in your dark hair. “God, I love you so much.” His elated, adoring voice was raspy at your ear.

He came as he said it and you moaned lowly at the feeling as you milked him completely until he finally pulled out of you. And the feeling of emptiness you felt without him inside of you had you whimpering.

Michael pulled out slowly, regretfully almost. He would stay inside of you longer if he thought he still had that right. But he didn’t so instead he tried to be satisfied with just watching the way his cum oozed out of you, covering your inner thighs and cunt so beautifully he almost felt himself wanting to get hard again. His cum inside of you, it made him feel like you were his again. As if he had ever stopped considering you his.

You didn’t answer him. Even if your heart flopped at his words, his tone. You still loved him, you couldn’t deny it. Especially after all this. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Not when thinking to all he had put you through, what he had done to you. It wasn’t fair that he could say it so freely while you had tears in your eyes just thinking how you used to trust him, love him and where that had gotten you. Hurt, betrayed and alone.

It was bittersweet when he cleaned you up and laid down beside you. His hands were gentle on your skin, as if you would break. Despite everything, you felt your heart warm at the knowledge that you were the only girl he cared enough for to treat so sweetly. The only girl he had enough regard for.

When you felt his lips at your cheeks, you shot up. This wasn’t what you came for. You came for the closure the party hadn’t been able to give you, to cross off that final vice he had left you with.  Not to forgive him or pretend like what he had done never happened. You tried to ignore the ache in your legs. “I should go.” Your tone was wavering.

You didn’t regret what you had just done. It was amazing and being so close to the man you loved made you feel alive again. But you shouldn’t have done it. It had just made everything messy. All the progress you’d made without him, the closure you had wanted so badly was even further from your grip because now all you wanted was to stay in his arms and love him freely. You cursed your weakness. You should have walked away at that party. But instead you had ended up in his bed. Now, you felt like another one of his quick conquests at the end of each party. When, once upon a time, you had been so much more. Or at least that’s what you believed. You weren’t sure anymore.

“What? No, stay.” His hand caught your arm as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. His tone was panicked. You couldn’t leave. He couldn’t watch you leave his life again, this time, likely forever. Not after he finally got to have you again.

You swallowed through the knot at your throat. But still you stood up and threw your clothes on messily. “You don’t like it when your one night stands stay over.”

Your words were mean and you didn’t mean to sound so bitter when you said it. But you had gone years being okay with his past just for it to have been the exact thing that had come back to destroy your relationship.

Michael’s eyes widened and you saw him rear back in surprise. “That’s not - this isn’t…You’re not a one night stand.”

How you could compare yourself to those other girls was lost on him. He didn’t want to believe that he had really ruined everything so much that you couldn’t see your value in his life, how much he loved you. You were his everything, his heart, his home, his life. Tonight felt like his world was finally coming back together. So much more than one night.

“But I am. That’s what this was Michael.” You said, suddenly angry. “Because we’re not together and this was just something to help me finally get over you. It won’t happen again.”

He put on his pants in a hurry, following you quickly when you walked through the doorway of his room. His limbs felt cold from the anxious feeling numbing his body. He was going to lose you again and he might just go crazy if he did. It was hard for him to breathe.

He caught you right at the corridor leading to the door. The same one you had been making out in at the beginning of the night. You stayed in place but your eyes looked in pain.

“I wasn’t lying when I told you I don’t go to parties anymore. I haven’t been to one since we…broke up.” He hated saying it out loud. “They never really mattered to me anyway, I always rathered a night in with you over them. I only went tonight because Ashton told me you’d be there. There’s been no other girls. No one could replace you. I-I stopped drinking too because that’s the shit that lead me to fucking up. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise, I love you too much to even want to. But I promise you, I don’t forget you or cheat on you the minute you’re not around like you think. You’re it for me, once I met you, I stopped sleeping around. I stopped everything because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. It never happened before and it won’t happen again. I just hadn’t gotten that drunk in so long and I really thought you were…”

He took a deep breath, stopping to gather his thoughts. He needed to say everything right. It all came out in a rush because he felt as if he didn’t get it all out, everything would unravel. This was his last chance. You’d never heard him sound so worked up. The great Michael, the one the entire campus feared, was coming undone in front of you.

“I regret it. I’ve never fucking regretted anything more. I wish I could go back and stop everything so that you would still be with me and we’d be happy together, like we were meant to. I thought it was you. I couldn’t even fucking see straight enough to know it wasn’t. I’ve never even thought of other girls because you make me feel more than happy and pleased. I know you’ve always been insecure about that but you don’t have to be, no one else has ever made me feel so good. I don’t need or want anyone else, never did. As soon as I found out what I did I kicked her out, I haven’t seen her since. You have to believe me. I’ve been shit without you. I’m angry all the time, I feel alone without you. I need you.”

You weren’t sure what to think of his words. Whether or not you believed him. You wanted to. So badly. You saw firsthand just how badly he had treated himself since the breakup. He didn’t look like he slept much, he isolated himself and he had taken to smoking and fighting so much, you worried for his health. He no longer went to class, he stopped caring a lot about bettering himself or keeping his temper in check. You had heard rumors that he stopped partying but you never thought it was because of you.

He repeated the same story; he was drunk, he wouldn’t have cheated on you if he was in his right mind. The thought was only a bit comforting. Because it meant that his mistake had nothing to do with you or how much you did or didn’t please him, how pretty you were. You hadn’t been wrong about him all along. He did love you and he did regret it. More than you could imagine. None of your relationship had been a lie. He wasn’t that cheating player you had convinced yourself he was. He wanted his girlfriend back. He missed you, he wanted to live his life with you.

You missed him. The laughs, the love, the safety, the warm feeling in your belly every time he was with you.

But you didn’t want to be with someone that you couldn’t trust anymore.

Somehow though, the thought that he had given up everything he was known for because it was something that hurt you, that took away his relationship that he cherished so much, made you long to wrap your arms around him. Even more so because he hadn’t continued his wild behavior with girls when he could have, his heart and thoughts still remained on you. If he had stopped drinking and partying for you, you could believe everything would be different, be the way it had always been before. That it wouldn’t happen again. At least now you were sure that you still knew him enough, knew how much he loved you, to know that. He loved you.

You felt the wavering of your heart as you stared at him. It was impossible not to be reminded of the good times or to feel yourself yearn for him. His words filled in the puzzle pieces you had been missing, the ones you had filled in for yourself in the worst possible way and had brought you a final piece that showed you the Michael you had known from the beginning, not the evil one you had conjured up in your head. One you could almost forgive.

But that didn’t stop the pain you had been through. It didn’t erase the memory of walking in on him.

“That doesn’t take away what you did, Michael.”

“Stop calling me that!” His voice rose and you cringed back. Your reaction was the only thing that had him softening his tone. He didn’t want to scare you, that was the last thing he wanted. “Mikey. You call me Mikey…I’m Mikey to you.”

His voice sounded so broken, so sad that you felt tears spring up to your own eyes. You wished you could put everything aside and hug him, allow him back into your heart easily and go back to how happy, secure, not alone you had been before everything blew up. But you shouldn’t feel bad when you were the one he had wronged. So you stayed in place.

“You cheated on me. I walked in on you getting dressed while she sat there on your couch! I still think about it every day.” You were crying, tears running freely down your cheeks. The satisfaction you had from your night together was wearing off. “How could you do that to me? I loved you, I trusted you. I was planning to have a future with you. You hurt me.”

Michael took hold of your arms and you let him. “I only found out what happened when I woke up, you walked in before I could even figure everything out. You never should have seen that. I looked everywhere for you after. I tried talking to you, fuck, I would do anything to even just get a glance at you going to class. Anything to just see you again.” He moved closer to you, holding you against him and willing your eyes to his light ones, glistening just a bit with unshed tears. His knees were bent, lowering himself to your height. “It will never happen again.”

When you didn’t answer, when you looked away from him and eyed the door, he grew desperate. He had to bring you back to him. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it. Do you want me to get the shit beat out of me? I’ll find the biggest guy on campus and let him pummel me. I know I deserve it. Do you want me to go on my knees? I’ll do it. Just please, don’t leave me.”

His voice cracked at the sheer vulnerability of his voice. The sadness, regret and begging seeped in his words so intricately you wondered how you could have the strength to continue fighting him and his love. Because the truth was, even now, you had him wrapped around your finger. He would do anything you asked.

“I want for it not to have happened!” You did anyway. You snatched your arms away from him and took a step backward.

Michael flinched. He actually flinched at your words because it was the one thing he couldn’t give you, no matter how much he wished he could.

“How would you feel?” You asked, “What would you do if it were you in my shoes. If you walked into my apartment and saw a guy getting dressed while I lay there naked next to him?”

Whether he regretted it, understood how wrong it was, whether he even still loved you and did it by accident was irrelevant. He had to understand why, despite your love for him, you couldn’t forgive him so easily. What exactly he was asking you to forget and let go of when he asked you to take him back.

And that’s exactly what your question did. You saw it in the way his eyes darkened and his shoulders stiffened. Just like with Luke, the thought of you with anyone else, worst that he should be there to see the remnants, had him shaking. The anger that had been swirling inside of him since the moment you left seemed to multiply to a level he didn’t know it could get. He didn’t want to imagine the anger, pain, hurt, betrayal that he would feel. To know the woman he loved more than anything else in the world had gone to someone else, let him have something, experience you and your responsive submissiveness and innocence, that was only meant to be between the two of you. He couldn’t imagine the way his body would completely shut down the moment he opened the door and saw. His body went cold at the thought.

But it was what you experienced. And he felt his heart break all over again at what he put you through. Again, he felt the flash of resentment at himself. How selfish he was to be there, demanding you back as if he had any legs to stand on.

“I’d kill him.” It was almost scary, the sincerity in his voice and the dark angry look in his eyes at just the thought. He was so different like that than he was with you. Than the boy currently desperately begging for you. Why had he let himself slip? You could have been so happy right then if that night never happened, if he hadn’t gotten drunk, if he hadn’t gone to the party.

Your resilience was breaking. The happiness you had felt with him was all that was running through your mind. He finally understood you, at least as much as he could. You had convinced yourself he was a lying cheater but as he told you everything, poured out his feelings and regrets, made the changes necessary while still yearning for you even while being ‘free’ and single, you couldn’t help but rewrite what you had classified him as. You were tired of fighting him. You wanted to walk into his arms again and work to move forward, see him fight for you.

“I kissed Justin.” You didn’t know why you said it. Maybe it was to hurt him, one final attempt to fight against what every fiber of your being was screaming at you to do: take the leap of faith, give him another chance, go back to him, be happy and loved again in the way you had only experienced with him. If it was, then your words definitely hit the mark.

Michael felt his throat close up and dry out. Those three little words made his world feel like it was caving in. The room was spinning. So he hadn’t been just jealous at the party, there had been something in the air between you two. Justin had been given a little taste of you, a taste Michael had given him access to. A taste he never should have had. Michael wasn’t the only man who had felt your lips anymore. There would always be Justin, the boy that seemed to be the perfect fit for you. The one Michael knew would probably be better for you.

“When?” He was breathless. A deep pain ran along his chest. He should have driven Justin away once and for all when he had the chance. Instead, he drove you to him.

“After I caught you.” You whispered back. “It was just once.”

You had meant to make him feel bad but at seeing him look so defeated, so utterly sad at your words, you wanted to cushion the blow. You still loved him too much to hurt him, even if he hadn’t given you the same consideration.

It didn’t work. But, you watched in wonder as, instead of blowing up, getting angry and going after Justin, he just hung his head. He looked repentant, guilty, self-accusing. You saw a tear rolling down his cheek. He was crying. You’d never seen your ex cry, never thought he would even be capable of it when he was so strong and so defiant. It almost looked wrong on him, when his body art screamed ‘scary’, ‘obscene’, ‘aggressive’ to have him look so powerless, so defenseless, exposed. But the knowledge of what you had suffered, what he had done, how much he finally understood your side of it had him being vulnerable to you.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured softly. Because it was his fault. He knew it. He drove you to drink, to kiss Justin, to everything that wasn’t who you were, to self destruction. Because he had destroyed your trust, your happiness. He ended up bringing you down just like everyone warned. And he would blame himself for it everyday.

He was mad, of course he was. His temper was flaring and he had his fists clenched tightly at his sides, shaking just slightly to know that your soft lips, your pure smile after a kiss, had been experienced by someone else. If he felt as if he had the right to, he’d go back to the party and show Justin just how much that kiss didn’t matter because you were still his and he’d never get that chance again. But maybe, despite his efforts, despite tonight, he really had lost that right.

It was that vulnerability, that putting aside of his pride, his temper and anger because he put first your feelings, your hurt, that had your knees feeling weak, your heart and mind finally connecting again to the possibility of going back to him. He had hurt you, didn’t consider your feelings when he did, but it was becoming apparent that it wasn’t from lack of caring or love for you. Because when he was himself, when he could think straight, you were the only thing in his mind. The only thing he cared about, and the only person he was willing to submit his being and heart to. Even in the face of the one thing that hurt him most.

The large, scary, cold, and sometimes cruel, man in front of you would go to his knees and accept anything for you. This man wanted a future with you, wanted to have a family with you, love you ’til death do you part, he always had. He had never stopped. And he always will.

Your hand reached out and cupped his cheek hesitantly. You were shaking when you did. Michael leaned into your touch as soon as he felt it, his eyes fluttering closed and you felt your heart constrict even more. Right then, he seemed so harmless. He wasn’t a violent man, he wasn’t a cheater. You weren’t sure if it was at the sight of him or the pain that you still felt, probably would always feel at least a bit.

But you didn’t doubt Michael would fight for you, work to make that pain go away as intensely as if he felt it himself. He would work to show you his love, his complete devotion to you. He’d take the pain for himself if he could, he would shield you from any memories, any whispers, any doubts, any insecurities that you ever might have had. He resented everything he had done already so much more than you could ever imagine, he’d never add to it. Because he was so sure you were it for him, that he’d never do anything to hurt you or pull you away from him again. He loved you too much, he’d never want to cheat, never want to do anything that wasn’t to worship you entirely. He adored you.

“It’s going to take me some time to be completely okay.” It wouldn’t be an easy road, the sting of betrayal will be a shadow following you for a long time. But you were willing to take the time, the effort, the risk of future pain. Because, staring at the man who stood in front of you, the one who resembled the man you fell in love with, you didn’t think you would have a problem. He loved you, he was patient, kind, with you. He’d do anything to keep you at his side, the girl who loved him despite his flaws. He would protect you, now knowing what he’d lost already, he wouldn’t hurt you again. He wouldn’t let anything hurt you again.

What he had done was a choice he would still have to be confronted with, still pay for, but it was one he could learn from, one he would cast aside and never experience again because he wouldn’t let himself ruin his relationship again. He was devoted completely to you, had never stopped. Even still, even this heart broken version of him.

Michael’s eyes snapped open at your words. His eyes were swirling with impossible hope, his mouth open in surprise. He was too afraid to ask but he had to anyway, had to make sure he wasn’t hearing things. “Does that mean-”

“Just one more chance. One more and if it happens again, Michael, I swear I’m gone. For good.” It wouldn’t be the same either, for a while at least. He would have to keep fighting for you. But he’d at least have that opportunity.

It was a strict condition. But one you wouldn’t have to worry about. Because while you knew Michael regretted his actions, you’d never really know just how much that regret ran. Enough that, if you had even a hint, you’d know just how much of a mistake that girl, that night was. One he never wanted to even think of again, let alone repeat. He wouldn’t even dream of it when he had you and no one else could compare to how you made him feel, both in and out of the bedroom. No one could feel as good, respond as well, make him so happy, loved and as if he finally had a home.

“It won’t. Never again.” You could barely hear what he said before he wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly. He held you like his life depended on it, like this would turn out just to be a dream if he let you go.

Maybe you were making a mistake. But as you closed your eyes and breathed in his scent, allowed yourself to relish the feeling of being in his arms, you didn’t think so. You’d missed him so much, and right then you felt the warmth, adoration and complete safety you always felt with him. You finally felt calm and happy again at the prospect of a future with him at your side again, not on edge completely and sad all the time. You didn’t feel apprehension of what you had just done, at forgiving him.

You felt hope. Hope that things could be different, that you could go back to the relationship and man that had given you so much, including a feeling of home, belonging and love. And this time learning without the shadow of the past behind you because you’d eventually move past it, he’d show you only your present and future. He’d make you finally understand that despite his past and his awful mistake, you’d never have to compare yourself to other girls. Because your experience with him was unique and no one else would see or feel the mean, violent, tattooed boy in front of you the same way you would.

“I love you so much.” He murmured again and you could hear the pure emotion through his voice. The gratitude. The awe. You were so forgiving, such a good person. And he still didn’t deserve you.

This time you took a deep breath before conceding what you had tried to keep hidden for all these past months, even from yourself. To no avail because it had never wavered, never withered. Just hurt the more and more you tried to cast it aside.

“I love you, too.”

You felt the sigh of relief pull through his body and when he pulled away from you, it was just enough for him to place his forehead against yours. His eyes were still closed as if he was trying to ingrain this in his memory, the feeling of your merciful forgiveness, your body against his against, your love back on him. He would never let this go again, he’d never take it for granted (he never did).

“But no more drinking so much.” You said, half joking, as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. Michael wanted to cry out at the feeling he thought he would never get to experience again. He had more time with you, more chances to have you in his arms, be vulnerable, be happy without the cloud of anger swirling in his heart because he could never be angry with you around.

His laugh was good natured, one he had lost for a bit without you. His eyes and smile brighter than they had been for a while. He looked alive, happy. The way he’d only ever been with you. Your eyes were still strained with hurt, but you were sure your expression matched. His face buried itself in the crook of your neck, shielded by your dark hair.

“I promise.” And you’d have to learn to finally trust his word again. But you could, especially when he would prove his loyalty, his love like never before. He’d work for your trust back and he was willing to do anything to do so just like you were willing to let him. “I’ll prove to you that you never have anything to worry about ever again, that you can trust me. You’re the love of my life, princess. I’ll never let you go again. I want a life with you, forever.”

When his lips found yours in a slow, loving kiss, you let his hands cup your face, one in your hair. And you kissed back. It was a kiss that translated his disbelief of having you back, his repentance and his adoration of you that transcended everything else in his life. He picked your small frame up, holding you so he could reach you and kiss you as deeply, hold you as closely, as he wanted to. You weren’t looking at him like he was a bad guy anymore. You looked so cute and happy with that big smile he had missed so badly, held up by his arms, your white dress hanging off of you loosely and contrasted starkly against the black tattoos lining his arms. He was the luckiest man in the world.

The very thing he now held a deep resentment for was what had brought you back to him. If you hadn’t gone to the party, if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t be his girlfriend again. And while he was determined never to look back at them, he couldn’t help but thank the heavens that you were back to him, back in his arms. Everything felt just as it was meant to be.

It was still there. The overwhelming chemistry between you. The click that sounded whenever you two were together because you were just so right together. You were soulmates.

You would be alright.

♔

the end.

♔

thank you to everyone who has read and followed this series! i loved it so much and bringing the story out of my mind and to life has been so exciting. i can’t say how happy it makes me that you have read it, liked it, shared it, and even talked to me about it. i appreciate you all so much.

i loved their little world and following their relationship & dynamic so much and leaving it makes me so sad.

hopefully we can see more of it in the future (am i hinting at an ash story…..maybe)

[chocolate-parfait]

Hiii! I saw that your requests are open, and I want to ask for a Mozart scenario 👉👈. MC/Reader (whichever you prefer) has gone back to her time for a long time (even tho she wasn’t planning for long) but when she comes back she also has Mozart’s kid in her arms (but everyone knows before him coz he is obviously at his piano lmao). So the residents plan to surprise him? If it’s too specific feel free to ignore this. Make sure you sleep sufficiently and drink some water😗😗 thank u in advance :)

Sorry it took me so long! I barely had the time to sleep this past month😳 I hope it was worth the wait-

A gift from Fate - Ikemen Vampire (Mozart)

“I don’t think we should listen in on them...” The cherry haired man whispered.

“Shh Ai-chan. Mozie-kun might hear us!”

“Tofu lover here is right, old Newt. And how could we pass up a chance of seeing that cold-hearted wolf shed a tear or two? It’s a once in a lifetime occasion!” Added the writer, resting his left hand on the scientist’s shoulder.

“Ugh, why did I even ask you two, of all people... Sebastian, tell them something already!” Isaac lamented once more.

“Unfortunately, Master Isaac, I’m afraid to say I’m quite curious myself to see Master Mozart’s reaction. It’s for scientific purpose, after all.”

“For what?” Nine pairs of eyes flew to the butler’s figure.

“Oh, nevermind that.”

"Leonardo, would you mind throwing your cigar away? They'll catch the smell of it" Comte’s placid tone filled the small space.

"What, you curious too, "Comte"? Heh, as his majesty desires" Leonardo complied, putting out his cigarillo against the ground with a dramatic gesture, gaining a displeased glance from the nobleman.

"...thank you. Oh, I believe he's almost there. Everybody, please be quiet."

As their sire spoke these words, all the vampires got closer to the small opening of the door. Some could barely see anything, but the wooden surface was thin enough to let any and all sounds reach the hidden listeners’ attentive ears.

The person that had them all hidden in a small storage room adjacent to the parlor was none other than Mozart. The love of his life had just returned from the future with a surprise of a companion glued to her side, but the man was yet to show his face. He had been, as always ever since her departure a couple of years before, focused on composing his tunes, now devoid of their old brightness and tempo, just like the composer himself.

It was as clear as day that, although his external composure remained unchanged, his heart had decided to freeze himself, a thick layer of frozen indifference to hide a pain akin to that of being torn in half, cruelly and mercilessly. Whenever he let his guards down even the slightest bit, he found himself on a battlefield over which time had no influence whatsoever, and where the ice and snow perfectly preserved the destruction and desolation born from his loss. The blood from a still fresh and open wound laid on the ground, as strong winds hit him with the warm whispers of a long-lost sun, nowhere to be seen.

That was the devastated state in which his being was left in, unaware of the sympathetic smile Fate was now offering him.

That day, a mysterious note found its way between the pianist’s hands, the words “Meet me at 18.00 in the parlor. It’s a matter of utmost importance” written in an impeccable cursive of other times, clearly belonging to one of the many inhabitants of the mansion. When it came to such intimate business, they usually preferred keeping a certain distance from unfolding events, but seeing the hesitation and fear of rejection on the woman’s face, they had all agreed to lend her a hand and give a little pull on the red string that connected the two lovers.

As punctual as ever, when the clock’s hands moved to the predetermined time, Mozart knocked stiffly on the door, finally making his entrance in the scene.

Barely two steps in the room and he found himself stuck in place, incredulous eyes fixed on the feminine figure in front of him. His violet eyes immediately found her face, and his body moved towards hers, attracted by an invisible force that had kept them tied to each other in spite of time and space. She was still as beautiful as he remembered, though his feverish dreams and hazy memories couldn’t hold a candle to the real her.

As impatience shook his body with a strong wave of trembles, with a quick movement he trapped her in a soul-crushing embrace that overflowed with all his longing and love; as his arms tightly caged her to his torso, he nuzzled her neck, finding her warm skin with the cold tip of his nose.

One deep inhale, then another. And another one.

She smelled divine.

Oh, how he had missed that dazzlingly sweet scent, those soft locks tickling his pale cheeks now flush with various emotions, that small pair of arms circling his body and squeezing him tightly. Was this a dream? Had he finally reached the afterlife for a second time? If so then he didn’t want to go back. If living in an illusion meant being with her then he was ready to throw away the real world with no second thoughts. But this, this was real. His mind had already acknowledged it, leaving the heart behind to process its own feelings.

“Meine Geliebte-” (my beloved)

“Mozart-”

They said in unison, voices mixing with harmony in a euphonious melody.

As he pulled back a little to look her in the eyes, a small voice came from behind her body. “Mama...” When Mozart lowered his eyes to meet the small figure’s, he was met with a small child, around 4 or 5 years of age. Before his thoughts could even reach the idea of betrayal, he couldn’t help but notice how every single feature, although still not fully developed, was a mixture of one of his and his lover’s own. The similarity was painfully clear, but once more the brain outrun the heart, and Mozart felt his heartbeat fall to his stomach.

“This is...” The woman started with a wavering voice, maybe from the emotion or perhaps because of insecurity. “This is our son, Charles.”

“Our... son...?” The pianist slowly repeated, trying to give more time to his now nearly-exploding heart.

Bending down to meet those violet orbs so similar to his own, he smiled fondly, reaching a hand out to slowly caress the boy’s head. As he did so, a myriad of realizations hit Mozart like a carriage running at full speed. He could not believe he had missed his son’s birth, his first steps, his first words. The fruit of their love, a life born out of their union. No amount of apologies and care could give him back all that, and the thought brought tears to his eyes.

“Papa! No leave Mama anymore!” The boy suddenly pleaded as he threw himself between his father’s arms. Oh, but of course he wouldn't. How could he? Not anymore. He wasn’t so stupid as to let that damned door separate them again, and not even God could part them anymore. But would the boy understand? He was but a stranger to him, and he did commit the terrible mistake of letting the only person he truly cared for slip away from his grasp once, so how could he blame him for having such thoughts?

“No, I won't. I promise you.” Placing a warm hand on his son's back, maybe as a way to seal his vow, he brought the small, trembling body closer to his chest, trying with all his might to instill in him the sense of security that only a father's embrace can give.

After silently witnessing the whole scene in solemn silence and stillness, smiles and some tears bloomed on the woman and the secret onlookers' faces. As the child shakily whimpered in his finally-found paternal figure's neck, his mother kneeled by his side, where Mozart's arm took her in as he pressed a chaste kiss on her lips. Their passionate reunion could wait for later that night, now all that mattered was being together, aware of each other's presence, warmth and smell. That was more than enough. “Thank you for coming back. Thank you for giving me another chance.”

Unfortunately for them though, an interruption soon came to disturb their peace. Low whispers came from behind the door, and the pianist's trained ear caught them with no effort.

"Woohoo, that was a good one, Wolfie!"

"Shouldn't we just go already? If he were to catch us he'd go on a rampage"

"Still, I wish I could give him a round of applause! It was really moving~"

Mozart turned his violet eyes, now chilly with cold annoyance, towards the source of the hushed voices, silencing them immediately. Though he would have to thank them for the note, he knew they wouldn't have let him hear the end of it with their teasing comments and jokes. Before his thoughts could take the highway to a possible massacre, Charles' brought his attention back to where it belonged.

"Papa... can you show me your piano?"

Such a simple request brought spring into his heart, once plunged into a state of eternal winter. Feeling his every cell overflowing with love and gratitude he simply nodded, adding: "Sure, shall we go?"

Well, his revenge could wait for later. Now he had a lot of catching up to do, both with his love and son, and making them wait longer was definitely unacceptable.

Perhaps Fate had truly decided to be a little kinder to him in his second life.

[moonscriptsx]

Close to You (M)

SUMMARY: You had met him when you were seven, but you fell in love with him when you were seventeen. He had been everything you'd hoped a loved one should be; until he left. Now that you've reached your twenty-first birthday, you're thrown into a deal that your parents had made when you were just a kid — and that deal involved marrying the same man who had broken your heart so long ago.

GENRE/WARNINGS: Royalty!AU, Prince!Yuta; filled with angsty reunions, mutual (but secretive) pining, and fluffy smut.

WORDS: 24.1k.

A/N: This piece will forever hold a special place in my heart. Enjoy! xx.

In your kingdom, the princess’ twenty-first birthday marked a special day amongst the citizens. It was the day that she would be officially labeled as a woman, the day that she would be shown off to all of the available princes in hopes that she would find a probable suitor to join her on the throne the moment her parents - the king and queen - had decided to step down from their rule. It was supposed to be an exciting time; a time where she would be able to open herself up and meet the different people that were scattered within the elegant ballroom as she made her rounds to greet each and every guest-- but that didn’t seem to be the case for you.

The morning of your twenty-first birthday had been eerily too calm.

Your mother and father sat peacefully at each end of the table, the two of them eating their breakfast in silence as they awaited for your presence. You had still been groggy, your eyes wiping away the remaining sleep from them as you made your way into the dining hall. You opted to take a seat in the middle, your parents on the left and right of you at both heads of the table. You smiled tiredly at one of the servants as they placed your breakfast in front of you, a quiet ‘Happy Birthday’ falling from their lips as you placed your napkin on your lap.

You hadn’t caught wind of the knowing glances between your parents, your brain not fully awake quite yet. It was almost like the quiet before the storm -- and the damage that would come in its wake is certainly severe.

At the sound of your father clearing his throat, you sat up straight, your back resting against the chair as your head turned to look at him. At the time you hadn’t known that the smile he wore on his face was one of apology, the king folding his hands onto the white cloth of the table as he leaned forward.

“Firstly,” he had began. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. Your mother and I could not be more proud of the woman you have become and we cherish you dearly.”

Smiling at his words, you nodded, egging him to continue.

“As you know, your twenty-first birthday is a special event. The kingdom has already begun celebrating within the streets and there are already gifts upon gifts piling up for you in the foyer. The actual celebration will take place here in five days so do make sure that you have everything you need or want picked out and ready to go for the festivities, there will be a lot of guests so you must make sure that you look your best - however that is not what I wanted to discuss with you this morning.”

At that, you had watched as your father’s face turned serious, tension beginning to grow in the air as he leaned down and reached beside him to grab a scroll that was placed next to his chair. Your body stiffened as you watched him slide the parchment towards you, your gaze shooting towards your mother as she gave you a sad smile.

“Years ago, my dear friend Taro and I agreed to make a deal concerning both you and his son, Yuta.” You couldn’t help but flinch at the mention of his name, your heart clenching as the cracks came to life. “Given King Taro’s current situation, it seems as if there is no better option than to proceed with the plans.”

A look of pity had crossed your father’s features as he looked over at you.

“It pains me that we have to tell you such a thing on your birthday, sweetheart. If we could’ve held onto it for a little bit longer that would’ve been so much better… But I’m afraid that my dear friend has much more at stake than we do.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your father’s words as your fingers delicately plucked at the seal on the parchment, your body filled with nervousness as you carefully unscrolled the document. The silence within the dining hall was almost deafening and you could feel your breath catch in the back of your throat as you scanned over the words printed on the scroll.

On behalf of both the (L/N) family and the Nakamoto family, this document solidifies the forthcoming union between Princess (Y/N) and Prince Yuta. The union will therefore unite the two kingdoms indefinitely, signifying a promise of protection between them as a powerful ally is born. However, this shall remain undisclosed until the Princess’ twenty-first birthday, where their marriage will then be announced. If the necessary actions of the deal are not met then --

You had stopped reading after the first paragraph, your eyes wide with anger.

Nakamoto Yuta.

Just the thought of his name made your heart shatter into pieces, angry tears pricking the corners of your eyes as they fell helplessly onto the parchment. How long had it been since you’ve heard that name? Since you thought of him? Since he broke your heart…

Your angry tearful-filled gaze had landed on your father, your body shaking as you tried to control yourself.

“No.”

Your voice had been cold, but the stern tone didn’t make your father falter one bit, the king standing his ground as he picked a piece of food off of his plate and ate it quietly.

“It’s not up for discussion, sweetheart,” he replied coolly, his gaze meeting yours. “The deal was set fourteen years ago --”

“What?!” Your voice had risen and you pushed your chair back from the table as you stood up. “You made this deal when I was seven years old?!”

From the other side of the table, your mother sighed deeply as she stood up and moved to stand beside you, her arm reaching out to gently grab yours.

“Take it easy, honey,” she began softly, making you break out of her grasp as you backed away from her. “Please, just, listen to what your father has to say. There are important things happening this week and we sincerely need you to be present and happy.”

You had scoffed at that, your head shaking in disbelief, but you stayed silent. Your gaze fell back on your father, his cool stature never faltering.

“How could you,” you seethed, glaring at the man. “How could you basically sell me to him? Him?! Of all the people you could’ve picked, you gave me him!”

“What’s the big deal, honey?” Your mother cut in, confusion written on her face. “I thought the two of you got along great --”

“Yeah, well we don’t,” you snapped, making your father look up at you with anger.

“Don’t talk to your mother like that --”

“I can’t believe you’re giving me away like this!” You cried out. “And on my birthday!”

“King Taro has been through alot in these past few years,” Your father said, nonchalantly. “I’m afraid that my dear friend has decided that his time of reign is coming to a close, so he personally reached out to me and asked if the deal was still on the table. Now I made sure to keep your feelings in mind --”

“Did you, though?” You asked, harshly, making your mother hush you immediately. Your father continued, however, completely disregarding your remarks.

“I figured it was much better to be betrothed to someone you actually know instead of a complete stranger --” he paused, shooting you a look of disdain. “But, clearly, I was wrong.”

You had frowned at your father’s words, the look on his face making you feel small as your shoulders dropped in defeat, remorse clouding your anger as you sighed.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, your voice soft. “I had just thought that I would be the one to pick my husband. But, I guess in our life, things like that aren’t a choice.”

Your father’s face softened as the king stood up and walked over to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he pulled you in for a hug.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” you hugged him back tightly as he spoke. “You know that if it had been anyone else I would’ve managed to get you out of this… But Taro needs this, he wants this.”

Leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, he rested his hand on your shoulder gently before drawing back.

“King Taro and Prince Yuta will be here tomorrow morning --”

“What?! --”

“They will be staying with us for three months so I hope that you will welcome them with open arms and treat them the way they should be treated. I also suggest that you give yourself time to get ready for their arrival, and I hope that you will be on your best behavior.”

And with that, he had given you one last kiss on your forehead before he left the room.

The first time you had met Nakamoto Yuta, you were seven years old.

You, your father, and your mother had all gathered around the front steps of the palace as the extravagant golden carriage had pulled up, the guards pulling the door open and revealing the family as they stepped out one by one. King Taro and Queen Nori were two of the most respectable and beautiful people you had ever gotten the pleasure to know; they were wise beyond their years and always had plenty of advice to give to those who needed it. Their hearts were full of nothing but love for everyone around them - an attribute that, no doubt, contributed to the success of their rule - and they always made sure to give their people as much as they could when it was requested for them to do so.

They were an honorable pair -- it was a wonder how they had managed to have a son who was the complete opposite of them.

Yuta Nakamoto had only been seven years old at the time but you knew that he was nothing but trouble the moment he had stepped out of that carriage. His lips had been curled up in disgust as he looked on towards the palace, his nose turning up in the air as he stood beside his parents.

“You call this a palace?”

His tone had been cocky, and you remember watching as his mother swatted at him, scolding the young boy to shut his mouth. That reaction alone had you curling into your own mother’s side, your face hiding behind her legs as you shied away from the family. It seemed like nothing was able to impress the boy; even as your family gave them a tour of the palace, Yuta’s dissatisfaction never faltered. He was, by far, the worst human you had ever encountered.

It seemed like each visit the fellow royal’s paid to your palace, the worse Yuta had gotten -- and the older you grew, the more you would fight back.

Snarky remarks were retaliated with sharp insults, the two of you fighting back and forth whenever one of you did something the other didn’t like. Your parents had joked that one day the two of you were going to end up falling in love -- and, god, you had wished that they hadn’t been right about that.

Never in your life did you think that you would’ve fallen in love with the bane of your existence. Never in your life did you think that the boy who tugged on your hair harshly and called you harsh names would be the one that made your heart race and your cheeks flush in embarrassment from compliments…

...Never in your life did you think that the person who you loved the most would be the one to shatter your heart into pieces.

It was almost like deja vu as you stood beside your parents on the front step of the palace, your breathing unsteady as you fought off the urge to cry. Your gaze is locked on the golden carriage as it stopped in front of the three of you, the guards walking towards it before they’re opening the door. The air is thick, the weather unusually chilly for early June, and you were thankful for your maids that had suggested you wear the jacket over your dress.

Straightening your posture, you watched as King Taro stepped out first, your eyes widening as you caught sight of the noticeably aging man.

The King had always been quite handsome; jet black hair, warm brown eyes, and a smile that seemed to rival the sun. He had been slightly pudgy, a feature he had always commented on saying ‘At least you know I’m eating happily!’. His looks had matched his charming and kind personality, but the man that stood before you today was nothing like that. Jet black hair was turned to a stark silver, his pudgy body completely gone, the King’s stature frail. The warmth in his eyes now held a sadness that almost made you tear up at the sight. The King’s smile seemed forced and you had wondered what exactly had made the man age so quickly.

He greeted your father first, the two men sharing a tight hug as they said their hello’s. Adjusting your weight from one foot to the other, your gaze shifted back to the carriage, and you really wished that you hadn’t looked that way.

Emerging from the carriage, in all of his glory, was Yuta. The fringe of his hair blew slightly with the wind, giving you a perfect view of his face, and you nearly choked back a sob as you fought to compose yourself. The last time you had seen him, his facial features were soft. The apples of his cheeks had been slightly puffy, but he had still been handsome. His nose was on the slightly longer side but it had complimented his face perfectly. Seventeen year old Yuta wasn’t quite that tall, either, but he certainly hadn’t been short.

But the man that had emerged from the carriage… You almost didn’t recognize him.

Much like his father, he had lost a considerable amount of weight. His puffed out cheeks were gone entirely, instead replaced by sharp cheekbones. In fact, he was striking himself. He’d grown taller since the last time you had seen him, his body thinned out, but you were able to catch sight of the definition of muscles underneath his shirt. You tried to look away from him, tried to ignore his presence -- but it just so happened that he looked towards you before you could take your eyes off of him.

You almost shivered - and it definitely wasn’t from the wind - the moment his eyes laid on yours, his gaze cold, and you didn’t notice that King Taro had stepped in front of you until you heard his voice, breaking your concentration away from his son.

“Hello, dear,” he greeted halfheartedly, and you had to keep the tears at bay when you heard the hurt in the man’s voice. Reaching out, you returned the King’s hug.

“Your Grace,” you replied, making the man chuckle as he pulled back.

“Oh, dear,” he patted your cheek softly. “How many times do I have to tell you - you are free to call me Sir.”

Stepping back from you, you sent him a small smile as you watched him return to your father’s side. Gazing past the King, you finally noticed the absence of the Queen, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you watched the carriage began to ride off to the stables. Holding your breath, you watched as Yuta greeted your mother with a rigid hug, your jaw clenching as your arms stayed frozen by your side. You could feel your heart clench painfully as the Prince stepped in front of you, butterflies forming in the pit of your stomach as his gaze settled on yours.

And then the memories flooded your mind.

All of the hugs, all of the kisses, all of the love you had felt for the man who was now standing in front of you -- it all came rushing back to you at full force.

You swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of your throat as you bowed your head towards him, your gaze falling to the ground, and you had hoped that that would suffice as a greeting but Yuta seemed to have other plans.

A bolt of electricity flowed through you as he grabbed your hand and brought it up to his face, his lips barely ghosting against the flesh of your knuckles as his gaze stayed locked on your face.

“It’s good to see you again, my love.”

My love.

Your skin felt on fire from just the simple brush of his lips against your skin as your gaze met his -- your breath caught in your throat as your heart sped up, Yuta’s grip on your hand tightening as he stared back at you...

...And then you snapped.

All of the repressed feelings you had kept in were suddenly letting loose, your lips tightly pressing together as the tears begin to fall. Turning your head away from Yuta, you hurriedly whispered to your mother that you had to use the bathroom before you excused yourself and made your way back into the palace.

The faint sound of music played softly from inside of the palace as you walked through the gardens, your gaze locked on the night sky as you stared up at the stars glistening brightly. The ball your parents were throwing had become far too much for you, the constant greetings you had to give to the guests making you feel stuffy each time you had met someone new, so you had taken the opportunity to escape when your father had gained their attention to make a speech about how happy he was that everyone had gathered together.

The palace gardens had always been your escape spot. The acres and acres of field filled with the variety of flowers filled you with a sense of peace and happiness, the colorful petals setting your mind at ease as you made yourself comfortable on the edge of the fountain. The setting was serene; the delightful smell of the plants mixed with the therapeutic sounds of the water giving you a sense of comfort.

The first time you had been granted the chance to experience the extravagant gardens, you were five years old. Your mother had told you that she wanted to show you her favorite spot in the castle and you - as a child - had thought that it was going to be somewhere within the castle walls. But the moment she had led you down the long walkway leading into the elegant entryway of the gardens, you were mesmerized by the sight before your eyes. The colorful aesthetics and refreshing smell had automatically made you feel a sense of warmth, the nature making you feel happily at home within the confinements of the gardens.

It seemed as if you were experiencing that all over again each time you had entered the gardens, the feeling never getting old as you would plop down underneath the large oak tree with a book just a few feet away from where you were sitting now. Leaning back against the bench, you breathe in your surroundings, letting yourself relish in the cool air that breezed past you.

“So this is where you escaped to.”

A deep voice startled you, your eyes snapping open as your head turned to focus on the grinning face of Yuta. He stood a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave you an amused expression. Sheepishly sending him a smile, you shrugged your shoulders and moved over on the bench, prompting him to take a seat next to you.

“It was getting a bit stuffy in there,” you admitted, making the Prince nod.

“Understandable,” he agreed. “But next time you should tell me where you’re running off to -- I got worried.”

His grin doesn’t falter as he nudged you playfully, a soft blush coating your cheeks as you bit your lip bashfully.

“Sorry,” you apologized softly, making Yuta chuckle.

“It’s alright, Princess,” he winked flirtatiously, making your blush deepen. “I found you, didn’t I?”

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you, the only audible sounds being the soft whirring of the wind and the music playing from inside. Your gaze is locked on the sky, your eyes tracing over every star as you try not to pay attention to the weight of Yuta’s gaze on you. You can see him out of your peripheral vision, the Prince’s eyes tracing over your form, and you almost jerk in surprise when you feel his hand on top of yours, your gaze breaking from the glistening stars to land on Yuta’s smiling face.

“Care to dance, my love?”

Your heart sped up at the nickname, another blush coating your cheeks, before you nodded your head and let him help you stand. His fingers slid in between the spaces of yours effortlessly, his grip on your hand gentle as he pulled you towards him. The warmth radiated off of his body as the two of you pressed together, his free hand settling on your waist while yours rested on his shoulder.

Underneath the stars in the night sky, the two of you paid no attention to your surroundings, your gazes only on one another as you danced to the beat of the music. Your cheek pressed against his as you rested your chin on his shoulder, Yuta humming quietly in your ear as he brought you closer to him. The feathery touch of his lips against your forehead had you sinking into him, and you swore that he was able to feel the rapid beat of your heart against his chest as the two of you danced.

That had been the night you had began to fall for the Prince.

My love...

Yuta’s soft whispers of the nickname filled your mind, thoughts and memories of countless nights of the love the two of you shared together plaguing your mind as you choked back a sob. They replayed over and over again like a movie on repeat as you climbed the stairs, your vision blurred from the onslaught of tears streaming down your face, your breathing ragged as the hurt enveloped you.

You had barely managed to make it to the first floor when you stumbled into the library and slammed the door shut, you body collapsing against the wood as the tears fell freely down your face. Placing your head into your hands, you let the heartache consume you. You never thought that seeing Yuta again would affect you as badly as it did but the moment you had laid eyes on him, the memories that you had stored away decided to come back without any second thought.

When your eyes met his, you were instantly reminded of the warmth his gaze had held when he had looked at you so long ago; the gaze that was filled with nothing but love. The man you had seen just minutes ago was no longer the same person he had been when you had fallen in love with him -- the warmth in his eyes had been gone and he was stone faced. But then he had kissed your hand, the simple graze of his lips leaving you wanting more as they brushed the flesh of your knuckles.

A faint knock on the door of the library has you recomposing yourself immediately, your hands hastily wiping at the tears that drizzled down your cheeks, and you push yourself up off of the floor and dust your dress off before taking a deep breath. You had barely gotten it together before the door slid open, your gaze settling on one of your mother’s maids, her lips turning upwards into an apologetic smile before she curtsied.

“Sorry to bother you, your highness,” her voice was soft as she spoke and you forced a smile as she straightened her posture. “Your mother requested for you to join her, the King, and the guests for brunch. She also requested that you wear something appropriate for the occasion.”

Fighting back the urge to roll your eyes at your mother’s requests, you nodded obediently before following the woman out of the library, not in the slightest bit ready to deal with whatever it was that was going to happen.

Cursing silently to yourself, you held the skirt of your dress up as you glided down the staircase, the silky light blue material flowing freely behind you with every step you took. Your mother had laid out the garment for you by the time you had reached your room to get changed with her demand that you present yourself as the graceful Princess that she had raised you to be making you almost gag with irritation. The dress was beautiful, though. The light blue silk felt as soft as a feather on your body, the bodice of the dress covered in subtle silver crystals while the lace sleeves were off your shoulders. A pair of plain white pumps were adorned on your feet, the heels already pinching your feet as you made your way into the dining room, four gazes landing on you as you entered the room.

You could feel the tension in your shoulders as your gaze swept over everyone in the room, your posture straight as a board as you bowed politely towards your parents and King Taro, completely brushing off Yuta. The two Kings occupied the head of the table while your mother sat on the right of your father and Yuta was smack dab in the middle of all of them. Biting the inside of your cheek, you had hoped that you would be able to sit on the other side of your father when your mother’s voice rang throughout the hall, your stomach fluttering nervously as she pointed to the seat next to the Prince himself.

“Why don’t you sit next to Yuta,” her voice was stern, and you knew not to object when your mother’s voice held the authoritative tone. “You are getting married, after all.”

Your mother’s words made King Taro chuckle, the deep rumble reverberating off of the marbled walls.

“The two of them were inseparable the last time we were here,” he said, grinning. “Wherever one was the other would always be with them.”

You had made a move to pull the chair out when you felt a hand place on top of yours, an electric shock coursing through you as your gaze landed on Yuta’s. His eyes held nothing but distance and a feeling of coldness as he stared down at you, your throat feeling as if it’s going to close up from nervousness as you stepped back from him.

“Let me help you, my love.”

Your stomach churned at the tightened tone of the nickname, hearing it the second time around most definitely did not have the same affect on you as it had the first time. Gritting your teeth, you say nothing back to him as you sit down on the chair, reaching forward to grab your utensils as Yuta pushed your chair back in towards the table.

An uncomfortable tension flowed between the two of you and you were pretty sure the three adults could feel it considering your father had cleared his throat to break the deafening silence, the King grabbing his wine glass before taking a sip.

“Taro and Yuta, it is such a pleasure and honor having you both back here. I was beginning to think that I was never going to be able to see you again.”

The silver-haired man took a bite of his food before he nodded at your father’s words, an apologetic smile crossing his lips as he looked up from his plate.

“My apologies for that, old friend,” he began. “Both Yuta and I needed some time for ourselves before we could get back into the flow of things once again.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the King’s words, but before you could say anything your father spoke up instead.

“That is completely understandable,” he nodded, agreeing with his friend. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like for the two of you.”

Glancing between the two King’s, you finally decided to speak.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Sir,” you spoke carefully, the King nodding for you to continue. “What happened?”

King Taro’s face became solemn as the dining hall became silent, your father clearing his throat as the tension started back up. You felt Yuta stiffen next to you, his knuckles turning white from gripping the fork too tight, and you feel like crawling into a hole, afraid that you had asked the wrong question.

But then Taro is giving you a smile, and even though it didn’t reach his eyes, he still looked happy about the topic.

“I’m taking it as your father and mother haven’t told you?” He shot your father a look making the other King raise his hands up in defense.

“It wasn’t my place to say anything.”

A quiet ‘ah’ left Taro then, his head nodding towards your father in understanding before he’s turning back to look at you.

“About four years ago, my darling wife, Nori, came down with a sickness. Within those four years, she had her ups and downs with it until it, unfortunately, took her from us for good.”

Your eyes widened in shock at that and you couldn’t help but feel remorse and pity for the man, your hands folding on your lap as you sat back against the chair.

The drastic appearance of both the King and Prince finally made sense -- and your heart began to ache for the two of them. Knowing that they were by the loving Queen’s side while she was sick and in her last moments, knowing that they watched her deteriorate each and every day… It was no wonder why they both looked so completely different from before. The stress and emotional strain must’ve been far too much for them to handle.

Bowing your head, you keep your focus on the linoleum floor as you spoke.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” you apologized softly, your gaze shifting towards the ground. “I had no idea --”

“It’s quite alright, dearie,” he reassured you, giving you a small smile. “Given that your father hadn’t informed you on anything I suspect that you were curious as to where she is.”

Sheepishly you nodded, making the King chuckle.

“While these past few years have been on the rough side, I have come to accept everything that has happened. My dear Nori was a one-of-a-kind woman, you know. She had the kindest eyes, the smartest brain, and a heart full of love. She was an extraordinary woman -- and she absolutely adored you.”

Taro’s finger pointed in your direction, your eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

“In fact,” he paused, taking a sip of his wine. “She was the one who brought up the deal me and your father had made so long ago. It was her wish before she passed on -- she wanted what’s best for her son, and that is you, my dear.”

The way he spoke about his wife made your heart swell, the King’s blatant admiration for woman he loved so admirable and beautiful that you had to choke back tears. What made it worse was the fact that the Queen, herself, had asked for this -- that she had adored you so much that she wanted nothing more than for her son to marry you.

“I can see why she wanted you to be her successor,” Taro continued. “The more time we spend here, the more I realize that you are so much like her. You’re going to make a great Queen one day, dear.”

A fork slammed against the elegant dish and your head snapped to look up at Yuta, his expression unreadable as he stood up from the table and bowed.

“If you’ll excuse me,” his voice was rough, almost like he was holding back tears. “I think I’m going to go get some fresh air.”

Before he could walk away, however, his father’s voice stopped him.

“Take (Y/N) with you,” he said, voice stern. “The two of you should catch up, it’s been a while.”

“Oh, no, that’s alright --”

“Nonsense,” he waved you off, gesturing for Yuta to help you up. “The two of you will be married soon, you might as well bond a little bit before everything is set in stone.”

You opted to stay silent as you stood up from the chair, brushing off Yuta’s attempt to help you up, before you bowed and made your way out of the dining hall. An uncomfortable feeling slipped between you and Yuta as the Prince had caught up to you, his pace falling in step with yours as the two of you walked out onto the balcony and towards the gardens.

You could feel Yuta’s sadness radiating off of him, the stone-faced Prince staring straight ahead as the two of you walked down the cobblestone walkway leading to the gardens.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” you said quietly, making Yuta’s head snap over to look at you, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t know all of that was happening.”

“Yeah,” he pursed his lips, tone cold. “Thanks for that.”

His standoffish persona has you backtracking, your eyes widening at his blunt tone, and you can already feel the pent up anger towards him begin to bubble within you. As the two of you passed through the entryway of the gardens, your heart sped up at the destination, your mind floating back to the last time the two of you had been here together, and you’re clenching your fists as you struggle to walk ahead of Yuta.

“Can you slow down?”

His voice was harsh, eyes narrowed into slits as he glared at you, and you can’t help but let out a humorless laugh as you mirror his glare.

“It’s not my fault if you can’t keep up,” you bit back, making Yuta scoff.

“I can keep up,” he huffed, now walking next to you. “I just don’t understand why you’re walking so damn fast --”

“Maybe I don’t want to walk next to you,” you cut him off harshly, shooting him daggers. You caught sight of something glinting in his eyes but you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly it had been.

“What’s your problem, (Y/N)?” Your name fell from his lips with venom and you had to fight back a shiver from the tone. “Is this how you treat your guests?”

Stopping in your tracks, you gave him an incredulous look, your jaw clenching as the anger began to flare up inside of you.

“My problem? You’re the one that’s been acting cold to me since you got here,” you spat harshly.

“I’ve been acting cold?” He asked, scoffing. “You’re the one that looks at me like I should be buried three feet under!”

“You should!” You seethed. “You’re lucky that I’m even talking to you!”

“You know,” he began, giving you a harsh look. “I came here thinking we could start fresh and actually be civil with one another --”

“Why would I be civil with someone who leaves without saying goodbye to the woman they supposedly love?!”

Yuta stepped back at that, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, and you laughed humorlessly at his reaction.

“Of course,” you rolled your eyes. “You have nothing to say to that.”

“My love --”

“Don’t call me that!” You snapped at him, hurt coating your words. “You don’t have the privilege of calling me that anymore!”

Stepping closer to him, you let your finger push into his chest as you glared menacingly at him.

“In case you’ve forgotten, it was you who made me like this. You are the one that walked out on me without saying a goddamn word about where you had gone or that you were even leaving in the first place! How you can leave someone after telling them you love them and spending the night with them… God, I don’t even want to be near you, Yuta.”

The anger meshed with the hurt you had kept locked up inside of you was spilling out un-apologetically and you had to fight back the stinging of tears as you closed your eyes, trying to compose yourself. Dropping your hand so that it rested by your side, you took a deep breath before focusing your watery gaze on the speechless Prince.

“Enjoy your walk, your highness.”

And with that, you spun on your heel and walked away, not sparing Yuta one last glance as you made your way back into the palace.

“Yuta we’re going to get in trouble --”

“Relax, Princess,” the Prince had chuckled, sending you a mischievous grin. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to get to know your land and its people.”

Even as Yuta’s hand enveloped yours warmly, you couldn’t help but to still feel anxious about entering town. Your parents had a strict policy when it came to coming in contact with the townspeople; the only time you had ever been allowed to acknowledge their presence was when they were invited to the castle for the annual wish granting, any other interaction was strictly prohibited. You had never understood why your parents - specifically your mother - had kept you from meeting your people; if you were going to be the future of the kingdom, why were you not allowed to meet those who inhabited said kingdom.

Clutching onto Yuta’s hand as you neared closer to the bustling town, you could already feel the apprehension forming in your stomach as a few passersby’s couldn’t help but gawk at the two of you as you subconsciously shift closer towards Yuta. Tightening his hold on your hand, his protective grip sets your mind at ease as the two of you enter the town. The hectic streets are filled with the citizens; some working in the shops lined along the streets, others buying the goods that they needed.

As you headed deeper within the heart of the village you noticed the prying eyes of the folks around you, their wide-eyed stares making your stomach churn in nervousness as you clung onto the Prince. His deep chuckle vibrated into the air as he peered down at you, a gentle smile on his face.

“It’s alright, Princess,” he murmured softly, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand in reassurement. “They’re just not used to seeing you outside of the castle.”

Swallowing the nervous lump in your throat, you nodded at his words, believing that what he had said is true.

Your weary gaze is still locked on those around you as Yuta began to pull you towards the main street of the pavilion, your focus only breaking away from the prying eyes when the Prince had pulled you in front of him so you could glance at the event that had been going on. In the center of the square was a band, a group of people dancing happily along to the music as the crowd around them clapped along to the beat. You couldn’t help but grin at the sight, the happiness around you becoming incredibly infectious, and you found yourself beginning to clap along to the beat.

From behind you, Yuta wrapped his arms around your form, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watched you carefully, the ghost of a smile dancing across his plump lips as you stayed looking straight ahead. His eyes swept over your features as he took in every curvature of your face before the Prince averted his attention to the dancers. You hadn’t the slightest clue of Yuta’s next plans so when he had grabbed your hands and tugged you towards the front of the crowd, your eyes had widened in surprise as the Prince spun you around to face him, the two of you now standing with the other dancers.

An anxious feeling washed over you as you wearily looked around at the shocked crowd only to have Yuta’s hand gently grasp your chin before he turned you back to look at him. His gaze was gentle, lips turned upwards into a dazzling smile, and he wrapped one arm around your waist before tugging you closer to him.

“Don’t focus on them,” he told you quietly, his hand dropping from your face so that he could intertwine his fingers with yours. “Just look at me, alright? I’ve got you.”

Yuta’s warm demeanor had you trusting him within an instant, the anxiety dissipating the moment he softly kissed your hand and began dancing with you. Placing your hand on his shoulder, you let the Prince lead you as the two of you began to dance to the upbeat tempo of the music. Grinning widely at you, Yuta spun you around before settling you back in front of him, the two of you dancing in a circle along with the others.

It was a peculiar feeling, really -- never in your life had you felt as free as you had in that moment. The way you were able to let go of all your worries and doubts and just dance in the street with your best friend -- it was liberating. You couldn’t help but match the Prince’s grin, your eyes never breaking from his as he lifted you up into the air before gently placing you back down, your body spinning back to him before he’s clutching you tightly. The cheers and claps of the crowd are becoming static noise as you lose yourself in the warm gaze of Yuta’s eyes, your heart swelling with adoration for the young Prince as he stared back at you.

All too soon the music had stopped and the crowd’s cheers grew louder in volume as you snapped out of your daze, a warm blush coating your cheeks as you drew back from Yuta and faced the crowd. Bowing politely, you couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face as you peered on at the townspeople. There was a small part of you that had envied them, you envied their freedom and free will to do whatever it was they wanted without having to follow any set of rules. You envied that they were allowed to roam freely, getting to meet new people and see new places -- but most of all, you envied the genuine happiness that seemed to be radiating off of every single one of them.

The sight a little girl running towards you broke you out of your daze, your hands reaching out to catch her before she had crashed into you and fallen down. Steadying her, you watch as her mother hurriedly walked up to grab her daughter, eyes wide with what seemed like fear as she bowed in respect.

“I’m so sorry, your highness,” she apologized, her head still bowed. “I tried to stop her before --”

“It’s alright,” you reassured the woman with a smile, your gaze dropping to the face of the little girl as you crouched to reach her height.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you cooed, making the little girl grow shy as she hid behind her mother’s leg. “No need to be shy, honey. I just wanted to talk to you.”

The little girl’s eyes scanned your appearance as she decided whether or not to trust you, her eyes narrowing as she clung onto her mother’s leg.

“Are you a princess?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the high pitched voice, your head nodding in affirmation to her words.

“I am,” you grinned. “Are you?”

The little girl shook her head, frowning.

“No,” she replied quietly, clutching her mother’s dress. “I could never be a princess.”

You frowned at that, a look of pity crossing your features as you caught sight of the sadness on her face. Glancing around, you saw a man selling several crowns of flowers to the crowd of onlookers, an idea popping into your head as you held up your pointer finger to little girl and murmured a soft ‘wait’ to her before you stood up and walked over to the man. You ignored the look of surprise on the man’s face as you bowed politely towards him, your head nodding towards the crowns.

“How much for a crown, sir?” You asked, making his eyes widen.

“You can have one for free, your highness --”

“Nonsense,” you laughed, waving your hand at him. “I am apart of this town so I should have to pay for one much like everyone else here.”

As you finished speaking, a hand was placed in between the two of you, two coins resting in the palm of the hand and you looked back to see the smiling face of Yuta as he handed the money to the man. Reaching for the crown with red roses, you thanked the man for the headpiece before bowing goodbye and making your way back towards the little girl. Bending down, you gestured for her to come closer.

“You, sweetheart,” you began, gently taking her hand so she could stand in front of you. “Will now and forever be known as a little princess.”

Taking the crown with both hands, you placed it gingerly on the top of her head, watching as the little girl beamed with delight.

“I’m a princess?” She asked in excitement, making you nod.

“You are most certainly a princess, sweetheart.”

You watched as she turned back towards her mother, the little girl excitedly boasting about her new title, and you couldn’t help but grin as you watched a group of other kids come up to you.

You and Yuta spent the whole day exploring the town and getting to know the people who inhabited your land, each and every one of them so very different from the last. You were incredibly humbled by it, your heart soaring at the kindness of those of whom you were responsible for governing over, and you found a new feeling of adoration for the citizens.

The sun was beginning to set as you and Yuta began walking back towards the castle, the smile never faltering from your face as you looked up at the Prince, happiness enveloping your body as you bravely reached up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” you murmured, making Yuta look at you in shock from the action. “I had a great time.”

Letting a smile grace his lips, the Prince reached down to grab your hand, his fingers sliding in between the spaces of yours before he brought it up to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

“I’m serious, Yuta,” you said, looking up at him. “I never knew what it was like outside of those castle walls, I was beginning to feel suffocated in there. But you… You have shown me so much already. There are so many great things I’m discovering and it’s all because of you.”

The two of you had stopped walking by this point, Yuta not saying a word as he looked down at you. You could feel your heart beginning to speed up as he reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, his hand gently grasping the back of your neck as you watched him begin to lean down. A soft gasp escaped your lips the moment you felt his press to yours, your hand clutching the lapel of his jacket as he kissed you softly. It felt like a thousand butterflies had taken flight in your stomach as your lips moved slowly against his, trying to get a sense of the rhythm before he had pulled away.

Yuta is smiling dreamily, eyes hooded in a daze, and he’s resting his forehead against yours as his thumb gently stroked the curve of your jaw.

“Princess…” His voice was breathless, a slight husky tone coating it, and you looked up at him as his gaze fell back on your lips. “My Princess…”

That had been enough for you to grasp the sides of his face and bring him back down to your lips, the second kiss between the two of you ensuing as you felt yourself melt into him. That day had been a special day full of firsts -- and it had been so worth the scolding you had gotten from your mother when the two of you had arrived back at the castle.

“So you’re getting married to him?” The blonde questioned, making you huff as you rested back against your bed.

“Unfortunately,” you mumbled.

Your party was only two days away and everyone was already running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Everyone was seemingly scattered around the palace hurriedly trying to get everything in order for Friday night. You, on the other hand, had absolutely nothing to worry about. Now that you were finished with your mother’s pre-planning duties she had set out for you, you were enjoying yourself inside the confinements of your room along with your best friend and fellow Princess from right across the sea, Miyoung.

You had successfully managed to avoid Yuta for the next two days, the Prince being called upon by your father to help get the festivities ready for your birthday party at the end of the week. While they were doing that, you were obediently following your mother’s orders as to what you had to do to prepare for the party as well. One day was filled with nothing but dress fittings - something that you dreaded entirely - while another day was filled with the etiquette you had to learn in regards to greeting the guests and acting towards them now that you were of age.

The gown you had decided on was beyond gorgeous, even if it was a tad bit hard to breathe in. It was an off-the-shoulder gown in a deepened rich red color with a silver detailed pattern of flowers adorning the bodice. The bottom flowed out freely, the gown - no doubt - the epitome of a so-called ‘Princess Gown’. It hugged your body perfectly, every curve and bump accentuated by the design of the dress.

Miyoung’s eyebrow rose in question as her gaze fell on you.

“Why unfortunately?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “I thought you loved him?”

Sighing heavily, you looked up at the different designs carved into your ceiling, your gaze falling on the abstract fixtures as you shrugged.

“I thought so too,” you murmured. “I just… It hurts too much to be around him.”

Laying down next to you, the blonde nodded in acknowledgement as she made a small noise of agreement.

“I understand,” she reassured you. “I can’t imagine how you felt when you found out that you had to marry the same guy who broke your heart.”

Miyoung was the only one who had known about yours and Yuta’s relationship. The two of you had snuck around for all of the three months he had been here, hiding it from your parents in fear that they would disapprove of it all. Had you known that he was going to be the man you were going to marry one day… Perhaps things would’ve played out differently then they were now.

Shaking your head, you break yourself out of your thoughts as you turned towards the blonde, a smile on your face.

“Have you decided what you’re wearing on Friday?” You asked her, making her grin widely.

“I have, actually,” she hummed softly. “Do you remember that pink dress I wore to my party? The one with the silver crystals on the skirt? That one.”

“Ah, that dress is gorgeous!” You clapped excitedly making Miyoung laugh.

“Not as gorgeous as yours,” she gushed. “I can’t wait to see you in it! You’re going to be turning a lot of heads, girl.”

That made you frown, a soft sigh escaping you as you stared up at the ceiling.

“Too bad I can’t enjoy the looks,” you pouted.

Miyoung pursed her lips, her perfectly manicured nails gently tapping against your frame as she gazed at you in question.

“I think you’re taking it worse than you should, (Y/N),” she said quietly. “Did you ever think to give him a chance to explain himself? To let him tell you why he ended up leaving?”

Your frown deepened at her words, guilt filling your body as you shook your head.

“No,” you said quietly. “I’m afraid to know why.”

“What makes you so afraid?”

“I’m afraid that he’s going to tell me it wasn’t real,” you admitted. “That he never really loved me…”

Miyoung let out a quiet ‘Aww’ before enveloping you in a hug.

“You can’t think like that, (Y/N),” she reprimanded softly. “You can’t live your life in fear.”

You stayed silent as you hugged her back, the frown never leaving your lips.

Your mind drifted back to the other day with Yuta, your heart scolding you for treating him the way you did, and you can feel the guilt begin to eat at you as you sighed heavily, breaking away from your friend.

A knock at the door has the two of you jumping up, your hands fixing the bottom of your dress as the door opened. Holding your breath, your shoulders straightened into alignment as you watched the aforementioned Prince walk in, the man bowing politely towards Miyoung before turning to you.

“Your mother requested for both you and I to be in the ballroom. She said something about dance lessons for the two of us --”

“Fuck, I forgot about that,” you cursed, making Yuta raise an eyebrow at the profanity. Turning to look at Miyoung, you offered your friend a sheepish smile.

“Would you like to come watch? Or you can stay in here if you’d like --”

“Actually, I think I’m going to go practice my archery skills,” she laughed. “Jaehyun is going to be at your party and I am determined to beat him at the archery match -- especially since the kid has beaten me three years in a row now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at your friend’s pout as she mentioned the other Prince, your head shaking in amusement as you waved goodbye to her and followed Yuta out of the room. There was an awkward silence between the two of you as you walked together, Miyoung’s voice replaying in your head as you thought about what she had said when it came to giving Yuta a chance to explain himself.

You wanted to, you really did, but the hurt that enveloped your heart was far too much to even think about, let alone letting him reopen the wounds he had caused. You would much rather suffer in silence than to face the problem head on, the fear of knowing what the true answer was being far more terrifying than asking the Prince himself.

As the pair of you made your way into the ballroom, you almost groaned in embarrassment at the sight of your mother and father dancing crazily in the middle of the floor, your hand covering your face as you watched your father dip her.

“Why are you like this?” You groaned, making your father laugh heartily, the King happily bounding over to you before taking your hand.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he grinned widely. “We’re just having a little bit of fun. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

From beside you, you heard Yuta chuckle, the sound shocking you as you peered over at the Prince who was grinning widely.

“I agree, Sir,” he laughed. “This one never knows how to loosen up and have fun.”

You frowned at his words.

“I know how to have fun,” you scoffed, making Yuta smirk.

“Prove it, then.”

Your father gestured for the orchestra to begin playing, a slow tempo song emitting from the instruments, and you watched as Yuta held his hand out to you, gesturing towards the dance floor. Hesitantly, you took his hand, allowing the Prince to bring you with him before he clasped his hand over yours.

As you rested your hand on Yuta’s shoulder, you bravely let your gaze meet his, and you couldn’t stop the fluttering of your heart as you watched the warmth return to his eyes. His cold stature was nowhere to be found as he pulled you close to him, his left arm wrapping around your waist comfortably whilst his right hand clung tightly to yours. The two of you began to waltz, never once breaking the eye contact.

It was a familiar setting - much like the night he had followed you out into the gardens - and the nostalgia has you clinging onto him tightly as the two of you drifted together. It’s almost like everything around you disappeared; your father, your mother, the orchestra. All that you saw was the man you loved right before your eyes.

The man you loved…

A ragged breath falls from your lips as you try to compose yourself at the feeling of love enveloping your heart, the organ beginning to reconstruct itself just from the simple touch of Yuta’s hands on yours. At that moment all of the hurt seemed to dissipate into nothing, the only remaining emotion being love as you looked up at him. And then the words were falling out of your mouth before you could even stop to think about the whole situation.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, making Yuta’s eyebrows furrow. “For the other night.”

He stared at you for a moment before the realization sunk in, his face softening and his grip on you tightening as he tugged you flush against him.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” the soft rumble of his voice made a shiver run down your spine. “Everything you said -- you were right. It is my fault.”

“Yuta --”

“Just listen, (Y/N),” he cut you off, silencing you with a pointed look. “I didn’t want to leave you that morning. I wanted nothing more than to hold you as the sun was coming up, to see what you looked like when you basked in the beautiful morning glow of the sun. I wanted to do it all again the moment you had woken up…”

His words brought tears to your eyes and you couldn’t help but let one fall as you looked up at him with a watery gaze.

“Then why did you do it ?” Your voice broke as you spoke, a lonesome tear escaping as you sucked in a breath. “Why did you leave me?”

Opening his mouth to speak, Yuta was instantly cut off by the booming voice of his father, the Prince frowning as he looked over at the King.

“Sorry, dear,” Taro apologized, giving you a sorrowful look. “Do you mind if I stole my son away for a little while? I need to speak with him about something.”

Nodding your head, you bowed towards the King before stepping away from Yuta, your lips pressed together in a tight smile as you wiped away a lonesome tear that had managed to escape. You turned to walk away when Yuta had grabbed your wrist, pulling you back to him.

“Meet me in the gardens at midnight,” he whispered in your ear, the proximity of him making a shiver run down your spin, his hot breath fanning against your cheek as he looked at you with pleading eyes. “Please, my love…”

The desperation in his tone and eyes were enough to get you to agree, your head nodding in acknowledgement to his words, and he lets out a breath of relief before sending you a smile that looked like it could rival the sun itself. Lifting your hand to his lips, Yuta pressed a soft kiss to the flesh before gently letting it rest back at your side. His gaze stayed on you until he was by his father’s side, the Prince sending you one last smile before you were left there alone with burning cheeks and a fluttering stomach.

The last summer that Yuta and his family had stayed with you was full of nothing but adventures; the two of you explored every inch of the castle. All of the secret passageways and hidden rooms were discovered, the two of you going through every nook and cranny the palace had to offer. It was filled with smiles and laughter, days filled with laying in the courtyard and looking up at the clouds while the nights were spent in the gardens where secrets and life-long dreams were revealed. It had been a time of getting to know one another, a time when all you ever knew was the dashing brunette Prince. Yuta had made you come alive; he showed you the life that laid beyond the castle walls. He took you into town and had gotten you to open up to the people of your land, getting to know them on a more personal level as opposed to just being their Princess.

You fell in love with him that summer; the young boy that had been judgmental and cruel transformed into a charming young man, a man that had managed to capture your heart with his knee-weakening smile.

That summer was filled with secretive kisses, longing touches, and eyes glimmering of adventure. It was filled with shy glances, tender grazes of hands, and words full of love. You had felt on top of the world, like a newly crowned Queen spending the rest of her life with her King. Yuta was everything you had hoped a lover would be -- and then he left.

That night had been brisk, it was an unusually chilly summer’s night in the middle of July and you were clothed in your favorite plain black dress with a black jacket zipped over it, gold military style flowers adorning the coat as you made your way up the staircase to your room. You had just finished the duties you had been ordered to do for your mother and you were more than happy to finally be able to go up to your room and rest for the night.

The hallway windows were propped open, the chilly air whipping past you as you made your way down the corridor, your arms wrapping around your body as a way to keep warm. As you turned the corner to reach your bed quarters, you stopped short when you spotted the familiar stature of Yuta, the Prince leaning against the wall as he looked out the window. Your heart sped up at the sight of him, your stomach fluttering nervously, and you watched as he turned his head to look at you the moment he heard the soft click of your heels against the stone of the floor.

“Good evening, my love,” he cooed at you, reaching for you as you drew closer to him. Beaming brightly at the Prince, you let your arms loop around his neck as you pushed up on your toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Good evening, my Prince,” you whispered softly against his mouth, making Yuta’s arm tighten around your waist.

The soft glow of the moon illuminated the darkened corridor as the two of you stood in the comforting embrace of one another, neither of you making a move to break away. Yuta’s arms always served as a place of comfort for you, the two limbs wrapping around you and bringing you into a place that felt a lot like home. He was warm, he was gentle, and you had been quick to realize that there was no other place you’d rather be than right there in his arms.

Tilting your head up so that your gaze settled on Yuta’s, you had let a small smile grace your lips before you gently grasped the sides of his face and brought him down to you. His lips molded perfectly against yours, a small sound of contentment escaping from you, and your thumbs gently stroke the apples of his cheeks as your lips move with his. Feeling his arms tighten around you, you laugh lightly against his mouth as he tugged you closer, the Prince smirking against your lips as his hands sneakily slid down to rest on your butt. The cheeky action makes you mewl against him, your body pressing closer to his as Yuta growled lowly.

Tightening his grip on your waist, the Prince hoisted you up and spun you around until you were pressed against the bricks of the wall, his hands capturing yours and pinning them above your head. The kiss escalates as Yuta’s tongue runs along the flesh of your bottom lip, a soft moan falling from your lips as you oblige his silent request. The heat between your bodies grows as he pressed his body flush against yours, your back pinned to the wall, and you can feel your breath hitch when his hips rolled into yours.

In the soft glow of the moonlight, Yuta’s features were illuminating in a way that made him appear almost angelic, your gaze settling on him when he pulled away to let his lips trail down the length of your neck. Trying to break free out his grasp so you could touch him, you whined quietly making the Prince smirk against your flesh. One hand dropped from your wrist - but before you could react he’s grabbing it with his other hand - and he’s grasping your chin gently, his head leaving your neck so that he could look up at you.

His eyes are locked on yours, the heated gaze of warm chestnut irises seemingly igniting a fire within your lower body, and you repress a shudder as his lips grazed against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath fanning against your face. “I’m so fucking in love with you, (Y/N).”

Your eyes widened as the words fell from his lips, your own parting in surprise as you drew back slightly to look at him. Yuta’s eyes were hooded, long lashes gently grazing against your cheek, and you could feel the butterflies fluttering wildly in the pit of your stomach as a warm blush swept over your face. You scanned the Prince’s face for any sign that would give away that he was joking -- but you found none.

Your heart felt like it had swelled twice in size as you reached for him and hastily pulled him towards you, your lips smashing roughly onto his. Yuta let out a noise of shock but kissed you back nonetheless, his hands still grasping your face as your lips moved in sync.

“I love you too,” you panted against his mouth, making the Prince moan lowly.

Wrapping your arms around Yuta’s waist, you gently pushed him back towards the door of your room before blindly reaching out to grab the knob and stumbling into the darkness. Your lips moved feverishly against his as the two of you tumble onto the bed, your body on top of his, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth when you felt his hands begin to slide up your back, his fingers resting on the ties of your dress before he’s undoing them.

His name falls from your lips in a breathless sigh, your mouth parting from his as the Prince turned you over so that you were now resting against the bed. Plump lips press soft kisses against the skin on your neck, his tongue teasingly sliding along your flesh as his fingertips dance along the back of your neck.

“Are you sure about this, my love?”

His words were muffled against your skin but you still heard him, your head nodding in acknowledgement as you tugged at the dark tresses of his hair.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else in my entire life.”

Yuta pulled away at that, his face becoming leveled with yours, and in the darkness you can make out the soft features as he smiled earnestly, his hand gently caressing your face as he leaned down to peck your lips.

“I love you.”

You beamed, pulling him back down to you so you could feel his lips on yours again.

“I love you too.”

That night, there was no rushing. It was slow, it was earnest, and it was full of nothing but love. Yuta had taken his time with you, mapping out every inch and curve of your body almost like he was saving it in his memory. The heated kisses transitioned into slow, passionate ones, and you could remember the exact feeling it had given you when you felt his plush lips trail along the length of your body. His hands had held yours the entire time, fingers tightly interlocked as he had filled you up -- and god, it had felt nothing short of incredible. He moved slow, savoring the feeling of being inside of you, and he made sure that his love was known. The whispered words against your lips only heightened the pleasure and before you had knew it, the two of you were in a tangled sweaty heap as you drifted off to sleep.

But then you had woken up to an abnormally cold morning, your body shivering as your eyes had adjusted to the light of the sun seeping through your window. You had turned over, expecting Yuta to be there, but you were met with an empty space, your heart dropping into the pit of your stomach as you all but stumbled out of bed and hastily grabbed your dressing robe.

You could remember the panic that had rushed through you as you raced down the stairs, the stinging of tears pricking your eyes as you caught side of your mother entering from the front doors. All she had to do was take one look at you to know what you were going to ask -- and that was when you wished you hadn’t gotten out of bed, when you wished the night before hadn’t happened.

“Yuta didn’t tell you he was leaving this morning, did he?”

And that had been your breaking point.

You weren’t sure when you had started crying, you weren’t sure why you had trusted him in the first place, you weren’t sure why you had agreed to meet him in the stupid gardens at midnight. How could you have been so naive to believe that he would stay true to his word? That he actually wanted to fix things? That maybe - just maybe - his love for you had been real.

But here you were, helplessly staring up at the night sky as tears streamed down your face at the memory. The cracks in your heart that had begun to seal up were now reopened, your chest clenching painfully as you laid down onto the stone bench as you let your cries fill the air.

Yuta never showed up.

Numb.

That was all you felt as you trudged into the dining hall for breakfast the next day. The clenching in your chest had ceased. Now you felt absolutely nothing as you sat at the head of the table, idly stirring the porridge that was in your bowl. Your parents - along with King Taro - were busy readying the last minute preparations for your party tomorrow leaving you to a quiet breakfast -- which you were thankful for. The silence in the dining hall was a peace that you relished in. You knew that your gloomy mood would’ve been picked up on immediately had your parents been in the room with you and you were certainly not in the right state of mind to be answering any prying questions.

As you stirred the lumpy oatmeal around in your bowl, it was almost like you had slipped into a daze as you basked in the numbness you were feeling. The sadness, the anger, the hurt -- it was all gone. Your chest felt hollow, empty, almost like the shattered pieces of your heart were now gone, instead replaced by a black hole of nothingness. You had pushed out any sign of hope you had had for the Prince, a cement wall now blocking the inner memories stored in your brain in hopes that the barrier could contain the hurt and the pain you had repressed after he had left.

But it still felt like that morning.

The morning you had learned that Yuta had left with his parents had been one that was filled with endless tears; it felt like betrayal, like the Prince himself had ripped your heart out of your chest and stomped on it repeatedly until it stopped beating. It was filled with the pain of loss, the doubt of love, and a twinge in your chest that felt like knives plunging inside of your body. You had spent that entire morning in your room, sobbing over what could’ve been or what you could’ve possibly done wrong to make him leave without saying goodbye.

And then the numbness kicked in.

It had been a struggle the first few weeks. The heaviness that you felt weighed you down and made it almost impossible to have the strength to do anything other than to lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling, wishing that it would all just go away. You could remember the worry looks that had been on your mother’s face whenever she came in to check on you, the Queen more than likely knowing that something had happened between you and the Prince. She had made her best effort to cheer you up -- but as hard as you had tried to, you just couldn’t bring yourself to smile.

That had lasted a good three months; what had seemed like an endless cycle at the time slowly letting up as time moved forward and the healing process began, but it was safe to say that you hadn’t been the same after that. Before you fell in love with Yuta, you were full of positivity, often described as a bright light that would always illuminate the room you had walked into. Your dazzling smile had captivated the majority of people you came encountered with as they watched you in awe.

But that light had faded the moment the Prince had broken your heart, the jaded feelings overtaking the positive energy you had reflected out into the world. Your dazzling grin was replaced with a forced, tight-lipped smile, one that had never seemed to reach your eyes. It became a burden to you, having to converse with the different guests that had frequently visited your palace, and you found yourself completely drained by the end of the night. Having to put on the facade that you’re happy was utterly exhausting -- but there was no way out of it.

Pushing your bowl of porridge away from you, you reach for the glass of water before taking a sip, your dry throat relishing in the liquid. Just as you had set the glass back down, you hear footsteps near the dining hall, your body on high alert as your gaze snapped to look at the entrance.

“Good morning, my love.”

Numb.

You felt nothing as Yuta neared you, your lips pressed tightly together when you felt the Prince’s lips press against your forehead, your fists clenching as you watched him take a seat next to you. You stayed silent as a bowl is placed in front of him, the Prince humming in delight as he leaned forward to shove a spoonful of porridge into his mouth, his gaze fluttering over to you before he swallowed and smiled brightly.

“Did you eat?” He asked, eyes shining brightly.

“Yes.”

You watched as Yuta’s eyes flickered towards your bowl, the Prince frowning when he noticed the significant amount of food left.

“Barely,” he remarked, his gaze returning onto you as he scanned your features.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Turning away from him, you reached for your glass of water once more.

“I’m fine.”

Your voice was cold as you brought the glass to your lips, taking another swig of water before placing it back down onto the table. Tension rose between the two of you as Yuta began to pick up on your mood, the Prince giving you a weary glance as he took another spoonful of his porridge.

“Your mother told me to tell you that we are expected in the courtyard in an hour for your archery lessons. She said she wants to make sure you make the perfect shot tomorrow at your party --”

“I got it,” you cut him off sharply, pushing your chair back and standing up from the table. “I should go get ready.”

Bowing out of respect - though he didn’t deserve it - you kept your focus on the marble flooring before bidding him goodbye and walking out, the tension never leaving your body as you left Yuta sitting there, the Prince utterly confused as he watched your retreating form disappear behind the large doors.

A shrill scream echoed around the courtyard as the woman ducked the object flying towards her, her body laying flat on the ground as she looked on in terror. Your hand was placed over your mouth as you watched the scene unfold, mindlessly tossing the bow to the ground as you rushed over to help the gardener up.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized, helping the woman back to get back on her feet. You heard her sigh out of relief and watched as she straightened out her clothes before she bowed.

“It’s quite alright, your highness,” she dismissed, though you knew she was still on edge.

“Here,” you reached to grab the watering can out of her hands. “Let me help you as a repayment of almost taking your head off.”

The woman couldn’t help but laugh at your statement, the gardener shaking her head as she took the can back from you and patted your head.

“Don’t worry too much about it, honey,” she smiled warmly. “It was an accident, no harm done.”

You watched as she made her way towards the entrance of the gardens and once you knew that she was okay, you walked back to your spot with your head hung low, a blush of embarrassment coating your cheeks as you reached down to grab the bow on the ground. Taking a deep breath to help collect yourself, you shut your eyes as you tried to concentrate on what your father had taught you when you were little before taking your stance. You leveled your arrow with what you thought had been the target but the moment you had let go of the bow, the arrow flew over the silver ring and right into the trunk of the tree, your shoulders dropping in defeat as you groaned.

A loud laugh came from behind you as the arrow hit the tree, your eyes narrowing into a glare as you turned around and saw Yuta standing at the steps with a shit-eating grin on his face. His arms were crossed over his chest as he walked down the stairs, his head shaking in amusement as he clicked his tongue.

“You’re not very good, Princess,” he remarked, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Shut up, Yuta,” you grumbled, the Prince falling into another fit of laughter as he now stood beside you.

Disregarding him, you reached down into the bucket and grabbed another arrow before hooking it onto the bow. You took your stance once more but before you could even do anything you felt a warm hand on your waist and another on your elbow so that you wouldn’t let go of it so soon. Turning your head, you glanced at Yuta as he held your waist, his eyes locked on you as he gently turned your body sideways.

“You’re not standing correctly,” he murmured, his breath tickling your neck. You felt a rush of warmth run down your spine, your body involuntarily shivering at the sensation, but you brush it off as you stared at the Prince.

“Is there a particular way I should be standing?”

Yuta’s gaze doesn’t part from yours as he nodded, his other hand dropping from your elbow so that he can place it on the other side of your waist. Gently he shifted your body so it was angled to the right, his hand sliding down the length of your waist all-the-while never breaking eye contact from you. You can feel your breath hitch in your throat when you felt his hand trail over your thigh, your body frozen to the spot as he clutched your calf and made your feet rest shoulder-length apart. Warm heat spread throughout your body and you can only part your lips in surprise as Yuta straightened his posture, hand still on your waist, as he pressed his chest against your back. Delicate fingers trail along your arm leaving goosebumps in their wake as he positions it so that you’re standing in the correct stance.

“Bend your elbow,” he commanded softly.

You blinked as you watched his lips move, your mind still in a daze from his touch, and the Prince can only chuckle to himself before he’s snapping his fingers in front of your face. Breaking out of your faze, you fight the blush that coated your cheeks as you turned your head away from him in embarrassment, your arm raising so you can get ready to shoot.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Yuta’s hand returned to your arm before he’s grasping it gently, lowering it until it’s leveled with your face. “No wonder you’re not hitting anything -- your arm is placed wrong.”

You groaned as you lowered the bow, a pout forming on your lips as you turned to look at Yuta.

“Help me,” you whined, making the Prince laugh.

“I’m trying!” His deep chuckle sounded like music to your ears as he helped you take your stance once more.

Raising your arm, he held it at an angle before he told you to bend your elbow. Once you had done that, he’s leveling the bow with the side of your face before taking your other hand in his.

“You have to make sure the string is leveled with the corner of your eye.” His large hand felt warm over yours, his long fingers covering yours as he helped you bend the string back. “Now close one eye so you can focus on the target without anything else getting in the way. As soon as you’ve got it locked down, you can let go.”

Having Yuta pressed so close against you was a distraction in itself -- but you stood tall and followed every direction he gave you. Closing one eye, you locked your gaze on the middle of the metal ring placed in the field. Holding your breath, you clutched Yuta’s fingers as you let go of the string, the arrow flying into the air at a fast pace. You hadn’t expected the Prince’s teachings to work, you thought that you wouldn’t be successful -- but, somehow, the arrow managed to soar right through the middle of the ring and hit smack dab in the middle of the target.

Your eyes widened as you stared ahead, your lips parting in a grin, and you let out a yell of happiness as you turned to look at Yuta who was beaming with pride.

“I did it!” You cheered, making Yuta nod in acknowledgement.

“You did it, Princess!”

Your arms looped around his neck as you all but jumped on him so you could hug him tightly.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

In the midst of your happiness, you felt yourself grasp the sides of his face before pulling him down to your lips, kissing him out of excitement. Making a surprised noise against your mouth, Yuta wrapped his arms around your waist so he could steady himself from the pull you had on him, a deep chuckle reverberating into your mouth as he kissed you back. Pulling away, you were still grinning from ear to ear as Yuta gazed down at you, his arms pulling you flush against him so he could place a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I’m proud of you, my love,” he said softly, making you blush and hide your face in his chest. Chuckling at your reaction, he kissed the crown of your head before letting his arms fall to his sides.

“Alright, let's see if you can do it one more time.”

The minute you stepped outside into the boiling heat you mentally cursed your mother for making you wear the heavily armored corset for practice, beads of sweat already forming on your forehead as you walked down the steps to the courtyard. Your mother and father were sat on the sidelines, the two idly talking to King Taro who was sat beside your father. You caught sight of Yuta getting ready to shoot his arrow and nearly rolled your eyes as you watched it slip past the ring and hit the target dead on, the Prince smugly waving his bow around as he boasted to the adults.

Stepping onto the grass, you set your bag down onto the ground and made your presence known, the archery teacher standing beside you as he helped you set up your things. You paid no attention to the four sitting idly on the sidelines, your body just ready to go back inside into the cool air of the palace. Quietly thanking the instructor, you slid on the archery glove before grasping your bow and picking it up off of the ground. You hadn’t expected Yuta to still be standing there as you turned around, your body almost colliding into his, and you grumble to yourself as you step around him to be parallel with the target.

“Remember what I taught you, Princess,” he whispered to you, sending you a wink before he walked off to the side.

Your lip curled in distaste as you watched him saunter over to the tree, the Prince resting underneath the leaves in the shade as he leaned against the trunk. At that moment, the smug expression on his face had stirred something inside of you, red hot anger bubbling within the pit of your stomach, and you clenched your teeth as you stared him down. Grabbing an arrow from the bucket, you clipped it onto the string before holding your stance. You could feel several pairs of eyes on you as you measured the arrow towards the ring, but little did they know you had a different target in mind. Letting a smirk grace your lips, you pulled the string back and let it go -- only you made a last minute change of target.

You watched as the arrow sunk into the bark of the tree -- right above Yuta’s head.

The Prince stood still, his eyes wide, and you feigned a look of innocence as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Sorry,” you called out, no remorse what-so-ever in your voice. “It slipped.”

The smirk doesn’t leave your face as you reached down to grab another arrow, a soft chuckle emitting from you as you lined yourself up with the target once more. You knew you were being vindictive, but the red hot anger grew more and more inside of you every time you glanced over at the Prince. Arrow after arrow it landed near Yuta, the Prince dodging them every time they had been directed his way, and you had to bite back a grin as you watched him duck for the ground as the metal point stabbed the part of the tree he had just occupied.

You watched the scowl on your mother’s face, your father’s lips turning into a deep frown as he walked over to you. Placing a hand on your shoulder, his voice was gentle as he spoke.

“Sweetheart, maybe you should take a break…”

“I’m fine, father,” you retorted, reaching down to grab another arrow. “I want to try one more time.”

“(Y/N) --”

“Just let me try the flaming arrow once and then we’ll call it a day.”

Your father looked skeptical, his lips pursing as he thought it over before he reluctantly stepped back, letting you get back to your practice. From where you stood you could hear your mother reprimanding your father for allowing you to proceed with the flaming arrow, a muffled snort of laughter escaping you at the scene unfolding before you. Biting the inside of your cheek to stop the grin forming on your face, you dipped the steel point of the arrow into the small bowl of gasoline before letting it rest on the torch.

Once the point was ignited you clipped it onto your bow and took your stance. The anger coursed through you as you inhaled sharply through your nose, your heart yelling at you to not go through with the idea your brain had come up with, your brain - on the other hand - was plagued by the anger as your mind egged you on to continue. As your gaze shifted over towards the Prince, you stared at him as every single thing he done to hurt you flashed through your mind, the sting of hurt coming to the surface as you bit back the oncoming tears that were beginning to pool behind your eyes.

Clenching the string of the bow tightly, you aimed it towards the target before letting it go. You could feel the tension of those around you as the flaming arrow soared through the air, your gaze locked on Yuta as he winced, afraid that it was going to come at him once more -- only it didn’t. The arrow soared through the center of the metal ring, which was now caught on fire, before it was securely sunken into the paper of the target.

At that moment, four collective sighs of relief echoed around the courtyard and you watched as your father stood to applaud your victory -- but you didn’t feel victorious. The pain in your chest had returned with a vengeance and it took all of what you had inside of you not to break down right then and there. Instead you set your bow down on the ground so you could start packing your things up, silently hoping that you would be left alone.

“I think that’s enough for the day,” your father called out. “Good job, you two. The ceremony tomorrow should undoubtedly be a success.”

The three adults began to head inside after your father’s speech, leaving you to collect your things by yourself. You were shoving your bow into your bag just as a shadow had cast over you, your gaze lifting to meet the angry one of Yuta’s as he glowered down at you.

“What the hell was that?” He seethed, making you feign a confused look.

“What do you mean?”

Yuta’s lips curled into a snarl as he took a step towards you.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he spat. “I had just been telling your father that I taught you everything you know about archery, that you never miss a shot because of me --”

“Oh, honey,” you smirked, straightening up as you pulled your bag over your shoulder. “Don’t be so full of yourself.”

“You made me look bad, (Y/N)!” He yelled in exasperation. “How could you have missed the damn target?!”

The smirk on your face grew as you bravely took a step towards him, your eyes flickering to his as you stared him down.

“I didn’t miss,” you retorted, giving him a once over before tightening your grip on your bag. “You were my target.”

You held your head high as you blew him a kiss goodbye before turning on your heels and walking back towards the palace, the conversation dropping immediately.

But not before you had watched his eyes flash dangerously, hinting at the realization of what your words meant.

Now, you felt victorious.

The next morning was filled with never-ending chaos.

The day of your party meant that everyone around you were running in circles trying to get everything in tip top shape before the guests arrived. The servants and butlers ran around the dining hall and ballroom areas counting each and every chair and table so that they had enough for all of the guests that were going to be arriving in only a few hours. Your mother and father had their separate fittings for their outfits for the night, leaving you to spend the majority of the day locked in your room as your helpers got you ready for the night’s festivities.

Considering that it was your twenty-first birthday party, you should’ve been more upbeat about the whole ordeal. It was a big celebration, one that brought all types of nobilities from across the world, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel even an ounce of happiness. The whole thing felt like a burden to you, one that weighed you down and made you sluggishly move from station to station as others helped you get ready, and you were already over it.

After the archery fiasco had happened, you found yourself being tortured by the simple presence of the Prince that you were dealt to marry. When you had gotten changed out of the sweaty corset your mother had made you wear, you were forced to join them for dinner -- where you, once again, had to sit next to Yuta. To say that it had been awkward would’ve been the understatement of the century.

The tension between yourself and Yuta had escalated to an all time high, the whole dinner had been spent with the two of you giving each other noticeable glares out of the corners of your eyes as you ate in silence. Your parents had been completely oblivious to the whole thing, the three gushing over how excited they were over the fact that the announcement of your engagement will be finally become public. You had a hard time trying to stomach the idea, the anger and resentment inside of you still brewing harshly in your stomach.

And when the dinner had ended, your mother had the brilliant idea of the five of you checking out the set up for the celebration, leading you to finding out that Yuta was supposed to be the one escorting you inside. Luckily, you had managed to derail that idea --

“Honey, he’s your betrothed --”

“Wouldn’t you rather make it more special? Why not just announce it after I’ve made my rounds of greeting the guests? If you do it too early it’s going to take away from the celebration.”

“She has a point…”

As the hours passed, the announcement that the first slew of guests had arrived making everyone around you panic considering that you still hadn’t gotten your dress on yet. You were still in the process of getting your makeup finished when your mother had stormed in stating that you had only a few moments left before you were meant to be in the foyer. Rolling your eyes at her, you leaned over to the woman doing your makeup before whispering softly.

“It’s alright, don’t rush. She’s always over dramatic and stressed when it comes to things like this.”

Offering the woman a small smile, you watched as she sighed with relief before nodding her head and continuing to line your eyes lightly with the pencil. As she finished up your makeup, you felt the weight on your shoulders as you stood up to go fit into your dress. Nerves bubbled in the pit of your stomach and you almost felt like you were going to be sick as the red material was placed on your bed. The bodice of your corset felt suffocating as they tied it tightly, securing your body in its confinements, and you slowly exhaled once they had finished. Your head felt light and you were afraid that you were going to pass out as you stepped into the dress, Miyoung - who had been silently watching the whole time - zipped you up until you were all set to go.

You watched as the helpers bustled around the room to grab your shoes until you felt a hand on your arm, your gaze landing on Miyoung as she looked at you with concern.

“Are you alright?”

Her eyes swept over your face as they scanned your appearance and you wondered if she could tell how clammy you were.

“Just a bit nervous,” you admitted, making her reach out and bring you into a hug.

“I understand,” she said softly, rubbing your back. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, you’re already ten times better than I was.”

You had to laugh at that, nodding in agreement.

When Miyoung had her celebration, the poor girl had been stuck in the bathroom for the first fifteen minutes after she had been introduced. Her nerves had gotten the best of her and she ended up head first in the toilet while you had held her hair back for her, muttering that everything was okay -- and you knew that if that happened to you tonight, she would do the same exact thing for you.

All of the ladies had taken a step back from you once you had everything on, a collective gasp echoing throughout your room, and you watched as some of them covered their mouths, eyes watery as they stared at you. Turning to look in the mirror, your own eyes widened in shock at your appearance.

The red strapless dress clung to your body in a way where everything had been accentuated, showing off your shape magnificently. The silver detailing on the bodice of the dress matched the silver, diamond encrusted crown that rested on your head. Your hair had been pulled up into an elegant bun, leaving room so that your diamond studs could be seen in your ears. You wore red gloves that reached up to your elbow, a silver bracelet placed delicately on your wrist to compliment the other jewelry, and your feet were clad in red satin pumps. Your makeup was subtle but still had variants that popped; the smokey black liner, the mascara coated lashes, and a nude lipstick.

“You look beautiful.”

Miyoung’s words broke your concentration from the mirror, a small smile gracing your lips as you took one last look before looping arms with her and heading out the door.

The walk from your room to the entrance of the ballroom wasn’t exactly ideal when it came to wearing pumps, the uncomfortable shoes pinching your feet with every step, and you almost groan in pain as you walk up the stairs to reach the French doors leading to the upper balcony of the ballroom. Your mother and father were already inside, their introductions having happened an hour before yours, and you feel the nerves grow twice in size as you stared at the elegantly carved doors, your gloved fingers playing with the silver bracelet on your wrist as you waited for your introduction.

The weight on your shoulders was heavy as you watched the guards begin to approach the door, their bodies bowing in respect before they gripped the door handles. You felt your heart begin to hammer quickly in your chest, your stomach bubbling nervously, and your mouth went dry as the nerves got the best of you. Inhaling sharply through your nose, you close your eyes as you stay still for a moment. Your mind floated to your happy place as you tried to calm yourself down, still not exhaling. Your head grew light but you didn’t care, the only that mattered was the image of an open field as you ran through it freely, a bright smile on your face. It was liberating to be able to run without a care in the world, and you had wished now more than ever that you could be there instead of attending the celebration.

The image shifted then.

As you ran, you felt arms wrap around your waist before hoisting you up in the air, a shriek of delight escaping you as you’re pulled into a muscular chest. Whipping your head around, you caught sight of familiar warm brown hues and a dazzling bright smile, plump lips edging towards you before they’re pressing against yours. The grip around your waist tightened as he kissed you and you hummed against his mouth, the two of you falling into the field as your limbs stayed attached to one another’s.

Your eyes shot open at that, your lips parting as you exhaled loudly, and you felt your mind go foggy as you looked around, expecting to see the Prince -- but he wasn’t there. Grumbling to yourself for believing that the image had been real, you turned back towards the doors just as they had opened, your hands placed obediently by your side before walking in.

“May I present to you, her royal highness, Princess (Y/N).”

The applause was deafening as you stood at the top of the stairs, your gaze looming over the hundreds of guests that were packed in the ballroom. The only familiar faces you were able to pick out were your parents who stood off to the right with King Taro, Miyoung who was in the center, and you felt your breath hitch as you caught sight of Yuta standing at the foot of the grand staircase. He was dressed in all black save for the metallic silver lining on his dress robes, his hair parted off to the side, revealing his forehead. He had a wide-eyed expression as he looked up at you, lips parting in surprise as you stared back at him.

Carefully you began to descend the stairs, your eyes locked on the Prince the entire way down, and you felt your heart slamming against your ribcage as he offered his arm out to you which you graciously took. You felt the ease wash over you as Yuta pulled you close to him, his eyes never leaving you as you finally made it to the floor. All eyes were on you but you only saw Yuta, your hand clutching his arm as he swept you along the floor to bring you over to guests so you could start making your rounds of welcoming them.

Despite the anger you had held towards the Prince, when it came to stressful moments like this… He was your rock. The familiarity of him set you at ease and you instantly felt the nerves lift as he stood by your side. The warmth that radiated off of him gave you a sense of comfort as you bowed towards the nobles who had approached you, a tight-lipped smile on your face as you greeted them politely. Yuta stood silently by your side as you conversed with them, answering any questions or comments that they had for you before moving on to the next pair.

Somewhere in the middle of making your rounds, Yuta had excused himself as he had been summoned by his father, the Prince giving you one last look to make sure that you were alright before he obediently stood next to the King. As you made your way around the ballroom, you could already feel the fatigue that hit your body as you bowed in front of another guest. Your mind was in overdrive, ready to shut down from having to do the same thing over and over again. The tight-lipped smile never faltered as you bid adieu to another guest, thanking them for coming to the celebration. Turning around, you had began to make a bee-line towards the doors of the ballroom to go get some quick air before you had bumped into someone.

“Oh! I’m so sorry --”

“Pardon me, it was my fault!”

Your eyes almost bugged out of your head as they landed on the person you had bumped into, your heart beginning to speed up as your gaze settled on the face of the handsome man in front of you. Immediately he bowed, an apologetic look on his face as he looked towards the ground.

“I’m so sorry, your highness, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

His voice was soft, almost like the sound of chimes singing through the wind, only the tone was lower. He rested one knee on the marbled floor before gently grabbing your hand, his pillow soft lips pressing a kiss to your knuckles as he sheepishly looked up at you. You, on the other hand, were as flushed as a tomato, the heat on your cheeks making you want to hide your face as you looked down at the man.

“It -- it’s quite alright, um --”

“Oh!” Standing up from the ground, he still hadn’t dropped your hand as he showed you a beamingly bright smile that struck your heart in all of the best ways. “My name is Taeyong, your highness. Well -- Prince Taeyong, actually. But my title is only used for formalities and --”

Your giggle cut him off, your hand covering your mouth as you grinned at the Prince stumbling over his words. A sheepish grin danced across his lips and he ran his free hand through his hair, thoroughly embarrassed at his rambling.

“Well, Taeyong,” you began, grinning at him. “I believe you owe me something for bumping into me. Perhaps, a dance?”

You watched as his expression brightened at your words, the grip on your hand tightening as he nodded enthusiastically.

“It would be an honor, your highness.”

You couldn’t stop the fluttering in your stomach as he brought you to the middle of the dance floor, his warm hand resting on the curve of your hip while his other laced with yours. He pulled you in close before the two of you began to waltz to the music the orchestra was playing, your eyes locked on his as he smiled brightly at you. It was almost like the two of you were gliding effortlessly along the floor, Taeyong leading you in a flawless dance, and you had to stop yourself from swooning as he spun you around before pulling your body back towards his. His movements were fluid, every step sharp and defined, and you felt yourself getting lost in the soft gaze of his eyes.

It was almost like you had been put under a spell, completely entranced by the man you were dancing with, and it wasn’t until the sound of a throat clearing from behind you interrupted the dance before you snapped out of the daze. Turning your head, you saw Yuta, the Prince glaring angrily at the man you were dancing with before he took a step closer towards you.

“Pardon the interruption,” his voice held an edge to it and you had to bite back a laugh as he stared down Taeyong. “But the King and Queen requested her presence.”

Stepping back from you, Taeyong sent you a warm smile and lifted your hand to his lips, kissing it softly before bowing in respect.

“It was an honor dancing with you, your highness,” his velvety voice made your heart sing and you couldn’t help but send him a smile back. “Hopefully we can have one more before the night ends.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Yuta’s mumble doesn’t go unnoticed and you have no time to reply to Taeyong before the Prince grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the other end of the ballroom. You can feel the anger radiating off of him as his tight grip clutched your hand, his lips pulled into a sneer, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at his dramatic behavior before ripping your hand out of his.

“Simmer down, boy,” you chided, making Yuta’s head snap to look over at you. “It was just a dance.”

“It wasn’t just a dance, (Y/N),” he snapped. “It was more than that and you know it.”

You had to laugh at that, your head shaking in amusement, crossing your arms over your chest before quirking an eyebrow.

“Oh really?” You asked, clearly amused. “How so?”

For a moment you saw a flash of hurt cross his features, the Prince staring you down as he moved closer to you.

“You were looking at him like --” he paused, and you watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down. “Nevermind.”

He had made a move to turn away from you but instead you reached up to gently grab his face, making him look back at you with a sad gaze.

“I was looking at him like what?” You asked softly, your gaze sweeping over his face as you tried to figure out what he was thinking. “Tell me, Yuta.”

Yuta stayed silent as his eyes softened, the palm of his hand reaching up to gently caress your face. Leaning into his touch you felt a sense of longing run through you, the gesture making your mind fill with the endless touches of love he used to give you. You felt your heart soar as the pad of his thumb gently stroked the edge of your jaw -- and in a flash, it was gone.

“Come on,” he said, dropping his hand from your face. “We have to get ready for the announcement.”

You stood beside your mother and father at the top of the balcony, overlooking the crowd of guests as the room grew silent. Your fingers were twisted together in a sense of nervousness as the hundred pairs of eyes stared back at you in question, your lips pressed together in a tight line as your father stepped forward. Immediately the crowd bowed, honoring the King, and you watched as your father bit back a fit of laughter as he looked on at them.

“Firstly, I would like to thank you all for coming here tonight to help us celebrate my daughter’s birthday,” he began, gesturing towards you. “As you all know, the Princess’s twenty-first birthday is a big deal. It’s almost like the coming-out party to help introduce her to possible suitors who are worthy enough to stand by her side and help rule the country.”

You straightened your posture as your mother stepped aside, allowing you to stand by your father as he began speaking again.

“Fortunately, however, she has found him already.”

This time it was your father who had stepped aside, the King gesturing for Yuta to take his place beside you before the two of you walked to the edge of the balcony. Looping your arm through his, you couldn’t help but look up at the man as he peered down at you. There was a sense of longing in his eyes, the warm brown hues focusing on you and you only, and you watched as his plump lips turned upwards into a gentle smile. Clutching onto him you all but buried yourself into his side as you tried to conceal yourself from the crowd’s view, Yuta chuckling softly when he noticed your actions.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

Your father’s speech became static noise as you looked up at Yuta, the Prince never once breaking eye contact with you, and you let your mind wander as your gaze swept over his features. The sharp line of his jaw, the high-pointed nose, the plump lips… Had he always been this handsome? Over the course of the week had you been that blind with rage and hurt that you never got to relish in the gentle glint in his eyes, the soft brush of his hands on you, or even notice the emotion he had hidden behind the cold exterior. The realization hit you full force as the crowd began to cheer and clap as the announcement was made -- but you didn’t care.

All that mattered was the man standing beside you.

But soon you were ripped away from your husband-to-be as your friends pulled you towards them, words of excitement for your engagement falling from their lips as they hugged you out of happiness. Reluctantly pulling your gaze away from Yuta, you looked over at Miyoung who stood there with a knowing grin on her face, the blonde wrapping an arm around your shoulders as she hugged you.

“I told you so,” she said in a sing-song voice making you roll your eyes at her.

“I haven’t talked to him yet,” you frowned. “For all I know, he could be faking it.”

Miyoung scoffed, pushing you playfully.

“Oh, honey,” she laughed, shaking her head. “There’s no way anyone can fake a look like that.”

With that, she sent you a wink before catching sight of Prince Jaehyun crossing the floor. You watched as her eyes narrowed into a glare, pink lips parting, before she called out to him from across the room.

“Jung Jaehyun you still owe me a rematch!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at your friend’s antics as you watched her storm out of the ballroom, the Prince hot on her heels before they made their way outside to the archery station. Rubbing your gloved hands together you looked around the room at the guests; some were waltzing on the dance floor, others conversing off to the side. The soft music of the orchestra playing as drowned out by conversations and you suddenly felt the dryness of your lips. Picking up the skirt of your dress you headed over to the head table before grabbing your glass, lifting it to your lips and taking a sip.

“I suppose a ‘congratulations’ is in order, your highness?”

You almost spat your water out in surprise as the voice came from behind you, your eyes widening as they landed on a smirking Taeyong’s face. Picking up a napkin you hastily dabbed at your mouth before turning towards him with a shrug of your shoulders, a sheepish expression on your face.

“I suppose so,” you affirmed, making Taeyong laugh.

“He’s a lucky man,” he said, taking a step closer towards you. “Just promise me one thing, your highness.”

You felt your breath hitch as the back of Taeyong’s hand ran along your jaw, the soft touch of his fingertips barely grazing your skin as his smirk widened.

“If you ever find yourself unsatisfied by the man you marry, do not hesitate to come and find me.”

Your eyes widened at the blatant sensual undertone of his words, your cheeks growing hot underneath the touch and gaze of the Prince as a flash of hunger showed in his eyes.

“I don’t think that will be necessary, your highness.”

Yuta’s sharp tone made you flinch and you found yourself backing away from Taeyong as the two Princes looked at one another; one out of anger the other out of smugness. Wrapping a protective arm around your waist, Yuta pulled you behind him as he stepped in front of you, eyes staring dangerously down at Taeyong.

“If you’ll excuse us,” he gritted out. “We will be leaving now.”

The harsh grip on your hand has you crying out softly as you feel yourself begin to be pulled away from Taeyong and through the crowd, your eyes narrowing into a glare as you stared at the back of Yuta’s head whilst he dragged you out of the ballroom. Trying to rip your hand from his grasp, you pushed on his arm as he pulled you up the stairs before he finally let go the moment the two of you were alone in an empty corridor. Your eyes flashed angrily as you stepped back from him, the Prince mirroring your expression as the two of you glared at one another.

“How dare you pull me away like that!” You yelled, making Yuta roll his eyes. “I’m not some doll that you could just tug and pull!”

“I’m sorry for being too rough,” his voice sounded the exact opposite of his words, the tone harsh and cold. “But you need to be more careful around people like that!”

“People like what? Like Taeyong --”

“Don’t say his name,” he seethed, glaring daggers towards the ballroom. “You need to stop being so trusting with other people --”

“You act like that’s a bad thing!”

“It is!” His voice raised and you fought back a flinch as it echoed in the empty corridor. “People like that will take advantage of you --”

“Wow, that sounds familiar,” you bit back, making Yuta’s face contort with confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have been so trusting with you, either,” you spat.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“I don’t know, Yuta, you tell me,” your voice was harsh as you took a step closer to him. “I let my guard down for you, I let you show me things I’d never seen before, I fell in love with you! And what did you do? You left me here to rot!”

Your voice wavered as tears pricked the corners of your eyes, all of the pent up feelings and emotions that you had been holding back now coming to light as you glared menacingly at the Prince.

“You made love to me and then you left me,” your lip quivered as a tear rolled down your cheek, Yuta’s face softening at the sight. “Do you know how that made me feel? Do you know what it felt like when I woke up the next morning expecting you to be there only to find out that you had left --”

“My mother was sick!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to just leave without saying anything!” You yelled, the tears now freely flowing. “All of the promises you made that night, all of the words you said to me… They meant nothing to you, did they? When you asked me to meet you at midnight and you never showed up --”

“Wait --”

“I waited for you!” you cried, furiously wiping your tears. “I waited and waited but you never showed up!”

“I told one of the maids to tell you that I wasn’t going to be able to make it!” His claimed, exasperatedly. “She said she was going to tell you --”

“Well she didn’t,” you snapped.

The tears felt hot on your face as you let out a choked sob, your heart hammering against your chest. 

“Did you even love me at all, Yuta? Everything you had told me; all of the feelings, the secrets -- were they just a ploy to get me to fall for you just so you could break my heart?”

Yuta’s face fell at your words, a deep frown on his lips.

“You -- you think I didn’t love you?” The crack in his voice doesn’t waver your anger, your lips pressed together in a tight line as you stayed silent. “You really think that I was faking all of that?”

“What else am I supposed to think?!” You cried out, furiously wiping at your tears. “You left me, Yuta! That doesn’t exactly scream ‘I love you’ now, does it?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” His voice raised once more, the crack even more evident now, and you laughed humorlessly as you shook your head.

“You did have a choice!” You retorted. “You chose not to tell me. You chose to leave without saying goodbye. You chose to lead me on --”

“I never led you on!” You could tell that Yuta was reaching his breaking point, the Prince’s body shuddering each time he yelled. “God, I would never do that --”

“You never answered my question, either,” your voice was cold as you spoke, vision blurry from the tears. “You never loved me did you?”

Yuta’s breathing was labored as you cut him off, his face unreadable, and he watched as you took another step towards him.

“Admit it, Yuta,” you taunted. “Just tell me that I’m right and I’ll --”

Your words were swallowed by Yuta as the Prince grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you up to him, his lips crashing harshly onto yours. Your shriek was muffled as he kissed you roughly, teeth clamping down onto your bottom lip as your head finally wrapped around the fact that he was kissing you -- Yuta was kissing you.

A muffled moan escaped your lips as you looped your arms around his neck, bringing him further down towards you as you began to kiss him back. Opening your mouth, you let your tongue glide against his, mewling at the contact as your fingers pulled harshly at his dark locks. Yuta growled against your lips, his hand dropping from the back of your neck before landing on your waist as he pushed you back. Feeling your back hit the wall roughly, you dug your nails into his scalp in retaliation, teeth clamping down onto his bottom lip before you’re pulling back breathlessly.

Yuta doesn’t there, though. Instead he’s kissing down your jaw, nibbling the flesh every now and again, before he’s making his way down the length of your neck. His warm tongue runs along the expanse of your neck as you tilt your head back to give him more access.

“Don’t you dare think --” he paused, his hot breath fanning against your skin before he lifted his head from your neck so he could look you dead in the eye. “That I never loved you. I loved you more than I could ever put into words, (Y/N). Hell, I still love you.”

You could feel your heart begin to pound rapidly against your ribcage as he spoke, your eyes widening as you looked up at him in surprise.

“You -- what?”

Yuta’s gaze grew soft, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as he look at you in earnest.

“I love you,” he murmured, lips brushing against yours with every word. “I never stopped loving you -- mmf!”

His words had ignited a fire within your body.

Your lips were ruthless against his, kissing him in what would could be classified as desperation mixed with longing as you tangled your fingers in his hair. Wrapping one leg around his waist, you pulled his body closer to you until his lower half was flush against yours, your hips rolling to gain any kind of friction you could. His plump lips are soft against yours, a groan emitting from his chest as his hand slid underneath your dress to rest on your bare thigh, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you against him. His hips pinned yours against the wall as his tongue swirled around yours, your name falling from his lips in a breathless moan as you circled your hips against him. You can feel the heat pool between your thighs as his fingers danced along your skin, the need for him becoming more and more apparent.

You could faintly hear the music playing from the ballroom, the chatter of the guests bringing you out of your daze as you drew back from Yuta’s lips- only to have him chase right after yours. You moaned lowly as he licked inside of your mouth, his kisses becoming addictive. The noise from the ballroom faded into silence as you, once again, lost yourself in Yuta’s lips, the plush flesh feeling what you would expect heaven to seem like. You felt the air in your lungs begin to grow tight as you became light-headed, drawing back from the kiss for the second time.

“We can’t stay here,” you breathed out, making Yuta hum against your jaw, the Prince lazily drumming his fingers on the flesh of your thigh.

“Why not?” He asked, amusement in his voice. “Don’t want the others to know that their good little Princess is capable of doing such naughty things?”

His nose grazed against your neck, a smirk forming on his lips as he felt you arch into him, your body on high alert as he moved his fingers up your thigh.

“Do you not want them to see their little Princess getting fucked against the wall by the man who loves her?” You couldn’t control the moan that escaped as he bit down on your neck, a lewd suck emitting from his mouth as he enclosed his lips around your skin.

You felt his fingers prod against the hem of your panties, your lips parting as his name fell with a breathy whimper, the Prince smirking against your flesh as he ran his tongue over the newly formed bruised on your neck. Your fingers are tangled in his hair as he pushed past the confinements of your panties, his fingers gliding over your slicked core. Tightening your thigh around his waist, you push into his touch, wanting - needing - more of him.

“Yuta,” you whimpered, making the Prince raise his head from your neck and give you a look, eyebrow raised in question. “P- please.”

“Please what, Princess?” He teasingly asked, making you groan.

Reaching down you grabbed his wrist before pushing more of his hand into your panties, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you rolled your hips into his touch.

“Touch me.”

A low growl emitted from his chest as he surged forward, lips crashing onto yours as his fingers ran along your folds, coating the digits in your arousal before he’s pushing one inside of you. You’re mewling at the contact, your hips rolling as you craved more friction from him. Your tongue swirled around his as he curled the digit against your tight walls, a breathless moan escaping you as you rode the rhythm of his hand.

He’s slipping a second finger inside of you, the Prince lazily licking into your mouth as he pumped the digits, the tip of his middle finger brushing against a spot that has you jerking into his hand, a loud moan reverberating into his mouth as he curled them. Your hips have a mind of their own, rolling shamelessly into the rhythm, riding the digits without a care in the world. You’re breaking away from his mouth and tilting your head back, moaning into the air as he nibbled on the skin of your neck.

“Yuta,” you moaned, breathless. “Please -- please take me to my room.”

“Why?” He asked, panting against your neck. “Tell me why and we’ll go.”

Shakily you rested your hands on the sides of his face before bringing him up to look at you, your eyes wide and pleading as you fight the pleasure that his fingers are giving you.

“I want you to make love to me.”

The words were soft, almost inaudible, but by the sound of Yuta growling and ripping his fingers from you, you knew he had heard it.

The door of your room is slammed shut the moment the two of you are secured inside, desperate touches igniting your body on fire as he pressed you up against the door. Impatient fingers are sliding over the zipper of your dress before pulling it down, the Prince groaning against your neck when he caught sight of the corset underneath.

“I hate these things,” he whined breathlessly, making you giggle.

“You had a hard time undoing it last time…”

Yuta’s eyes flashed dangerously at your words, the Prince taking them as a challenge before a smirk danced across his lips.

“I’m different now, my love,” he whispered, his breath sending shivers down your spine as his fingers rested on the front of the corset. “Would I have been able to do this last time?”

The sound of fabric ripping echoed around the room, your eyes widening as you watched the now ripped corset being tossed to the ground. Desire pooled in your lower body at the sight, your bottom lip being sucked into your mouth as your gaze settled back on the Prince in front of you. He’s smirking cockily, the tips of his fingers brushing against your now bare chest, and you can’t help but to whimper, your fingers sliding under his dress robes before you’re sliding them off of his body.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of, sweetheart,” he murmured, making you smirk.

“I should be the one saying that.”

Your lips reattached to his as you pull at his vest, your tongue sliding against his as his fingers tweaked at your nipples, the pleasure striking a shiver down your spine as you tossed the material to the floor. Desperation and want is coursing through your veins as you break away from his mouth to pull his shirt over his head, your eyes widening when you catch sight of the defined muscle that had been hidden beneath the fabric. Your pupils were blown with lust as your eyes raked over his body, your tongue sweeping over your lips as Yuta let out a soft chuckle.

“Like what you see, Princess?”

His lips were pressed to your ear, teeth nibbling on the lobe, and you moaned in response, your fingers greedily running over the curves of his abdomen, relishing in the feel of the defined muscles. Feeling his hands grip your thighs, you let out a surprised squeak as you feel yourself being lifted up and spun over towards the bed, Yuta’s lips attaching to your chest as he pressed you into the soft mattress. His tongue glided over your pert nipples, taking one of the buds into his mouth before softly biting down.

Pleasure ran through you and you couldn’t help but arch into him as his tongue swept around the sensitive bud. Your nails raked down his back before settling between his shoulder blades and digging in, marking his back with scratches as you lifted your hips to roll into his. Yuta moaned against your chest, one hand sliding into your panties as he resumed what he had been doing before the two of you had gotten to your bedroom.

His fingers mercilessly curled against your tight walls, the pad of his thumb pressing against your clit making your voice grow in volume, the Prince’s name falling from your lips as your nails raked against his skin. With his free hand he tugged the material of your panties down your legs and broke away from your breasts, Yuta sliding down your body until he’s throwing your legs over his shoulders and leaning in towards your core.

Feeling the tip of his tongue pressing against your clit has you reeling against him, your hips bucking up into his face as you fight to put more pressure on the sensitive bud. Chuckling softly against you, he obeyed your silent wishes and lifted his head until he had flattened the wet muscle against the bud, sucking harshly at it until he had you writhing beneath him. He’s humming softly against your core, the sound reverberating against your body and effectively making you shudder against him as the speed of his tongue increased.

He’s sliding a third digit inside of you, your walls easily stretching for him, and he can’t help but smirk against your clit as he peered up at you through a hooded gaze.

“You taste so good, Princess.”

His breath fanned against your core as he looked up at you flirtatiously, the cheeky smile making you groan with impatience, and you’re fisting your hands in his hair before pulling him back towards your core. Chuckling softly, he gets the message and continues what he was doing before; teasing kitten licks and soft suckles against your clit have you rolling your hips into his mouth, his unoccupied hand reaching out to pin them against the bed. The three digits inside of you curl and press against your inner walls, the stretch along with the pleasure of his mouth making you see stars, and you can feel your lower half begin to tighten, an overwhelming pleasure wracking your body before your hips try to fight the pressure.

Your release hits you like waves crashing onto shore, a cry of Yuta’s name coming from your mouth as the Prince brought you to your high. His tongue still prodded against the now oversensitized bud, fingers milking your release. Your eyes are squeezed shut, nails digging into his scalp, and you’re whimpering softly when you felt him slide his fingers from you, the emptiness making you squeeze your thighs together in hopes of creating some sort of friction between them.

Yuta had other plans, however.

Prying your legs apart, he’s leaning down to press soft kisses up your body, tongue sweeping past his lips every now and again as he kissed a trail up your chest and neck before reaching your lips. You can still taste yourself on his tongue as it brushed past the seam of your lips, the lustful aura diminishing into something much more intimate as he blindly untied his pants. Reaching down to help him, you’re pushing the soft material down his legs, his briefs following in suit, and you felt your breath hitch as the tip of his length prodded against your core.

A sudden strike of fear rushed through you then, your mouth breaking apart from his, and you can feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you looked up at him, the Prince’s face contorting into one of concern as he reached up to cup yours.

“What’s the matter,” he murmured, warm brown hues scanning your body in case he had hurt you.

“Please don’t leave me again.”

The words escaped you before you could stop them, the sadness in your tone making a look of hurt flash across Yuta’s features and he’s shaking his head before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours once more.

While the other kisses had been heated and lustful, this one was languid and deep. You felt your heart soar as the passionate kiss deepened, Yuta’s hand traveling from your face to grab your own hand, fingers interlacing with yours as he steadied himself against you.

“I’m not leaving you,” he whispered against your lips, eyes boring into yours. “Not again. Not ever.”

With one hand still laced with yours, his other lined his length up with your core, pumping it a few times before he sheathed himself inside of you.

A sigh of relief escaped both yours and Yuta’s lips as your walls convulsed around him, your tight heat stretching to accommodate the size of his thick cock. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you lift yourself up off the bed to allow him to rest deeper inside of you, a moan of delight escaping the Prince as he now held both of your hands, pinning them above your head as his mouth continuously pressed to yours.

The rhythm started slow, thrusts shallow as he waited for you to get used to him. His lips move slowly against yours, hands tightening their hold on yours, and you can’t help but let out a soft gasp when you felt his hips push deeper.

“Yuta --”

His name comes out in a choked moan, the Prince playfully nibbling on your bottom lip as he rolled his hips into yours.

“My Princess,” he breathed out, making your body fill with heat, a whimper escaping you as he took your bottom lip between his teeth. “My beautiful Princess.”

The slow rhythm began to pick up when he felt your walls stretch further, his cock drawing out of you before quickly sliding back in. The pick up in speed has you mewling against his lips, your fingers squeezing his as your ankles locked behind his back. The soft sound of skin meeting skin echoed around the room and you had to draw back from his lips as you arched into him, your lips parting in pleasure as his hips rocked roughly into yours.

Yuta suckled bruises into the skin on your chest as his thrusts sped up, the sound of his hips slapping against yours becoming louder and louder with each movement and you’re arching into the feel of him as your nails began to rake down his back. Moan after moan falls from your lips and you almost whimper in protest as one of his hands left yours, your mouth opening to whine before a moan concealed it, Yuta’s thumb pressing against your sensitive bud before he’s rubbing it roughly.

His lips dotted kisses along the expanse of your neck, his breathing ragged as his thrusts began to grow sloppily in rhythm, his teeth sinking into your flesh as his cock brushed against the same spot his fingers had, your hips jerking against the friction as you wailed with pleasure. The tightening in your core signalled that you were close, the brink of your release building rapidly as Yuta let out a choked moan against your flesh. Your nails scraped along his back, the markings making the Prince retaliate by digging his own into your wrist, the pain mixing with the pleasure as you clenched around his cock.

Your release washed over you in a pleasureable wave, Yuta’s name falling from your lips with a soft cry, your hips rolling to meet his as you rode out your high. Your core is sensitive as Yuta’s thrusted deeply, the Prince’s voice catching in his throat as he slid out of you and pumped his length. Your eyes were hooded as fatigue took over your body, the sight of Yuta’s release spurting over your abdomen as he came with a grunt, his head thrown back as his lips parted in pleasure.

Your chest is rising and falling at a rapid pace as you fought to catch your breath, your vision blurred from the intense pleasure you had just experienced, and you can barely make out the silhouette of Yuta as he reached down to grab his shirt. The soft fabric of the shirt runs along the length of your abdomen, Yuta placing soft kisses along your hips as he cleaned you up. You could still feel your core trembling as he gently lifted you up to pull the covers back, Yuta letting you rest against the mattress before climbing next to you.

Warm, muscular arms wrapped around your form as the blankets laid over top of you, his face nestling in the crook of your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your flesh.

“I love you,” he murmured, and you turned your head to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“I love you too.”

The warmth of the sun illuminated your skin as morning came, the birds chirping happily outside of your window as you groaned, burying your face from the bright rays. Your body was hot from the heat of the morning sun, the comforter of your bed becoming too much for you as you shoved the cloth to the floor. Now you’re completely uncovered, your skin relishing in the exposure after being smothered by hot blankets all night. A dull ache in your lower body made another groan escape from you and you’re rolling over to the other side of the bed before burying your head into the pillow.

And then you realize something…

Lifting your head, your mind wraps around the fact that you’re alone. Your heart dropped as memories of the night before replayed over in your mind, deja vu hitting you like a freight train, and you can already feel the tears prick the corners of your eyes as you sit up in bed. Your heart ached painfully as you’re slowly reaching for your dressing gown, the silk material clinging to your skin, and you had just managed to button it up before your door opened.

“Good morning, my love.”

Relief. Happiness. Love.

The tears streamed down your face as you jumped onto the Prince, a cry of relief escaping you as your hands banged against his chest, your face burying in the crook of his neck before you gave up on hitting him and looped your arms around his neck. Yuta stumbled a bit from the impact before carefully placing the tray onto the bed.

“Don’t do that to me!” You yelled, making the Prince stare down at your tearful state.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tightly. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I thought you had left me again,” you cried, making Yuta frown.

Gently taking you in his arms, he let you curl up on his lap as he rocked you back and forth, his lips pressing to your forehead as he whispered sweet nothings, waiting for you to calm down before he lifted your face so he could look down at you.

“Hey,” he called softly, your tearful gaze making him frown as he caressed the sides of your face. “I’m not going to leave you, Princess.”

Your lip trembled as the tears began to slow, your head nodding in acknowledgement.

“I just went to go get us some breakfast.”

Your gaze fell on the silver tray he had been carrying in and, as if on cue, you heard your stomach grumble, the noise making Yuta chuckle as he gently set you on the mattress. Lifting the cover off of the tray, he beamed when he revealed the golden pancakes, scrambled eggs, and cup of orange juice. You felt your heart soar as you looked up at him, a small laugh escaping you as you wiped the remaining tears off of your face.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, watching as Yuta moved to sit beside you on the bed. “I guess I just -- assumed that it happened again.”

Leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead, Yuta let his lips linger for a moment before turning towards the tray and stabbing a forkful of pancake. Lifting it to your lips he gestured for you to open your mouth before feeding you, a soft hum escaping him as he happily watched you eat.

“I suppose that’s my fault, too,” he remarked, a sheepish smile on his face. “Perhaps I should’ve waited until you were awake to go get you something to eat, given our -- my -- history.”

A frown formed on your lips as you looked up at him, your fingers idly playing with the strands of his hair as you leaned into him, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“Can I ask --” you paused, swallowing the pancake before resuming. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yuta let out a deep sigh, remorse clouding his features, and he fed you another piece of the pancake before speaking.

“I couldn’t do it,” he admitted, guiltily looking away. “I avoided it until it was too late. My mother had just been diagnosed with the sickness and we were set to go the week after that…”

Yuta stopped talking, his eyes dropping to look at the ground as he frowned.

“I loved you so much that it hurt -- it hurt that I had to say goodbye to you. I thought that -- that maybe if I said nothing at all it would hurt less, that not seeing you the day we set off to go back home would be easier than a tearful goodbye… But it wasn’t.”

Pushing the tray away, he grasped your face gently before pulling you towards him.

“I thought about you every day I was gone, Princess. Everywhere I turned, you were there. The simple thought of you got me through everything; it got me through watching my mother succumb to her sickness, it got me through the sadness of her funeral. You have been my rock since day one -- and I’m sorry that I was not able to be the same for you.”

You shook your head, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had collected at the corners of his eyes.

“I forgive you,” you murmured.

You watched as Yuta’s shoulders shook as he cried, his grip on you tightening as you kissed his head, your lips forming into a pout as you rested your cheek against his.

“I’m sorry I shot all of those arrows at you.”

A choked back laugh escaped the Prince at that, his teary gaze filling with joy as he lifted his head to look at you, a grin playing on your lips as you giggled.

“I forgive you,” he said, repeating your words. “Besides -- you can’t get rid of me that easily, my love.”

A shriek escaped you as you felt yourself being pressed into the mattress as Yuta tackled you on the bed, his lips kissing any part of your face that he could reach, a wide, dazzling grin on his lips as he held you tightly to him.

“I was yours then --”

Kiss.

“I’m yours now --”

Kiss.

“I’m yours forever.”

And he meant it.

[danger-xylophones]

Family Reunion (Darth Maul x Reader) Pt. 1: Wild and a Quest

I had this idea and I thought it was fucking interesting and I wanted to write it

This will be in multiple parts as I made this first installment hecka long. Maul will soon be more heavily featured but for now, I just had to establish some stuff. 

Story summary: Reader reunites with Maul for the first time in twelve years and...the ex-sith lord gets a strange surprise.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, slow start

Notes: Female pronouns, an OC child

Current read, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

.............................................................

The roar of the ship as it took off was deafening despite you being housed in the cockpit. Instinctively, you reached up to cover your ears and closed your eyes as gravity shifted. You couldn’t wait to be in the vacuum of space; at least then gravity wouldn’t even exist. A gentle pat on your forearm was enough to make you open your eyes and look to the side. To your right was Wild, an eleven-year-old zabrak-human hybrid, the last piece of evidence you had of your life before all this. He was the symbol of your union with him. Wild was your son. 

The carmine-colored, half-dathomirian, barely-tattooed boy was looking up at you with sympathetic saffron eyes, he knew of your deep-rooted hatred for liftoff. Gently, you smiled at the boy to ease his worry and offered a soft pat on his head, careful to avoid the tiny horns protruding from his skull. Wild didn’t return it and instead opted to grab your hand off of his head to hold it in his own before focusing on the viewport. You deflated at that as your heart suddenly ached. 

Wild was so much like his father that it hurt you sometimes, not only in looks though (although he was practically his carbon copy) but in personality; proud, serious, and protective with a cunning unrivaled by anyone else on the outside but a soft-spoken, gentle, curious and sometimes anxious boy inside. It was hard to remember that he was eleven sometimes-not the adult he pretended to be and not your little baby boy that used to cling to your leg all day. You just wanted him to be a little boy who was free to dream, explore, and play as he pleased but it seemed the force would not grant you your one wish. Instead, it took his father away from you before he had even got the chance to know of the remarkable gift he’d given you. You did suppose that Wild’s predisposed traits that bound him so tightly to the father he’d never known were a blessing in disguise. It had always served as reassurance that if anything ever happened to take you away from Wild, he’d be fine on his own.

...His own. It was a thought you never liked to dwell on. Wild was born at a delicate time in your life. You were 21 when you learned you were pregnant with the baby of a sith-lord and the news had been...startling to say the least. It had occurred to you one day while you were preparing to face the Trials that your cycle had been off. Deeming it odd enough to warrant a visit to the medbay, you sought out one of the healers. You’d instantly wished that you had chosen a droid instead as it was soon revealed that you were two months pregnant. You had to feign ignorance about knowing of a father at all. It had worked for a time as the issue was immediately brought before the council who were all in various states of shock. The worst reaction, you remembered, was that of your master. But, the council did not kick you out like you were certain they would have had they known of the baby’s heritage. Instead, the council believed your lie-that there was no father. Of course, they believed it. You were Ki-Adi-Mundi’s apprentice, chosen specifically by him due to your, as he phrased it, “natural and strong alignment with the light side”. You were a model padawan who would never even think of breaking the code, let alone to this extent. Your training was put on hold for the time being as the council awaited the birth of your baby, some Jedi even began to wonder if the child would be the prophesied ‘chosen one’ (though Qui-Gon, most notably, believed otherwise). It was then that you knew that your time with the Jedi was up. You formulated a plan. Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi, were being sent on a mission to Naboo to protect the queen. 

You begged your master to let you go with them as you had been cooped up in the temple for a whole month after the pregnancy announcement. Your master obliged, certain that no harm would come to you on the mission, and you were swift to join the grey Jedi and his stuck-up padawan. Your plan from there was to land on Naboo’s surface and disappear for a bit to get the Jedi off your back and to get in contact with him again. But, of course, that all went downhill and...you had seen your love be cut down by your fellow padawan. He wasn’t supposed to be there to your knowledge and now he was dead and you were still carrying his baby. Obi-Wan was swift to pick up on your anguish and even swifter to alert the council of your lies and treachery against the Order. You were ejected from the order and locked away in the temple prison to await the birth of your baby whereupon the Jedi would tear him away from you indefinitely. It would have been a fate worse than death for you. That is, had you not escaped and faked your death to get the Jedi off your back. 

Wild came soon after, being borne to a disgraced and presumed dead mother and a most definitely dead sith-lord father. Yet, you had done your very best to love him in every possible way as he had no other family besides you. 

It seemed that this was something your son was acutely aware of too as the young boy was fiercely protective of you just as you were protective of him. Case in point: the only other person in the room that could pose a threat-Wild’s own uncle, Saváge Opress. 

The seven-foot walking mountain of a zabrak had found you and your son on Tatooine whilst during one of your rare visits to the desert world. Your first meeting wasn’t pleasant. 

“You, woman, what is your name?” The low bass voice sounding from behind you would have been enough to make you run if not for the fact that your son was still in the store you had just left. Slowly, you moved your hand to one of your sabers concealed within the confines of your cloak before turning around. 

“Give me your name, dathomirian,” You spat at the goldenrod zabrak despite the fact he towered over you and could probably crush your skull with one hand, “and maybe I will give you mine.” 

He snarled, clearly displeased with the response but relented. “My name is Savage Opress.” 

You analyzed him for a moment, eyes raking up and down his form. He was big and strong and going by the saber hilt hooked on his belt, trained in the force. Was he a Jedi? Was he a sith? Had he been sent here to kill you? He was in for a surprise if he had. “Why are you speaking to me, Opress?” 

“You told me you would give me your name.” Savage growled, large hand landing on his saber. 

“No, I said that maybe I would.” You removed your lightsaber from your belt but ensured you kept it hidden from view. 

“I don’t have time for your games, woman.” 

“That makes two of us, good day, sir.” You hissed and turned to walk away, intent on looping around and meeting up with Wild to get off this miserable planet. However, that wouldn’t happen right now as your ears soon met with the distinctive sound of a lightsaber igniting. With an agitated sigh, you whipped out your own weapon and spun around just in time to meet your attacker; green blade clashing with red. Sith. Most likely his master’s new apprentice.

Savage was strong, physically, but you could feel that he was weaker in the force than you. That would be your only hope; let the force guide you while he relies on his own physical prowess. You met the male zabrak strike for strike, each one threatening to knock you off your feet with the force Savage fought with. The fight was grueling and you could feel the rustiness in each spin and block-you only ever used your lightsaber when training your son-and as it went on, one thought became abundantly clear; you weren’t going to win like this. You had to figure out a way to make the mountain stand still. Thinking on your feet, you fell back before taking a running start at Savage. You feinted to the right and used the wall to boost yourself over the behemoth of a man, twirling as you went until you landed behind him and shot a well-aimed kick to the back of one of his knees. The move was meant to bring Savage down to your level so you could cut his head off but when the blow landed, nothing happened. Startled, you froze which would prove fatal. 

Savage spun around and grabbed your ankle in one hand before roughly swinging you into the wall. The air was driven from your lungs as you felt your back connect with the sandstone of the building behind you. Savage released you, allowing you to crumple to the ground as you fought to breathe. You were granted little reprieve though as soon Savage was stooping down and roughly lifting you by your neck in one fist. Your feet kicked lamely at your attacker in your struggle for survival as your nails clawed at the back of Savage’s hand. 

“I’ll ask one more time, what is your name?” Savage growled low in his throat and tightened his grip. 

“Will you let me live?” You coughed out, looking Savage dead in the eyes which briefly reminded you of your son’s. Your son. You had to stay alive for him. 

“Maybe, if you are who I am looking for.” 

It seemed that that was as good a chance as any.

“Y/n, my name’s Y/n.” Savage’s necklace suddenly glowed an eerie blue and you were prompted to ask your next question. “Wha-What do you want with me?” 

“I’m looking for someone-my brother. I was told that you knew him, jedi.” 

Electing to ignore the incorrect title, you continued to talk. Maybe, if you lowered his guard, you could still make it out of this alive. “I know a lot of people but not a lot of them are zabraks.” Savage’s eye ridge quirked up in questioning. “But...if it’s who I think you’re looking for-he’s dead. Killed by Obi-Wan on Naboo twelve years ago.” 

“That’s what I was told too-but I have cause to believe he is still alive and I was told that you would be the one to help me find him.” 

No...impossible. “You’re....you’re a liar!” You screamed at the zabrak. “I watched him die! He’s dead-he won’t come back-he can’t come back no matter how much I-” 

“Mom?!”  A familiar pre-pubescent yet soft voice cut you off. Immediately your attention, as well as Savage’s, were on Wild who stood at the mouth of the alley with saffron eyes that blazed like molten lava. He had never looked more like his father than in that moment.

Savage looked at you, confusion and something else (regret maybe?) all over his goldenrod face. “Mo-?”

“Wild, run!” You cut Savage off and gathered enough strength to curl in on yourself and strike Savage in the face with both feet. The zabrak released you at once and you fell to the ground unceremoniously before summoning your lightsaber to you. Not wasting time, you ignited it and dove at Savage, ready to make him pay for his filthy lies. Savage was quick, though, and managed to block your blow with his own sword. However, what neither of you expected was for a second contender to join the match in the form of Savage’s nephew and your son wielding your old blue lightsaber. “Wild, I told you to run!”

“You also told me to never run from a fight!” The little boy shot back, pressing down with all the strength he had. Stubbornness. That was another trait inherited from his father and enhanced by your own strong will. With a roar, Savage launched both of you back, sending you to the ground and your son flying. You watched as his little body collided with the same wall you had been smacked against minutes ago and nearly lost it. Channeling all your anger, you reared on Savage and pushed him back with the strongest force push you could muster before immediately running over to your son. He had sat up and was clutching at the back of his head where you noticed a small cut. You were going to kill Savage; brother-in-law or not. 

“Wild, when I tell you to ‘run’, think of it as a tactical retreat. And for the record, I told you to know when to run from a fight.” You reprimanded quickly as you picked your son up and ushered him behind you. The two of you began to back away as Savage struggled to his feet. The two of you were almost to the entrance of the alley when the zabrak got a hold of his senses. 

“Y/n, wait, please.” Savage began, sheathing his lightsaber and holding out a hand to you in surrender. His yellow eyes flickered between your son and yourself, guilt prominent in his features. You found yourself pausing. “I know you do not believe me-”

“No, I don’t and frankly, you have given me no reason to. If...if Maul was alive, I would have found him.” You spat in anger at the arrogance of this zabrak. Did he think that you hadn’t searched? Did he think that you hadn’t cared for him? Did he not see the disproof standing behind you? 

“But you did not have the magicks of Mother Talzin.” Savage’s voice was soft now as he tapped the talisman around his neck. 

You were struck silent at that. He was of course correct-you hadn’t had the aid of his people. With a heavy sigh, you rose out of your defensive position and sheathed your lightsaber, much to the surprise of the two males. “Wild.” Your voice was soft, caring, and you could feel your progeny’s confusion as if it was your own. “Take everything to the ship. I’ll be there in a minute.” Wild hesitated for a moment and you expected to get some attitude later but for now, he just softly handed your second lightsaber to you and stalked off after sending a final glare at Savage. 

“Alright, you have my attention, Savage. What do you need?” You asked in a steely voice. 

“Everything you knew about my brother.” 

From there, the three of you had begun your search. Savage had explained his story and you had explained yours (he was almost overjoyed to know that he had a nephew). However, you both agreed that, for now, you wouldn’t tell Wild who Maul actually was in relation to him. This meant that Wild didn’t know that Savage was his uncle which led to the current distrust you were witnessing now. You hated not telling Wild but you didn’t want to give him hope that his father was alive to then rip it away from him when Savage’s wild goose chase proved to be just that. Now, you were riding in a cargo ship on your way to the trash planet, Lotho Minor.

You had landed a few minutes ago after Savage took control of the ship and were now faced with a dilemma. Did you go with Savage or stay in the ship with your son?

“Wild,” Savage’s booming voice called the young boy’s attention to him, however resentfully, “Stay with the ship. Your mother and I will explore.” 

“No.” Wild snapped immediately with a glare as his hand tightened around your own till his sharp nails started to dig into your skin. You sighed softly and turned to your son. 

“Wild, I’ll be fine. Savage won’t hurt me. Protect the ship, sweetheart, we’ll be right back.” You placed a soothing hand on the side of his face. His little red face grew more grave. He didn’t trust Savage, plain and simple. You wrinkled your nose at him before placing a peck on his forehead and pulling him into a smothering hug. “You worry too much, little man.” The boy protested at the display and loosely pushed you away but you had done your job as Wild seemed much more on board with the idea. “We’ll be right back. Don’t let anyone else on board, got it?” 

Wild sighed with an eye roll. “Yes, mother.” His tone was annoyed but, having raised the boy, you knew he was only exaggerating his feelings. You placed yet another peck on your son’s forehead and gently pinched his carmine cheek before striding over to Savage who had watched the whole interaction. Neither of you spoke until you were outside. 

“You’re good with him.” Savage piped up suddenly, his low bass a welcomed contrast to the wind whipping through the heaps of garbage. 

You were taken aback. For all the times Wild had been brought up in conversation with the older zabrak, your skill in parenting was never mentioned let alone complimented. “I should hope that I would be,” you began, uncertain where you were going with this, “I am his mother.” 

Savage made a funny noise in the back of his throat that prompted you to look up at him. “I-I just meant that…you’re...different than the nightsisters. They...they didn’t care if they had a boy.” Ah, the nightsisters. The infamous clan of witches that had bought and traded your unofficial husband long ago and continued to do with Savage. You prompted Savage to elaborate as you two began to walk. “They cared if they had a girl as she would stay with their clan but...if it was a boy, he was sent to us to be subjected to the same fate as so many men before us.” Savage’s eyes were clouded in thought as he relieved what was probably some awful memory. “It’s strange to see a boy be cared for is all.” 

“Dathomir sounds...awful. I can’t imagine what you went through, Savage.” You dared to lay a hand on his forearm, making the zabrak halt in his tracks. “But...but if Maul isn’t...but if Maul isn’t here to be found, you could have a place with us.” You smiled gently. “You are family, Savage. I see it and I’m sure Wild will see it as well.” 

Savage’s other hand came up to rest on the hand on his arm. There was a genuine smile on his face, for once. “Thank you, Y/n.” With a dip of your head, you resumed your walk. “Y/n?” Only to be stopped by the questioning lilt in Savage’s voice. “I never asked, how did you and Maul ever meet?” 

A wistful smile dared to dash across your face as your mind’s eye immediately conjured up the image of the stunning ruby red zabrak you’d come to love so dearly. “That, my dear brother, is quite the story...”

....………………………………

Next ->

[erazonpo3]

Hey Erazon, I wanted to know if you've ever thought of giving Cassandra a original female love interest. Nothing against Rapunzel, but I feel like Cassandra ending up with someone else would be a little better, considering past events. Also, I thought it would be funny if there was a running gag where Cassandra finds herself simping for a particular girl in any of the locations she travels to, or vice versa, much to the jealousy of the love interest.

I know you didn’t ask for a deep dive into my character creation process but sorry that’s what you’re getting

I’ll preface my thoughts about all this by saying that first of all, I think CanonxOC ships are great fun and I’ve seen plenty of love-interest OCs for Cass who I think are really cool and my thoughts about not really wanting to go in that direction doesn’t exclude my enjoyment of other people’s OCs and the stories they want to tell. Second of all is that nobody needs to write a whole story to justify their OC’s existence and that your OC doesn’t need to appeal to anyone but yourself, but a lot of my personal enjoyment in working with original characters is integrating them into the story in a seamless way, which does mean much of my process is about creating appeal for an audience. 

So with that said, I primarily find myself wanting to meet the challenge of seeing how Rapunzel and Cassandra do come together again after the finale, and especially as their time apart would have given them a good chance to grow without being dependent on each other for that growth. It’s largely what Unions & Reunions is about, because although the plot for that story is more about the issues created by miscommunication surrounding who exactly Lio is, it’s also just the first part in the “Corona Arc” which is about examining how Cass and Raps find their feet again now that some time has passed, and how they go about overcoming obstacles now compared to before. 

Now, as for making an OC- that presents some challenges when it comes to writing one into a larger narrative! One of the difficulties I find with a Love Interest character is that, right from the get go you have to convince people that this character has good chemistry with their counterpart, they’ll need an engaging dynamic where the progression of their relationship doesn’t feel boring, and they’ll probably need an arc where them getting together feels like a satisfying resolution (all within the context of telling a story, ofc. see the preface). 

That’s not the difficult part though; the difficult part is making sure your Love Interest stands on their own two feet so that they’re not just a backdrop to the protagonist’s story. Of course, you don’t have to do that, but a solid romance always feels stronger when it’s about two individuals coming together rather than just the hero winning their Object of Affection. This is the other main reason why Cass doesn’t have a love interest in my CTA story, other than perhaps a few flings that don’t go anywhere because Cass’ only love is the road. Cass is the primary protagonist of the story of Cassandra’s Tangled Adventure, but if Cass had a Love Interest I’d probably want them to be the deuteragonist of the story. 

Now a little about Ilione and Alphecca’s concepts + development: 

Ilione fills the role of Cass’ supporting character, and was specifically created to be this foil to Cass where what she lacks in life experience and behavioural maturity she makes up for in spades with emotional maturity & insightfulness. Her being Cass’ cousin also has the dual benefit of giving them an imperative to keep a good relationship while also keeping that deep friendship in a strictly platonic place. As Cass’ more extraverted and airy foil she naturally shares a lot of similarities with Rapunzel, which I don’t think is an issue because of their contrasting strengths and weaknesses, but this would be something of an issue if Lio were instead conceptualised as a LI with no relationship to Cass, because then it’d just come across a lot like Cassunzel 2.0. 

Another thing to add here is that I definitely try to give Lio her own development and arcs throughout the story and some of it is naturally tied to Cass but because I’m not trying to sell a romance there, most of it gets to be independent of Cassandra which helps make Lio feel like her own character. She actually gets a fair bit of time developing a bond with Alphecca which ties in very nicely with the main conflict between Cass & Al, but for a Love Interest character I think you do have to justify why they’re getting more emotional development with a different character than the person they’re supposed to get with. (I'm not so conceited as to think I could launch ship wars just with my little AU, but I think this is the root of most “triangles” where there’s a clear Love Interest for the Protagonist but one of them just has more development with a different character, so different opinions arise over which would have a better romantic payoff.) 

And of course we have Alphecca, Cass’ antagonist for the first part of the CTA AU, who also exists for a foil for Cassandra but in the opposite way to Lio. Alphecca is someone who has a lot of similarities to Cass when she had the Moonstone, so she serves as a reflection for what Cass could have become if not for their few key differences. Post that arc though, Alphecca and Cass’ dynamic becomes one of rebuilding a relationship in a healthier way but I don’t think there’s enough substance there for a particularly solid romantic relationship. (Alphecca does flirt a lot but it’s part of her canon that that’s just. learned behaviour that she thinks makes people feel intimidated). 

The reason why I’ve brought all these notes about Lio and Alphecca into this is that I hope it’s clear that for at least the first arc of the story, I like to think there’s a really nice balance between Cass, Lio and Al all feeling like independent characters, but you can’t remove any of them from the story without the narrative falling apart. Then of course Cassandra comes back to Corona and the story shifts focus to her and Rapunzel’s relationship, which needs to be re-established regardless, and I find myself wondering if there’s even anywhere I could squeeze in a love interest. So that’s the main reason why it is the way it is!

anyway if you’ve read this far though I want to hear where you stand on the Lio Ship Wars 2021

[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele WW2 Extension - Hope is a Dangerous Thing

May 8, 1945

Victory. A word long awaited. On May 8th, the Germany army surrendered and the war was officially over. People from all over England gathered in town squares and even traveled into London to celebrate and hear the Prime Minister and the King deliver speeches.

Despite the celebratory nature of the world in that moment, life for Daniel and Elizabeth was anything but thrilling. The Besson’s came over for celebratory champagne where they cheered quietly to Frances’ hard work as a nurse overseas and their sons’ brave battles fought. One boy dead and the other one missing. It didn’t feel right to go into the town and celebrate.

But Evelyn wanted to go and see the crowds so Frances put aside her own woes to take her four-years-younger friend into London. The girls stuck together and enjoyed the celebration the best they could given their own personal circumstances, squished up in the huge crowd waving the Union Jack and shedding tears.

But back in their smaller town just outside the city, the four parents were melancholy. Corbyn helped Elizabeth and Christine wash up from their lunch while Daniel stood by the front window in the parlour, half empty champagne glass in hand, and stared out into the sunny afternoon. No one had to wait for the war to be over anymore but he was still waiting for his son to come home.

Just after dinner time, the girls returned from the city and headed inside with their eager stories to share. Evelyn kissed her mother and tucked herself up close to her father’s side as he stood at the window.

“We saw the King, Daddy!” Evelyn grinned. A young woman of twenty-five-years-old now but still filled with her youthful glee. “I think one of the Princesses waved at me!”

“That’s good, buttercup.” Daniel breathed without looking at her.

“The soldiers are starting to arrive home. A few trains pulled into the station today while we were down there.” Frances said quietly.

Daniel’s attention peaked and he looked over towards her across the parlour, “How many?”

“Cars full.” Frances answered.

Daniel gently moved his daughter’s arm out of his and he shuffled quickly across the main floor of the house. He set his glass in the kitchen sink and barely even took a moment to put on his shoes before he was rushing out of the front door.

“Daniel!” Elizabeth called after him from the porch. “Where are you going, darling?”

“To the train station to greet my son when he comes home!” Daniel answered over his shoulder and headed off down the street.

Elizabeth sighed and stepped back into their house. Everyone was staring at her worriedly. Soldiers reported as MIA that had no updates after a few months rarely came home. Elizabeth was trying to accept that her son might have been a casualty of war but Daniel was set on believing he was going to come home still. His determination was almost more heartbreaking than his waves of depression over the prior six years.

Daniel didn’t come home for dinner. In fact, he didn’t show up at all. Once the Besson’s left and the sun had set, there was still no sign of Daniel. Elizabeth was getting worried. She sent Evelyn up to bed before heading out into the night to find her husband.

The nighttime air was refreshing in more than just the crispness that came with the turning of the seasons. It was refreshing without the worry of bombings and yet, out of habit, Elizabeth kept her head down and her eyes always locating the nearest shelter just in case.

She arrived at the local train station that was sat dark and empty at the edge of town. It was late and there wasn’t a soul in sight.

The only light that was on was the one on the platform, lighting up the town sign that was nailed to the station siding. Underneath it was a wooden bench and on it sat Daniel. He was huddled in slight cold, feet tucked up on the side of the bench and arms wrapped around himself, but his eyes were staring down the tracks to the direction of London, waiting for the next train to come.

“Dani.” Elizabeth whispered as to not startle him.

He didn’t answer.

“Darling.” she sat beside him on the bench and tucked her shawl around the both of them to keep him warm. “There’s no more trains tonight. Next one will be early tomorrow. Why don’t I take you home and you can get some well deserved sleep and tomorrow we can come back out here.”

“No. I’m not going.” Daniel mumbled. “What if a train comes off schedule? I don’t want to miss him. I will stay right here.”

Elizabeth bit her tongue and sighed a pitiful sigh before leaning in to press a tender kiss to her husband’s cheek, “Alright.”

He sniffled.

Elizabeth stayed at his side in perfect silence for a little bit, resting her head on his shoulder with the warmth of the shawl shared between them. It hurt her heart sitting there and possibly waiting for nothing. Daniel’s persistence hurt her even more.

She returned home that night, made him up a plate of leftovers from supper, and brought it to him at the train station. It was the first hint of a half smile she had seen on his face in a while. She sat with him while he ate his half cold dinner and when the plate was finished, she stood up to take it back to the house.

“Are you sure you want to stay here?” Elizabeth asked.

Daniel nodded, “Yes.”

She hesitated but nodded in return.

Daniel reached out his hand and gently took hers, linking their fingers together as he brought them up to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand. He then rested his cheek against it. Elizabeth smiled softly at her husband, staying still to keep the feeling of his warm hand in hers for even a moment longer.

“Elizabeth.��� Daniel breathed.

“Yes, darling?” Elizabeth answered quietly.

He looked up at her with sad eyes that reflected the light of the single lamp outside the train station. He kissed her hand again and then kissed her wedding ring before looking back up at her standing beside him.

“I love you.”

Elizabeth smiled, her heart filling with warmth, and she leaned down to leave a lingering kiss to his lips.

“I love you, Daniel. Now and forever.”

She left him at the train station that night as per request. In the morning, she brought him breakfast but had to spend the day doing her housework and things so she didn’t see him again until she brought dinner leftovers and they sat together on the bench until it was time for her to go home. Day in and day out they followed this routine.

Daniel waited at the train station for days and weeks – using the washroom facilities in the small station building and sleeping right on the bench through the nights. Soldiers came home and Daniel watched each reunion tensely, often crying along with the strangers who had been reunited with their loved ones. They cried tears of relief and he cried tears of yearning.

Corbyn sat with him sometimes and Evelyn took a turn or too as well. He never asked them to but they did anyway, bringing the paper or a book to read while they sat. But Elizabeth always came every single night to keep him company through dinner and until the stars dotted the night sky. Some nights they sat quietly and some nights they kissed a bit and some nights they cried together but it was the same routine. Elizabeth would never leave him alone.

Soon, as summer came, the soldiers arrivals became fewer and farther between. Elizabeth managed to convince Daniel to come home during the nights and to only stay at the station during the day. She missed having him in their bed and feeling the comfort of his arms around her and the familiarity of his cologne and soft breaths, but his mind was always elsewhere.

His mind was stuck with Charlie. Wherever he was.

The town soon started to talk…about the Seavey man wasting his days away waiting for his Missing In Action son at the station. His poor wife they would say, wonder when she will send him to an institution.

But Daniel sat and Elizabeth supported, even as the summer came and went and the town was back to bustling with young men and now growing families. No more soldiers were coming home. Daniel’s time at the train station lessened and lessened and he got quieter and quieter.

Soon, Charlie’s pictures were turned around on the mantle to face the wall of the parlour. Elizabeth never questioned it – it was obvious Daniel had done it – and she simply let them sit like that until he went to bed and she would turn them back around. Her eyes would linger on her son’s smile and the faint dimples on his cheeks and his unruly brown hair and she would kiss the glass and set him back on the fireplace where he was to stay. In the morning, they would be turned back to face the wall.

Daniel’s once passionate hope was slaughtered into a devastating emptiness.

Not doing a taglist for this one anymore because no one paid attention anyway - kinda just writing this for me and like two people now lol

[wraithdeer]

Sunset At Reunion

Here is another little thing about my Mol, Zaya! The reason she left the Steppe is that there was a terrible and creepy Orinir so keep that in mind while reading. Nothing happens but this man is terrible.

Zaya followed after Cirina into Reunion that morning, excited and full of energy as the stalls and lively market came more and more into view. Even as early as it still was, Reunion was still busy with activity within the Steppe. Xaela from all tribes gathered in the small settlement to trade with one another as well as trade tales and boasts about their own tribe. None of that really interested Zaya, she was more interested in the chance to see all of the tribes interacting and the chance to maybe even make a new friend or learn something. Even if she didn’t, at least she wasn’t stuck helping out with chores or watching the children-not that she didn’t enjoy helping however she could but it was tedious work. Other Mols looked down on her with pity because she was an orphan and had even less than most of them so she was always given the chores no one wanted or others were too busy to do. Having the chance to break it up with a trip to Reunion was exciting and she hoped it would provide a chance for her to improve herself somehow.

“Excited?” Cirina asked as they walked as Zaya stopped and looked back, blushing as she fixed her glasses. 

“Yes, sorry.” she apologized, Cirina placing a hand on her head and chuckling. 

“Its alright. I was excited too when I first started going to Reunion too. Just remember we have a job to do but once that is done, you can look around.” she assured, Zaya smiling wide as she nodded. 

“Got it!” she agreed, entering Reunion as she helped set up some wares from the tribe to sell, carefully placing them all out as they both went over the list of things they needed to get before heading back. 

“How about this, you focus on getting this half of the list and I will try to trade what we have here for the other half.” Cirina offered as Zaya focused, looking over the list. 

“Okay, what should I trade for it?” she asked as Cirina gave her some very fine wool and fruits they had grown in the garden. 

“This should cover most of it. If you feel someone is taking advantage of you, politely decline their offer and come back here. I might be able to haggle them down to a reasonable price.” she said as Zaya nodded. 

“Got it, I’ll see you later!” she called before running off, Cirina blinking before a smile crossed her face. It was nice seeing Zaya, usually so reserved, full of excitement as she disappeared into the crowds. 

Zaya looked around all the milling Xaela, being careful and making sure she was as respectful as possible and kept moving. She watched people haggle and trade as well as looking over wares from other tribes as younger children ran by and music played in the distance. Adjusting her glasses, Zaya watched the aether of the Xaela dance and sway, everyone seeming just as happy as she felt as well. It was well known that Zaya was very sensitive to aether and could see it ambiently from people, animals, and even just from the area around them sometimes. Among the Mol, it was seen as a gift and she was believed to be sensitive to the movement of their gods that the tribe followed about the Steppe. The other Xaela saw her as gifted but very odd-she cried when she saw animals die, being able to watch the aether leave them and being able to tell other’s emotions without even speaking to them had brought her trouble a few times. 

Now, however, Zaya reveled in her gift. It made her heart swell being able to see so many tribes happy and enjoying themselves though one pair caught her attention as she stopped where she was to get a better look at what was happening. An Orinir and Dortharl were in a heated argument, the Orinir saying the Dortharl was overcharging them while the Dortharl defended his prices. Both had bright, unyielding aethers, both too proud to back down as Zaya sighed. Well, at least it was an interesting morning. Questir made their way over, silently diffusing the situation as Zaya chuckled. 

“Something funny, little Mol?” a voice asked as she started, looking up at an Orinir man that towered over her. “Oh, I’m sorry.” she said as she bowed to him, keeping her gaze away from his face. “This is my first time to Reunion, sir. I heard stories of the tribes butting heads but never thought I would see it so soon in coming here.” she said as he scoffed. 

“It is only because the Dortharl do not know their place but are too proud.” he announced as she smiled to herself slightly. You both seem very proud she thought to herself. 

“As you say, sir.” she said, hearing something as she looked over, seeing a stall’s produce on the ground suddenly. “Oh my, I should go see if they need help.” Zaya noted. 

“Why? They will not give you anything. Might even turn you away for being a Mol.” the man said. 

“That is fine. People don’t have to be kind to me but I still believe in helping anyone who needs it.” she said brightly, smiling at the man as she bowed again. “May the sun shine brightly for you, sir.” she said before turning and going to help the Xaela at the stall, not realizing the man’s eyes still followed after her as she left. 

A few hours passed, Zaya getting all of the items Cirina had trusted her to get and dropping them off with Cirina before using the rest of the day to enjoy her time at Reunion. She took out her lunch-some fruit and dried meat-as she found somewhere in the sun to sit where she could see all the activity going on as she hummed to herself. A young Xaela-possibly an Orinir-eventually wandered over to her as she greeted them brightly, offering some food to him before he ran off as she finished her own lunch. 

“Hang on, little Mol.” a voice said as she saw the Orinir who spoke to her earlier approach as she was cleaning up. 

“Ah, hello again, sir.” she said as she bowed again to him. 

“What is your name?” he asked, voice harsh as she started, blinking as she looked up at him. 

“O-oh, uh...Zaya.” she answered, worried. “My apologies, have I caused an offence?” she asked as he simply leaned down, looking right into her eyes as she moved to take a step back. “I-I am sorry if sharing my lunch with that boy offended you. It won’t happen again, sir-” “Maakhar.” he interrupted. 

“Pardon?” “My name.” he stated, smirking as he straightened. “It is Maakhar.” he told her. “And I have peered into your eyes and I have seen that you are my Nahmaa.” he announced as Zaya froze. She was familiar with the term and what it meant but...She was barely sixteen summers old while he...He looked full grown and held himself proudly. Zaya swallowed, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle. 

“Y-you flatter me, Maakhar.” she managed, eyes on his aether. If he decided to, he could pick her up with one hand and she wasn’t strong enough to stop him and she didn’t want to bring the ire of the Orinir onto her own tribe. Her heart raced as she spoke. “Surely you are destined for a woman much better than I? I am a weak Mol-the sheep of the Steppe. Orinir are the proud rulers of the Steppe and surely an Orinir who holds himself with such pride as yourself deserves a Nahmaa more fitting than a Mol like me.” she said, her words feeling clumsy as she saw his aether darken as her eyes darted around, wondering if she could run back to Cirina. Maakhar was quicker however, hand reaching out and grabbing her wrist tightly, pulling her forward slightly before Zaya was able to dig in her heels. 

“It is not my place to question the workings far above us. You are my Nahmaa, I can see it plainly now. You must come home with me so we may be joined.” he announced, Zaya’s throat closing as she lost her words, panic and fear filling her. She wasn’t ready for this. She didn’t even want this-would be try to...No! No, no she didn’t want to be his wife and she didn’t want to follow him to his home. 

Just then, a small Questir-smaller than her even-stepped forward holding a shockingly large axe. Her aether was blue and very excited as she stood in front of Maakhar, eyes meeting hers a moment before her aether shifted. Less excited and more...scary. 

“This woman is my Nahmaa and I am taking her with me.” Maakhar stated to the small Questir as she gestured to him to release her. He eyed her axe, seeming less sure of himself before letting her go with a scoff. “Fine.” he announced. “Only because this is Reunion.” he said as he turned to her. “Until next time. I would prepare for our union, my Zaya.” he said as he stalked off. Tears rose to her eyes at that as she shook a moment, scared. The smaller Questir walked up to her, cocking her head as she patted Zaya’s arm. Zaya sniffled, rubbing her face. 

“I-I’m sorry.” she said, bowing to her. “W-will you walk with me back to Cirina? I...I’m sorry, I don’t feel safe…” she said as the smaller Xaela immediately shook her head as she took Zaya’s hand and lead her back to where Cirina was. Immediately, she ran up to her and threw her arms around her, crying as she babbled, trying to explain what happened. Cirina was surprised, thanking a ‘Zolza’-probably the Quesir that helped her-as she consoled Zaya. 

It took a bit but, eventually, Cirina got the tale out of her. 

“Oh, that happens, dear.” she assured. “Once he realizes your age, he should leave you be.” she told her, Cirina’s words feeling empty. If a single Orinir came to take her away from the Mol tribe, could they even do anything about it? Still, she nodded, keeping her misgivings to herself, staying close to Cirina until they readied to go, Zaya heading ahead of her when she was suddenly grabbed and turned around, seeing a robed Xaela, Zaya surprised. 

“Maakhar is ahead. He is going to take you to be his wife-you must flee Reunion, child.” she told her, the sun dipping in the distance giving her face an orange wash. A lot of emotions swirled through her but, shocking to even her, she answered with a determined look and nodded. 

“Thank you.” she told the woman. “Please, tell Cirina what happened.” she requested as the woman nodded as she ran off, the sun at her back as she began to leave Reunion and the Azim Steppe. 

It was surprising, how little it took for her to abandon her home but...a part of her had wanted to leave for a very long time and, when it was finally laid out for her...She was surprised at how easily she rose to the occasion.

[bi-naesala]

Found you (chapter three)

Bad Batch arc retelling (sort of) | Fives lives AU

Also on AO3

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

They’re still trying to break Echo free.

Fives has been fussing over his brother all this time, checking on his vitals and everything else. Echo isn’t much talkative but he will sometimes say that he’s good; if he wasn’t in such disastrous conditions Fives would’ve smacked him on the head because he clearly isn’t fine, but hey, at least he’s talking.

Rex is right beside him, reminding him not to overtax Echo too much. He’s right of course, but there’s just so much Fives wants to say or do that it’s hard for him to remain still. He has taken Echo’s hand and he’s not letting go. No matter what, he won’t.

He’s so focused on Echo that he notices the general’s arrival only when he speaks.

“How is he, Rex?”

He sounds worried, and Fives can see in his eyes that he too wants to do something to help, he just doesn’t know what.

Fives lets Rex do the talking while he goes back to Echo, caressing his arm with a carefulness that he’s sure would offend Echo if he noticed it. It’s just that he looks so fragile now, like he could break at any given moment. Besides, the last thing he wants to do now is to accidentally hurt him more than he’s already hurting.

 He must have endured so much…

Fives has no idea about what he would’ve done if he was in Echo’s shoes. He doubts he would’ve resisted this long, his vod has always been stronger than him.

 They aren’t even able to contact an extraction squad. Well, they knew already this was very likely to happen, but still, Fives wouldn’t have minded it if for once things went their way.

It’s not too bad, they can manage on their own. They’ve done it already and they’ll do it again, he has to remind himself of this.

The only problem is that Echo’s not able to walk, not yet at least, but that won’t be a problem either: Fives can carry him with ease.

 Nevermind, they’re locked here.

Things can’t go well if they stay here for too long, but for now they can only seal the doors hoping that it will at least slow the upcoming droids down enough to grant them some time to think about a plan.

Tech still needs more time, the problem is that they don’t have more time! Things are beginning to get pretty bad, but at least Fives is sure of one thing: they won’t go down without a fight. He refuses to give up now that he’s found Echo again.

 “I got it! We can unplug him now!” Bless you Tech.

There’s something so heartbreaking in the slow pliant way Echo turns around, but there’s no time to think about that as Fives and Rex proceed to unplug him. It’s obvious that this process is hurting him, and Fives tries to sustain him with his other arm, not wanting him to fall down.

Still, the last plug, the one directly on his head, must be the worse one, because Echo screams, and if it wasn’t for Fives he would’ve fallen. After a moment his body, which was so tense before, begins to relax, and Echo begins to breathe again.

“Rex… Fives…” he calls, voice still weak but not as weak from before.

“What is it?” Fives asks, worried that they’ve done something bad, as he helps Echo to sit down again.

“I’ve got a big headache,” Echo says, with one of those cheeky smiles Fives has missed so much. Was this all he wanted to say?

“Damn you Echo, you scared me!” Fives exclaims, trying to ignore Rex’s chuckle at those words, but he can’t and eventually he finds himself smiling as well.

Well, he supposes he can let this slide. Just this once.

“It’s better to feel something than nothing, old buddy,” Rex says and yeah, at least on this they can all agree.

 “It’s a touching reunion, guys, but we need to get out of here and we need to do it now!”

And Skywalker is right as well. The only problem is: how are they going to accomplish that? Their only way outside has been sealed!

Unexpectedly, it’s Echo the one with the key to help them. There’s a vent up in the ceiling that leads to the cooling systems. They can used that to make their exit.

“Nice job, Echo,” Fives mutters, gently patting on his shoulders. Echo smiles at him and all Fives wants to do is to pull him closer in his arms and stay there as long as he can, feeling him close, but he knows that now it’s not the right time for that. They have to wait.

 Well, whatever they need to do they need to do it quick, because the droids have managed to reach the front door.

Again, it’s Echo that saves the day: the prosthesis on his arm - and Fives still has to come around the fact that he has prosthesis now - can be used to control machinery, much like a droid’s one. He’s the one that gets the door open.

Now they only need to get up there, and Wrecker seems to know a way to do it, which consists of simply throwing them up. At least he’s useful for something.

“Come here,” Fives says to Echo, letting him settle against his back and grabbing his legs, “Hold on tight.”

Echo nods; he won’t let go.

Fives was expecting for Wrecker to be at least a bit more delicate with him, since he’s holding Echo, but no, no special treatment for him. Thankfully he still manages to hold tight and not fall.

“How are you doing Echo?” he asks.

“I’ve been better,” is the amused reply coming from the other.

“Nice to see they gave you a sense of humor,” Fives jokes. He doesn’t think about the fact that maybe it’s too soon to make jokes like that, at least not before uttering it, but before he can apologize he feels Echo’s finger stabbing against his cheek.

“Shut up! I always had a sense of humor,” Echo replies, but he’s laughing, and Fives can’t help but to chuckle as well.

“Sure, whatever you say,” he mutters, before beginning to move up.

 They can faintly hear the sound of an explosion under them, and they can only assume it’s the lab blowing up.

Good, at least they won’t have anything to conduct their horrid experiments anymore.

  So, while the Techno Union got access to Echo’s brain, Echo in turn got access to their database. Fives wouldn’t exactly call it a fair exchange, but it’s better than nothing, not to mention how his knowledge has been what has just saved them.

 Echo is now strong enough to walk, though he still leans heavily on Fives’ shoulder to do so. He had offered to keep carrying him but he refused.

Fives understands: sometimes you just don’t want to feel like a burden, even though he would never consider Echo as such.

Rex constantly turns behind to check on him, even though he doesn’t say anything - probably in order not to tire Echo out too much. The three of them will surely get a talk later; it’s not something Fives is particularly looking forward too, but he knows that it’ll have to happen sooner or later.

He just wants to enjoy having his vod back, is that too much to ask?

 “So, how do we escape from here exactly, Echo?”

“Yeah, is there a safe way out of here?”

Echo chuckles.

“Well, there is a way.” A cough. “But you’re not gonna like it.”

  If anything, Fives is glad to see that the Techno Union hasn’t taken away Echo’s craziness out of him. Does he really expect them to just walk on this pipe, a pipe that, let’s be clear, is very much high in a way that, would any of them fall, they are surely going to die, just to get to the landing pad? Oh, Fives has missed him so much.

They’re not even sure there’s a ship on the other side. They might just get there and find nothing, but it’s not like they have a better plan.

Nobody’s that excited about this prospect, just as Echo predicted, but they have no choice but to follow him.

 “Need any help, Echo?” Fives asks, making Echo huff.

“You don’t need to coddle me, you know?” he says.

“I’m not coddling you, you’ve just been inside a stasis chamber for about a year so excuse me for worrying about your physical state, ok?!”

It wasn’t nice for him to say, and he knows it. He sighs then, lowering his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, “I’m just worried.”

“I know,” Echo replies, voice softer this time, “But I’m getting better, ok?”

“Ok.”

“And I can take care of myself.”

He knows, Fives knows it well. He shakes his head.

“Yeah, I know vod.”

Then Fives steps away, bowing at gesturing towards the pipe.

“After you.”

Echo chuckles, beginning to step onto it.

“Can’t believe they’ve finally taught you manners,” he whispers, but Fives still hears him.

“Hey!”

 They’re halfway through the pipe when they see in front of them droids marching towards their position. Kriff.

They can’t even go back because there are droids there too! They’ve been trapped!

 Thankfully Tech has an idea: they can call the creatures that have brought them there to leave. The only problem is how they should get on them. Tech says to jump, but they can’t can they?

Skywalker of course is the first one to go with it, because this is the kind of craziness he’d pull. For a moment Fives is afraid they’re gonna see their general plummet to his death, but he manages to get onto one of the Keeradaks.

The second one to go, unexpectedly, is Echo. Fives shouts uselessly after him, reaching for him with one hand as if he could actually be able to pull him up, but he’s too far already. Thankfully, he too manages to hold on one of the beasts, so at least he’s safe.

Well, there’s no other choice…

Fives jumps.

 He doesn’t scream while he does so, whatever the others will tell you is a lie. He heroically jumps and perfectly lands on the beast, not at all holding for dear life.

Hey, he made it!

There’s only one problem now: those damned droids can fly too. Fives can’t even do anything about it because he either shoots or he holds on, and he’d rather not fall. General Skywalker is right: they need to shake those things off.

 “Echo!” he calls out in this mess, “You good?”

“Never better!” he replies, sounding like he’s having the time of his life. Lucky him.

Despite everything, Fives can’t help but to smile. It’s good that Echo’s recovering his good mood already.

Besides he’s not wrong, this is fun.

 “Where should we go?” Rex asks, or better, shouts, at general Skywalker. Yeah, they can’t exactly keep flying around like this; they need a secure place that they can use as base.

“We have no other choice!” Skywalker replies, “Let’s get back to the village!”

It’s the only choice they have, since getting to the ship now would mean that the droids would destroy it, leaving them stranded in a hostile planet. Still…

“The Poletecs are not going to like it,” Fives can’t help but to comment, remembering what they have told them as soon as they got there about not wanting anything to do with their war.

Yeah, they’re not going to be happy about this…

  As predicted, they aren’t happy about this at all, but they manage to convince them to help them. Well, captain Rex does.

What did he do? Simple: he finally exploded. He let out all the anger that he’s always kept inside as he spoke, as he made the Poletec leader see what they have done to Echo. His vod looked so vulnerable as he let himself be scrutinized under those flabbergasted gaze, and yet he didn’t falter, determined. Fives is so proud of him.

The Techno Union might be playing the neutral part, but they have chosen sides. Now it’s the Poletecs’ turn to choose, and they do.

 “Couldn’t have said it better,” Skywalker says, complimenting Rex, and Fives can’t help but to agree.

“See?” he says to Echo, voice proud, “Our captain’s still got it.”

“I can see that,” the other replies, chuckling, “Some things just don’t change, don’t they?”

“Yeah…” Fives replies, and it’s then that he realizes that Echo still doesn’t know about the Chancellor, about the chips, about anything really. He should use this time to finally inform him about all the things he’s missed…

“I hope this works, because I see forces coming,” Crosshair warns them, voice worried enough to consequently worry everyone else, “More than we can handle alone.”

Well, looks like their debrief will have to wait.

 At least the Poletecs are helping them, so their number is greater than before - not by much giving their inferior firepower, but it’s still something.

What they have an advantage on, however, is the terrain, that the Polects know well. They can plan an ambush.

 Before they go their separate ways, Echo with general Skywalker and Crosshair while Fives remains on the ground with the others, Fives hands Echo something.

“Here.”

“This is--”

“My blaster, I know,” Fives replies, continuing then, amused, when he sees Echo’s surprise on his face, “What? You thought we were gonna send you into battle without a weapon? Besides, I have another one.”

Echo accepts the blaster, grateful.

“And here I thought that I was going to punch some droids…”

“Didn’t know you were Commander Cody,” Fives jokes, making Echo laugh.

“Does he still do that?”

“Of course he does,” Fives shrugs, “Though he’s more of a kicking guy and you know it. It’s those heathens of his men that are fond of punching.”

“Like you aren’t a heathen yourself,” Echo retorts, chuckling at Fives’ offended gasp.

“Shut up!” he says, but after a moment of silence, he continues, this time serious, “Be careful.”

The smile vanishes from Echo’s mouth, a determined expression taking its place.

“You too.”

  They hide, letting the droids land. Once they’re grouped enough, Skywalker gives his signal to Wrecker, who single-handedly pushes a boulder down on them, successfully killing a bunch.

The Poletecs charge and the rest of the droids does too. It begins.

Fives has to admit it, the natives are not so bad. They’re handling themselves pretty well against the droids. To be quite honest he had thought that it was going to be way worse than this.

Still, now it’s time for their intervention.

He shoots down as many droids as he can. Maybe he’s not as showy as the rest of the squad, but it’s efficient; he had thought about doing something not to be outshined by the others, but this isn’t the right moment for that kind of competition. Maybe another time, when their life isn’t on the line.

Sometimes he steals a few glances at Echo, but he seems to be handling himself pretty well, handling his blaster like he was fresh of ARC training. That’s good, that’s very good.

 Things were going pretty well, then the Octuptarras came. It keeps getting better and better.

They run for cover, but it’s not enough. They need to take these things down and fast.

“Fives, Hunter, Wrecker, you’re with me,” Rex says, and they follow him. Four against one might seem unfair, but given the size of that thing Fives can say that things are pretty even.

No matter how much they shoot, however, they’re barely grazing it, and let’s not talk about also all the dodging they have to make to be still in one piece; they have to be constantly on the move. At least the general seems to be having a good time cutting off the thing’s cannons, rending it practically useless.

“That works, but how are we going to get up there?” Rex asks. As an immediate response, Wrecker walks to him and Rex, who has understood already what he wants to do, tries to make him desist, but no matter how many times he says no, there’s nothing he can do: Wrecker picks him up and, without a second thought, throws him at the Octuptarra. If the situation were different, Fives would’ve lost it at the way his fearless captain screams, but he’s too busy being picked up next.

To be quite honest, he doesn’t mind being thrown; it’s actually kind of fun. He doesn’t understand why Rex doesn’t like it.

He manages to hold onto one of the cannons, and soon he’s joined by Hunter, though the thing begins to spin in an attempt to shake them off. Thankfully that’s not the case as they all hold steady.

Aiming while holding for dear life isn’t easy, but Fives manages to take down the eye, and by the sounds of it he guesses Rex and Hunter have done the same as well. At least now it’s blind.

 Skywalker’s idea is great, still he could’ve warned them that he was going to push the other Octuptarra against theirs! All they can do is to hold on for dear life as they begin their descent, hoping they won’t be trapped under the debris.

When Fives crashes, he feels a lot of pain, but he still finds himself able to move his body, so he doesn’t think anything’s broken - he’s still going to let Kix check on him when they come back just to be sure, because unlike certain people, he doesn’t hide his injuries, except for a few times but there was an important reason behind that… anyway, let’s carry on.

He’s helped up by Rex.

“You ok, Fives?” he asks while the other dusts off his armor.

“Yeah,” he replies. There’s no point in worrying him for something he’s not even sure about.

 Around them, the Poletecs start cheering for their victory. As soon as the Octuptarras were down, the rest of the droids have retreated, so at least they don’t have that to worry about anymore.

No, there’s something else to worry about now. Fives joins Echo immediately, ignoring whatever’s going on between the general and the Poletecs’ leader, worried that he might’ve sustained some kind of injury. You can imagine the relief when he sees that not only he’s safe, but he also seems to be in a better condition than him. Figures.

“It’s good to be back,” Echo can’t help but to say, looking like he’s this close from crying for the happiness, and frankly it’s the same for Fives.

“It’s good to have you back,” he says then, hands on the other’s shoulder, squeezing them. He’s real. He’s truly real. “Vod, I’m so sorry. If I--”

“I don’t want to hear none of that, Fives,” Echo interrupts him, “We knew what we were getting into from the start.”

Fives appreciates that Echo is not mad at him, but still this doesn’t shake the guilt he feels for having left him for dead at the Citadel.

Before he can say something that he knows will only make Echo mad - he always hated being pitied - he finally, kriffing finally, hugs him properly, squeezing him in his arms. He’s so thin, now he can feel it even better, but he’s here at least, that’s what matters. After a moment of tense surprise, Echo melts into the embrace, going to close his arms around Fives’ shoulders. He’s shaking, Fives can feel it, but he doesn’t comment on it, supporting his brother’s weight in his arms.

 They’re so taken in each other that they don’t hear the steps that are approaching them until captain Rex, now on their left, clears his throat.

“Could I have some time with Echo too?” he asks, his tone obviously teasing. When Fives and Echo turn to look at him, they can see that he’s smirking, something that he does as well.

“Mmmh…”he mumbles, pretending to think about it, “No offense sir, but I think not.”

They all chuckle, and Fives and Echo pull away, although reluctantly. They have both misses that special contact between them so much, and now that they’ve gotten a taste of it again, it’s hard not to succumb in the temptation and stay like this forever. Still, they do need to leave.

 They’re about to make their way to the ship, when Echo says something.

“Fives, Rex… Thanks, for coming after me.” The way he says it is horrible: it’s like he didn’t think they would try to find him. It’s so sad that they’ve spent all their - although short - life being told that they’re expendable, so much that when they’re shown genuine kindness, they don’t know how to react.

Things will get better for them. They have too: everything is changing, and people are finally starting to recognize the part they’ve played in this war, starting to recognize their worth not only as soldiers, but as people too.

Speaking of change…

“Let’s get inside,” he says, softly, draping one arm over Echo’s shoulder as they resume to walk, “There’s a lot that you missed.”

Echo doesn’t say anything at first, but he does send him a curious gaze.

“Good things, I hope.”

Fives chuckles.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

[rwby-grimm-guardians]

RWBY Grimm Guardians Arc 3: Separated Union Ch 9

Side JNPR: Reunions

Welcome back to Separated Union! Here’s the special chapter, Side JNPR and here, Jaune, Nora, Ren, and Oscar talk about the current events and a certain red-head returns.

This takes place a few hours after Side Red III, so it is around lunch time.

As usual, please give constructive criticism and enjoy.

Disclaimer: Still own nothing.

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

(1:38 PM)

Oscar walked into the hospital cafe, sighing. He hadn’t realized how much he had been missing his own mother while he was visiting his aunt. The farm boy also noticed Jaune was deep in his thoughts as well, given how the younger teenager accidentally walked in on the blonde talking to one of his sisters on the phone. Speaking of the blonde, Jaune was sitting at a table by himself, rubbing his eyes. He looked...fairly exhausted. Both physically and mentally.

Oscar sat in front of him, asking, “Maybe a dumb question, but are you...doing alright?” “Not really, to be honest…” Jaune said. “Ruby and her mother’s interactions, as well as your interactions with your own mom remind me how much I’m...missing my own family back at home…” He rubbed his back, “I have a few sisters, as I’m sure you know by now. Also got a nephew...” The blonde chuckled, before sighing, “I know they’re safe right now, but...what if I need to be there for them when they need me the most?”

“The world’s getting more chaotic.” He explained. “More Grimm are showing up, forces that are bigger than us are targeting us and the academies; we are heading into dangerous territory.” Oscar nodded in agreement, before Jaune continued, “I...feel like I...need to be there to protect them. I know they can probably keep themselves safe, but…” “I already...technically lost someone I cared about… Almost lost another. I don’t want that to happen again.” He said.

Oscar knew that one of the people Jaune was referring to was Ruby. He assumed the blonde was also referring to Pyrrha. “How long until…?” The younger teenager asked, before the blonde shook his head. Jaune sighed, “No clue. Ruby and Summer did it to save her and not even THEY know when she’s come out.” He took a deep breath, before sighing again. “Gods, I hope it’s soon. The last thing I want right now is for her to be lonely.” He said. “Especially right now…”

Ren and Nora eventually joined the two, sitting next to both Jaune and Oscar. “How’s Ruby’s progress?” The blonde asked. The ginger shrugged, “Hard to say. She says she’s well, though I’m not sure if Oscar’s mom believes her.” “That’d be accurate.” The youngest of the group chuckled. “She has a way of knowing when people lie about their health.” Ren chuckled, “Yeah, that sounds like a mother… From what Ruby’s been saying, Summer’s also like that.”

“Thank gods…” Jaune sighed with a smile. “Speaking of which, how is Ruby’s mom?” He then explained, “She...seemed to be stressed a bit earlier when she asked for Ruby’s uncle.” The green clad teenager nodded, “She had a lot on her mind. From what little she said, she’s...been having nightmares again. Ruby too.” Ren then explained that Summer had a very important catch-up conversation with Anna. “I won’t ask her what they talked about…” He said. “But I did ask Ruby’s uncle why she needed him.”

“He said ‘She’s talking to Ruby’s dad about herself’.” The green clad teenager said. Oscar raised an eyebrow, “So...does that mean Ruby’s mom doesn’t need to hide her identity anymore?” Ren shrugged, “Hard to say, really. Though...from what could tell, she seemed...happy telling Ruby’s dad. Like her anxiety was dissolved.” The group nodded, before falling into silence. They...really didn’t want to talk about Pyrrha currently. Especially when there was no guarantee that they’d see her in their lifetime...

As if on cue, Qrow then walked in and stood next to the group’s table, saying, “Sorry for the intrusion, but Ruby’s on her way. Thought I’d let you know.” “Just...don’t freak out…” He chuckled, receiving confused glances from the group. “How come?” Oscar asked. “Why are you walking around!?” Jaune asked suddenly, queuing the group to turn towards Ruby...holding Summer’s arm as she attempted to stay standing.

“Dr. Pine suggested that I should walk a bit.” The young leader said with a sheepish smile. “Mom insisted on helping.” Both the blonde and Ren sighed with relief, before tiredly chuckling as Ruby glared at them. “You know damn well I’m not insane.” She said loudly, receiving a laugh from her uncle. “I tried telling her that I was probably not ready.” “To be fair, you are doing quite well.” Her mother said, smiling, only for it to fade as she lifted her daughter in her arms, while Ruby’s legs began buckling.

“Was…” Ruby corrected, giving a slight groan. Summer gave her daughter’s abdomen a quick once over. “Is it from your legs?” She asked, receiving a nod from the young leader. Ruby sighed, “I’m okay. Just weak in my legs… Not sure if they’re numb.” Summer raised an eyebrow, “Can you feel them?” Her daughter nodded, “A bit, yeah. Little chilly though…” ‘Well, there’s a good sign, at least…’ The elder Rose thought, sighing with relief. She then said, “Want me to get you a wheelchair?”

Ruby nodded, “Please.” Setting her daughter down in one of the chairs, Summer went off to find Anna and get a wheelchair. Sighing, the young leader pulled her legs to her chest, saying, “Sorry for making you worry there, but I promise I’m healing.” She took a deep breath, before admitting, “Unfortunately, my sleep patterns are NOT.” “Ah...so that’s why you’ve been looking drained.” Ren stated. Ruby grunted, “It’s been getting pretty bad recently.”

The group went silent as soon as they heard a rattling. Jaune then noticed that his shield had come off and had fallen to the floor...even though he was sure he had it secured to his back. A tired, yet genuine grin formed on Ruby’s lips, “Looks like she’s finally waking up, huh…” The blonde turned to her, “How do we know if Pyrrha will...remember us?” Ren and Nora turned to face the young leader, only to see a tired, regretful expression. “We do not.” She said.

As soon as she said that, a mix of yellow, red, and orange energy, in a form akin to that of fire, burst forth from the shield. It then swirled, forming a human body, hair, clothes, and armor, before stopping as the energy dissipated, revealing the form of Pyrrha Nikos, now on her knees. An uneasy silence settled as Pyrrha opened her eyes, taking a look at herself first, before observing her surroundings. “Am I...alive?” She asked, hesitantly. “Or are you all...dead as well…?”

Jaune and Ruby both let out a shuddering sigh as smiles formed on their lips, their right hands over their hearts. The redhead raised an eyebrow, concerned as she asked, “Is...everything alright?” “You’re here…” The blonde said, gently hugging his partner. “So yeah. Everything’s fine at the moment.” Pyrrha cautiously returned the hug, as if she didn’t know if this was real or not. “Where are we, Jaune?” She asked. “Mistral International Clinic.” Ruby answered. “I...kinda got screwed up…”

Pyrrha sighed with a smile as she and Jaune stood up, “I hope you’re listening to your doctor and taking care of yourself.” The younger girl nodded, “Yes, ma’am.” The redhead sighed, looking at her friends. “Looks like I have a lot to catch up, huh?” The newly revived teenager chuckled. “A little.” Ruby smiled sheepishly. “Mom will help out with what happened after…that…” Before Pyrrha could ask what she meant by “that”, everyone turned to the door as a chuckle was heard.

“Well, look who’s finally gotten out of bed.” Summer smirked, entering the cafe with a wheelchair. “I trust you’re feeling well?” The redhead nodded, smiling, “I am now. Thank you, Ms...um…” The former STRQ leader chuckled again, “You may call me Ms. Summer if you want. Finally told Ruby about me, so no need to hide it any longer.” She then put her cloak on Ruby, before lifting her and placing her in the wheelchair. Pyrrha nodded as Summer rolled Ruby up to the table, “I see. Thank you then. Both of you.”

She then raised her arm, “If I may ask, what did you mean by…’that’, Ruby?” Everyone froze, before sighing in unison. “Beacon’s been...practically destroyed.” The young leader admitted. “We...didn’t lose, I think. But we definitely...didn’t really win either.” Summer placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders, saying, “We had to make a forced retreat.” “From what we know, none of the Grimm got outside of Beacon and the teachers are still active.” She explained.

“So why are we in Mistral…?” Pyrrha asked. “Ozpin had me do some investigating, due to Cinder’s forces being in Beacon.” Qrow explained. “Right now, the trail leads here.” He then raised a hand, “If you are wondering, yes. He’s still alive and currently speaking with Ruby’s doctor, Anna Pine.” The redhead sighed with relief, “That’s one less thing for me to worry about.” An amused smirk formed on Summer’s face, “Nah, you still got plenty to worry about and look after, thankfully.”

“I’d rather worry about a lot of things, instead of blindly think that everything’s going to work out.” She mumbled, unaware that Ruby and Qrow heard her. Her daughter began rubbing the taller woman’s hand as a means to comfort her. The redhead then turned to Oscar, saying, “I see I have a fresh face to meet.” “That Oscar Pine. Met him when we first arrived in Mistral.” Ruby chuckled. “He’s my doctor’s son.” The youngest of the group rubbed the back of his neck, shyly saying, “N-Nice to meet you, Ms. Nikos.”

An amused and flattered smile formed on Pyrrha’s lips, as she said, “Just Pyrrha is fine. It’s nice to meet you too, Oscar.” Summer hid her face in her daughter’s hair as she silently laughed, before whispering, “This kid is too fucking cute. I want to adopt him.” “You could ask Dr. Pine to be Oscar’s godmother.” Ruby whispered back excitedly. “His mom might kill me if I asked.” The former STRQ leader chuckled. Oscar then stood, “I’ll be right back. Mom needs to know that she might have another patient.”

The group chuckled as Summer ruffled the youngest member’s hair as he passed by. After he felt the room, the redhead said, “He’s a cute one. Like a little brother.” “He really is like that.” Jaune smiled. Pyrrha sighed, “It’s good to be home.” She looked at herself once more, noticing that she was armored, looking more like a spartan. She then asked, “Is the...new get-up normal?” The former STRQ leader nodded, “For most Weapon Spirits like us, yes. Arktis...or rather, Willow Schnee is the same.”

“Weiss’s mom, right?” Pyrrha asked, receiving a nod from Summer. “I think it suits you.” Jaune said, observing his partner’s armor. Nora grinned and nodded, “Ditto.” Ren smiled, nodding with a hum. The redhead blushed with a flattered smile, before feeling her partner’s hand holding hers. Squeezing Jaune’s hand gently, she then asked, “Well, would you like to tell me what’s been going on since getting to Mistral?” The group nodded, with Jaune saying, “Sure, though it...might be a little long.”

Pyrrha just chuckled, “That’s perfectly fine with me.”

As Pyrrha began catching up with her team, Qrow looked at Summer, whispering, “Can we talk in the hall? Please?” Raising an eyebrow, his former leader nodded, kissing Ruby’s forehead before following the former bandit into the hall. “What’s up?” She asked. Qrow sighed, “First, I need to apologize. For eavesdropping on you and Ruby last night.” ‘Ah...so that’s who it was…’ Summer thought, before saying, “Well, please explain your reasons and I will.”

Nodding, the former bandit said, “Which brings me to my topic. Firstly, you two need help.” “I’ve spoken to Anna about it when getting the wheelchair.” The taller woman said. “Believe me. I know we do.” Qrow nodded, hoping his sigh of relief went unnoticed by his former leader. “Secondly, you need to see and visit Tai and Rae.” He said. Noticing the tired and annoyed expression on Summer’s face, he added, “Summer, it’ll HELP you. And them as well, if I may add.”

The taller woman raised her hands in mock surrender, “I know, I know…” She then sighed, sitting on  the floor. “There’s one problem with that…” She said. Qrow nodded, “I’m aware. You can only really see Tai, as you know where he lives.” “Yang...might be able to help you with Raven.” He said, only to receive a shaking head from his former leader. Summer sighed once more, “Tai won’t talk to her about her mother.” ‘Of course, he won’t….’ The former bandit thought, rubbing his eyes.

“Do they even want me back?” Summer asked. “I’ve been...technically dead for almost 12 years now.” Qrow sighed, sitting next to his former leader as he said, “You know both of them missed you. Raven wants nothing more than to be by your side again and have us safe.” He felt the taller woman lean against him as he continued, “Tai nearly fell apart when he heard about your....’death’.” “Yang told me...” Summer mumbled. “Also said that you were able to help him get back on his feet.”

“Probably one of the only good decisions I’ve ever made.” The former bandit said. “I know Raven, you, and Tai would argue that I’ve done more good things.” “Because you HAVE.” Summer said. “You’ve realized that your tribe was awful and left. You’ve been a great uncle for Ruby and Yang. Hell, I think you’ve done more for Tai than I ever could...” “You flatter me, even though I don’t think the last two are true.” Qrow chuckled softly.

“Raven would say the same.” The former STRQ leader said. A small smirk rose to Qrow’s lips, “Yeah, she would. Much like how I tell her how many good things she’s done.” “That’s something you two need to work on.” Summer said. The former bandit hummed in agreement. The two sat like in comfortable silence, before Qrow said, “I’d be honored to be your brother-in-law.” A warm smile formed on Summer’s face as she chuckled, “Thank you, Qrow. I’d also be honored to be your sister-in-law.”

Chuckling, the former bandit patted his former leader’s shoulder, saying, “I’m going to get some coffee. Want some?” Summer smiled, “Please.” Nodding, Qrow went back into the cafe as the taller woman sighed with a tired, yet content smile on her face. Ruby then wheeled herself out, saying, “Mom, do you have my scroll? I need to text Yang, Blake, and Weiss, please.” Standing back up, Summer raised an eyebrow, “How come…?”

“I was thinking about possibly setting up a virtual meeting.” The young leader said. “Both as a means of checking up on each other and figuring out what to do next.” Nodding, her mother handed her the scroll, asking, “What time?” “How does the day after tomorrow sound?” Ruby asked. Summer nodded, smiling, “That sounds good to me. Though check with your sister and team first.” Her daughter nodded, before tilting her head. “Your right eye looks different.” She said.

“Like...your iris is silver again, but your sclera is red.” She explained. Summer raised an eyebrow, before Ruby took a picture with the scroll and showed it to her mother. Sure enough, the elder Rose noticed her right eye had changed. It was still Grimm-like, but it had her silver iris once more. ‘How the hell did THIS happen?’ She thought. ‘And when? Not to mention why...’ “I’m going to ask Anna about this later...” Summer said. “Right now, setting up that meeting is more important.”

Ruby nodded in agreement, before sending a group text to her sister, Weiss, and Blake...

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

And that’s it. I REALLY tried to make this good. I really did. I had plans on bringing Pyrrha back, but this was hard to do. Though I hope it was worth it in the end.

Pyrrha’s new appearance is INSPIRED from this lovely artwork by Razenix-Angel on DA: https://www.deviantart.com/razenix-angel/art/Pyrrha-Nikos-armor-guide-581087124

Anyway, next will be the end of Side White, where Weiss becomes VERY vocal about her decisions.

[go-scottishgal14]

FINALLY!!!!

Royal aides want Harry and Meghan to give up their titles: Insiders condemn prince's 'disgraceful' podcast attack on family that has left the palace feeling 'bewildered and betrayed'

Palace aides have called on Duke and Duchess of Sussex to give up their titles

Senior courtiers spoke of a growing sense of 'bewilderment and betrayal'

They are particularly incensed by Harry's criticism of Prince Charles's parenting

By CAROLINE GRAHAM FOR THE MAIL ON SUNDAY

PUBLISHED: 22:14, 15 May 2021 | UPDATED: 22:52, 15 May 2021

Palace aides have called on the Duke and Duchess of Sussex to give up their titles following Prince Harry's latest 'disgraceful' assault on the Royal Family.

In a withering condemnation of the couple's continued attacks on the Royals, senior courtiers told The Mail on Sunday of a growing sense of 'bewilderment and betrayal'.

They are particularly incensed over Harry's 'shocking' criticism of Prince Charles's parenting skills and, by implication, those of the Queen and the late Prince Philip.

Dailymail.co.uk: News, Sport, Showbiz, Celebrities from Daily MailPauseNext video1:07 / 1:51SettingsFull-screenRead More

'People are appalled that he could do this to the Queen when the Duke of Edinburgh is barely in his grave,' said one aide. 'To drag his grandfather into this is so shocking and disrespectful.

The Duke of Sussex waves to the crowds as he appears on stage at the Global Citizen VAX LIVE concert this month

Meghan Markle spoke to viewers of the Vax Live concert during her first TV appearance since the Oprah Winfrey interview

'The Duke of Sussex has now spent a significant amount of time emphasising that he's no different to anyone else and attacking the institution which he says has caused him so much pain. There is a growing feeling that if you dislike the institution that much, you shouldn't have the titles.'

Laying bare the toxicity that now exists between the Sussexes and the wider Royal Family, another source said: 'They should put the titles into abeyance, so they still exist, but are not used, like they agreed to do with their HRHs.

'They should just become Harry and Meghan. And if they refuse to do that, they have to explain why not.'

While it is understood that no formal moves are planned to strip the couple of their titles, the pressure for them to be relinquished demonstrates how deep the sense of betrayal has become in the Palace.

His latest outburst means tensions are expected to be high when Harry returns to Britain for the unveiling of a new statue of his mother, Princess Diana, on July 1.

Harry has left senior Royals baffled by his 'woeful lack of compassion' in the expletive-filled 90-minute interview last week with actor and podcaster Dax Shepard.

In particular, there is fury that he spoke out just a month after his grandfather's funeral.

Palace aides have called on Duke and Duchess of Sussex to give up their titles

The Duke and Duchess of Sussex wave to the crowds after their wedding at St George's Chapel in Windsor Castle

Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall, Prince Harry, Prince Charles and Prince William attending a requiem mass for Hugh van Cutsem at Brentwood Cathedral in 2013

The 36-year-old says he and Meghan, who are expecting their second child, moved to the millionaires' enclave of Montecito in California to break the cycle of 'genetic pain'.

'He's treated me the way that he was treated,' he said of his father. 'There's a lot of genetic pain and suffering that gets passed on anyway. Isn't life about breaking the cycle? There's no blame.

'But certainly when it comes to parenting, if I have experienced some kind of pain or suffering because of the pain or suffering that, perhaps, my father or my parents had suffered, I'm going to make sure I break that cycle so I don't pass it on.'

Referring to his father's 'unhappy' time at Gordonstoun school in Scotland – which Charles described as 'Colditz in kilts' – Harry added: 'Suddenly I started to piece it all together and go, OK, so this is where he went to school.

'This is what happened. I know this bit about his life. I also know that's connected to his parents. So that means that he's treated me the way that he was treated, which means how can I change that for my own kids?'

He compared life in The Firm to 'a mixture between The Truman Show and being in a zoo' – a reference to the 1998 Jim Carrey film about a man who is oblivious to the fact that his entire life is a TV show.

'I've seen behind the curtain,' he added. 'I've seen the business model. I know how this operation runs… I don't want to be part of this.'

The Queen, Prince Philip and Prince Charles attending the wedding of Princess Eugenie at St. George's Chapel in Windsor in 2018

Prince Harry speaks at the Global Citizen: VAX Live concert on May 8, 2021

Prince Charles walks behind the Duke of Edinburgh's coffin during his funeral last month

The cherish titles given to Harry by the Queen on his wedding day

Harry may be under pressure to relinquish his dukedom – but there is no suggestion the Queen would strip him of it.

She conferred on him the titles of Duke of Sussex, Earl of Dumbarton and Baron Kilkeel on his wedding day in 2018.

Were he to give those up, he would revert to HRH Prince Henry of Wales and Meghan would become HRH Princess Henry of Wales. As sixth in line to the throne, the title of Prince is his birthright, although he could choose not to use it.

When the couple decided they would no longer represent the Queen in an official capacity, they were allowed to retain their Royal titles and HRH styles, although they agreed not to use the latter.

Harry’s late mother, Princess Diana, agreed to give up her HRH title when she and Prince Charles divorced, but when Harry and Meghan stepped back as working Royals, Palace officials reportedly felt the loss of HRH would appear too ‘punitive’.

Similar concerns led Palace sources to suggest that the Queen is unlikely to remove the dukedom, particularly as it was a wedding gift.

The last occasion when a senior member of the Royal Family had titles removed was after the abdication crisis of 1936 when Edward VIII was given the title of HRH the Duke of Windsor.

Rules around the HRH style were set in Letters Patent issued by George V in 1917.

In them, he stipulated that the son of the son of a Monarch is HRH and so, by convention, is his spouse. Monarchs are, however, free to change the rules.

The Queen issued fresh Letters Patent in 1996 to remove HRH from those who had acquired it on marrying into the family and who then got divorced, namely the Princess of Wales and the Duchess of York.

It was not done out of spite – Diana had already volunteered to lose her HRH style – but of the principle that Royal status acquired on marriage would disappear if that union was dissolved.

His comments have torpedoed hopes that his reunion with Charles and Prince William at the Duke of Edinburgh's funeral last month could bring a reconciliation after the Oprah Winfrey interview in which he and Meghan accused the Royal Family of institutional racism and refusing to help the Duchess when she was suicidal.

Harry also used the interview with the US chat show host in March to describe how he felt 'really let down' by his father who, he claimed, had refused to take his calls after Megxit.

But a close friend of Charles last night said: 'If you follow Harry's logic and treat the Royals just as ordinary people, then the Prince is a single parent who's been doing his best for years.

Can you imagine how it feels to have that effort judged so harshly, so publicly?

'Harry talks about compassion. But where is the compassion for his father? Where is your compassion for your own family who have just buried a much-loved member?

And where is your compassion for your grandmother who has just lost the man she's loved all her life?'

Harry and Meghan agreed not to use their HRH titles when they stepped back as working members of the Royal Family, but have used Duke and Duchess on the money-spinning projects they have launched since moving to the US, including multi-million-pound deals with Netflix and Spotify.

'Their titles are obviously their biggest selling point here,' said one Hollywood producer.

'Without them they are just A-list celebrities like George Clooney. Their attractiveness is based on the allure of those titles.'

Royal aides have expressed concern that the couple have lost touch with reality by continually focusing on themselves when millions of people have lost jobs and loved-ones during the pandemic.

During last week's Armchair Expert podcast, Harry said he did not view his comments as 'complaining' but instead sharing a vulnerability that would have a 'positive impact' on others struggling with mental illness.

But another Royal source said: 'When people have lost jobs and loved ones, it's really not the time to be preaching from your £11 million home about how the rest of us should live.'

Royal aides have previously spoken of a 'genuine desire' to build bridges with the Sussexes, but noted that 'it's impossible to rebuild something while someone keeps chopping it down'.

Harry had appeared on the podcast to promote The Me You Can't See, a mental health series he has produced with Ms Winfrey, and which launches on Apple TV+ on Friday.

During the interview, he said he felt a deeper connection 'to the emotionally free and systemic free people' he worked with in Africa and within the Commonwealth than those he met within the confines of the Palace.

Last night, a Royal aide said: 'If that is what he truly believes then why not give up the titles?'

Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are facing a storm over a deal with US firm Procter & Gamble that sells 'racist' skin whitening cream

By Mark Hookham and Mary Ellen Synon for the Mail on Sunday  

The Duke and Duchess of Sussex face questions over their partnership with an American cosmetics firm that makes tens of millions of pounds a year selling 'racist' skin-whitening creams.

Meghan and Harry last week announced their Archewell Foundation had signed a 'global partnership' with US multi-national Procter & Gamble (P&G) to 'build more compassionate communities'.

But the deal has thrown a spotlight on P&G's hugely controversial sale in Asia and Africa of skin-lightening creams, which reduce the concentration or production of melanin – the natural pigment that gives human skin its colour.

Campaigners have demanded that P&G and other major firms stop selling such creams.

The Duke and Duchess of Sussex face questions over their partnership with an American cosmetics firm

They say the products fuel a 'toxic belief' that 'a person's worth is measured by the colour of their skin' and that light skin is better than dark.

An investigation by The Mail on Sunday has found that Olay – a major P&G skincare brand – sells White Radiance moisturiser in India, Malaysia and Singapore.

In India, the product is said to lighten skin tone and deliver 'radiant and brighter skin'.

In the Philippines, P&G sells Olay White Radiance Light Perfecting Essence, which 'inhibits melanin formation in the deepest layer of skin'. In Lagos, Nigeria, an MoS reporter last week bought Olay Natural White cream, which promises 'pinkish fairness'.

Alex Malouf, a former P&G executive, said Meghan and Harry will come under pressure to say whether they support the sale of such products.

'Meghan has talked a lot about the issue of race and racism, so this does stick out like a sore thumb,' Mr Malouf said.

It comes as:

Harry and Meghan faced calls to scrap their deal with P&G because one of its biggest suppliers of palm oil – FGV Holdings – has been accused of exploiting and abusing workers in Malaysia;

P&G was also lambasted for its role in the destruction of large swathes of virgin forest in Canada to make loo roll. It is claimed the company buys an estimated 490,000 tons of wood pulp a year from Canada's boreal forest;

A study by a major US environmental organisation found that suppliers of wood pulp from the forest were cutting down the habitat of the woodland caribou, an 'at-risk' species of reindeer.

Prince Harry has been outspoken on environmental and wildlife issues. Worth an estimated £6 billion a year, the skin-lightening industry is booming thanks to growing demand in Asia and Africa.

But cosmetic firms have faced mounting pressure amid the growth of the Black Lives Matter movement and claims that the use of such products is deeply rooted in colonial history.

Last year, following an investigation by the website Buzzfeed, Johnson & Johnson said it was dropping its Fine Fairness line, which was available in Asia and the Middle East.

The L'Oreal Group announced plans to remove 'white/whitening', 'fair/fairness' and 'light/lightening' from the names of its products, while Unilever announced plans to rename Fair & Lovely – a popular brand in India.

An investigation by The Mail on Sunday has found that Olay – a major P&G skincare brand – sells White Radiance moisturiser in India, Malaysia and Singapore. Pictured: Two of the whitening products sold by Procter and Gamble

But P&G has continued to sell the popular White Radiance and Natural White products via its Olay brand. Olay has defended such products by comparing them to tanners or make-up.

One woman who runs a beauty shop in Lagos, sold the reporter two jars of Olay Natural White on Friday afternoon. The packaging said the product had been made in Thailand and it promised 'an extraordinary pinkish fairness'.

'This cream protects you against the sun, lightens your skin,' she said. 'It will reduce spots and give you a lovely skin tone.' In India, P&G sells Olay Natural White 7 in one glowing fairness cream.

Olay's website says the cream brightens skin tone and contains niacinamide, a skin lightening compound.

Nina Davuluri, 32, the first Indian-American to win Miss America, said skin-whitening products sell a 'racist' ideology 'that you need white skin to be beautiful, you need white skin to be successful'.

She has been fighting so-called 'colourism' – discrimination based on skin colour – since she saw a headline in an Indian newspaper which asked, 'Is Miss America too dark to be Miss India' after she won the title in 2014.

Miss Davuluri last year launched an online petition urging P&G, Unilever, L'Oreal and Johnson & Johnson to stop selling whitening creams.

The petition states: 'They are sending the message that people are 'less than' because they are dark. That they are not enough because of the colour of their skin. That they are not seen, valued, or heard. This is racism.'

She said last night she was shocked that P&G had not done more to address the issue.

Campaigner Kavitha Emmanuel said she founded India's Dark Is Beautiful campaign in 2009 to 'address the toxic belief that a person's worth is measured by the colour of their skin'.

She added: 'That is the toxic belief that these brands, through their advertisements seem to be propagating.'

Joanne Rondilla, a professor at San Jose State University who has researched skin-lightening in the Philippines, said Harry and Meghan had a 'responsibility' to voice concerns about these products with P&G.

'Like everyone else around the world, I saw that interview with Oprah that Meghan did,' she added. 'It was important for her to bring up these issues of colourism. I don't think this partnership advances that conversation.'

Robin Averbeck, of the Rainforest Action Network, a US environment organisation, called on the Duke and Duchess to end their relationship with P&G because of the firm's links with FGV Holdings.

'The fact that P&G has continued to be complicit in human rights abuses, in environmental devastation, is reason enough why this partnership shouldn't be formed or shouldn't continue. It showed that full due diligence on the company was not done.'

The Archewell Foundation has said its partnership with P&G will focus on 'gender equality, more inclusive online spaces, and resilience and impact through sport'.

P&G did not respond to questions about its skin-whitening creams, the US ban on imports from FGV Holdings or its use of wood pulp from Canada.

But in a statement, it said: 'At P&G, we are committed to doing the right thing across all aspects of our business – without exception. Doing more and doing better is important for us all – for our company, in our communities and for our planet.

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

starker => “You will never do something more embarrassing than that love poem you wrote when we were 13 and read out in front of the whole school.”

Take Me Home 

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Mature (M) Word Count: ~4.5k Notes: Nonnie, this immediately brought me back to my high school friends and all the memories they like to bring up at the worst possible time. I hope you enjoy what I did with it.  Warnings: A brief section of NSFW stuff (though not explicit), mentions of homophobia Summary: 

Peter ran from home after turning 18 with a very willing Tony Stark right there with him. They manage to create a beautiful home in Manhattan in the 10 years since they left. Find out what happens when Peter gets the invitation for their 10-year reunion! 

do the thing - send in all the prompts.

For 10 perfect years, Peter didn’t have to think about his hometown. In each of those glorious years, Peter enjoyed the hustle and bustle of Manhattan with the gorgeous man he snuck away with all that time ago. He turned his back on the aunt and uncle that took him in, all of his friends, and the prejudices that came with being different in a town that did not accept anything other than in-line and on the “right” path.

Tony, the beautiful human that he was, rolled with the punches and followed Peter when he decided to leave it all behind. They waited until they both were 18, packed all of the things they could realistically bring with them and left Alabama for New York without looking back. Luckily, Tony’s father left him with a big inheritance and the brains to do big things. It made going to a brand-new place easier on them both – Peter didn’t have to worry about dealing with a grumpy Tony that didn’t feel like he was adequately providing and they both got to explore all of the academic and business pursuits they could possibly dream of.

And they absolutely did. Peter spent 5 years at TISCH getting an undergraduate and graduate degree in Computer Animation and Design – the program allowed him to intern at a video game company his last year in school and walk into a job a couple of days after graduation.

Tony went to NYU and double majored in both Mechanical Engineering and Entrepreneurship. After graduation, he put some time into opening a technology business that would later incorporate Peter’s design skills into the foundation. He pursued a master’s in Management of Technology to further his programing skills a couple of years later.

Throughout their schooling, Peter and Tony lived in a 2-bedroom apartment with an open living room and a balcony that overlooked Central Park. In terms of being young and in-love, they didn’t struggle to be happy together – each person got to do what they wanted and live in a place that didn’t give a damn if Peter wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulders or pressed a kiss to his now mustache covered lips.

It shouldn’t have worked – stealing away in the middle of the night like thieves; but it did. 8 years after getting to the city, Tony got down on one knee in the middle of the house they spent a ridiculous amount of time picking out and making just right. There wasn’t anything in it yet, but the prospect of filling it up with future memories was too good not to be doing it as husbands.

Their wedding was small and took place in the courthouse with a couple of their closest friends standing by as witnesses to the small union between them. Aside from a quaint dinner, they didn’t spend much time getting too hyped about it. They’d been living together and in love for years, the ring just put a bit more permanence into their situation. Peter took the Stark last name and enjoyed getting to drop Parker the second he could make it happen.

To put it lightly, Peter hadn’t been happier. He got to work with his husband on a daily basis and do something that challenged his mind and interested him more and more as the projects grew and changed. After a couple of years of fiddling with a few things around the house, Peter finally felt good about the space they called their own, and finally – he convinced Tony to get a dog. The business was doing well, and they were on the verge of adding a bit more personnel to the crew – which meant a little more time spent outside of the office. That also meant more than enough opportunity to add a 3rd member to the Stark household.

Things were going so smoothly that it almost didn’t register to him, the invitation he got in his childhood email that he couldn’t bear to part with. It struck him to check it – something in the back of his mind told him to log in with the familiar keystrokes he typed so many times throughout his life. The fact that 10 years passed since they graduated high school momentarily made him feel a little old – he was approaching 30.

Shaking his head, Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket, his fingers trembling as he typed out a message to Tony. Their offices were just across the building, he could have easily walked there and crashed into a chair – but that took too much time and effort. The need to know whether his husband got the shocking little blast from the past drove him to hit send.

Peter Stark: Holy – did you get the invitation to the 10-year reunion? Peter Stark: I should have gotten rid of that email address like you told me to.

He flipped the phone over and tried to focus on logging out and getting the invitation away from his curious eyes – the more he looked at it, the more interested he became. They were really splurging with a 2-day stay at one of the nicest hotels in their sleepy little town. He could still distinctly remember prom and the elegant plan he and Tony made to sneak away and not be caught together. A soft smile slipped across his face, the thought of some of their time spent wrapped up in each other as young kids always made his heart flutter.

Tony Stark: No, unlike you, I don’t obsessively check old email addresses. Tony Stark: Did you talk yourself into going, yet?

Peter couldn’t help the laugh that slipped from his lips. The singular fact that his husband knew him so well was both a blessing and a curse. Deep down, he figured something would ignite the need/want to go back there. A 10-year class reunion never would have been his first guess, but it was as good of an excuse as any.

Peter Stark: Not yet, but it’s probably going to happen. Peter Stark: What do you think the best way to dramatically make an entrance is? Hold hands? Or just bump shoulders as we walk in?

Tony Stark: I know. It’s okay – I don’t mind. Tony Stark: I think the fact that we’re there at all will be enough, but if you’re really shooting to drop a few jaws, I could dip you back and stick my tongue down your throat. That will really drive the point home.

Peter Stark: You never did. Peter Stark: Maybe you should just dump me over the table and take me right there in front of everyone. Peter Stark: You’re an ass. Peter Stark: But I love you.

The back and forth of their text exchange carried Peter all the way through lunch where he walked into Tony’s office and sat down on the edge of his desk. “I guess we’re going to Alabama,” Peter muttered, his arms crossing. For whatever reason, going back and proving himself seemed important – even if it meant doing the one thing he never wanted to do to begin with – come out to the narrow-minded people he grew up with.

Tony stepped in front of him, his arms wrapping around his hips without hesitation. ‘It’ll be okay,” Tony whispered as he leaned in to press a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “Could be fun, too.”

Grimacing, Peter tilted his head until their lips were pressing together. He distracted himself with the luscious slide of his lips against Tony’s, the wet exchange a much better thing to focus on, anyway.

----

In the month leading up to the reunion, Peter went back and forth between going and not going at least once a day. After the first week of it, Tony stopped playing along and went about making plans like the reasonable adult that he was. They had an early morning flight in the day the reunion started and that same flight on the way home. It seemed safe to get out as quickly as they could if things went sour. In the furthest parts of his deepest bits, Peter hoped it wouldn’t be as torturous as he remembered it being during the early part of his life.

Looking back at it now, Peter figured a lot of the negative feelings he harbored towards his hometown came from the fact that he never felt comfortable in his own skin there. He knew at an early age that being open about the fact that boys did it for him wasn’t really an option – not if he wanted to make it through the social hornet’s nest that was high school. Peter didn’t want to suffer and when Tony came into the picture, it became even more important to keep living under the radar.

The thought of not only going back to the place that caused him so many sleepless nights but arriving with a previous male classmate made a brick of anxiety sit in the pit of his belly – the internal conflict he was fighting just as embarrassing as it was frustrating. Since getting to New York, Peter hadn’t felt an ounce of shame for the way he lived his life – he didn’t want to put that stain on his good thing with Tony now.

Peter spent the entire day before their trip packing his bag and fretting over all of the things that could go wrong. In an obvious attempt to escape the boiling over anxiety, Tony checked into work for a couple of hours to give Peter a bit of time to collect himself before they headed out. It seemed to help, too – by the time Tony got back, Peter felt a lot better about the entire thing. If push came to shove, they didn’t have to go. Though, he knew he probably wouldn’t forgive himself if, in a moment of weakness, he let himself cop out.

In true Tony Stark fashion, his husband made sure it didn’t come to that. After getting out of the shower, Tony ordered them food and let Peter eat most of the noodles, because they were his favorite. When all of the food was gone, Tony turned on a mindless movie and went about taking Peter’s clothes off one by one, his sneaky fingers and skillful mouth pulling all of his worries out a nip and kiss at a time.

Sleep after getting fucked out of his mind was never short of wonderful – Peter didn’t wake up once in a fit of anxiousness like he took to doing the two nights before. Tony kept the arm he wrapped around Peter’s hip there until the first snooze went off, then they started getting ready for the day. Peter knew that Tony wouldn’t function right until after a shower and coffee, so he forced himself out of bed and tugged his husband right along with him.

After 2 shots of espresso for the both of them, Peter and Tony collected their bags and got an Uber to take them to the airport. For Peter, it felt like a long time since the last time he flew in an airplane – Tony did most of the company traveling. Peter liked it better that way.

The check-in process was easy in the morning, they were through the security line with more than an hour to space. Since there were only a few gates open, Peter pulled Tony along until they found a Dunkin’ Donuts open near their stopping point to snag another cup of coffee for the wait.

Sitting down at their gate, Tony laid his head on Peter’s shoulder, the man occasional lifting his arm to bring the coffee cup to his lips. It felt like a nice calm before the storm of whatever awaited them back home. The last shred of nervousness told him to run while he still could – yet, the heavy weight of Tony on his arm kept him in his seat and later buckled into the airplane, 31,000 feet in the air.

Peter spent most of the flight running his hand through Tony’s hair, who, after 3 big hits of caffeine, still managed to fall asleep. It amazed him, how calm Tony could be at a time like this. He figured that even the locals had to get bubbly guts at the thought of seeing people who hadn’t been in their town or even lives for more than a decade. Things like that really put time in perspective.

Touchdown into the Atlanta airport had Peter shaking Tony awake – his husband’s sleepy brown eyes now a lot clearer after a couple extra hours of sleep. Just in case, Tony slipped his purple tinted glasses over his eyes as they headed off the plane. Renting a car took a few minutes and before Peter was ready, he was in the passenger seat a couple hours away from stumbling back into the snake pit that they called home.

In exchange for Tony sleeping on the plane, Peter kicked back and spent the 2-hour drive in a fitful sleep. Every time they slowed down, even a little, his eyes blinked open – like maybe the world was coming to an end, or something. About 10 minutes out, Peter woke up for good and fixed the seat back of the rental, his eyes widening in realization that nothing looked any different.

“How has 10 years past without a single thing changing?” Peter mumbled, his arms crossing in a gesture that screamed self-defense. It was this place – it brought it out of him.

Tony chuckled and reached a hand between them to grab one of Peter’s so he could lace their fingers together. “It’s a small town, Pete. We’ll be some of the only people who didn’t leave,” Tony said softly, the truth in his words sinking into the space between them. Their hands stayed tangled together until Tony needed his back to park.

His stomach tightened up when they got out of the car and started to wheel their bags towards the hotel’s entrance. In all of his time in New York, Peter got spoiled by architecture that made the brain question whether it was truly seeing what was in front of it. His memories made this place look like the Taj Mahal, when really – it was just a small hotel masking itself as something fancier. Satisfied that he felt more in control of his nervousness, Peter walked up to the front desk confidently.

Even after being married for the past couple of years, Peter never got tired of calling himself a Stark. Telling the person behind the counter the reservation name made him feel even more powerful – what was the use of approaching the situation like he was scared; Tony made him strong, the least he could do was act like it.

Despite that increase in conviction, Peter was happy that they didn’t run into anyone on their way up to their room – the soft outpouring of breath when the door shut behind him pulled a laugh from Tony, his husband already moving to wrap strong arms around him.

“You’ve got the cutest little furrow between your eyebrows. I can sense the frustration, Petey. It’s going to be okay,” Tony whispered, his lips caressing the shell of Peter’s ear. “If it sucks, we can come back and crash – it’s no big deal.”

Though the reassurance felt good to have, Peter shook his head, his own arms moving to wrap around Tony’s shoulders. Pressing their lips together, Peter calmed himself with Tony’s touch, his husband using their closeness to his advantage to run his palm over the bare skin of Peter’s back. “I’m nervous. Just don’t leave me alone all night and I think it’ll be just fine.”

Letting his nose travel over Peter’s cheek and then down his neck, Tony did a good job distracting him, the scratch of his facial hair pulling a moan from his chest. “You’re crazy if you think I’m going anywhere by myself,” Tony panted out against his neck, his breath sending a tickle down Peter’s spine.

“Want me to distract you for a little while?” Tony asked, his head pulling back to catch Peter’s eye. There was mischief and the first hints of arousal in the syrupy cognac of his eyes. Tony’s flush did him in – the spread of it across sharp cheek bones heart stopping.

Peter nodded his head eagerly, a huge smile spreading across his cheeks when Tony wasted no time dropping down to his knees. His fingers made quick work of the button and zipper of Peter’s jeans, the tips of his fingers diving into the front of tight boxer-briefs without any preamble.

After a quick shift, Tony pressed his face in the same space his hand was a moment ago, a long exhale heard from above. Eager fingers moved to the waistband of tight jeans before sinking under them and pushing until the fabric pooled at his ankles. Moving back just enough to help Peter step out of his converse, Tony tugged off Peter’s jeans and underwear – the man inhaling deeply at the nakedness on display.

“You’re gorgeous, Peter – it blows my mind every time I get some evidence dangled under my nose,” Tony babbled, his hands running up Peter’s thighs as he spoke. They settled on Peter’s hips, fingertips digging into the skin and gripping tightly. Peter knew that meant not to thrust – Tony wanted free reign to play without being disturbed.

Soft lips trailed kisses across the line of Peter’s hip, starting at one prominent bone and ending at the other. Tony poked his tongue out and let it trail that same path back then down the well-kept nest of curls that led to Peter’s quickly hardening erection. His adventure stopped when the tip of his tongue ended just under the head. Lips wrapped around him then, the shock of it pulling a shriek from Peter before he could control it.

Looking up, Tony pulled off and smirked at him. “Make all the noise you want,” he encouraged, his mouth returning to its task almost instantly. Tony slid his lips down until his nose was bumping against Peter’s stomach, the tip of an achy cock just barely grazing the back of his throat.

The swallow around him could be felt all over Peter’s skin, his eyes slamming shut to fight back against the sensation. The prickly stimulus was recognizable – Peter wasn’t a stranger to the pleasure that Tony could give to him. It didn’t usually come on so quickly, but who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Like usual, Tony worked his magic, his husband dragging an orgasm out of him that made his knees buckle. If it weren’t for Tony’s hands on his hips, they both would’ve toppled to the floor. Peter gripped Tony’s shirt and brought him up to eye level. His hungry lips chased the taste of himself from Tony’s mouth, the slide of their tongues together enough to boil the heat in the pit of his stomach once again.

Peter attempted to reach between them to return the favor, but Tony was having none of it. “I’ll get mine later. That was for you,” Tony stated, his hand reaching between them to grip Peter’s and bring it up to his mouth. The soft kiss he planted on the back of it almost had his knees buckling under him, too. Tony had such an ability to be so fucking smooth.

Another kiss to the lips had Tony pulling back, a grin on his face. “I would like to take another shower before this shit starts, though – there’s something about airplane smell I’m just not a fan of.”

----

Looking in the mirror one last time before walking out the door, Peter felt pretty good about what he had on. His gray slacks sat nicely on his hips and hugged down his thigh and calf, ending just above his ankle. The black shoes went with the belt that he and Tony were both wearing. The blue short sleeve button down Peter had on juxtaposed Tony’s gray suit and blue shirt combo pretty perfectly – if the matching wedding rings and tangled hands didn’t do the trick, maybe the coordinating outfits would.

Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him back against his chest – his lips finding Peter’s neck. “You look great. We look great, even,” Tony said, his eyes meeting Peter’s in the mirror. “Let’s go shock the hell out of a bunch of people.” His nose nuzzled against the hair at the back of Peter’s head, then his warmth was gone.

It took a couple more deep breaths to truly feel ready to walk out the door. His fingers were wrapped tightly around Tony’s when they stepped out, the grip he kept probably more than a little uncomfortable – but, Tony persisted, anyway. He kept Peter tightly by his side the entire elevator ride down and stepped in front of him when they got to the small table that Liz Allan was sitting in front of. Her eyes bugged for a second before she got her shit together and flashed the two of them a smile.

“Peter Parker – as I live and breathe,” Liz uttered, her eyes meeting his for a second, then flitting over to Tony. “And Tony Stark. Together. There was a little pool to see if either of you guys would come. No one ever expected your appearance to be together.” Her hands were quick to hand out the pre-made name tags, the words coming out of her mouth without thought.

Peter collected his and smirked at the last name on his badge. Noticing a Sharpie on the table, he grabbed it and crossed Parker out, replacing it quickly with Stark. The gasp that left Liz’s mouth when he slapped it on his shirt with a smile made the entire trip worth it – even if it all went to shit from there.

The squeeze of Tony’s hand when they walked into the banquet hall had Peter looking up, a gleam in his eye. “You just blew her mind,” Tony whispered, his mouth dipping dangerously close to Peter’s ear. “Proud of you.” A ghost of a kiss glanced his ear, Tony’s sneakiness never ending.

Before they could get any further into the room, Peter was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Turning, his mouth widened into a soft smile on instinct, the sight of MJ not looking much different than when they were kids one of the best things to happen yet.

“Holy shit. It is you. How the hell are you?” MJ questioned, her hand staying exactly where it settled to start. She looked down at his hand and then up at the person connected to it, a smirk taking over her face. “Hey, Tony.”

A snort left his lips when Tony lifted a hand with a swift wave. He didn’t say anything else, but that’d always been the way those two were. In the rare times when Tony could get Peter to hang out with him around other people, Peter figured his husband put up with his friends just to get to be a part of that particular piece of his life.

Turning his attention back to MJ, Peter answered her question. “I’m really good. It’s weird to be here, but it’s nice to see you. More than nice,” His free hand reached up to cup her elbow, his fingers squeezing gently. “How are you? Are you still in town, or off changing the world somewhere else?”

A weird look flashed across her face then, her eyes hardening ever so slightly. “I totally forgot that you just left out of nowhere. I’m in the Boston area. I do financial planning for JP Morgan. It’s lucrative and lots of fun.” 

Taking a step back, MJ crossed her hands over her chest, her eyes trailing over him. “Please tell me you’re doing something with tech – or computers. Something cool that explains why you ditched and never said a word.”

The words stung, but each one was deserved. Peter felt Tony move a little closer to him, the man doing his best to be empathetic as quietly as he could. “I didn’t ditch. I left, MJ. I wanted to be with Tony and not have to feel embarrassed for it. It was the best thing to happen to me, I promise. I’m sorry. For hurting you.”

He wasn’t sure that was what she was looking for. In all of the years they were friends, he hadn’t been able to read her – that sure as hell wasn’t starting now. Instead of anger, however, he saw a genuine smile pull her lips up and to the corner of her eye; the slightest crinkle there new. “You will never do something more embarrassing than that love poem you wrote when we were 13 and read out in front of the whole school. Now that I know who it was for – that statement is even more true.”

Tony’s scoff had all three of them laughing – his husband’s sassiness never ceasing to be entertaining. “You said it wasn’t me you were talking about,” Tony said, his words pulling even more laughter from them.

Without worrying about the rest of the people around them, Peter wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulders, the other’s arm sliding around his hips in return. “If I told you how long I had a crush on you, your head would be so big. There has to be a little moderation, Tony.”

And just like that, it felt like being back in high school – except this time, he didn’t have that debilitating fear that consumed him on a constant basis. How could he – Tony kept him close and took the hard questions when Peter didn’t want to or couldn’t deal. It wasn’t the nicest reception by everyone, but that wasn’t ever expected, anyway.

Tumbling into bed that night, Peter settled with his head against Tony’s chest, his hand settling across his firm stomach. “Thanks for coming back with me,” Peter mumbled, his lips pressing into the soft skin closest to him. “And for gently making sure it happened. I don’t know what I was so afraid of.”

At that, Tony’s wrapped him up, pulling him closer as he did. Peter felt lips against the hair on his head – the gust of breath from Tony’s nose rattling the strands. “The unknown, probably. It’s hard to want to venture out when you’ve been burned before. I’m happy we’re here – it was good to see you finally conquer this – the place and the people.” Tony finished his words with another press of his lips against Peter’s head.

“It’s good to do it,” Peter admitted, settling a little more firmly against Tony’s chest.

It wasn’t their home anymore and never would be, but maybe he didn’t have to leave all of the pieces behind, after all.

[michelleleisureblogs]

Historical Facts About Two African Countries

Hidden Truth Behind Madagascar

If you’ve watched any kind of documentary, or show, or incredibly accurate cartoon depiction of “Madagascar” I’m sure you are fully aware of how unique and distinct the country is when it comes to nature. The Malagasy have quite a unique story too when it comes to the history of the people. The people of Madagascar had trade agreements with the rest of the continent of Africa during the pre-colonial times, most of their trade was with people in modern-day Mozambique, this marina rulers of Madagascar welcomed the English missionaries and soon the island had converted to the Christian faith. 

This conversion to Christianity led to the modernization of Madagascar society which led to the development of schools, medical center, and industries, the Malagasy people believed that their embrace of Christianity and modernity would save them from colonialism but unfortunately, these Africans did not understand that this arm of Christianity was into empire building and not in the sole business. Fast-forward to 1884 the French army launched their attack on the Malagasy people to expand the French empire but the Malagasy people fought a good fight and the war ended in a stalemate. However, in 1895 the French came back twice as tall to burn the country down which utterly destroyed the nearest marina rulership and the wolf of French colonialism was established in place across the island. The French war brought devastation as they mutated the resources and they did not invest in infrastructural development and only split resources out to France. The Malagasy who had strived to stay independent were now French citizens or French subjects until the 1960s when they eventually won their political independence.

Evil Queen of Madagascar

Queen Ranavalona, the Mad Queen of Madagascar was responsible for the killing of 75 percent of her subjects. Whenever she questioned the loyalty of her members of the Madagascar military, she arranged a “fair” and “just” way to allow them to prove their loyalty, by simply telling them to eat three raw chicken skins, no trial, no evidence, no jury, they just have to eat three raw chicken skins to prove their loyalty to the Queen and they will be free to go. After wolfing down the first skin, followed by the second, and finally after a few nauseous gulps, the last, the raw skins slide down their throat covered in slime and they get the urge to vomit. They can’t help it and vomit two of the chicken skins and fail her test and are then pronounced guilty and sentenced to death by the Queen. A strict traditionalist, Queen Ranavalona believed in the old ways of her people and for her accession ceremony had her naked body anointed with the blood of a freshly slain bull, which was fitting for a woman who would spill the blood of millions. After which, she put the royal family to death in a variety of ways. She was responsible for the murder of several Christians, who were sometimes hung over a ravine or cliff’s edge with ropes, and left there without food and water, while their friends and family would be forced to watch until at last the ropes frayed and sent the condemned to their quick death on the rocks below.

Incredible Facts about Madagascar

According to the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime, almost one in ten Malagasies smoke weed, which’s a higher percentage than they do in the Netherlands, making it an ideal place (to avoid) when looking for a good vacation.

The North-Eastern part of Madagascar is known to produce close to 80% of the world’s vanilla, which is one of the most expensive flavours. A kind of large wrap made of various kinds of fabrics in patterns and colours usually worn by the Malagasy people.

The behaviour of the Malagasy people is seriously governed by thousands of cultural taboos, or fady, many of which include no funerals or farming on Tuesdays, no use of shovels with firm handles to bury the dead, or no eating of eels and goats.

It has become one of the most recent countries to abolish capital punishment but surprisingly is still the 14th least happy country according to the World Happiness Report.

Despite the poverty, Madagascar is home to some top-notch luxurious tourist sites and spas. Start saving up though, doubles cost from £3,220 a night.

Lamba is a traditional garment worn by Malagasies, both men and women. 

Bare-knuckle fighting, called moraingy, is a very popular sport throughout the island, as well as in Reunion, 300 miles to the east.

 TANZANIA; BEYOND TANGA IN THE LAND OF THE BLACKS

Tanzania, a well-known East African country, home to the tallest mountain in Africa, Mount Kilimanjaro, was formed in 1964 as Tanganyika united with Zanzibar to form the United Republic of Tanganyika and Zanzibar, then after 6 months, it was changed to Tanzania. But before we take a journey about Tanzania let’s talk a bit about Tanganyika and Zanzibar.

Tanganyika, a geographical entity that comprises a large part of the mainland of Tanzania was a sovereign state from 1961 to 1964. During the 1880s, the German colonists took over the area and in 1891 was declared a protectorate as part of German East Africa. After World-War I, Britain took over the protectorate and gave it the name Tanganyika under the league-of nations mandate in 1922 which means “what is beyond Tanga”, later it was turned into a United Nations Trust Territory after World War II due to its wonderful qualities in its geography, topography, climate, geopolitics, etc. Interesting to note, Tanganyika was instrumental in World war II as 100, 000 People joined the Allied Forces (Countries that opposed the Axis powers during world war II) and also were part of the 375,000 British colonial troops who fought against Germany and Japan. In 1957, there only 15 towns with over 5000 inhabitants with the former capital of Tanzania having the highest population at the time of more than 125,000 people. During this time, the British had a problem which was the Tanganyika’s ethnic and economic makeup which created issues for them in as much they had a policy which was focused on the continuation of the European presence but they still had to be responsive to the political demands of the Africans there. On route to independence, five UN missions visited the country and received hundreds of written petitions as well as oral presentations made in New York City. All these as the Africans who used the UN to achieve their purposes were key in driving the country towards independence. And in 1961, Tanganyika became an independent state. Now to our neighbor, Zanzibar

Zanzibar, an island located in the Indian Ocean off the east coast of Africa. Interesting to note Zanzibar means land of the blacks. Going as far back as the 16th century, the island was under the domination of the Portuguese but was taken over by Omani Arabs in the 18th century. After taking over, Sultan Seyyid decided to move his capital from Muscat (which is the most populated and popular city in Oman) to Zanzibar. This decision made the island to be at the center of trade for spices. Did you know that in the early 20th century, the island produced nearly 90% of the world’s supply of Spices. Also, the island became a major transit point for the slave trade in the Indian Ocean. But as you know, “When men have ambition, with no limit, they fall”, this is exactly what happened to the Oman Empire, in 1890, the island became a British protectorate. Although it was a British Protectorate, the British ruled through the sultan. Zanzibar, on the path to independence, got theirs from the United Kingdom in 1963, making the nation to be a Constitutional monarchy ruled by its Sultan. Then in 1964, there was a revolt against the sultan, and a new government was formed with Abeid Karume, who was the president and chairman of the Revolutionary Council. During the few days of revolt known as the Zanzibar Revolution, thousands of people lost their lives, comprising mostly Arabs and Indians. Also during this time, the Tanganyika army took part in the revolt then Julius Kambarage Nyerere who was a Tanzanian anti-colonial activist asked Britain to send troops. The troops came ashore from aircraft carriers. The troops’ operations were successful in the disbanding of the military, after the whole operation, the Britain troops left and were replaced with Canadian troops. After some time, on 26th April 1964 Zanzibar united with Tanganyika to form the United Republic of Tanganyika and Zanzibar which is also Tanzania.

Now that we have a clearer view of Tanzania, we can have a touch of its history. After the union of the two states, the two ruling parties in each state merged to form the Chama cha Mapinduzi Revolutionary Party in 1977. The merge occurred due to the belief of Nyerere which was that, multiple political parties, in a nation with diverse or multiple ethnic groups won’t support national unity but will jeopardize it. Also, to promote unity he established Kiswahili as the national language. As time went by, every sector of the state expanded rapidly and nationalizations transformed the government into the largest employer in the country as it was involved in all aspects from retailing to trade to banking thereby making the stage set for corruption. As more complex bureaucratic procedures evolved and a huge increase in tax rates set by officials caused harm to the economy, enormous amounts of public funds were misappropriated and put to ineffective use and the purchasing power continued to decline at a fast rate which all lead to a decline in the economy.

On 19th March 2021, following the sudden death of John Magufuli, Vice President Samia Suluhu Hassan became the new president. Still, being the Unitary Presidential Democratic Republic, Tanzania hopes to progress in the oneness of people, in heart and mind.

References

Anon., 2020. Most Evil Queen - Killed 75% Of Her  Subjects. [Online]  Available at: https://www.voicetube.com/v3/videos/141662  [Accessed 17 March 2021].

Chiteji, F.  M. ,. B. D. F. ,. M. A. C. a. I. K., 2021. "Tanzania".  Encyclopedia Britannica. [Online]  Available at: https://www.britannica.com/place/Tanzania  [Accessed 19 March 2021].

GONCHAR, M.,  2019. The New York Times. [Online]  Available at: https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/02/25/learning/25MadagascarGeographyQuiz.html  [Accessed 19 March 2021].

 Authors:

Moronkeji AgbaraOluwa

Nemieboka Boma

Ilechukwu Michelle

[legendaryorangeloot]

This is "The Union Screaming House", a short story I wrote as an alternate-universe American M.R. James story (which is why it's not got fully modern language when describing people's race and ethnicity, and the language/spelling in general is idiosyncratic in the way that letters from the <1900s tend to be.) I wrote it in one huge burst on a road trip with my partner from Milwaukee to St. Louis, and never really edited it, but I think it's true to the style and form of the author I'm trying to pay homage to, so all the weaknesses I can see are present in the source works and serve to make it more accurate (sorry, Monty James. you know I love you.)

Dec 22, 18--

My dearest Daniel - I write to you about events which recently occurred in the small town of Union, Mo., feeling certain that they will prove of interest to you, for your personal collections of curious supernatural tales and revolutionary literature. I suppose, as I shall leave no descendants, you may publish my full confession after all parties involved are deceased - such is the advantage of having much-younger friends, I suppose!

We were traveling across the midwestern states at a leisurely pace, hoping to recuperate my equilibrium after the trial in which I had recently defended Mr. W-- S-- against numerous charges of murder, about which: the less said, the better. It had become our custom over a period of weeks to seek out remote roads and tracks and follow them to their sources, which almost invariably were villages and towns with unusual “claims to fame”, such as one that boasted an underground lake, another with what they claimed as the oldest living tree in the state. This proved a diverting experience, and I greatly enjoyed conversing with many of the “oldsters” I met outside general stores and hearing tales of the War, and of their luck or lack there-of in the agriculture business. The endeavor was beginning to allow me to leave behind the feeling of grave wrong-doing that had dogged me since the verdict of the S-- trial, but what replaced it in Union may yet prove to be worse.

It was on one of these rather aimless treks that we found ourselves in Union, home of some 700 people. It was a chill autumn night, and darkness fell early, no later than 5 o. clock. Bryan, who was acting as driver, refused to travel in such a rural area after dark (wise, owing to his appearance - as you may recall from our last visit, Bryan is light enough to pass for “black Irish” stock, and usually does so successfully, but in the more… concerned areas of the country, he has been sometimes “found out”, with all the concurrent discriminatory rigmarole… sneaking “my servant” into my lodging-house rooms has been quite the risky undertaking in some of these towns.) At any rate, we obtained the name of a local widower who would be willing to rent a room to me for the night, and allow Bryan and our four-horse team to stay in his guest house and lavish stables, respectively.

Mr. R--, a sprightly gentleman of maybe 55 years, proved a quite gracious host, and commenced to give me a tour of the property, which was called Blackwater Woods. We walked around the barn, various outbuildings, and past many pastures and livestock holding-pens, before approaching the enormous main house. It was built in a style quite unlike the modest but modern homes of Union proper, and appeared to be designed in the manner of a frontier cabin, but on a scale so large that it made it seem slightly ridiculous, as though perhaps it had been constructed to display at a Worlds Fair and not for humans to inhabit at all. Mr. R-- was oddly reluctant to show me around much of the house in detail, as he had the farm-buildings, but he invited me to dinner and after-dinner drinks and cigars politely enough after escorting me to my second-floor room, which had clearly been a woman’s “boudoir” prior to being pressed into service as a guest room. I changed clothes and washed up with alacrity, eager to get the dust and grime of the road off my person, and still had ample time left to explore my surroundings. The room was large, and sparsely-furnished, but feminine touches from the prior inhabitant (Mrs. R--, I assumed at the time) still remained in the form of a silver-backed hairbrush near the vanity mirror, a jewelry box which played a tune when opened (I shut it quickly, as the mechanism appeared to be functioning not very well, and the too-slow tune rendered me oddly soporific), and a gauzy canopy hanging from the four posts of the bed, which I imagined was intended to be exotic in the manner of a harem, but was instead exotic in the manner of tropical anti-mosquito netting. I was oddly moved by this nod to concepts of Romance and Beauty in such a rural locale, and smiled to myself in the mirror, only to quickly blanch and whip my head round to look when I saw the form of a woman - a dusky-skinned woman, with high cheekbones and full lips - materialize behind me, visible in the mirror! In retrospect, I believe it was not just my terror at being accompanied at a time I believed myself alone that caused me to react so immediately and physically, but that the woman so obviously required help. She could hardly have communicated it more clearly than her facial expression did, even if she had plainly said “Help me!”. When I turned to look where I had seen her standing, near the enormous limestone fireplace, there was no-one there, and looking back in the mirror, she also did not re-appear. But there lingered in the air a smell - you are the only one I could tell this to - a womanly smell, but one that was attractive to me, in a way, which, I know you know, I have not experienced before (or since).

For all those reasons, I was deeply shaken as I went down to the dining-room to eat with Mr. R--. I thought that perhaps I could ask questions about the room’s former inhabitant, but each time I tried to broach the topic, Mr. R-- cut me off with florid tales of inconsequential things, which would have been greatly entertaining, had they not distracted me from my goal. I learned many interesting tid-bits of the area’s history, but was unable to discern a reason for the visage of the woman to appear, or what help she might require. I did learn that the “guest house” where my beloved Bryan now stayed was, in fact, former slave quarters, and this did not sit well with me. I was also able, by making some off-hand comments about the food, to learn that indeed we were alone in the house entirely, the woman who had cooked the meal being employed only at the dinner-hour and returning to her home in Union after serving. I do not remember what we ate.

After the meal, we retired to Mr. R--’s study, and he poured us generous doses of a bourbon of exceptional quality. The study, unlike the rest of the house, was furnished in an extravagant style that would not have seemed much out of place in the wealthiest salons of London or Vienna. Presumably for this reason, it was kept locked at all times with a latch and bolt-lock on the door, and keyed locks on the single window, to which, Mr. R-- explained, he held the only keys. I sipped at my bourbon as he spoke at length about various topics, and realized soon that he was drinking his as though it were water. I saw my opportunity to perhaps gain more information about the mirror woman, so I surreptitiously poured out the rest of my liquor onto the Turkish carpet, and proposed a refill, then another, then another, which I disposed of in the same way. As Mr. R-- became first tipsy, then outright intoxicated, I steered the conversation to the topic of the room I now stayed in. “Was it your wife’s chambers?” He appeared startled by this question and was quick to say, in a brusque manner, “No. It was used for brief, er, overnight stays only, for no-one in particular.” He attempted to change the subject after this answer, but I could see him beetling his brows at me from time to time as we spoke on less consequential matters. The evening wound down soon after this, and I excused myself to my room.

Upon reaching my room, it was no more than ten minutes before I heard the tip-tap of tiny pebbles being flung at my window, the typical sign from Bryan that he was waiting unseen below and wished entry. Never had I more needed his strong and steady presence, his welcome simple physicality, the comfort of his arms - I hope that you do not mind, and rather believe that you will enjoy this part, as unsatisfying as it ended up in reality - and I began to ready myself even as I quietly opened the window, using the heel of my hand to press against my rapidly-stiffening member in preparation for our reunion. But it was not to be, for the Bryan that hoisted himself through my window after climbing up the ivy and planks on the side of the house was not amorous, but terrified. I immediately asked what the trouble was, and he said that we must go, and that he needed to show me something in the “guest house” - which I shall refer to as the slave quarters from now on, as this is more relevant to its position in the story - after which we must flee this house. He used this exact word, “flee”, and it was one of the ways I knew just how serious this revelation he had for me must be.

We both climbed down the side of the huge house as quickly as we could, and dashed across the moonless dark of the lawn, past the garden and woodpile, to the former slave quarters, a squat building greatly resembling Indian long-houses I have seen, but made of sturdy split logs and patched with something between mud and cement. A fire burned inside and smoke spiraled up from the small chimney, and when we reached it and went indoors, shutting the pine-plank door fast behind us, Bryan first kissed me fiercely and quickly, then went on to say “I found this account written on bark, stripped from the walls of this house, hidden in one of the straw mattresses. But it is more than half in slave pidgin and picto-grams, and what English is used is not very grammatical. Do you trust me to tell you the contents truly?” and by way of reply I kissed him tenderly, pressing my forehead to his, and squeezed his hand, saying “With my very life.” He replied that it hopefully would not come to that. He showed me a long strip of bark with writing on it, and what I could read conformed to his translation, which I will put here in more colloquial ways of speaking, for clarity: “Last winter Margaret was called to visit Mr. R-- after sunset and never did return, and he said that she ran away, but never bothered to tell the lawman, or offer a reward for the return of a servant, and I think sometimes that I see her in the upper window, but never except at night when fires are burning in all the rooms of the house. Now he has arranged for me to come to the big house secretly after dark and I fear that I, too, will never return. If you find this, look for me. Meliora.”

We stared at each other wide-eyed as I put together the pieces in my mind and I said to Bryan “I know what we must do, but if you do not like it - I also do not like it - I understand if you must simply go and ready the horses for our escape.” He said that he would accompany me even to the gates of Hell, and I said that it hopefully would not come to that. We went to the great woodpile beside the house and found an axe and hatchet, and used the latter to break the lock of the front door, and went directly to my room. As quietly as one can accomplish such a thing, we began dismantling the room - we moved the furniture to the center, and started using the tools as pry-bars to remove boards from the wall. It was not long before I heard a stifled cry behind me and saw Bryan kneeling near one wall, pulling forth what was unmistakably a winding-shroud, stained with old blood, containing naught but dark skin, bones, and black hair. As I came over to assist him, I stumbled and fell against the limestone mantel, and broke it away, and the falling rock opened the boards of the floor, where more gauzy shrouds were hidden beneath, and my heavy axe smashed the fire-warmed stone at the back of the fireplace, where a recent, beautiful corpse, matching my mirror apparition exactly, lay in surprisingly dignified repose. This kind of noise would wake anyone, even the bourbon-soaked Mr. R--, who entered the room just at that second, and it is hard to say now which sight shocked him the most greatly. But he had no opportunity to say anything about it, as Bryan fairly flew at him from across the room, holding his hand over Mr. R--’s mouth, and the hatchet’s handle across his throat in preparation to strangle the life from him. “No!” I hissed quickly. And Bryan’s expression in that moment caused me to die inside, seeing how fast he thought I would side with the despicable murderer Mr. R-- over the love of my life, due only to our shared skin color, but I put this aside to say my actual piece, which was “We have to make it look like an accident.”

We frog-marched Mr. R-- downstairs, and forced him to unlock the study, confiscating the keys afterwards. We tied him to the heaviest chair using his own silk smoking-jacket, and I touched a brand from the fire to the Turkish carpet I’d soaked with bourbon earlier in the evening, and we did not spare the struggling, squealing Mr. R-- another look as we walked from the room, hands clasped, to return the axes to the woodpile before driving away.

I trust that, after your actions in Lawrence, this story will please you, rather than shock you. I hope that I have done your revolutionary spirit proud in administering fair and equitable justice. After long discussion, I have decided to prove to Bryan that his assumption in the moment Mr. R-- entered the room was entirely wrong, and we depart for France, together, next week. The keys from Mr. R--’s house, we will throw into the Atlantic Ocean, and never mention the sorry incident again.

With love,

Your friend,

J. Schiffmann

[rangerslayer-97]

50 Random OC and Relationship Questions - 12, 21, 43 for the OC of your choice!

Because OCs Violcrik (Jedi Knight) and Kateake (Bounty Hunter) are the most developed, I might as well kill two birds with one stone :)

~~~~~

12. What is your OC’s patronus?

Ans: Their patronus? I won’t deny I’m not the biggest HP fan, but I’ll take a stab with Violcrik and Kat’s patronus would be. Violcrik’s patronus would be a snake, in the Wizarding World, she’ll probably end up in Slytherin. The description from a random quiz I used and thinking like Violcrik worked somewhat well.

“[You are] definitely a Slytherin. You’re ambitious, curious, subtle, and driven. When you get a goal in your sights, you don’t back down, and sometimes you think that the ends justify the means. Like any good Slytherin, your Patronus is a snake. When you’re protecting someone or something, no one sees it coming. You don’t need to be overbearing and aggressive, just use some well placed venom. That’s how your Patronus works, and it is quite effective.”

However, Violcrik will use overbearing aggression when the time calls for it (99.9% of the time).

According to the description, I heavily agree Kateake’s patronus being a lion given that she is a Mandalorian. She would end up in Gryffindor. Lol

“[You’ve] got a Gryffindor spirit so it only makes sense that your Patronus is a fierce lion. You are brave, hungry for recognition, and a strong protector of the people around you. You like to face danger head on, and many of your happy memories are of overcoming something that was a challenge. Your Patronus will not only keep you safe, it will keep others safe too. That’s how Gryffindors do.”

21. Is there a symbol associated with your OC? If so, what is it and why?

Ans: To start with the easiest, Kateake’s symbol would obviously be the Mandalorian symbol, most likely combined with the insignia of Clan Cadera to symbolise her union through marriage with Torian. First of all, Kat is a Mandalorian and her loyalty lies with the clan that adopted her and the clan she is bound to through her love for Torian.

Violcrik on the other hand is a little more difficult. She doesn’t exactly have a symbol associated to her, but the one she would cling to most is the insignia of the Alliance. It’s where she feels she is in power and when the Eternal Alliance was born, she would feel that symbol is at its peak meaning. Had the Traitor Arc not happened, all the planets she dreamed of conquering would be flying that banner, as she brought her girlfriend’s past words to life for her and in her name: a Jedi leading and ruling the galaxy.

43. What is the best sex your OC has ever had?

Ans: Best sex, huh? To be honest for one, with Violcrik she has always been a bit of a ‘player on both sides’. She didn’t have much time in terms sexual activity, but she certainly had a ‘good time’ with Lana on Yavin IV just when Shadow of Revan concludes. Suffice to say, what happened on Yavin, stays on Yavin and unfortunately, it nothing more than a fling between her and Lana. Violcrik’s true feelings were laid for Kira, and didn’t admit her feelings until they reunited during the early Onslaught events after the Nathema Conspiracy FP. Because they are only in the early stage of their relationship, Kira and Violcrik wouldn’t have gotten intimate yet.

On the other hand, with Kateake, she’s married to the Mandalorian Torian Cadera. Their best sex, was when they reunited after five years apart during the events of Knights of the Fallen Empire. They ditched the little Mando party after a successful battle and what they got up to says for itself. Spending time together was the best they could ask for after being years apart. Nothing better than a reunion sex after being apart.

~~~~~

I hope the answers suffice. Feel free to fire more, but no rush. I’m not pressuring anyone.

[getalittleclosey]

under 10k larry fic rec

hi! i’m becca and i read...so much fic. these rec lists are an accumulation of fic that i’ve read or reread and extra loved from 2016-now. there’s a wide range of stuff here and i think there’s definitely something for everyone!! i divided them up by length so you can check out all those categories below!

please make sure to read tags and warnings on all these fics!! the only things i think i can guarantee is that these are all larry, there’s no non-con, no age play, no eating disorders, no mentions of bg, they end happy, and they’re mostly aus. oh and they’re all on ao3 and some are locked so you’ll need an account! anyway i hope y’all enjoy!!!

under 5k

under 25k

under 50k

under 100k

100k+

☆ colors of the rainbow (shine so bright) by whisperdlullaby 9k

Louis' a popular skateboarder who's out to ruin Harry's life, and sometimes Harry just likes to wear nail polish and panties. Or alternatively, the one where Harry absolutely does not have a diary.

note: there’s a part 2 that’s 6k

☆ day 3: tossed salad by missandrogyny 5k

Harry sighed. “Lou,” he said, as Louis pressed kisses onto the skin of his neck. He gripped at the edge of the washing machine as Louis nibbled lightly at a spot below his jaw. “I’m doing the laundry."

note: this is part of a series by multiple authors but imo can be read on its own as a pwp

☆ jealous of the moon by objectlesson 10k

This is how he dies, Harry Styles saying I want you in me when Louis can’t possibly fulfill that request in a reasonable or safe way.

☆ string theory by graceana 10k

au. louis buzzes with something and glows with another.

The last few players are trickling off the bus when Louis looks down at his hands to see that he is pretty simply put, glowing gold,” Aww what the fuck is this shit. Is it that noticeable?” He whines, doesn’t even make a big deal out of it like it’s a normal thing that should be happening right now.

aka. a cliche soulmatey-fate thing.

☆ you’re like a sponge (abrasive and colorful) by ladylondonderry 7k

Harry LOML Styles: Hey, can you recommend your fav shoe stores? Heels Abroad is closing and I know you know some good places

Butterflies have erupted in Louis’s stomach. This is the first time Harry has ever texted him. He glances down at the beat up old Adidas he wore for his run this morning. Harry thinks Louis knows some good places? He trusts Louis’s opinion on something?

Louis gulps, and then coughs up toothpaste, hastily spitting into the sink. Everything depends on this. Harry - Harry Styles - has texted him! Louis can’t mess this up. He has to be perfect. He has to have great shoe store recommendations. He feels giddy. This is it! A turn in their friendship! The toothpaste-y grin firmly on his face, he picks up his phone again just as another message comes through.

Harry LOML Styles: Sorry, wrong person

Oh.

Or, Louis's flirts look an awful lot like insults.

☆ rated r by cherrystreet 8k

Louis gifts Harry with a surprise sex tape, and it accidentally makes its way into Harry's family Christmas party. Ridiculousness ensues.

☆ stars and boulevards by cherrystreet 6k

They’d been friends for years, had known each other throughout middle school and into high school, meeting in a music class on a sticky September morning. They hit it off instantly, falling into one another immediately, never looking back. Their friendship was comfortable, genuine, safe, always there, achingly present and solid. Harry never felt uneasy confiding in Louis, their one year age gap making Louis somehow seem more worldly, more experienced, and even when Harry had to look down at Louis, he still looked up to him. They spent the quickly passing school years making each other’s homes their own, Harry’s mom calling Louis her honorary second son, Louis’ mom giving Harry a similar title, and everyone knew that if you wanted to find Harry, you had to find Louis first.

☆ in retrospect by ologist 9k

In retrospect, messing with time travel probably wasn’t the best idea George has ever had, and if that’s not the most ironic thing he doesn’t know what is.

note: this is from george shelley’s perspective so there’s quite a bit of union j!

☆ just you wait and see by orphan_account 7k  

In which Harry mistakes Louis' flirting as an attempt to steal his job.

  ☆ i wanna be yours now by justalittlelouislove 8k

“Look, I’m not saying that it’s for sure a serial killer.” Pressing the end of his cigarette to his lips, Zayn takes a short pull and speaks through the exhale, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth and up towards the sky. “All I’m saying is there’s a good possibility it’s a serial killer.”

Someone is sending Louis flowers. Everyone suffers until Louis gets answers.

☆ come on over tonight by dinosaursmate 6k

As Louis reached Harry’s front path, he spotted something curious on the grass, near to Harry’s wheelie bins. Louis frowned in consternation. Was that…? He crouched down to look at the item a bit closer. It was a snowglobe. Not only was it a snowglobe, it was a Winnie The Pooh snowglobe. A rather large one. A Christmas themed one. - A friends with benefits au where Louis finds out there's a bit more to Harry than an insatiable sexual appetite.

☆ like vines (we intertwine) by turnyourankle 8k

The "Roswell" AU where Harry is an alien, Louis is not, and they've both been pining after each other for far too long.

☆ i was getting kinda used to being someone you loved by werebothstubborn 8k

His hand clamps down over Louis’ mouth as firmly as he can manage. “What do you want? C'mon, you have my full attention now. What. Do. You. Want.”

Louis manages to look apologetic as he licks slobbery circles around Harry's palm until he lets go. “Pretend to be my boyfriend,” he says, dramatically gulping in as much air as he can breathe.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“This bloke just came up to me, said he’d give us fifty quid to be in his music video.”

“And you said what? ‘Sure, just let me coerce my friend into it with uncomfortable amounts of PDA and blackmail’?”

or

Louis has a brilliant idea. Harry begs to differ. Until he doesn't.

☆ can’t you see the glow by supernope 8k

Four times Harry tries and fails to tell Louis he's pregnant, and the one time he (accidentally) succeeds.

☆ i’ll know my name when it’s called again by pukeandcry 9k

Louis wakes up in Harry's body. This is a problem for several reasons.

☆ make you never wanna leave by fairytalelights 9k

“But that's fine?” Now Louis just looks confused. “There are so many ways you can have fun sex. Wetness is helpful but not a requirement.” Harry can feel his face heating up. The way Louis said fun sex, like it's that easy, like he has all the experience. He might be a year older than Harry, but Harry's not quite sure if age is the only factor at play here. He doesn't know why the thought of Louis having sex makes his heart start to race again and he especially doesn't know why the next thing he blurts out is, “You could show me.”

or, Harry is an omega teen who has trouble getting wet even when he's turned on, Louis is his omega best friend who helps him experiment. In a completely platonic way, of course.

☆ i’ll show you magic by kingsofeverything (fullonlarrie) 5k

Louis didn’t mean to go home with a Muggle, and he didn’t mean to sneak out of his flat in the morning. He definitely didn’t mean to wind up in that same flat a month later, attempting to steal a magical object before the Muggle gets home.

☆ streetwise hercules by bottomlinsons 7k

“I said,” Louis’ voice is venomous, “who the fuck is this?”

Right.

This is Harry’s part.

(Uni AU, where Louis pretends to be Harry's boyfriend to scare away his one night stands.)

☆ a fully armed battalion (to remind me of my love) by mediawhore 6k

“He was flirting with you by the way,” Niall says casually once he’s finished saying goodbye to Louis and he’s joined Harry outside.

“No he wasn’t,” Harry replies automatically, feeling his heart clench at the thought. Was he?

Niall simply raises a mocking eyebrow in response before wrapping his scarf twice around his neck.

“Not that it matters!” Harry says quickly, eyes widening. “I wouldn’t care even if he did because he’s awful and the worst.”

Everyone at Hogwarts knows that Professor Styles and Professor Tomlinson absolutely despise each other. It's too bad that they're in love.

☆ we found love (right where we are) by dea_liberty 7k

Harry Styles hadn’t meant to come back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a celebrity. Except, somehow – by accident - he sort of had. Now he can't go anywhere without someone (or a lot of someones) screaming hysterically and or trying to charm him into falling in love with them. To make matters worse, he couldn't even eat anything he found just anywhere because it might be laced with a love potion. The absolute kicker though was the fact that the one person he'd been trying to impress when he'd apparently impressed the whole bloody world was probably the only person whose attention he hadn't managed to catch.

☆ dreaming of you by orphan_account 10k

It’s as he’s smoking on their shitty little balcony that it really dawns on Louis. These thoughts he’s having are about Alex’s boyfriend. His brother’s boyfriend. Louis is an awful person. He’s always been the kind of person to want what he can’t have and while he’s never wanted anything like this, he can’t stop thinking about it now. How small he’d look next to Harry. How he could easily pin Louis to a wall. How good his long, thick fingers would feel on him, in him . He feels his dick twitch and leans against the cold glass door leading back into the house.

[or; Louis falls in love with his brother's boyfriend.]

☆ won’t you love me? by halos_boat 6k

Where Louis is Spider-Man, Harry is oblivious, Liam has a problem with communicating his feelings, Zayn is frustratingly handsome and Niall has a pet turtle.

☆ feels good on my lips by phdmama 8k

When Niall harasses Harry into returning to Vermont for their fifteenth high school reunion, Harry is really not sure he wants to go. High School wasn't the most fun for him, but when it turns out that Louis Tomlinson, his former best friend and current star of the silver screen is going to be there, Harry agrees. The road to reunion is never easy.

☆ like you hate me by krisstylinson 7k

“You have poor taste for someone with the last name Styles,” he says, turning to show the back of his pants to Harry—the pants Harry had just stitched his name across last night to keep this type of thing from happening again.

Of course, he’s accomplished nothing but indirectly making himself pop a stiffy over Louis fucking Tomlinson.

☆ call me a thief by moodlighting 9k

AU. Of all the people on campus, the one person Louis can’t seem to stop running into is Harry fucking Styles. And he keeps stealing all of Louis’ shit.