#without asking but that is. besides the point

[woniedarlin]

XO,I'm Yours

pairing: Jungwon x fem! Reader

genre: XO, Kitty au

synopsis: Having a massive crush on Jungwon is tough. Every time he’s around, your brain malfunctions, and instead of acting normal, you… avoid him. He’s calm, chill, and entirely out of your league (at least, that’s what you tell yourself). Enter Kitty, the matchmaker, determined to make things happen. With her “help,” you find yourself in the most awkward yet heart-racing moments with Jungwon.

The worst part? Jungwon is noticing you now. And it’s making everything so much more complicated. But maybe… Kitty’s plan wasn’t so bad after all.

author's note: This was requested by @firstclassjaylee . Thank you for this idea!!! Please let me know the pronouns for the og XO Kitty characters! I wasn’t sure, so if I got them wrong, I’d happily change them immediately. Apologies in advance for not being able to mention all the characters. Happy reading!

caution: This fic contains extreme secondhand embarrassment and an excessive amount of Jungwon-induced butterflies. Read at your own risk!

permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n

The plan was simple. Avoid Jungwon at all costs.

It wasn’t that he was mean. That was the problem. Jungwon was nice. The kind of nice that made your stomach do flips and made you feel like an idiot for getting so flustered over someone just existing. So, instead of embarrassing yourself, you settled for admiring him from afar. No eye contact. No unnecessary conversations. Easy.

At least, it was easy...until Kitty found out.

“You have a massive crush on him,” Kitty said one afternoon with her arms crossed.

“No, I don’t.” You knew lying was pointless, but still, you had to try.

Kitty gave you a look. “You walked into a door last week because he was standing near it.”

Your face burned. “That was an accident.”

“Sure,” she said unimpressed. “Look, lucky for you, I happen to be amazing at matchmaking. And I happen to have a plan.”

You blinked. “A plan?”

“Step one: Stop avoiding him.”

You immediately shook your head. “Absolutely not.”

“Too bad because I already started.”

Your stomach dropped. “Kitty. What did you do?”

She just grinned. “You’ll see.”

And just like that, your quiet little crush? It was about to become very complicated.

💌

You should have known Kitty wouldn’t waste any time. The very next day, you find yourself in an unavoidable situation.

It started in the Library. You had just settled in your usual corner, buried in a book, when Kitty slid into the seat across from you.

“What are you—”

“Shh.” She put a finger to her lips. “Just act natural.”

That’s when you saw him.

Jungwon.

He was scanning the shelves a few feet away, oblivious to how your entire body tensed at seeing him. Your brain screamed at you to run, but before you could, Kitty leaned in and whispered, “I told him you needed help with your econ homework.”

Your eyes widened in horror. “You did what?”

And right on cue, Jungwon turned, eyes landing on you.

“Hey,” he said as he was walking over.

Kitty beamed. “Perfect timing! She was saying how she’s completely lost in econ.”

You snapped your head toward her. Liar. You were literally top of the class.

Jungwon pulled out the chair beside you and sat down without hesitation. “I can help.”

You swallowed. Oh no.

Kitty’s grin was way too smug. “Great! I’ll leave you two to it.” Then, before you could protest, she was gone.

Leaving you. Alone. With Jungwon.

You looked down at your phone, noticing a message from Kitty

“You’re welcome ;)’’

💌

You tried to focus on Jungwon's explanation for the first few minutes. Really, you did.

But how were you supposed to concentrate when he was sitting this close?

He leaned over the table, pointing at your textbook, his voice steady as he explained some economic theory. You nodded along, pretending to listen, but in reality, your brain was short-circuiting.

“Does that make sense?” he asked, turning to look at you.

You blinked. “Huh?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

Your face heated. “I was! Kind of. Maybe.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re bad at lying.”

You groaned, then covered your face. “This is embarrassing.”

“Why?” He tilted his head. “It’s just me.”

Exactly.

It was just him. Just Jungwon, who you had spent months avoiding because he made you feel like a walking disaster. But he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed amused.

“I don’t bite, you know,” he said. “You don’t have to be scared of me.”

“I’m not scared of you,” you blurted out.

He smirked. “So you’ve just been avoiding me for fun?”

You clamped your mouth shut.

Jungwon leaned back in his chair, watching you with a knowing look. “Huh.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.” His smirk deepened. “You’re interesting.”

Your stomach did a backflip.

Oh, you were so doomed.

Later that night, Kitty found you in your dorm room, looking too pleased with herself.

“So?” she asked, flopping onto your bed. “How did it go?”

You groaned. “I made a fool of myself.”

Kitty laughed. “Define ‘fool.’”

“I blanked out. He caught me staring. I admitted to avoiding him. And he called me interesting.”

Her eyes widened. “Wait. He called you interesting?”

You nodded miserably.

Kitty squealed. “That’s huge!”

You frowned. “How is that huge?”

“Because Jungwon doesn’t just call people interesting, my dear hopeless friend. You caught his attention.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You think?”

“I know.” Kitty grinned. “And trust me, this is only the beginning.”

You groaned again, flopping face-first onto your pillow.

Kitty just laughed.

After all, the matchmaking had only just begun.

💌

“Okay,” Kitty clapped her hands, grinning as she stared at you. “Today’s the day we level you up.”

You blinked and were confused. “Level me up?”

“Yes! You like Jungwon, but you get all shy and awkward around him,” she pointed out. “So, if you want him to notice you, we must work on your confidence.”

You groaned, already feeling embarrassed. “Kitty, this is so unnecessary.”

Kitty ignored you and stepped forward. “First lesson: Posture! Stand straight, shoulders back. Confidence comes from the way you carry yourself.”

You hesitated before adjusting yourself, trying to mimic the way she stood. “Like this?”

Kitty nodded. “Good. Now, when you see Jungwon, don’t look away all nervous. Hold eye contact. Make him feel like he’s the only person in the room.”

You gulped. “The only person in the room? Kitty, I can’t even look at him for three seconds without feeling like I’m about to pass out.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly why we’re practicing! Here, pretend I’m Jungwon.”

You stared at her. “Kitty, this is weird.”

“Do it!” she urged.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly raised your head, looking her in the eyes. You managed to hold it for two seconds before covering your face. “Nope. I can’t do this.”

Kitty groaned dramatically. “Okay, let’s try something else. Flirting! Sometimes, a little playful teasing can go a long way.”

You hesitated. “Like… what kind of teasing?”

Kitty smirked. “Try complimenting him, but make it sound casual. Like, ‘Wow, Jungwon, you look so good today.’”

You cringed. “That doesn’t sound casual at all.”

“It’s all about the tone!” Kitty explained. “Say it naturally, like you’re just making an observation.”

You sighed and cleared your throat, trying to sound confident. “Wow, Jungwon, you look so good today.”

Kitty immediately burst into laughter. “Why do you sound like a robot?”

You groaned and covered your face again. “I told you I’m bad at this!”

She patted your shoulder. “Okay, okay. Let’s try something easier…Oh! What about smiling? When you see him, could you give him a little smile? Not too big, not too small. Just a hint of a smile.”

You nodded and tried it. Kitty examined you for a second before shaking her head. “No. That looks scary.”

“Kitty!!”

“Okay, okay! Let’s just—oh wait, Jungwon’s coming!” Kitty suddenly grabbed your shoulders.

Your eyes widened in pure panic. “WHAT?!”

“Relax! Just do what we practiced!” she whispered urgently.

Jungwon walked past, glancing at the two of you. You froze utterly, your mind going blank. Then, at the last second, you remembered Kitty’s advice. You quickly straightened your posture and gave him a small smile… except you accidentally bared your teeth like an awkward grimace instead of a confident smile.

Jungwon slowed down slightly, his brows furrowing. “Uh… are you okay?”

‘’Pfft’’ Kitty covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

You, wholly mortified, quickly turned away. “Yes! Totally fine! Just… stretching my face!”

Jungwon blinked, clearly confused, before nodding slowly and walking off.

The moment he was out of sight, you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Kitty, I hate this.”

Kitty finally burst out laughing. “Okay, maybe that wasn’t your best moment, but hey! At least you tried!”

“I just embarrassed myself,” you muttered.

Kitty grinned. “Relax. Slow and steady wins the race. You’ll get there.”

You sighed, not entirely convinced, but Kitty’s encouragement made you feel slightly better. Maybe with time—and much more practice—you’d finally get the confidence you needed.

…Hopefully, before you died of embarrassment first.

💌

After your absolute disaster of a confidence practice session with Kitty, you decided there was only one solution.

Avoid Jungwon.

At all costs.

Your already massive crush on him had now turned into full-blown mortification. Every time you so much as thought about how you awkwardly bared your teeth at him, you wanted to disappear into the earth. So, naturally, when you spotted Jungwon walking down the hallway, you did what any logical person would do.

You grabbed the nearest person and used them as a human shield.

“Minho,” you hissed, ducking behind his tall frame.

Minho barely flinched while sipping on his collagen water. “Oi, what’s this then?” he drawled,

You gripped his shoulders. “I need to hide.”

Minho sighed, already used to your antics. “Lemme guess—Jungwon?”

You nodded frantically.

Minho shook his head but didn’t move. “You know, mate, you can’t keep running forever.”

“Yes, I can,” you whispered.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans.

“Minho,” Jungwon’s voice suddenly called out, catching your breath.

You peeked over Minho’s shoulder just in time to see Jungwon stopping before him, looking too good for your heart to handle.

Minho, unfazed, nodded in greeting. “Aye, mate. What’s up?”

Jungwon started talking to Minho about something you were too distracted to process. Because while he was addressing Minho, his eyes kept peeking over Minho’s shoulder—straight at you.

You immediately shrank further behind Minho.

Jungwon’s lips twitched slightly. “Hey,” he said, this time directed at you.

Your brain is short-circuited. Oh no. He’s talking to me. Abort mission. Abort mission.

Minho, ever the instigator, casually stepped to the side, exposing you completely.

You had no choice but to face Jungwon. “H-Hi,” you managed weakly.

Jungwon tilted his head slightly. “Are you hiding from me?”

“What? No! Pfft, that’s crazy,” you blurted out and laughed nervously.

Minho smirked and sipped his collagen water. “Yeah, mate, totally crazy.”

You kicked the back of Minho’s shoe.

Jungwon didn’t look entirely convinced but let it slide. “Alright,” he said before flicking his gaze back to Minho.

You thought you were in the clear—until you noticed that Jungwon kept glancing at you even as he continued his conversation with Minho. Every few seconds, his eyes would shift back to you.

It was subtle, but it was enough to make your stomach flip.

Then, as Minho made some joke in his relaxed drawl, Jungwon suddenly interrupted, his eyes locking on yours. “You don’t have to hide, you know,” he said softly.

Your heart stopped.

After thoroughly enjoying the situation, Minho took a long sip of his drink. “Oi, look at that, would ya? Some real tension here.”

You kicked him again.

Jungwon only smiled slightly before looking away as if he hadn’t just destroyed your ability to function.

And just like that, your plan to avoid him had backfired entirely.

You were so doomed.

💌

The sound of typing and the flick of pages turning was the soundtrack of your days lately. You had been buried in textbooks for what felt like forever. The stress had accumulated, leaving you exhausted. Your face was pale, and dark bags were under your eyes from the sleepless nights, but you couldn’t stop. You had to push through. A vast project was coming up, and you couldn’t afford to fail.

You propped your head up with one hand, barely able to keep your eyes open as you glanced over your notes. The words blurred, your mind already foggy from overworking. Before you knew it, your head dropped onto the table with a soft thud.

“Ugh…,” you mumbled as you fought to stay awake.

The door creaked open, and you heard the familiar sound of footsteps entering. Kitty’s voice followed soon after. “Hey, are you still at it?”

Jungwon’s calm tone responded, “She’s been studying for hours now. I don’t think she’s taking breaks.”

You groaned, too tired to even lift your head. The sounds of them approaching grew closer until you felt the soft pressure of someone standing beside you. You sighed and tried to sit up, but the weight of your exhaustion made it hard.

As you lifted your head, you saw Kitty’s shocked expression first. She gasped, her hand coming up to her mouth. “Oh my gosh! You look like you haven’t slept in days! Your face… it’s—”

You blinked slowly, too tired to defend yourself. “I’m fine,” you mumbled, attempting to give a smile, but it came out weak and crooked.

Kitty’s eyes softened with concern. “You need to take a break. Look at those bags under your eyes. Are you even eating right?”

Before you could reply, you heard Jungwon’s voice. “There’s nothing wrong with your face,” he said unbothered. He bent down to your level. “You’re still pretty, even with all that stress.”

The compliment caught you off guard. You couldn’t help but blush despite how exhausted you were. “W-well, thank you…” you stammered, a little embarrassed.

Kitty rolled her eyes playfully. “See, Jungwon knows what to say! But seriously, you need to rest.” She crossed her arms, and her frown replaced her concern. “This is way too much. You’re going to burn yourself out at this rate.”

Jungwon nodded slightly. “Kitty’s right. You won’t get far if you can’t even stay awake.”

You sighed, both too tired and too embarrassed to argue. “I… I need to finish this.”

Kitty leaned closer and whispered as if sharing a secret, “How about I help you get this done faster? You can relax, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

You blinked slowly, still too drained to think straight. “Are you sure?”

She smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this. You need to close your eyes for a bit.”

Jungwon shot you a small and reassuring smile. “Take a break, okay? You don’t want to make yourself sick over this.”

You hesitated momentarily before nodding, grateful for their support even if you still felt guilty. You slid down in your chair, resting your head against the backrest and briefly closing your eyes.

Kitty moved to your side, pulling out her phone to check her messages. Jungwon stayed silent nearby, giving you an almost protective glance as you rested.

“Good. Now, take a nap. No more studying for the rest of the day,” Kitty said with a smile as she gave you the space to rest.

You breathed a sigh of relief and closed your eyes, hoping the rest would help ease the weight of the world you’d been carrying.

💌

You sat quietly on a chair, Minho beside you, applying your skincare. He had been your skincare mentor for a while, helping you with all the little tricks you needed. “Alright, make sure you really press it in,” Minho said, gently patting the moisturizer into your skin.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever do it as well as you,” you murmured. “But thanks for teaching me.”

Minho smiled. “Of course. You’re a fast learner,” he said, dabbing the cream across your cheek. “Maybe you should start your skincare vlog or something.”

You chuckled softly, “I’d probably mess it up on camera.”

Minho shook his head and let out a grin. “You’d be perfect. Trust me.”

You both laughed; the room felt safe. There was no pressure, no expectations, just good company. Then the door creaked open, and you looked up. Jungwon stepped in, looking casual, but something about his presence made the atmosphere feel different…tense, almost.

Minho waved at him, still oblivious to the sudden shift. “Hey, Jungwon! Just helping out with her skincare. You should join us.”

You froze for a moment, catching Jungwon’s eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly looked away, too shy to hold his eyes for long.

Jungwon’s lips twitched in an almost a frown. “I’m good,” he said; his eyes were focused on you and Minho, how you both were laughing and talking comfortably.

Minho, clearly unaware of the undercurrent between the three of you, laughed again. “You sure? I think I’m pretty much a skincare pro now.” He gently patted your cheek again, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly.

You noticed Jungwon kept looking at your face, then back to Minho’s hand. There was a slight tension in his posture now. His arms were still crossed, and his eyes had narrowed just a little. “I think she’s got it covered,” Jungwon’s voice a little colder. “You’re always helping her with something.”

You looked down, trying to avoid his gaze as his words were uncomfortably in the air. Your heart beat faster than usual, and you were too shy to respond. Why was it that whenever Jungwon was around, you lost all ability to act normal?

Minho didn’t seem to notice anything wrong. “What can I say? I’m just a helpful guy,” he replied with a wink.

Jungwon’s eyes flickered between the two of you. He uncrossed his arms and took a step closer. “Well, maybe she doesn’t need that much help,” he said, a little irritated. His tone wasn’t even harsh.

You flinched slightly, but you didn’t say anything. You just sat there, hoping the ground would swallow you whole.

Minho noticed the shift. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop making her feel like a project,” he teased, though it was clear he was a little confused by Jungwon’s sudden change in attitude. “I was just trying to be helpful.”

You bit your lip, feeling the awkward silence settle over the room. Jungwon didn’t respond immediately; they just looked at you for a beat longer than necessary. Then he exhaled and glanced at the door. “You should probably get some rest,” Jungwon said softer now. “It’s late.”

You nodded quickly. Unsure of what to say. “Right, I’ll—uh, I’ll head to bed.”

Minho, still oblivious, smiled. “Get some sleep. We’ll finish up tomorrow.”

You nodded again, glancing briefly at Jungwon as you left. Jungwon’s voice stopped you before you could walk out. “You’re… you’re fine, right?”

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated. “I’m fine,” you replied quietly while avoiding his gaze.

He nodded, then gave you an unreadable smile. “Okay,” he said before turning back to Minho.

You walked out of the room quickly,

Was that… jealousy?

That’s impossible.

💌

“You have to wear this,” Kitty declared, holding up a dress that made your stomach tense.

“Kitty, no.”

“Kitty, yes.”

You glared at her through the mirror, but she just grinned as she shoved the outfit into your hands. “Trust me,” she said. “Jungwon won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

You swallowed hard at the thought. Jungwon. Seeing you. In this.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t dressed up before, but this outfit felt… different. More intentional. It's more like you were trying to get his attention.

Which, okay, you were, but still—

Kitty snapped her fingers in front of your face. “No overthinking! Just wear it. Come on, it’s a party! You’re supposed to look hot.”

You groaned but ultimately let her win (not that you ever had a choice).

By the time you were ready, you were nervous to the point that you needed to go to the restroom for a second. Your reflection in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. Kitty had curled your hair and given you subtle but effective makeup; the outfit made you feel… good.

“You look amazing,” Kitty whispered and squeezed your shoulders. “Now go show Jungwon what he’s missing.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. You felt a little bit braver as you followed her out.

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived. You weren’t even inside for a full minute before you felt the weight of someone’s eyes on you.

And when you turned—

There he was.

Jungwon.

Standing across the room, eyes locked on you with a similar unreadable expression on his face. For a moment, neither of you moved. The world around you blurred, and all you could focus on was how his eyes slowly traveled over you before he looked away.

Kitty, standing beside you, definitely noticed.

“Oh,” she whispered and nudged you with her elbow. “He so noticed.”

You felt your face heat up.

Jungwon, however, had turned away, disappearing into the crowd before you could react.

The party was energetic, but you barely registered anything. Kitty had practically forced you into this dress, hyping you up, fixing your hair, and making you promise you wouldn’t shrink away if Jungwon talked to you.

But here he was—talking to you—and you were about two seconds from running.

“You look different.”

You looked up at him with your fingers gripping your cup tighter.

“What?”

His gaze was enough to make you feel self-conscious.

“You don’t usually dress like this,” he said.

You swallowed. “Oh. Yeah. Kitty—”

“Makes sense.”

Your brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

Jungwon took a sip of his drink and then met your gaze again.

“It means you look pretty.”

If that makes sense, your brain wholly short-circuited, and you felt like your stomach was twisting again.

You needed to escape.

But the second you tried to move, a gentle hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Don’t run away,” Jungwon said softly.

You froze.

His grip wasn’t tight or forceful—just enough to hold you there, to make you look at him.

“You always do that,” he murmured.

Your throat went dry.

Jungwon tilted his head slightly, “You’re always avoiding me,” he continued, “but then you’re always looking.”

Your breath hitched.

Jungwon let out a chuckle. Then, most casually, like he wasn’t wholly messing with your heart, he said—

“You don’t have to run. I don’t mind if you stay.”

You weren’t used to this—at least not with him.

“Hey,” Jungwon’s voice was quiet, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You were processing his words slowly. You had been avoiding him for so long, not because you didn’t like him, but because the thought of being close to him made your heart skip beats. And now, here he was, standing so close,

“I’m okay,” you mumbled, shifting your gaze anywhere but him. The more you looked at him, the more your stomach flipped.

Jungwon’s hand fell to his side. He gave you a little space, but not enough to make you feel like he was giving up. You could tell that he wasn’t the type to give up easily. “I didn’t mean to crowd you,” he continued, understanding. “I… wanted to hang out, y’know?”

You nodded slowly, still unsure how to move past the awkward tension that had settled between you two. It was strange, feeling so seen yet so exposed. “Okay.” You took a deep breath. “I… I’m not good with all of this yet.”

Jungwon smiled at that. He didn’t push, didn’t pressure. Instead, he took a small step back, keeping a respectful distance but maintaining that comforting presence. “I get it,” he said. “But if you ever want to talk or hang out, I’m here. No rush.” He let the words hang in the air. He is willing to wait until you are ready.

You finally allowed your eyes to meet his, “Thanks,” you whispered, feeling a warmth in your chest that wasn’t just from the proximity but from the simple kindness he showed you. He wasn’t asking for more than your comfort, making everything more manageable.

“You know,” Jungwon added, “you don’t have to hide behind Minho all the time.”

You stiffened at that, but he didn’t look at you teasingly. He was stating a fact.

Your heart fluttered.

“Well, he’s taller than me,” you mumbled, trying to brush off the awkwardness.

Jungwon chuckled.

And for once, the thought of being close to Jungwon didn’t make your heart race in fear. It made it race in something else.

Something a little more hopeful.

💌

The group had decided to take a little break from basically everything that happened, and everyone was now scattered across the dorm’s common area. Kitty and Minho were sitting on the couch, though something was different. Minho had his arm casually draped over the back of the sofa, and Kitty leaned slightly toward him, her attention entirely on whatever they were discussing.

You couldn’t help but watch, caught up in the dynamic between them. It was so apparent that they were getting close. Too close, really. You glanced at them for a few seconds longer than you probably should have, a little uncomfortable with how natural they looked together, especially considering the little tension between them.

You shook your head and sighed. “Those two should just get together already,” you muttered. “It’s painful to watch.” You didn’t even realize you had said it aloud until Jungwon, standing nearby, chuckled softly.

“You seem to be invested in their situation. ”

You froze and blushed immediately. “What? No! I—” You stammered. “It’s awkward, you know? With everything going on with Yuri and all that. It’d be easier if they just figured it out.”

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Sounds like you’re a little too invested,” his smirk growing.

You looked away quickly. “I’m not. I think… it’s obvious, don’t you think?”

Jungwon leaned back. “Hm. Interesting. You know, Kitty might take that as a challenge. She likes playing matchmaker.” He paused, glancing at the two on the couch before returning to you. “But then again, maybe it’s you who should be matched with someone.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you shot a look at him, trying to keep your cool. “What are you talking about?” You weren’t sure if you were ready for whatever joke or comment he was about to make.

With a shrug. “I don’t know… It’d be painful to watch you and me, right?”

You were trying to make sense of his words. Was he joking? Was he serious?

Before you could respond, Jungwon gave you a playful smile. “Well, maybe not. We’re not so bad, right?” His eyes seemed to challenge you to call him out on it.

You couldn’t stop the nervous laugh that escaped your lips. “I… I don’t know what you mean,” you said quickly. Your thoughts felt muddled, and your stomach flipped in a way you weren’t quite ready to admit.

Jungwon leaned closer just a little. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s happening between you and… well, someone, someday.”

The way he said that last part made your heart flutter, and before you could think too much about it, you quickly stood up, awkwardly brushing past him to talk to Dae. You couldn’t handle being near him anymore, not with his strange comment.

💌

It had been one of those nights where everything felt like it was building up to something. The group had decided to sneak out, and of course, Kitty had the whole thing planned out. Again. She was determined to get you and Jungwon alone for a little confession moment, even if it meant dragging everyone else into a mini adventure. The plan was simple: sneak out to the park for a midnight stroll.

The group managed to sneak out without much trouble, or so they thought. Kitty was already ahead, while Minho, Q, Dae, and Yuri followed, all too eager to escape their studies. You padded behind them. But suddenly, just as you were about to turn the corner toward the door, you heard footsteps approaching from the hallway.

“Someone’s coming!” you hissed and panic started rising in your chest. You froze, unsure of what to do, until a pair of warm hands quickly grabbed you from behind, pulling you into the nearest room and closing the door softly.

You looked up to see Jungwon standing there. His gaze was serious momentarily before it softened into that usual mischievous smile. “Close call,” he whispered.

You sighed in relief but your heart was still pounding from the adrenaline. “I didn’t think it would be this hard to sneak out,” you muttered.

Jungwon stepped closer, and the space between you grew smaller. “Kitty really knows how to get us into trouble, doesn’t she?” he smiled gently.

You laughed nervously. “She’s persistent, I’ll give her that. I don’t know how she does it.” You couldn’t help but glance down. “I should probably—” you began to mumble but Jungwon interrupted you

“You don’t have to run away this time,” he murmured and you felt his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “You can stay with me.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the words, and before you could even process their whole meaning, Jungwon leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the softest, most gentle kiss you’d ever experienced. The world seemed to stop for a moment.

You stood there, frozen, your eyes wide in shock as Jungwon pulled back slightly, but only enough to look at you with a tender look, “You were going to say something, right?” Jungwon whispered

You were unable to form words. You couldn’t find anything to say except for the obvious truth that had been sitting in your chest for so long. “I… I’ve liked you for a while,” you finally admitted in a whisper. “I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t think you’d… feel the same.”

Jungwon smiled and leaned his forehead against yours. “I feel the same,” he said softly. “I’ve been trying to find the right moment to tell you… but I guess this is as good a time as any.”

You smiled as you leaned into him, both chuckling in silence. For the first time, it felt like the weight had been lifted, and everything had finally fallen into place.

💌

The next day, you and Jungwon walked through campus hand in hand. You didn’t care about the curious glances or whispers around you. Everything felt so natural now. Jungwon’s thumb gently brushed against your hand, and you couldn’t help but smile at the small but significant change in your relationship.

As you turned the corner, you spotted Kitty and Q sitting at their usual spot by the fountain. They looked up at you two simultaneously, eyes widening in shock as they saw your hands intertwined. Kitty’s face immediately broke into a smile, while Q’s jaw dropped slightly. “Oh my god!” Kitty squealed with her voice a few octaves higher than usual as she stood up quickly. “It’s official! You two are—?”

You giggled and nodded. “Yep, it’s real. Took us a while, but we finally figured it out.”

Q was still in shock and blinked a few times before recovering. “Wait, is this the part where you two act all coy about it?” he teased.

Jungwon chuckled and shrugged slightly as he looked down at you with an affectionate gaze. “Guess so,” he said casually. “But it feels good. Finally.”

Kitty, her excitement never waning, jumped up and clapped her hands together. “I knew it! I knew you two would be perfect for each other. I mean, come on, how could you not be?”

You smiled as you felt a little shy under all their attention. “Yeah, well, it’s thanks to Kitty here,” you said, turning toward her with a grateful look. “She practically forced us to get our act together.”

Kitty just shrugged. “Hey, someone had to step in. You two were taking forever.”

You then decided to have a little fun with Q. Turning to him with a smirk; you said, “Oh, and by the way, Q, now that we’re all on the same page… maybe it’s time you and Jin finally get together.”

Kitty gasped, and Q’s face immediately turned beet red. “I—what? No! That’s—no!” he sputtered

Jungwon raised an eyebrow. “You know, I’ve noticed that too. You and Jin make a good pair,” he said honestly.

Q looked like he was about to explode, “I hate him!” he said. “You better not tell Jin I said that.”

You chuckled at his reaction. “Oh, don’t worry. We won’t say a thing… for now.”

Still practically bouncing with excitement, Kitty turned to Jungwon with a warm smile. “Okay, I’ll take the credit for this one,” she said with a wink. “But I’m happy you two finally figured it out.”

Jungwon gave Kitty a genuine look, squeezing your hand as he thanked her. “Honestly, thank you, Kitty. You really did help us get here.”

Kitty’s face softened and she laughed lightly. “Of course! I’m just happy to see you two so happy together.”

At that moment, everything felt perfect. You were with Jungwon and were surrounded by friends who were happy for you. It felt like the start of something new and beautiful, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful for everything that had led up to this moment. “Alright, alright,” you said, leaning into Jungwon as you all settled back down to enjoy the rest of the day. “Let’s just say that Kitty’s matchmaking skills are unmatched.”

Kitty shot you a wink. “Told you.”

And for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was finally falling into place.

[trulyy-yourzz]

✿fluff - b.e x reader

I know we all need a little something to make us feel better (I'm still mourning😞), so as a fellow billie writer, and for the requests in my inbox, here you go my loves 💕 I hope you enjoyy. Mwa!

ʚɞ

Billie sat hunched on the edge of her bed, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She had just gotten back from the Grammy Awards, seeing all her friends and peers winning awards left and right while she came away with nothing. It stung more than she ever could have imagined. And she didn't expect it to.

There was a soft knock at her bedroom door before it opened, revealing you, her girlfriend. Billie looked up at you with a sad smile, trying to be strong even though she felt like crumbling inside.

"Hey, can I come in?" You asked softly, your voice filled with concern.

Billie nodded, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. "Yeah, of course. I could use the company right now."

You entered the room and closed the door behind you. then making your way over to sit beside Billie on the bed. You wrapped a comforting arm around the singer's shoulders, pulling her close. "I'm so sorry about tonight, Bille. I know how much the Grammys meant to you," you murmured, rubbing your hand soothingly along Billie's arm.

Billie let out a shaky sigh, leaning into your touch. "I just...I don't get it. I poured my heart and soul into my album. I thought for sure I had a shot at winning something, anything really. But... nothing. It's like, what's the point?" Her voice cracked with emotion as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. You tightened her embrace, letting Billie cry into your shoulder.

"You can't think like that," you said firmly but kindly. "Your music means everything to so many people, including me. The fact that you didn't win an award doesn't diminish your talent or your impact."

Billie sniffled and pulled back to look at you with loving eyes. "You really mean that?"

You nodded, cupping Billie's face in your hands. "I do Billie, you're an incredible artist and an even more incredible person. Don't let one night or a silly little award define you or your career. Your album is beyond amazing."

Billie felt a small smile tug at her lips as she gazed into your earnest eyes. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't have to do anything without me," you said with a warm smile, cupping her cheek and leaning in to plant a soft kiss on her lips.

"We're in this together, love..."

°

°

°

Notes: screaming, crying, and throwing up!

That's all❤️

[solxamber]

Labor of Love with: Housewardens

Ways in which they show their devotion through actions.

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is meticulous.

It’s something you’ve always known, but it hits you harder when you see the neatly organized stack of notes waiting for you on your desk. Every single day, without fail, he goes out of his way to make sure your materials are in order—sections color-coded, key points highlighted, and even definitions written in the margins in his precise, careful handwriting.

You never asked him to do it. He never mentioned it, either. But he does it anyway.

And that realization makes your heart swell.

So, when you walk in and find him seated at your desk, methodically sorting through your latest notes, red pen in hand, you don’t hesitate.

You step forward, wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind, and rest your chin against his head.

Riddle stills. You feel his heartbeat quicken ever so slightly.

Then, slowly, he leans into you.

You press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

His hand tightens around the pen. “…I want to.”

That’s when you know.

You squeeze him just a little tighter. “I love you too, Riddle.”

His ears turn red, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he simply exhales, tilting his head just enough that your cheek rests against his.

And just like that, he continues working, letting you hold him as long as you want.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona hates unnecessary work. Hates anything that requires more energy than necessary.

And yet, when you're around, you never have to lift a damn finger.

You don’t even think about it most days—the way your bag just disappears from your shoulder, the weight suddenly gone as you walk beside him. He never makes a show of it, never announces it. One second, it’s there; the next, it’s slung over his own shoulder like it belongs to him.

Today, though, you notice.

You glance at him, watching the way he strides forward like he’s done nothing at all, green eyes lazy and indifferent. He’s grumbling under his breath about class, about professors, about how this is exactly why he doesn’t bother showing up half the time.

A grin spreads across your face. Without warning, you loop your arms around his and lean into him as you walk, practically hanging off of him.

Leona scoffs. “The hell are you doin’?”

“You’re cute,” you say simply.

His ears twitch. He clicks his tongue, looking away. “Whatever, herbivore.”

But he doesn’t shake you off. And when your fingers intertwine with his, his grip tightens, holding on just a little firmer than before.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul Ashengrotto is, first and foremost, a businessman. A professional. A shark in the waters of commerce, always calculating, always scheming.

And yet, somehow, Mostro Lounge always seems to have a convenient couple’s discount whenever you’re craving something.

Today, it’s that seasonal dessert you offhandedly mentioned a few days ago. Suspiciously, the lounge is now offering a limited-time deal—50% off for couples! Azul, ever the shrewd entrepreneur (liar), insists that it would be financially irresponsible not to take advantage of such an incredible offer.

“We are a couple,” he says, adjusting his glasses with a perfectly straight face. “And our deals are, as always, unmatched. It would be a waste not to dine here.”

You can’t help but smile. He’s so transparent, pretending this wasn’t orchestrated specifically for you. But you don’t call him out on it—you just squeeze his hand a little tighter, warmth spreading through your chest as you sip your drink.

Azul coughs lightly, looking away, but his fingers tighten around yours.

For all his talk of profit, it’s moments like this that prove the truth: when it comes to you, he’d rather give than take.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim always, always walks you back.

It doesn’t matter if the sky is clear or if the rain is coming down in sheets. If he’s exhausted from a long day or if a million other things are demanding his attention—he will be there, right by your side.

And, of course, he insists on holding hands.

“What if a rogue cat attacks us?” he says earnestly, fingers lacing through yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It makes no sense. At all. But who are you to question him when he looks at you like that? When his smile is so bright, so genuine, just because you took his hand?

You huff a laugh, squeeze his fingers, and lean in to press a kiss to his cheek. He beams, delighted, and tugs you forward with even more enthusiasm.

You let him lead the way—because, really, how could you not?

Vil Schoenheit

Vil never lets you run on empty.

It doesn’t matter how busy he is, how many rehearsals, photoshoots, or brand meetings he has lined up—he will make time to ensure you’ve eaten properly. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all balanced, all nutritious, all approved by him.

So when he strides into the lunchroom, posture perfect despite the exhaustion clinging to his frame, you already know what’s coming. He gracefully sets down a container in front of you—a salad, curated to perfection, each ingredient placed with care.

“You need more greens in your diet,” he says, tone firm but eyes softer than usual. “And before you protest, this has everything your body requires for optimal function.”

You don’t protest. You just watch him as he picks at his own food, launching into a detailed explanation of the health benefits of each ingredient. His voice is smooth, poised, but there’s a faint weariness beneath it, the telltale signs of a long morning.

And yet, he still came.

Still made sure you were taken care of.

Your heart clenches, full to the brim with adoration. You lean forward, resting your chin on your hand as you gaze at him, utterly enamored.

Vil pauses mid-sentence, eyes flicking up to meet yours. He exhales, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips.

“What?” he asks, almost amused.

You just shake your head, spearing a piece of lettuce with your fork. “Nothing,” you say, smile warm. “I just really, really love you.”

He scoffs, cheeks faintly pink. “At least finish your meal before getting sentimental.”

But when you take your first bite, he looks pleased.

Idia Shroud

Idia has his own way of looking out for you.

It’s not grand gestures or flowery words—no, he’s far too awkward for that. But when you’re struggling with a game level, you mysteriously find it cleared the next day, your inventory suddenly stocked with rare loot.

When your gacha pulls are unlucky, an absurd amount of in-game currency finds its way to your account, no explanation given (but you know exactly who’s responsible).

Even when he’s too anxious to come out, Ortho arrives with care packages—snacks, drinks, even a plushie once (“Big Brother said you might need a comfort buff,” Ortho had cheerfully reported).

Right now, you’re sitting on his bed, watching as he games. The glow of his monitors reflects off his hair, his fingers moving quickly over his keyboard. Despite being engrossed, he still glances over at you every so often.

“Are you comfortable?” he mumbles, barely above a whisper.

Your heart clenches. You shift closer, pressing against his side as you smile.

“I really, really love you,” you say softly.

Idia fumbles, missing a crucial input, and his character dies instantly.

“…Y-you just had to say that mid-boss fight,” he groans, hair flaring pink.

You just laugh, leaning into him as he frantically tries to respawn.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus always listens.

You could be rambling about the most mundane thing—a pebble you saw on the side of the road, the weirdly shaped cloud that looked like a potato—and he’d listen like you were reciting sacred text. His emerald eyes stay fixed on you, unwavering, as if every word you speak is precious.

Malleus always makes sure you’re safe, too. If it rains when you’re together, you’ve noticed something peculiar—lightning never strikes near you. Not once. As if the storm itself knows better than to disturb you.

Right now, you’re recounting Grim’s latest kitchen disaster, hands gesturing wildly as you describe the flames, the shrieking, the very near death experience of your breakfast. And there he is, watching, listening, completely enraptured by you like you’re the only thing in the world.

You can’t help yourself. You lean in and kiss him, a quick, impulsive press of your lips against his.

Malleus blinks, surprised, before his expression softens into something warm, something yours.

“…Please continue,” he says, voice gentle.

You laugh, your heart full, and keep talking.

Masterlist

[strwbrychffoncke]

"—baby take off my clothes cause i got somethin' to show ya,, 1.9k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: your plan to make rafayel stay with you a little longer before his newest art exhibition works a little too well.... contains: nsfw! lnds rafayel x afab!reader ,mc!reader ,reader is wearing a dress ,teasing (giving) ,u get carried ,kissing ,making out ,marking ,biting ,missionary(?) ,needy!raf ,kinda whiny!raf ,overstimulation (brief) ,creampie ,some cute fluff afterglow ,implied cunnilingus ,thomas cameo at the end lmao ,think thats it note: (mostly edited pls standby....) released much later than i intended but i had sm trouble writing but we somehow prevailed..........

-

"do you really have to go, raf?"

he lets out a long sigh, strokes from the paintbrush light and airy on the canvas in front of him.

"i already told you that you should come with me."

"but i want you to stay here with me," you almost whine, wrapping your arms around his neck from behind and leaning forward, pressing you body against his.

his breath stutters ever so slightly at your clinginess, heart picking up its speed in his chest.

"and besides...."

you rest your head on his shoulder, lips just centimeters away from his ear.

"isn't this a little much for an art exhibition?"

your voice is a hushed whisper, the sheer sound and feeling of it sending sparks through rafayel's entire body.

he's long since lost interest in his current piece, vouching to save it for later as he feels you unravel your arms and step back to give him room to turn around.

and rafayel feels his breath hitch at the sight before him.

its nothing extravagant, but maybe the simplicity of it is what stirs something up inside of him: you're wearing a silk pink slip dress, the color resembling a seashell you once found on the beach and gifted to rafayel, for good luck you'd said with a smile— and he feels like he was feeling that look right this moment, being able to look at you like this).

the neckline is just low enough for some cleavage to peek through, the top part hugging your breasts so nicely, simple crystal-like ornaments embellishing the outline (reminding him of the way light reflects off of the ocean's surface) while the bottom accentuates your waist and falls perfectly around your hips, ending just above your ass— if you so much as bent over slightly, you'd easily flash someone.

"'too much?'" rafayel mumbles your words back to you, hands reaching out to grab a hold of your hips.

"if you ask me, this is too little."

you can't help but let a laugh slip as he pulls you closer, hands pinching and caressing the silk of the fabric hugging your hips, gaze roaming up your body before making eye contact with you.

"no way am i letting anyone else see you in this."

his eyes are narrowed but his expression resembles a pout as he holds you close against him.

ah, there was that possessive side of him.

you laugh again in amusement, short and sweet, hands moving up to cover his momentarily before slowly trailing up his arms then up to hold his face, one of his hands shooting up to wrap around your wrist, turning his head towards it and planting a kiss directly onto the pulse point.

you pull him closer towards you, leaning down just slightly as if you had some special secret reserved for his ears only (despite the studio being occupied by only you both).

"then take it off."

in the next second, you capture his lips with yours, and as rafayel kisses back with equal and slowly growing fervor, the last thing on his mind is the art exhibition he's supposed to be attending in a little under an hour.

-

rafayel thinks you must've cast some sort of spell on him

since the very first time he met you to this life, you've had him wrapped around your finger without even trying— the sea god, folding to your every will.

sometimes, he thinks you forget the sheer amount of power you hold over him.

you don't know when exactly he's carried you to his bedroom, but you feel the soft mattress beneath you as he continues devouring your lips, legs wrapped around his waist to keep him close as his hands roam over your body and slowly begin sliding the silk straps of your cute dress down, eager to free your breasts. he doesn't waste a second in leaning down to kiss and mark one, sucking hard on the nipple while squeezing and prodding the other in his warm hand.

"hah, raf—ah—"

your hands bury themselves in his unkempt hair, tugging at his lavender locks, pleasured sounds filling the room as rafayel switches to the neglected one, swirling his tongue around the bud, taking his time marking your tits in pretty bruises and bites.

after a couple of minutes he releases the mound with a pop, pulling back slightly, hair a mess and panting, taking in the sight of you.

he leans up towards your face once more. "you're terrible, y'know?" he mumbles against your lips before stealing kiss after kiss from them. "invading my mind like this... look what you do to me, princess."

he pins your wrists against the mattress, swallowing your whines when he bucks his hips between your thighs— against your dampening panties.

patience wearing thin, he leans back to his full height, ridding himself of his pants and freeing his hard, leaking length from their confines.

you feel your mouth water at the sight, wanting nothing more than to be filled of him completely.

rafayel smirks at the sight, stroking himself a few times before grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you impossibly closer, groaning at your choice of panties— a thong-shaped one with lace, color matching your dress— sliding them down your legs and tossing them to the floor. he grabs hold of your thighs, spreading you open, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder and holding it there with one hand, other aligning himself with your leaking entrance.

"ready, princess?"

he doesn't wait for your answer.

with a single thrust, he buries himself completely inside of you, immediately moaning at the feeling of your walls hugging him tight at the sudden intrusion and growing more aroused at the moan you let out, back arching off the bed and gripping the sheets tight.

already impatient, his hips quickly form a rhythm, throwing his head back and panting into the air of the room, pleasure heightened by hearing your sweet whines and groans.

"sl-slow, slow down, raf—"

"can't— you can take it, can't you? the way you're— ahh— squeezing me tells me en-ough—"

his voice is strained and god he sounds so needy despite being the one on top, and he is— he can never get enough of you; no matter how much time you spend together, its never enough.

he's been patient, so patient, and every day with you is a blessing and a curse because he always wants more.

and you can feel it in the way he's thrusting into you, beads of sweat forming on his body, hotly panting and whining as you squeeze his cock because he always felt too good to imagine.

you think he's a bad influence. his neediness has rubbed off on you.

but he's more than willing to give every part of himself to you in every way you desire.

"ah—!"

"that feel good, princess? there?"

he pries the leg against the mattress wider, granting him more space between you as he continues hitting the same spot within you that seemed to make you flutter around him.

at this point, he knew your body and mind exceptionally well, making his mark on you in every way that he could.

"you feel too good, too good— hah, ahh— should buy you more of those pretty dresses, yeah?"

you huff out a laugh that's quickly cut off by a moan, throwing your head back deeper into the mattress, hands flying up to grip his strong arms hard as you feel yourself coming undone.

"close— so close, rafa-yel, please—"

"gonna— hah— cum inside, ah—"

your arms reach up around his neck again, pulling him closer to kiss him.

your tongues dance to their own tune as his hips slam into yours, and with some final particularly hard thrusts you gush around his cock, breaking the kiss as you cry out in pleasure.

rafayel lets your thigh down in favor of leaning his body against yours, keeping you in place as his lips trail down your jawline towards your neck, sucking marks into the sensitive skin as he chases his own orgasm.

"too— much, too much, raf—"

you're whining into his ear, sensitive from your orgasm, overstimulation intense, legs wrapping around his waist and tugging him impossibly closer against you to try to ground yourself in any way.

"so good, so good, princess, i'm gonna cum—"

with a couple more thrusts and a harsh bite to your shoulder, he spills himself inside of you, cry escaping your lips at the sensation of his teeth as his warmth fills you.

he rides out his high with a few more languid thrusts, planting soft kisses against his marks on your neck and shoulder before his movements completely cease.

neither of you speaks for a long moment, only holding each other close as you both catch your breath.

you rake your hands through his messy hair (courtesy of you), giggling as he pushes into your touch, eyes flitting up to you.

"so needy," you jest with a little smile.

rafayel lets out a scoff, lifting his head to look at you properly.

"says the cutie that was vying for my attention," a teasing smile tugs at his lips. "it seems i'm rubbing off on you," he proclaims, all too smugly.

"you're a bad influence," you huff, pinching his cheek.

"your bad influence," he winks and you roll your eyes, reaching to peck the same cheek you pinched.

you both stare at each other for another long moment before the artist moves to get off of you, standing at his full height, holding your thighs as he slowly pulls out, rubbing them in an act of comfort when you let out a small whimper at the loss.

"hey," you breathe out, lifting yourself up onto your elbows. "aren't you going to be late?" you tilt your head, remembering the reasoning behind this passionate night in the first place.

he lowers himself to the ground, face level with your heat, watching the globs of cum drip and stain the sheets below. he can feel himself get hard again at the sight as his hands give your thighs a gentle squeeze, planting a kiss on the inside of one before his dark gaze meets yours.

"who says i'm still going?"

-

epilogue:

thomas called the familiar number for what felt like the upteenth time that evening, trying not to lose his mind outside of the venue where more and more guests began showing up.

"where the hell is he???"

by the time and hour had passed since the designated time of arrival, thomas had already baked up some half-assed excuse as to why rafayel wouldn't be showing his face at yet another exhibition.

thomas lets out a frustrated sigh once he gets the chance to take another breather.

"at least i have the paintings," he mumbles to himself, swirling the glass of champagne in his glass as he fishes out his phone from his pocket to check for any update.

1 new message.

he unlocks his phone to check it out, and in the next second, he's gripping it so hard he thinks he might crack the screen.

"oops left my phone off thx for covering for me"

the animated sticker that accompanies the message does nothing to quell his frustrations as he shoves his phone back into his pocket without bothering to answer and downing the champagne in one go.

he makes his way back inside, deciding he'll need a lot more than just one glass tonight.

-

a/n: why is rafayel so hard to write for i have to scroll through art to get inspo but i love him very much :x

-

[jenosonlywife23]

Boyfriend!Jeno taking care of you!!!

It was one of those days when you just wanted to curl up in bed and stay there forever. The cramps were relentless, your energy was at an all-time low, and even the thought of moving felt unbearable. You’d texted Jeno earlier, letting him know you weren’t feeling great, and he’d promised to come over after practice.

Now, as you lay cocooned in blankets, trying to distract yourself with a drama, you heard the front door click open.

“Babe?” Jeno’s soft voice echoed through the apartment.

“In here,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

Moments later, Jeno appeared in the doorway, a bag in one hand and a worried expression on his face. He crossed the room in a few strides, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, brushing your hair back from your face.

“Like I’m being stabbed repeatedly,” you groaned, making him frown.

Without another word, he placed the bag on the bedside table and started pulling things out—your favorite snacks, a hot water bottle, painkillers, and even a small box of chocolates.

“I stopped by the store on the way here,” he said, his voice a mix of shy and proud. “I didn’t know what would help, so I got a bit of everything.”

You couldn’t help but smile despite the discomfort. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Of course I did,” he replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re in pain, and I can’t just sit around doing nothing.”

He quickly filled the hot water bottle and slipped it under the blanket, resting it gently against your stomach. “Better?”

You nodded, the warmth already starting to ease some of the tension. “Thank you, Jeno.”

He grinned, but then his expression turned a little mischievous. “Also, I brought this.” He pulled out a tub of ice cream, holding it up like a trophy.

Your eyes lit up. “You’re the best.”

He chuckled, opening the tub and handing you a spoon. “I know. But I’ll be even better if I stay here and cuddle with you, right?”

You didn’t even have to answer; he was already climbing into bed beside you, careful not to jostle you too much. Once he was settled, you leaned against him, his arm wrapping securely around your shoulders.

“You’re so warm,” you murmured, snuggling closer.

“I’m your personal heater,” he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

For the rest of the evening, Jeno stayed by your side, holding you, rubbing gentle circles on your back whenever the cramps got too intense, and even putting on silly videos to make you laugh.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he said softly at one point, his voice tinged with sadness.

“It’s not your fault,” you reassured him, intertwining your fingers with his. “You’re already making it so much better.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned in to kiss you—sweet and full of love. “Anything for you.”

[hockeyspiral23]

OKAY.

Went and saw Rebecca Yarros speak at the Paramount Theater in Denver. First of all, thanks to the Paramount, the Tattered Cover, RY herself, and the Fantasy Fangirls Podcast for a great afternoon.

I didn't take video, but I did take notes. There were some vague-ish Onyx Storm spoilers with it being the last stop on the tour, so all notes will be below the cut!

What did she love the most about writing Violet in OS? - she's more confident in this book and more determined in what she has to do - they can't silence her.

Hints of Colonel Aetos's signet? - no, and no song that represents it/him, either.

Any other second signets to share? - no

Any signets we haven't seen yet? - No ... she's not going to steal our theorizing fun. Obviously there are signets we haven't seen yet because Violet hasn't seen them yet.

Question about interpersonal drama between the First Six besides just Lyra and Warrick disagreeing? - will not mention ... possibly because we *may* get more about that at another point.

Why did JFB know so much about feathertails? (basically, was he venin prior/did someone fill him in about it?) - everything JFB mentioned was a known fact about feathertails and was not let in on some vast venin conspiracy before crossing the parapet.

Signets show up when they do because nature wants its balance - which is why we're getting all the powerful signets again.

Is there magic elsewhere? (*wink wink*)(this is referencing the Isles without referencing the Isles)

Can she share Ridoc and Aotrom's Threshing story? - She actually IS considering a bonus scene about this but it's also a lot of "hey" "hey" "hey" "hey" and "did we just become best friends?" between them.

Most satisfying kill of the first two books? - Varrish.

Can she confirm a character BESIDES JESINIA who is safe in the series? - She will not confirm ... except for Broccoli. Broccoli is safe (won't kill pets).

Is there a specific epigraph to pay attention to? - All of them. But speaking of epigraphs ... they may not always directly tie into their respective chapter, but they do have some sort of connection somehow.

Was asked to comment on any of the Zihnal gifts specifically ... and chose not to.

About that new family member/brother ... what might she wish us to pay attention to? - Who is missing; someone who thinks is not enough (... basically, who has a reason to reach for power?).

Insight on how Kaori's records are so incorrect? - Remember, it's the riders that give the name of the dragon for the records. So ... do we trust that people are giving the correct names? Are the dragons?

She's not entirely discounting crazy grandma (Riorson, presumably) ideas ...

Aaric's signet did not manifest in IF.

In terms of percentage of full capacity, what is Violet's second signet at? - 10% (because she has no idea how to train it and there's one person alive that can train her); Xaden's probably at 50% with his; Violet's probably at 85% with her first signet (which yes, is pure power just in the form of lightning).

It is NOT the first time that venin have infiltrated the Basgiath scribes ... but Nasya? Is just narcoleptic (so it's not him).

No comment about seeing a venin scribe on the page prior to OS.

What Taylor Swift song would best describe Violet at the beginning of book four? - Look What You Made Me Do

Can she expand on the song she chose for Bodhi? - He's raised to be in Xaden's shadow; he's the spare.

What prompted her to write Broccoli? - She wanted to scare the crap out of us and then haha just kidding ... and also because it's so much fun to write because of where they are and what it symbolizes.

What does she think it is about the Empyrean world that appeals to everyone? - She wishes she knew ... but said possibly the inclusivity, the dragons, the hot men ...

What would Taylor Swift's signet be? - "I do not tell the queen her business." (... might not be direct direct quote, but close enough)

Tell us about the ring and how long it had been in existence. - We see the stone on the blade at a time and then we don't ...

Who is her favorite god/goddess and why? - Malek because you meet him and you're done; everyone fears him.

What about Onyx Storm makes it her favorite? - Her feet are firmly planted in the world and she loves to go places and do things and she had fun with the politics in the places (read: Isles) and has known the ending since FW and loved working toward it and just had fun. IF was a rough, rough time and writing Variation got her back on track and she just genuinely enjoyed writing OS.

If Ridoc had modern technology, what would be the first thing he would do? - You know that boy downloads Tinder ... doesn't wait for WiFi or anything ... also first photo on the app is of him and the Quest Squad or a selfie with Aotrom (that only has like one of Aotrom's eyes in it).

Speaking of Quest Squad ... describe the patch? - Might see it later! (but probably a map)

There was a question about which of her contemporaries she'd recommend and it depended on if you wanted to cry or not (if you do: Last Letter/Things We Leave Unfinished; if you don't: Variation, In the Likely Event).

Is there a character she was writing and knew they'd be a fan favorite and were or thought they would be and weren't? - Knew Ridoc would; didn't necessarily answer the other half, but reiterated that she had no idea that Broccoli would be an instant fan favorite (and was a late night/early am idea that she kept).

What has been her favorite part of the tour? - Right now because of being on stage at the Paramount, in a venue where she's seen so many shows. And the people who bring their service dogs with the service dragon vests.

MIL was gifted FW; advice for when she gets to the spicy and doesn't know that (audience member) reads them? - Run the other direction ... and then hand her Haunting Adeline so then it'll look tame.

Who does she think is the most underrated character? - Sawyer; also expanding on his relationship with Silseag, Sawyer is worried he's dishonoring him because of needing potential accommodations (like Violet), but Silseag's just waiting for him to come around.

Regarding where she came up with the analogy for the chilled pond/ice for mental health: - Her kids play hockey and she always wonders what's beneath the ice - we can swim through our emotions or glide right over them.

What are her desert island books? - East of Eden (Steinbeck) is her favorite; I missed one series but I did hear the Children of Blood and Bone (iirc) ... but basically she's like can I cheat and bring my kindle?

How has writing her books changed her life? - Still has to take her head up to look around ... but the core of her life - family - hasn't changed; the rest of the world around that core just spins a lot faster and there's a lot more people now to watch her succeed or watch her fail.

Thanks to Broccoli ... what pets exist in the world? - We've already known that domesticated animals exist, so it does open it up to pets, but it's not like they're going to be running around Basgiath.

A character she loves to hate: - She doesn't hate anybody, because everybody has a reason for what they're doing. Except Varrish; she hated Varrish because he was a two dimensional character (read: straight evil).

Advice for a spouse going through her first deployment? - it sucks; everyone does it differently; find a way to escape to keep the spiraling thoughts from coming (she read, personally).

Favorite Onyx Storm vibes playlist song? - Agreed with the audience member's mention of Halsey's Nightmare ... and also thinks that the end of book three is optimistic.

If she could tell readers to reread one specific scene for hidden meaning ... - The last 100 pages.

Can she expand on what it means to be dedicated? - I'm pretty sure she alluded to us getting a bit more info about this in book four, but it's basically that you're given in service to a god.

Did she use parts of Colorado Springs for inspiration for the Gauntlet and Parapet? - Not necessarily those specifically, but CO does play into inspiration for geography, particularly with the mountains (and Aretia).

Weather report for the Continent? - Southern gets warmer (closer to the equator), weather patterns with the mountain ranges, there's more magic in areas of more geologic change (tectonic plates).

Sooo there's mention of pirates and kraken and y'know, Heaton breathes underwater ... - She hasn't written books four and five, but she might use or might not use things she mentions in the series ...

What else can we do to support her as an author? - Read other people's books (and be patient).

Her son asked which is her favorite child (or which son is her favorite and why is it him - it wasn't entirely clear) ... to which she said that it's like she always says - whichever kid is sleeping.

About the TV series: the lines we love are there, a lot of the dialogue is there, it's in good hands with Moira and that she knows what's important (has talked to readers) and is capturing the essence ... and to stop sending Theo James her way for Xaden because he's 40 and white.

Any specific IF Xaden POV scenes she'd love to write? - She would love to write the time in between when Xaden learns Vi is captured and he rescues her (... but it sounds like given secrets boy, we probably won't actually get it).

Final bomb: First three songs on the book four playlist are (all TS): Down Bad, But Daddy I Love Him, I Can Fix Him

... and more Xaden POVs in book four depend on what he's doing.

[elyxir1zz]

★ — Between the lines - part 10

CW : meanie sevika, artist reader, hockey player vi and sevika, modern au, highschool shenanigans, cheating, sex, dark themes, love triangle, lesbians, quickies

A/N : FINAL CHAPTER SHES DONE

You didn’t go to school for a week after the breakup. Your mom didn’t push you, and honestly, you were grateful for that. Facing everyone felt like an impossible task, especially knowing Sevika was out there, making her single status known. When you finally did drag yourself back to class, it felt like every pair of eyes in the hall was on you. The whispers weren’t subtle either. Everyone seemed to know about Sevika hooking up with random girls all week, and the weight of it crushed you even more.

At home, things weren’t any better. Even a month later, you still clung to her jacket at night, sleeping with it bundled up in your arms like it was a lifeline. Her scent was fading, but you refused to admit it. If you couldn’t have her, at least you had the memories. You told yourself you were starting to get over her. You could think about her without crying—sometimes. But the truth was, the pain hadn’t gone away; it had just burrowed deeper.

Your self-harm started to spiral again. Blaming yourself for the breakup, for not being enough, became a vicious cycle. The day your mom walked in and saw you in the act was a turning point—one you weren’t ready for. You’d forgotten to lock your door, and the horrified look on her face made your stomach drop. She blamed herself, and though you tried to assure her it wasn’t her fault, she wouldn’t hear it. After a long, tearful conversation, she arranged for therapy. You weren’t thrilled at first, but slowly, it started to help. Things weren’t perfect, but the numbness began to fade.

One afternoon, while you were lying in bed scrolling through your phone, your mom called for you from downstairs.

“What?!” you yelled, not bothering to move.

When she didn’t respond, you groaned, tossing your phone aside. Dragging yourself out of bed, you trudged down the hall, rubbing your eyes.

“Mom? What did you—oh.”

You stopped mid-step, your breath catching as you looked down the staircase. Standing in the foyer were Jinx, Mel, and Vi’s girlfriend, Caitlyn. Jinx grinned up at you, waving with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“Hey, bitch!” she called out, as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

Your mom stood beside them, smiling nervously, clearly unsure how you’d react.

Later, you found yourself standing in your room with the three girls. Jinx was already digging through your closet, muttering comments to herself about your clothes, while Mel and Caitlyn sat on your bed. Caitlyn looked poised and calm, while Mel studied you with a calculating expression, like she was trying to piece you together.

“Sorry, but... why are you here?” you finally asked, tilting your head, arms crossed.

“Prom dress shopping,” Mel said with a small smile, brushing some imaginary lint off her pants.

“This is Caitlyn, by the way,” Jinx added, holding up one of your oversized band shirts against her chest and spinning to look in the mirror.

“Hi,” Caitlyn greeted you with a polite smile.

You blinked. “Prom? Not my thing. Besides, it’s not even a real prom. It’s my junior one, and all we’re doing is crashing the seniors’ party.”

Jinx turned to you, still holding your shirt. “You don’t want to see Sevika?” she teased, her grin mischievous.

“Yep,” you replied flatly, crossing your arms tighter.

Jinx giggled at how quick you were to shut it down, but Mel frowned slightly, leaning forward. “You need to show the school that you’re okay without her,” she said, her voice gentle but firm.

“I am okay without her,” you said sharply, though the defensive tone betrayed you.

The three of them exchanged a look—a silent, knowing exchange that made your stomach twist 

“What?” you groaned, already bracing yourself for whatever plan they had in mind.

You sighed, flipping through the dress rack absentmindedly, the silky fabrics and glittering embellishments barely registering in your mind. Across from you, Jinx was lazily leaning against the opposite side of the rack, twirling a hanger between her fingers. Mel and Caitlyn stood in front of the full-length mirror, holding dresses against themselves, exchanging silent glances for approval.

“What’s the theme again?” Mel asked, turning slightly, a raised brow silently asking if the deep burgundy dress she held was cute.

“Um... prom?” You tilted your head, offering a half-hearted shrug.

“I think it’s masquerade,” Jinx chimed in, shifting her weight on one leg.

“We have to wear masks?!” You groaned, dragging a hand down your face.

“Fun!” Caitlyn giggled, rifling through the racks with renewed enthusiasm. “I’m going for a royal vibe.”

“I like that,” Mel nodded approvingly. “I might go for something regal too.” She flicked through a few hangers before pulling out a deep sapphire gown.

Jinx glanced at you, her usual playful smirk faltering when she noticed the way your shoulders slumped, your fingers idly tracing the fabric of a random dress. “What’s wrong?” she asked, tilting her head.

You sighed, shaking your head as if to brush off the feeling. “Nothing—just... me and Sevika used to talk about skipping prom together.” The words left your lips in a quiet murmur, your gaze dropping to the floor.

Jinx stilled. It was brief, just a fraction of a second, but you caught it—the way her expression froze before she quickly masked it with a grin. “Oh,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck, her tone suddenly unsure.

Before you could press her on it, a sharp gasp interrupted the moment.

“OH MY GOD,” Mel practically shouted, causing both you and Jinx to whip your heads toward her.

She held up a black gown, the fabric shimmering under the store lights. It had a thigh-high slit, a corset bodice, and off-shoulder sleeves dusted with delicate glitter.

“This would look amazing on you,” Caitlyn beamed, her eyes full of excitement as she turned to you.

“Oh, I don’t know if that—”

“Too late! Put it on!” Jinx cut in, snatching the dress from Mel and practically shoving you into the dressing room before you could protest.

“Are you sure—” you tried weakly, but she had already yanked the curtain shut.

Outside, Caitlyn giggled as she returned to her own search. Mel’s phone buzzed, drawing her attention away from the dresses. She glanced at the screen, and her expression shifted slightly.

“Who is it?” Jinx raised an eyebrow, still distractedly flipping through the dresses.

Mel hesitated before looking up. “It’s Sevika. She wants to know how she’s doing.”

Sevika’s POV

Sevika never cried.

Not real tears, not since her mother died. Sniffles? Maybe. A glassy-eyed moment here and there? Sure. But never the kind of gut-wrenching, soul-crushing sobs that left a person feeling hollow. Until she saw the look in your eyes that night.

She cried on the ride home. She cried into her pillow, into the darkness of her room, into the loneliness she had chosen for herself. She stopped eating regularly, barely touching the meals she ordered. Instead, she poured herself into the gym, pummeling the punching bag until her knuckles bruised.

And then came the flings.

Random girls. Random nights. Nothing that lasted more than a few hours, just enough to make her feel something—or maybe to feel nothing at all. When she wasn’t with them, she found herself spending more time with Vi, mostly because she knew it meant she wouldn’t run into you.

Vi introduced her to new people. Golden boy Jayce Talis, his genius boyfriend Viktor. Sevika thought Jayce would be unbearable, but surprisingly, he was easygoing. Relaxed. Smoked a little too much pot, which made him tolerable in her book. Mel was there too. The first few times they were in the same room, the tension was suffocating, but eventually, they got over their past.

Then there was Jinx.

Loud. Unfiltered. Chaotic.

She didn’t like Sevika. That much was obvious. But strangely, she didn’t hate her either. She understood why Sevika had broken up with you, even if she thought it was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard.

The group sat in Jayce’s finished basement, a space that looked more like a recording studio than a hangout spot. Jinx, Caitlyn, and Mel were curled up on the L-shaped couch, scrolling through their phones. Jayce and Vi were strumming on guitars, while Viktor tapped lazily at the drum set.

Sevika sat across from them, her phone in hand, her thumb hovering over your Instagram profile.

“Sevika? Sevika!” Vi called out, snapping her fingers. “What is she doing over there?”

Jinx peered over, catching a glimpse of the screen before rolling her eyes. “She’s stalking her Instagram again.”

Sevika jerked her phone away. “Leave me alone.”

Vi groaned, standing up and yanking the phone from Sevika’s hands before she could react. “Hey!”

“We didn’t invite you over just so you could wallow in self-pity.” Vi shoved the phone into her back pocket. “Let’s get your mind off her.”

She scanned the room before her eyes landed on an extra bass guitar propped against the wall. Her smirk widened.

“Can’t you play bass?”

Sevika groaned. “Vi, no.”

Jayce’s eyes lit up. “What?! You play? Sevika, stop holding out on us!” He grabbed the guitar, practically shoving it into her hands.

“I’m not very good,” she muttered, but her fingers found the chords with ease. She hesitated for a moment before playing a complex riff, her movements fluid, practiced.

When she finished, silence filled the room.

Then Viktor grinned. “That was incredible.”

“You should totally join our band,” Jayce added excitedly.

Sevika scoffed. “I graduate in a month.”

Jayce looked disappointed but nodded. “Still, you should keep playing.” He gestured to the guitar.

She hesitated before holding it closer to her chest. For the first time in weeks, she smiled. Not a smirk. Not a fake grin. A real smile.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

Then Jinx’s phone rang.

She answered, and as soon as she said your name, Sevika’s head snapped up.

Vi raised an eyebrow. “Still wondering how she’s doing?”

Sevika exhaled, rubbing her face. “I just... I just wish I knew.”

Mel smirked, glancing at Caitlyn.

“What if we took her prom dress shopping?” she suggested.

Sevika blinked. Then, for the first time in weeks, she let out a breath of laughter.

“You’d do that?”

Mel crossed her arms. “I remember when you ripped my heart out. She could probably use some friends.”

Caitlyn giggled. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

"You've been in there for almost fifteen minutes! What the hell are you doing, marrying the dress?" Jinx's impatient voice rang from the other side of the curtain.

You stood frozen in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. The dress was stunning—more than stunning. It clung to you in all the right places, the thigh slit daring, the neckline bold. You looked... different. Confident. Powerful. But at the same time, exposed. Vulnerable.

"It's kinda—" you started, trying to find the right words, but before you could finish, the curtain was yanked open.

"Oh my god, I'm sure it looks great—" Jinx's words died mid-sentence as her eyes swept over you. She blinked once. Then twice. "Oh."

You turned quickly, your face heating up. "Jinx!"

"I'm kinda... attracted to you right now," she teased, her voice light but her expression betraying a flicker of something else—something almost genuine.

Your cheeks burned. "Shut up," you mumbled, crossing your arms as Mel and Caitlyn approached.

Mel's eyes widened as she took in the sight of you. "Damn," she said, a slow smile tugging at her lips.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, gasped, her mouth falling open. "Oh my god, it's so sexy!" she practically squealed, grabbing your hand and spinning you slightly so she could see every angle.

You avoided their gazes, shifting uncomfortably. "I don't know... isn't it a bit too much?"

Jinx scoffed, placing her hands on her hips. "Too much? Babe, if anything, it’s not enough."

"You look like a goddess," Caitlyn insisted, stepping back to admire you. "This is the kind of dress that makes people stop and stare."

Mel smirked knowingly. "It’s the kind of dress that makes ex-girlfriends reevaluate their life choices."

You stiffened at that, the mention of Sevika tugging at the part of you that still ached. “This isn’t about her,” you said quickly.

Mel shrugged. “No, it’s about you. And you? You look incredible.”

Jinx nudged your arm. “C’mon, just admit it. You feel hot, don’t you?”

You hesitated, looking back at your reflection. The person in the mirror wasn’t the heartbroken girl who spent weeks in bed. She wasn’t the girl Sevika left behind. She was someone new.

Your fingers brushed against the fabric at your waist, and for the first time in a while, you felt... good. Maybe even powerful.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah,” you admitted softly. “I think I do.”

Jinx whooped triumphantly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “Hell yeah, you do! Now, let’s find you some heels”

Mel grinned. "And a mask to complete the look."

Caitlyn clapped her hands together.

You sighed, sprawled out horizontally on your bed, you scrolled absentmindedly on your phone. Prom was only a few hours away, and you were waiting for your newfound friend group to arrive and help you get ready. You hadn't seen Sevika in a while—maybe your brain had finally started blocking her out, or maybe it was because ever since you posted that picture of your dress on Instagram, Sevika had been actively avoiding you. Every time she caught even a glimpse of you in the hallways, it took everything in her not to crumble, so she simply made sure to never be where you were.

The door to your room suddenly burst open, hitting the wall with a thud.

Jinx yelled out your name, dramatically throwing herself on top of you, her head landing on your back. Mel and Caitlyn strolled in behind her, much calmer but equally amused.

"Are you excited for everyone to lose their minds tonight?" Jinx giggled, tilting her head to look at you upside down.

"About that—I’ve been feeling kinda sick—" you tried, one last desperate attempt to escape prom.

"Shut up. You're going," Jinx interrupted flatly, sitting up and giving you a pointed look.

Mel snickered as she walked over to the bed, flipping her bag upside down and dumping an explosion of makeup products across your sheets.

You blinked at the mess. "What... is this?" you asked, eyeing the chaos.

Jinx grinned, practically bouncing. "I think we got your shade right!"

Caitlyn was already seated in front of your full-length mirror, focused on applying her own makeup with precision. "It took a while," she added, inspecting a palette, "but we did our research."

Mel smirked, settling down beside Caitlyn. You picked up a gel eyeliner from the pile, turning it over in your fingers. A memory surfaced—Sevika, sitting behind you, steadying your hand as she guided the liner along your lash line, her voice low and amused as she teased you for flinching.

You exhaled sharply, shaking the thought away. Jinx, oblivious to your moment of hesitation, was rummaging through your closet, sifting through jewelry and accessories.

"Hey, did you end up renting a limo?" Mel asked Caitlyn, raising an eyebrow.

Caitlyn sighed, rolling her eyes at her reflection. "No. Everything was already booked up by the time I checked."

Before anyone could respond, her gaze flickered to the mirror—and her eyes immediately widened. Behind her, Jinx was standing in only a t-shirt and underwear. But not just any underwear.

"Jinx, what the hell is that?!" Caitlyn snapped, turning around to fully look at her.

Mel, who had already noticed, snorted, covering her mouth as Jinx wiggled her hips side to side. The underwear had giant googly eyes stuck on them.

"Too much?" Jinx asked innocently, her face breaking into a mischievous grin.

You burst out laughing. "Is that how you're planning to seduce Ekko?"

"Obviously," Jinx said proudly, flipping through the dresses she brought. She pulled out a blue dress splattered with rainbow paint—something she clearly customized herself. "And it's gonna work."

Mel shook her head with a smirk. "You're insane."

"Thank you," Jinx chirped, shimmying into her dress without a care.

You rolled your eyes and turned back to your vanity, picking up a brush and starting on your makeup, making sure to match it perfectly to your dress. As you focused, you could hear the chatter and laughter behind you, the energy in the room infectious. For the first time in a long while, you felt something other than heartbreak. 

The four of you stepped into the prom venue, the music pulsing through the grand hall. The dim lighting, accented by twinkling chandeliers and fairy lights, cast a dreamlike glow over the crowd. Everyone was adorned in masks, making it hard to tell who was who unless they had distinct features you’d memorized.

Jinx and Caitlyn wasted no time disappearing into the sea of people, no doubt off to find their dates. Mel, however, lingered at your side, her presence grounding you as you both drifted toward the punch table.

"Did Sevika come?" you asked, keeping your voice even, though your fingers gripped the rim of the table a little too tightly. If anyone would know, it was Mel.

She sighed, already regretting what she was about to say. "Yeah, I think so," she admitted, pouring herself a cup of punch. You mirrored her movements, your hand slightly unsteady.

"You gonna talk to her?" Mel asked, not looking at you as she stirred her drink absentmindedly.

You coughed, bringing a hand to your mouth to cover your sudden nerves. "Uhhh—"

"Sounds about right," Mel said flatly, smirking at your hesitation before taking a sip of her drink.

You frowned, guilt creeping in. "Mel... I'm sorry—"

Before you could finish, an arm wrapped around your shoulders. "Literally everyone is staring at you," Jinx giggled into your ear, her voice playful.

You blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of the lingering gazes around the room. People whispered, some admiring, others simply intrigued. You looked breathtaking tonight, and you weren’t used to this kind of attention.

Jinx felt you tense up and immediately reached into her purse, pulling out a tiny shooter bottle. "You want one?" she asked, already pressing it into your hand before you could refuse.

"Jinx, what the fuck," you laughed, but took it anyway, twisting the cap off and downing it in one go.

"Relax!" she cheered, shaking you playfully before planting a quick, exaggerated kiss on your cheek. Then, with a wink, she twirled around and disappeared into the crowd.

You rolled your eyes, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand as you shot Mel an exasperated look. She giggled, raising her cup in mock salute.

The music changed then, shifting from upbeat rhythms to something slower, smoother. The opening notes of a familiar song filled the space, and couples instinctively gravitated toward the dance floor. The shift in atmosphere was almost instant—lights dimmed slightly, and the soft, romantic glow of golden bulbs flickered over masked faces as pairs swayed together.

You exhaled, ready to make some excuse to step away, but then you felt it.

A presence.

You didn’t have to look to know who it was. The heat of someone standing close behind you, the faintest scent of something familiar—something that made your chest ache.

Sevika.

You turned slowly, and there she was. Masked, but unmistakable. The sharp cut of her suit, the way she held herself, the way she looked at you as if the entire world had narrowed down to just this moment.

Your breath caught in your throat.

"Hey," she said, her voice low, hesitant.

"Hey," you echoed.

Mel, ever the observant one, smoothly excused herself, slipping into the crowd without a word.

Neither of you spoke for a long second, the air thick with everything left unsaid. The song played on, and people moved around you, but Sevika’s gaze never wavered.

"You look..." she trailed off, exhaling sharply through her nose as if frustrated with herself. "You look stunning."

Your heart stuttered. "Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"Can I have this dance?"

Your stomach flipped. For a moment, you considered saying no, walking away before the night could take you places you weren’t sure you were ready to go. But when she extended her hand, you found yourself reaching for it before you could stop.

Her grip was warm, steady.

She led you onto the dance floor, her other hand hesitantly resting on your waist. The touch was light, as if she thought you might pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you let your hands settle on her shoulder, the music guiding your movements.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

It was easier this way—just moving, just existing in this stolen moment under the soft glow of the lights. Her thumb brushed against your waist absentmindedly, like muscle memory, and you hated how much you missed it.

"Did you—" Sevika cleared her throat, adjusting her grip slightly. "Did you want to skip this thing together? Like we talked about?"

You let out a small, breathy laugh. "I thought about it."

Her lips quirked up slightly, but there was something sad in her expression. "So why didn’t you?"

You swallowed. "I think... I just wanted to prove to myself that I could do this without you."

A flicker of something crossed her face, but she only nodded. "And? Can you?"

Your fingers tightened slightly against her shoulder. "I don’t know yet."

The song was nearing its end. You knew the moment wouldn’t last forever.

"Do you miss me?" she asked, barely above a whisper.

You closed your eyes briefly, exhaling. "Yeah," you admitted, voice just as soft.

Sevika was quiet, her jaw tightening. But then she did something unexpected—she let go of your hand and reached up, hesitating before her fingers lightly traced the edge of your mask, as if memorizing the shape of you.

Your breath hitched.

"I miss you too," she said.

Mel and Jinx leaned against one of the tables, arms crossed, watching the two of you stay frozen in place even after the song had changed. The tension between you and Sevika was so thick it could be cut with a knife, but neither of you made a move to step away.

Jinx smirked, holding her hand out expectantly.

Mel groaned, rolling her eyes as she pulled a folded-up twenty from her clutch and slapped it into Jinx’s palm.

"Loser," Jinx chirped, stuffing the money into her bra with a smug grin.

"I totally thought it was gonna take longer," Mel grumbled, stomping her foot against the ground in mild frustration.

Jinx shrugged, eyes still locked on you and Sevika. "What can I say? The heart wants what it wants."

Mel huffed, watching as Sevika finally—reluctantly—dropped her hands and stepped back, but not before giving you one last look. It was a look Mel knew all too well.

“This isn’t over,” Mel muttered under her breath.

Jinx laughed. "Nope. Not even close."

Sevika exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the night air as she twirled the cigarette between her fingers. The cool evening breeze brushed against her skin, carrying the distant sounds of laughter and music from the prom she had just escaped. Her mask now rested on top of her head, forgotten.

She sighed, bringing the cigarette to her lips, taking a slow drag. The burn in her lungs was sharp, and she coughed, cursing under her breath as she tried to stifle it.

"It's fine. I already saw it," her father’s voice cut through the quiet.

Sevika stiffened slightly but didn’t turn to look at him as he stepped out of the house, the screen door creaking behind him. He lowered himself onto the porch stairs beside her, taking the cigarette when she wordlessly passed it to him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the quiet hum of crickets and the occasional distant car passing by.

Then, his voice broke the silence.

"Listen, I know you're planning on cutting me off as soon as you're able to."

Sevika tensed. Her fingers twitched against her knee, but she said nothing, her gaze locked onto the peeling paint of the wooden steps beneath them.

Her father took a slow drag of the cigarette, letting out a deep exhale before continuing.

"And I get it," he said. "I haven't exactly given you a reason to stick around."

She swallowed hard, jaw tightening.

He sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "But listen… You don’t have to take the scholarship if you don’t want to."

Sevika’s head snapped up, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"What?" she muttered, almost thinking she misheard him.

He turned his head slightly, finally looking at her. "I mean it," he said, his tone unreadable. "If it’s not what you want… then don’t force yourself into it just because you think you have to."

Sevika stared at him, struggling to process his words. For so long, she had felt like her future was already set in stone—a path she had to walk whether she wanted to or not.

But now… she wasn’t so sure.

Sevika’s grip tightened on the fabric of her suit , her mind racing. She had spent so much time convincing herself that the scholarship was her only way out, the only option that made sense. And yet, hearing those words from her father—the man she had been so sure didn’t care—sent a ripple of doubt through her.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Since when do you care about what I want?”

Her father took another drag from the cigarette, his expression unreadable. “Since I realized I’d rather you hate me for the things I did… than for forcing you into something you don’t want.”

She frowned, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. There was no sarcasm in his tone, no passive-aggressive remark waiting to follow. Just honesty. And that scared her more than anything.

She looked away, her fingers digging into her palm. “I don’t even know what I want,” she muttered.

Her father sighed, flicking the cigarette into the yard. “Then take your time and figure it out. But don’t waste your life trying to prove something to people who don’t deserve it.”

Sevika stayed quiet, the weight of his words pressing down on her. She had spent so much time trying to outrun her past, trying to prove she was more than the mistakes that haunted her. But for the first time, she wondered—who was she proving it to?

Before she could respond, a car parked in her driveway. Your car. You step out and look at her with concern in you eyes

The sight of you made her breath hitch, her heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the nicotine still buzzing in her veins. You were still in your prom dress, the mask hanging loosely in your hand. Your hair was slightly tousled from the night, and under the porch light, you looked ethereal.

Your eyes flickered between Sevika and her father before settling on her, uncertainty clouding your expression. “Hey.”

Her father gave a knowing smirk as he stood up, patting Sevika’s shoulder. “I’ll leave you two to it,” he said, disappearing into the house without another word.

Silence settled between you both as you hesitated at the bottom step. “You left,” you finally said, your voice softer than she expected.

Sevika exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Didn’t think anyone would notice.”

You scoffed lightly, shaking your head. “Of course I noticed.”

She glanced away, guilt twisting in her stomach. “Prom isn’t really my thing,” she admitted, trying to play it off.

You stepped up onto the porch, standing just a foot away from her now. “Then why’d you come?”

Sevika swallowed hard. She could lie, say she was just there for the group, say it didn’t mean anything. But as she looked at you, standing there in that stupidly beautiful dress, she knew there was no point in pretending.

“For you,” she finally admitted.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, before she could second-guess herself, she stood up, holding out a hand.

“Dance with me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sevika hesitated. “There’s no music.”

You smirked, pulling your phone from the small clutch you carried, tapping the screen before a soft melody filled the quiet night air. A slow song.

Sevika chuckled under her breath, shaking her head. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

You shrugged. “Maybe.”

She sighed, but she didn’t resist when you took her hand, leading her a few steps away from the porch. The grass was cool beneath her shoes as you placed a hand on her shoulder, her other hand resting at your waist.

For a few seconds, neither of you spoke. You just swayed, the dim porch light casting long shadows as the music surrounded you.

Sevika’s heart pounded, her fingers twitching against your waist. “I’m sorry,” she finally murmured.

You looked up at her. “For what?”

“For… everything,” she admitted. “For hurting you. For not—” She exhaled, shaking her head. “For being a coward.”

You were quiet for a moment before squeezing her hand. “I won’t lie… it hurt,” you admitted. “But I think… I get it now.”

She met your gaze, something tightening in her chest. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “You were scared. And maybe… I was too.”

Sevika swallowed hard, her thumb grazing over your knuckles. “Do you think it’s too late?”

“For what?”

“For us.”

Your lips parted slightly, your eyes searching hers. Then, slowly, you smiled. “Only if we let it be.”

Sevika let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, a small smile tugging at her lips as she pulled you in just a little closer, her lips pressing against yours

2 years later

Sevika leaned against her motorcycle, arms crossed over her chest, her sharp eyes scanning the quiet rest stop. The neon light above the convenience store buzzed faintly, casting a dim glow on the pavement. She exhaled, her breath visible in the crisp night air, fingers tapping idly against the leather of her jacket.

The sound of the door swinging open pulled her from her thoughts. You stepped out, grinning, a plastic bag in one hand and a folded pamphlet in the other. The worn leather jacket she had given you still clung to your frame, a sight that made something warm settle in her chest.

“I got a map!” you announced proudly, waving it in the air.

Sevika arched a brow, smirking as she pushed off the bike. “We have GPS, you know.”

You stopped in front of her, unfolding the paper with exaggerated care. “Souvenir,” you corrected, a playful glint in your eye.

She let out a quiet chuckle, reaching over to take it from you. “Let me guess… you can’t read it?”

You huffed, watching as she traced a path with her finger. “We’re here,” she pointed at the middle of nowhere, then dragged her finger to your destination. “And New York is about seven hours that way.”

You sighed dramatically. “That’s forever.”

Sevika shook her head, laughing as she swung a leg over the bike. “Come on, drama queen.”

You slid in behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your head against her shoulder. The scent of leather and faint cigarette smoke clung to her, grounding you.

“Getting tired?” you murmured. “Can I drive?”

Sevika let out a low laugh, starting the engine. “Absolutely not.”

You pouted, but as the motorcycle roared to life beneath you, sending vibrations through your chest, you tightened your hold on her. The open road stretched ahead, the city waiting in the distance, but for now, it was just the two of you.

@vyvvycg @drinkdawudda @jiungmcvv @half-of-a-gay @savedforlaterr @armyswag93

[arcadia-smith]

He doesn't remember you.

But.

You stay.

Of course, you stay.

Because Bucky is still here, alive in the flesh, and somewhere—deep inside him, hidden beneath the layers of fractured memories—he must know you. He must remember.

It’s just a matter of time.

That’s what Sam says. What the doctors say.

Give it time.

So you do.

Days bleed into weeks, weeks into months.

And still, you stay.

You tell him stories—soft and steady, like a balm for the ache between you. You show him pictures, snapshots of the life you once shared, the love that stitched you two together.

You speak of your first date—how his nerves made him fidget like a storm on the horizon, pacing outside your apartment for what felt like an eternity before he finally knocked, all shaky hands and warm, unsure eyes.

You tell him about that rainy night, when he kissed you under the storm, his laughter a low hum against your lips as he whispered, “This only happens in the movies.”

You tell him about you—the version of yourself that once fit perfectly against his side.

And you wait.

You wait for the spark—the brief, flickering recognition that he once knew the rhythm of your heartbeat, the warmth of your touch.

You wait for those blue eyes to soften again, to look at you the way they used to—tender, loving, yours.

But they never do.

And then, one day, after all the days, weeks, and months spent watching and hoping—

You find him in the common room, grinning at something on his phone.

Someone.

A woman.

She’s bright, beautiful—her laughter a melody you don’t recognize.

And before you even open your mouth, you know.

But still, you ask.

“Who’s that?” Your voice is light, fragile, like a leaf trembling in the wind.

He looks up, then back at the screen, that faint, soft smile still lingering.

“Her name’s Kate.”

It’s a gut-punch. The kind that steals the air from your lungs and leaves you gasping.

“Oh,” you whisper, trying to swallow the burning sorrow that claws its way up your throat. “She’s... she’s pretty.”

He grins—wide, unbothered, as though this is just another casual conversation, nothing more.

“Yeah. I think I might ask her out.”

And in that moment, everything inside you fractures.

Not just the silence between the two of you, but the world itself.

Because Bucky doesn’t remember you.

No. Worse.

He’s moving on.

Without you.

And you can’t stop it.

You can’t tear through his shattered mind and fix what they took from him.

You can’t scream, You love me. You chose me. We were supposed to have forever.

You can’t do a single thing.

So you smile.

You nod.

You pretend that you’re not being swallowed whole by the hollow ache inside you.

And that night, when the house falls silent and empty, you don’t leave the porch light on.

Because Bucky isn’t coming back.

He already has.

And he’s not yours anymore.

You leave.

You have to.

Because staying, watching him laugh with someone else—someone new, someone with a love untouched by the scars of time—it would be like breathing in glass shards. It would tear through you, piece by piece, until nothing remained. You would cease to exist.

So you gather your things in silence, each item a memory you can’t afford to carry anymore.

You say goodbye to Sam, but there is no promise in your words. No hope. Just the hollow echo of a love you can’t save. You don’t tell Bucky. What would be the point? He’s already gone. The man you once knew is somewhere behind the locked door of his memories, and there is no key.

You leave.

And time doesn’t care.

It moves on, cruel and indifferent. Days stretch into weeks, weeks bleed into months, and the seasons change in ways that mean nothing. You rebuild, slowly. The edges of your broken heart are sealed with the soft, fragile thread of survival. You learn to exist without him. You learn to wake up without him beside you, without his breath against your neck, without the weight of his love settling around you like a warm blanket. You learn to live with the dull ache, the phantom throb in the places where he used to be.

But there are moments.

There are mornings when your fingers twitch toward the space where he should be, when your heart stutters, trapped in a fleeting memory, a touch, a whisper. And you wonder, just for a second, if he’s still there—if you’re still there. But then, the thought fades. Because he’s not yours. Not anymore.

And then—

Then you get the call.

Sam's voice is a tightrope, fraying at the edges.

"I need you to come back."

You hesitate, your breath a jagged thing. You don’t want to. You can’t go back to that place, to those ghosts. The last time you left, you left your soul in the hollow of his chest, and it never returned.

But Sam's voice cracks in a way that makes your insides twist. And you can’t ignore it. Not this time.

So you go.

And when you step into the room, you’re not ready for it. You’re never ready.

Sam stands in the doorway, his face pale and drawn, like he hasn’t slept, hasn’t eaten. His hands tremble at his sides, and there’s something in his eyes that says everything you don’t want to hear.

"It’s happening again."

At first, the words make no sense.

And then, they do.

Because Bucky is in the med bay, his body tethered to the bed, his arms thrashing against the restraints. His breath comes in ragged gasps, the panic clear in every movement. His eyes are wide, full of something deep—something more terrible than fear.

You run to him, despite everything, despite the emptiness he left behind. You run because he is still your Bucky, the man you loved with everything you had. You run because that’s all you’ve ever known how to do.

“Bucky,” you whisper, your voice a breathless plea. Your hand reaches for his, but he pulls away like your touch is a thing that burns.

And then—

He says your name.

And the world stops.

The earth cracks beneath you, and you feel yourself falling into a place where nothing makes sense. The thing you wanted most, the thing you prayed for, is here. He remembers. He remembers you.

But when you look into his eyes, it’s not relief that fills them. It’s horror.

“No,” he gasps, shaking his head violently, as if to shake you away, to shake this away. His words tear from him in broken sobs. “No, no, no—please—”

“Bucky, it’s okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you thought you could carry. But it’s not okay. It will never be okay.

His chest heaves. His body jerks, as though the memories are too much to hold, too much to be.

“What did I do?” he chokes.

And that is when you understand.

He remembers you. Yes, he does. He remembers everything.

But he also remembers her.

The woman he found after you, the woman he learned to love after he’d forgotten the taste of you. The woman who is out there, somewhere, still holding his heart, still waiting for him with arms wide open.

And he loves her. He loves her the way he loved you. But in a different way. In a way that isn’t stained with time and loss and the weight of your name.

And now—

Now he has both.

Now he has the knowledge of what he lost. Now he knows exactly what he did.

And in his eyes, you see the depth of his grief. The depth of his guilt. Because he remembers her. And he remembers choosing her.

And then—then he remembers forgetting you.

And that—

That is the part that will ruin you. Because it’s not just your heart breaking anymore.

It’s his, too.

And there is nothing either of you can do. No mending, no fixing, no magic words to erase the damage.

So you press your trembling hand to his cheek. You kiss his forehead, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it’s like you’re right back there—like nothing changed. Like the world hasn’t fallen apart in slow motion.

And you whisper to him, to the man you thought you could save:

“It’s okay. I’ll go.”

And you do.

You leave.

For the last time.

Because this time, he remembers you. But it doesn’t matter.

Because he’s not yours.

And he never will be again.

And that—that—is the worst part.

Because you lost him once, but now, you’ve lost him twice.

And the pain? The pain is deeper than anything you’ve ever felt.

It’s not just a heart breaking.

It’s a soul shattering.

[kii-nami]

NIGHTBRINGER'S EPITAPH | PHAINON & MYDEI

Mydei drops Phainon’s title shamelessly, as if he is not standing here in this empty alleyway with you, holding you in his embrace so delicately behind Phainon’s back. Have you two no guilt? Does your shame really run that shallow to betray the man who loves you so dearly with such graceful ease? With his brother in arms, no less. How little self-respect does the crown prince have, to chase after a taken woman?

CW: 10K WORDS; ; FEM!MC; MC IS INVOLVED WITH BOTH OF THEM AT THE SAME TIME BUT FUJOS DNI; NO ACTUAL CHEATING; PART OF A WIDER HSR AU BY ME AND MY FRIEND; WRITTEN FROM A POV OF MY OTHER OC FROM THIS FIC; I AM NOT A HONKAI LORE SCHOLAR I'M SIMPLY FREAKY; IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS FEEL FREE TO ASK

They meet you for the first time with the fog of the hot water settling heavily in their lungs.

Burdened by her unavoidable involvement with this world’s struggles, Stelle is a little tense beside Shuhua. Their close brush with death – curtsy of Aglaea’s fierce dedication to protecting the secrets of Amphoreus – left the group somewhat shaken. Everything has been overwhelming ever since the cart crash-landed; so much so that Alisa started doubting Stelle’s decision to stay, instead of returning back to the train.

Despite accepting and enjoying her life of Trailblaze, this time things felt somewhat different. There was too much at stake to simply vanish and end up dead now. And they just had to get stranded without any way to contact the Express and leave sick March behind to be looked after by that suspicious Memokeeper hitching a ride.

Maybe asking Sunday, who is yet to settle down properly without following her around everywhere, to stay back and keep an eye on the situation was a bad idea on Alisa’s part. Even Aventurine, unfortunately roped into their shenanigans by Shuhua yet again, is suffering the consequences of their decision to leave them behind to have a nice trip as a family.

And it’s not like Alisa hasn’t entertained the idea of trying to use the powers of Repudiation, but the possibilities of what-ifs were far too great for her to risk the lives of her friends. So none of this seems extremely enthralling now that Alisa has to constantly watch her companion’s backs, trying to make sure she doesn’t need to mend them together body part by body part.

At least now that Aglaea isn’t trying to actively kill them, the group can finally relax just a little. And now that they’re about to go on a quest to kill a Titan – a God? surely not an Aeon? – Shuhua decided that it’s the best time for them to be as greedy and lazy as possible and soak in the healing waters of Amphoreus.

Maybe this too, as per usual, is a bad decision.

From under the weight of warm waters everything is coated in haze. Despite the promise of these baths healing not only body and mind, but also soul, Alisa is yet to feel any different. Being immune to everything has its ups and downs and right now she got the short end of the stick, unlike the rest of her companions.

Shuhua, as restless and as dedicated to playing a martyr as she usually is, spots Phainon first. Her mood pers up instantly, wet tail swishing excitedly in the hot water of the public bathhouse, sprinkling the droplets all over her companions. Through half-lidded eyes Stelle groans slowly, almost spitting the bathhouse water that got into her mouth. Lethargically scooting away from Shuhua to not get assaulted by her enthusiasm any longer, Stelle continues her nap in relative peace.

Noticing how nobody seems to appreciate her elation, the foxian finally decides to calm down a little, pointing unceremoniously to the faraway corner of the bath, “Look. Over there.”

Dan Heng, bored and half-invested into Shuhua’s new scheme, follows her line of sight languidly, only to be met with a picture that is a bit too perplexing even to someone like him. “Is that Phainon?”

A rhetoric question it may be, but it surely wakes Stelle up from her warmth-infused drowsiness, “Where?” With one eye open, sleep still clouding her vision, she looks in the direction that holds Dan Heng’s attention, just to finally wake up when she does spot Okhema’s unwilling hero. “Oh… It’s not that I’m judging, but…”

“That’s a little shameless even by my standards.” Shuhua snickers, a little devious chuckle, before she sinks under the water to tug Alisa up to the surface.

Finally releasing the breath she was holding, Alisa wipes the water dripping from her lashes and focuses on whatever got Shuhua act all scandalized. And considering that the foxian had little to none of said shame in her body, it must be one hell of a scene. Involving Phainon of all people, no less.

Elbows resting on the edge of the bath, he’s leaning back against the tiled wall. It's almost odd to see him so exposed, or even visiting a public bathhouse of all places, especially when Aglaea offhandedly mentioned that the Chrysos Heirs had their own private one to use however they pleased. It must have been truly an exclusive place with no entrance for ordinary people for him to be here. And considering his obvious company, it wasn’t much of a wonder why he chose to come here instead.

You – whoever you are – slowly step out of the warm waters, wet hair sticking to your exposed back; white, lightweight fabric of your robe clinging to your body, clashing with golden and crimson ink all over your skin. You reach for a bowl of grapes on one of the tables with refreshments, returning back into the bath just as leisurely, and it is only when the waves pick up the length of your hair that Alisa realizes the extent of your undress. Nothing but a thin, flowy fabric of your robe hanging loosely off your shoulders, you press yourself close to Phainon’s side and he eagerly invites you into an embrace, tucking you tightly to his chest. You pluck a grape from the wine, passing one to Phainon, brushing the pink berry against his lips. He opens his mouth, all but literally eating out of the palm of your hand.

Picking one for yourself, you pop the grape into your mouth; only you don’t get to enjoy the taste of it, as Phainon leans close to you, lips pressed against yours in an unannounced kiss. It’s a long moment before you separate, wandering hands of the hero straying a bit too far along your waist for such a public setting, but when he does allow you to breathe again, you huff and scoot away, following with a playful roll of your eyes. As smug as always, Phainon grins triumphantly. The berry stolen from your mouth must have tasted a lot sweeter than the one you offered him.

Phainon says something, slow and well-enunciated, although all the words are lost between the hum of the waves and the chatter of other visitors. You reply, much less careful and much more hurried, yet it still brings a blinding smile to Phainon’s face as he laughs freely. And when he brazenly tugs you impossibly close, with you all but sitting on his lap, Phainon seems much more relaxed, almost free, as if completely unburdened by the expectations this world placed on him resting on his shoulders. It’s as if only the weight of your body against his that truly matters for him; the delicate softness of your touch as your fingers glide along his shoulders until you bring your lips together once more.

And maybe it is so. Alisa does not allow herself to ponder on it any longer, lest it brings unwanted tears to her eyes. Jealousy is a vice, and she might not be holy, but envying someone else’s love this pure will surely drag her to hell if her past doesn’t already guarantee her a spot there. Maybe a little risk is worth a chance of seeing him even for a second.

Dan Heng’s deadpan voice brings Alisa back to reality, far away from the dangerous thoughts she will inevitably regret, “You have zero shame, Shuhua.”

The foxian scoffs, tugging on the tip of her ear to shake the excess water soaked into the fur right on the vidyadhara’s face, “Clearly they have negative shame, Dan Heng.”

 “Should we go say hi?” As if just woken up – full of mischief and yearning to wreak havoc – Stelle darts up to her feet, raining bathwater all over with her chaotic movements, “I feel like we should.”

Alisa has half a mind to stop her. It's neither time nor place and the two of you are clearly busy. Tomorrow is an important and, quite frankly, terrifying day for everyone in the Holy City, Alisa can only begin to imagine how you must be feeling sending Phainon away to battle a literal god. Logically, it’s better to give you some privacy, but has Stelle – or anyone other than Sunday, for that matter – ever listened to what Alisa had to say? The answer is predictably obvious, and whatever protests she voices are all lost on Stelle as she readies herself to march into the mayhem of her own doing.

“I strongly advise against it.”

Only she doesn’t get the chance to, tripping over her own feet, grasping for anything to hold onto and dragging Alisa along with her under the warm waters of the bathhouse. Shuhua and Dan Heng are quick to pull the two of them up, but their movements are far too sluggish under the influence of Thanatos’ power, and it does little to stop Alisa from inhaling some of the water.

“Miss Castorice…” She coughs out a greeting, although it seems to just make the matters worse as the woman takes a guarded step back.  “It’s okay! We’re okay! You just startled us.”

“I apologize, Lady Alisa. It wasn’t my intention.” Despite her rather poor repertoire of emotions, guilt is prominent on Castorice’s otherwise impassive features. Hands locked tensely in front of her, the Chrysos Heir sends another apologetic glance Alisa’s way before focusing on Stelle, “But please do not disturb them. It’s rare to see them here like this. Lord Phainon rarely has the time these days and Lady [Name] almost never leaves the Temple…” Castorice catches herself, putting an abrupt stop to her rambling, although the way she’s carefully watching you and Phainon paints a completely different picture for her sudden decision to stop talking. “Such an awful fate they were given.”

About to press for some answers, Alisa tries to find the question she wants the answer to the most, but none seem not invasive enough. Still, she imagines any would be more tactful than anything brewing in Shuhua’s head and judging by the ever-growing smirk tugging on the corners of her lips, she has a lot of those prepared already. Yet just like Stelle not so long ago, Alisa is not successful in her endeavor.

“Castorice!” Phainon’s voice is as clear as she remembers hearing it for the first time. “Esteemed guests, too.” He waves in their direction, hurriedly crossing the little distance between the refreshments table and their bath. “What a coincidence. Is the water to your liking?”

Dan Heng dips his head in lackluster appreciation, “It’s great, thanks.”

Satisfied with the answer, Phainon doesn’t offer any more questions, although the mysterious something woven into his self-assured smile is a little unnerving this time around, “If you’re free this evening you should come to the Garden of Life. My light has a way with words, her songs will not disappoint you.”

Castorice nods, accepting the offer easily. Even if Alisa wasn’t as intrigued by your relationship, she would have agreed either way. If not for the music, then at least for the rare investment sparking in Castorice’s eyes at the mention of you two.

“We’ll be there, Lord Phainon.” Maybe not everyone, most likely just Alisa and Dan Heng, but she would definitely not miss a free opportunity to listen to a ballad or two.

 “Not you too…” A disappointed sigh following his words, Phainon frowns slightly; blue eyes darting between Alisa and Castorice, he shakes his head, “No matter. I’m gonna go back now, can’t leave my lady alone for too long or she gets stolen by wild cats.” The smug arrogance paints his grin once more; Castorice – so uncharacteristically for her – looks almost amused by the nonsensical joke Phainon made. “See you later!”

He leaves in a hurry, just as fast and suddenly as he approached them, returning to your side. You welcome him, offering to take the wine pitcher off his hand but Phainon just shakes his head in silent disapproval. Opting to pour the pale peachy wine himself, he settles in the water next to you and lifts the goblet just enough for you to drink from it. And when you do take a careful sip from the silver cup, Phainon is quick to steal the wine from your mouth. Although you never seem to truly mind his unabashed behavior in the slightest, indulging it way more than you ever should have.

Maybe Shuhua is right for once, there are people with less than no shame.

Finally turning away, Alisa can’t help but muse over such unrestrained displays of affection. “He loves her a lot.” It sounds almost bitter, but Alisa is glad nobody notices. To live is to survive. To dream is to suffer. Even with her escaping the grasp of Istanai, Alisa will never truly be free unless she returns back to his side. And she can’t right now.

“He does.” Castorice is as solemn as always when she agrees quietly, her next words distorted by the excited buzz of the bathhouse visitors, “I imagine when you have so little to remember of home, what you do have you cannot ever let go. Even in death.”

It’s silent after that. Only the distant hum of the chatter and Phainon’s laughter cutting through the wall of white noise once in a while. They watch Castorice carefully as her unreadable eyes, all but glued to the glow of the sun shining over your head, get mistier by the moment. Tense shoulders, she cannot seem to find peace amongst the foggy air of the bathhouse.

“Castorice?” Stelle calls her name tentatively, but Castorice, too deep in whatever thoughts torment her, doesn’t react. Shuhua nudges Alisa on the shoulder, a little spooked by the idea of a literal manifestation of death being so lost in her own thoughts, and having no choice on the matter, Alisa reaches carefully to tug on the skirts of Castorice’s dress.

The Chrysos Heir flinches ever so slightly, misty gaze clearing up as she looks at where Alisa is still holding onto the fabric of her dress. “Please don’t listen to the rumors. Lady [Name] is not a bad person.” Coming completely out of left field, Castorice’s warning confuses the group even more than her silence ever did. “And do come to the performance, you might gain a lot of insight on that which you never considered to ponder on.” She looks almost conflicted when she says this, as if fighting with reason itself to justify her decision. Although when Castorice does get it off her chest, she seems almost liberated from her self-imposed shackles. Then she blinks, hand pressed over her chest as if she just remembered something important, “I completely forgot… I came here to fetch you, Lady Alisa. Lady Aglaea is interested in striking a deal.”

Shuhua groans. Alisa gets out of the water without much thought. Control is order and you cannot control what you cannot see. Yet again, the daughter of Repudiation is the biggest enemy of order. Only Aglaea is nothing like Sunday. And it’s for the better that she isn’t.

“I guess it can’t be helped.”

Alisa killed an Aeon once, what a demigod compared to rejection personified?

If only things were that easy.

They meet you for the second time with the strumming of a harp and your soft voice barely audible in their ears.

You are dressed far more modestly than you were back at the bathhouse, which isn’t that hard to achieve all things considered. Much of your exposed skin is still painted with golden ink, intertwined with red lines where they form some kind of convoluted patterns all over your chest and back. Your fingers run over the strings with some sort of stiffness one would not expect from a professional musician, and despite the music being nothing short of heavenly, you seem far too detached from the tune you’re playing. Even your voice is far too muted for a crowd that gathered around, and although the people are eerily silent while listening to your romantic tale of a sun’s journey to greatness, nobody is asking you to sing louder.

It's strange. There’s something off about this evening that Alisa can’t place her finger on just yet. Castorice hesitantly learns to accept that the powers given to her hold no effect on the daughter of Repudiation, so she slowly takes some liberties in standing far closer to Alisa than any reason would allow. Alisa lets her, contemplating offering a friendly hand, but deciding against it at the end. She knows better than anyone how overwhelming change can be for a person.

Shuhua, despite her initial unwillingness to join the group for a night out opting to just wallow in misery as she always tends to do at any mild inconvenience, seems to enjoy herself right now. Stelle and Dan Heng stand a little to the side, the deadpan expression on his face gives away an idea or two about the topic of Stelle’s commentary.

Phainon is sitting on the grass close to where you are, unbothered and casual as he always seems to be. Aglaea and one of the fragments of Tribios – Tribbie – are conversing quietly in the far away corner of the Garden of Life, but the leader of Chrysos Heirs doesn’t look all that happy to be here. Even the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos is present, albeit it’s a little hard to read between the lines of his permanent scowl, even more so than through Aventurine’s carefully crafted, mildly amused poker-face.

It's not Mydei’s presence that rubs Alisa the wrong way, it’s the odd absent-eyed looks Aglaea keeps throwing the Nameless that bother her. Despite a quite innocent and harmless deal they struck today, Alisa can’t help but feel even more on edge around the woman. Aglaea admitted she can only see this world through the golden thread, so why does she keep eyeing them so intently? It’s none of Alisa’s business and yet… Survival of her family is her business, isn’t it?

People give you a round of applause and you lift yourself up from the grass, bowing shallowly. Phainon is quick to follow you, taking the harp off your hands and bringing your palm to his mouth in a fleeting kiss. Castorice shifts uncomfortably, closer to Alisa’s side. And Alisa truly doesn’t want to assume anything, but from the corner of her eye she watches Aglaea’s frown deepen.

The crowd disperses slowly. Shuhua attaches herself to Alisa’s arm with a tired groan and an annoyed twitch of her ears, nuzzling against the feathers of halovian wings. Stelle is still rambling about losing her login streak in Wandering Waves and missing some important character’s banner. Dan Heng is the only one to actually care about the performance and even if usually Alisa would be the first to jump into a discussion about arts, her mind is uncharacteristically elsewhere.

With a whine, Shuhua announces that she’s craving a late-night snack before the big day. Both Stelle and Dan Heng pretend they don’t hear anything, not that Alisa expected anything else from them. Not even fighting for custody rights, Alisa drags Shuhua into a different direction that will take them to the Marmoreal Market. Maybe some dromas steak will soothe her friend’s miserable longing.

Yet as per the rules of Trailblaze, its pathstriders can’t stop getting themselves in trouble. And even now Alisa is barely quick enough to tug Shuhua behind a row of shelves full of potted plants before they get spotted by the two shadowy figures standing under the torchlights of Amphoreus’ otherwise dim alleyways. The scene unfolding before them leaves quite an unpleasant aftertaste in Alisa’s mouth when she swallows thickly. And now the fur of Shuhua’s restless tail doesn’t feel all that pleasant against Alisa’s skin amidst the heavy, warm night air.

“Is that who I think it is?” the foxian mumbles, a little confused tilt of her head, ears pressed tightly against her head.

“Please be quiet.” Alisa is trying to save them from being inevitably discovered, although her efforts go unappreciated, as Shuhua huffs, scandalized and offended.

“Hey, don’t shush me!” Despite being nothing but a whisper, the sheer force with which Shuhua delivers her line is nothing short of a scream. “You start sleeping in the same bed that smug, undercooked chicken wing and now you’re turning evil.”

Turning blind eye on the usual, albeit even more colorful, insults thrown Sunday’s way, Alisa covers Shuhua’s mouth with the palm of her hand, “Shush.”

Shuhua’s exasperated hissing is muffled, but it’s not audible enough to reach outside the little corner they’re hiding at. It’s for the better that it is that way, as the shadows grow nearer, heavy footsteps fall to a standstill under the darkness of a little shop across from the shelves covering them and Alisa can only pray the plants are enough to mask the bright fur of Shuhua’s tail.

The skirts on the back of your dress drag along the dusty ground and you don’t rush to lift them, slowly albeit deliberately walking past Mydei who remains standing near the bakery’s window. The annoyed crease between his eyebrows deepens as he catches up to you, stopping you by your forearm, the gentle touch not matching his permanent scowl.

Your gaze is planted firmly on the ground, someplace where your shadows intertwine. Mydei steps closer to you, hands moving along your skin until he holds your face in his hands, lifting your head up. “Why won’t you look at me?” He speaks differently. Less brash. Way slower and just as well-enunciated as Phainon was addressing you not so long ago. “Don’t tell me you’re still upset.”

“Of course I am, Mydeimos.” You talk just as quietly as you sing, with a tiny rasp of hesitation to your tone. Yet right now it’s mixed with something so bitterly vulnerable, it’s almost easy to forget that you are a taken woman. And with how compromising your position is, it’s all but effortless to misinterpret the situation for what it isn’t.

“I am immortal.” Mydei states plainly and you scoff.

He’s still holding your face in his hands despite your arms hanging limply by your sides. It’s hard to see under the shadows of twilight, but even in such darkness the hurt pooling in your eyes is difficult to miss. “Immortality does not take away the pain of death.”

“I am used to it.” It’s unclear whether Mydei is trying to convince you or himself, but either way it doesn’t work.

The bracelets on your arm clink against each other when you finally lift your hand to press your palm firmly to Mydei’s chest. “I told you already, didn’t I?” Your voice trembles like the strings of the harp, as if you are on the verge of tears. And maybe it is so, “Your ache is my agony. Your suffering is my anguish. I must live this life knowing I cannot aid you in your endeavors. History does not–”

Thumb against your lips, dipping ever so slightly into your parted mouth, Mydei interrupts your fervent rambling, “I wowed to battle fate for you. This hasn’t changed.” You are a taken woman yet with the way the Mydei so effortlessly throws earnest promises of eternal devotion your way, it’s easy to forget it is not he who you are officially involved with. “But Deliverer is better suited for that Coreflame than I am.”

Mydei drops Phainon’s title shamelessly, as if he is not standing here in this empty alleyway with you, holding you in his embrace so delicately behind Phainon’s back. Have you two no guilt? Does your shame really run that shallow to betray the man who loves you so dearly with such graceful ease? With his brother in arms, no less. How little self-respect does the crown prince have, to chase after a taken woman?

“You cannot defy who you are.” You whisper dejectedly, not bothered by the mention of Phainon but the fact that Mydei refuses to change his mind. You give up then, tense posture going lax as you sigh heavily in defeat, “But who am I to deny your wishes?”

“My wishes?” Mydei questions, a victorious glint in his eyes. “I have a lot of those, you know.” He steps closer and you step back until you reach the wall, Mydei’s arm against the back of your head so you don’t accidentally hit yourself against the white bricks. “I am insatiable in my greed. Or so they say.”

He doesn’t wait for any response, just dips his head down and presses his lips against yours feverishly. You reciprocate, eager and yearning, all but melting against his body until there is no more empty space between you. But even then, he still draws you closer, free hands itching under the missing fabric on the front of your dress.

Taking your preoccupied state as an opportunity for escape, Alisa once again drags Shuhua into the darkness of the alleyway. There are no words exchanged until they are far out of your hearing range. Marmoreal Palace is relatively empty this time of day, and Alisa feels like she can finally breathe properly. So many things running through her mind, she has no idea where she should even begin. All that Alisa truly knows that it’s wrong. They shouldn’t have been there to see that. You shouldn’t have been doing any of that at all. And yet...

Shuhua, however, never holds back when she has to say something, “This wench!”

“Shuhua, please.” Trying to calm her friend down is futile, but Alisa is known to enjoy suffering to its fullest.

“I have to give it to her though.”  Shuhua huffs in irritation, dusting her tail off any cobwebs it gathered during her stay at the dusty corner of an alley. “How hard is it to swindle those two at the same time?”

Acutely aware that she’s doing nothing more than playing devil’s advocate, Alisa is desperately trying to rationalize the situation, “Maybe this all is a big misunderstanding…” She knows nobody is inherently good, but she's always trying to look only for the best in other people. And Alisa really doesn’t want to believe that either you or Mydei would betray Phainon in such a way. Logic, however, is much harder to argue with.

“Her tongue was in places mine can’t reach.” An irked scoff and a roll of her eyes, Shuhua crosses her arms over her chest. It’s hard to believe such a thing is possible but once again facts win over delusions. “We should tell him about it the first thing tomorrow.”

“Shuhua…” Not liking Alisa’s tone, the foxian throws her glare of disbelief prematurely, before any stupidity can even cross her mind. But as it usually happens, disapproval doesn’t stop Alisa from speaking and she truly has had enough of Shuhua’s bad decisions in the span of these couple of months to last her for another ten years. “I am not condoning her actions, but… I don’t think this is the right time to drop something like that on him. We truly don’t need any bad blood between those two, considering they are quite literally on a quest to kill a god.”

Shuhua blinks, canines biting harshly into her bottom lip. She’s clearly searching for something to counter Alisa’s argument with but can’t find anything of equal value to reason. Eventually giving up, Shuhua sighs dejectedly, “Yeah, okay. You’re right.” Then she grins, a little manic and sort of troubling curve of her lips, as she cackles sarcastically, “We just have to kill a god, how hard can it be…”

Not harder than it was to kill an Aeon. But it’s better for Shuhua to never remember what exactly transpired inside the Realm or Repudiation.

Alisa can only hope that after all is said and done, she doesn’t have to act out on her side of the deal with Aglaea.

They meet you for the third time amongst the sea of passersby, the shining gold of your jewelry flickering with your every movement.

They spot you at Marmoreal Market not long after they successfully take Nikador’s Coreflame to the Vortex of Genesis. They pass by Melpomene, and despite calling out to her, she rushes past them without even a greeting, an annoyed growl falling from her lips as she casts one last glare in the direction of Marmoreal Diner. Confused, Shuhua follows her line of sight, ears perking up and tail wagging when she finally spots you amongst the crowd.

Against both of their better judgments, neither Alisa nor Shuhua told Phainon about their unfortunate discovery after they returned to Okhema. And considering he is still locked inside Nikador’s trial, it is for the better that he is not aware of your infidelity. This, however, is a perfect chance to finally confront you, not only about your unfaithfulness but also about the rumors floating around the Holy City.

After that night in the alleyway, Alisa couldn’t help but put her meddling skills to good use and sharpened her ears as much as possible. Castorice’s cryptic warning aside, the rumors about your person are hard to ignore when one actually listens to what the public has to say. Turns out, people seem to have very mixed feelings towards you. Some deem you an important, vital figure to Okhema’s wellbeing in such trying times: a famous bard, an acclaimed hymnwriter, a renowned poetess, a revered High Priestess of the Temple of Eternal Fire. Others think of you as a rotten fruit, slowly corrupting the well-oiled dynamic not only between the Chrysos Heirs themselves but also between Aglaea and the Council of Elders.

And as it so happens, everyone is acutely aware of your not-so-secret affair with the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos. All except Phainon himself. Even stranger thing is that despite your unfaithfulness being a well-known fact, nobody is rushing to inform the hero of it. Whether he lives under a rock or his devotion to you is that unshakable is unclear but whatever the reason for it is, Alisa can’t begin to sympathize with either you or Mydei.

Neither can Aglaea, it seems.

Goldweaver’s threads wrap themselves around Shuhua’s arm, planting her firmly in place, “I strongly advise you to stay away from that woman, Shuhua.”

The foxian clenches her teeth, and Alisa decides to intervene before things escalate someplace none of them wants to, “Lady Aglaea, good morning.”

Heavy blink of her sightless eyes, Aglaea turns to face Alisa albeit she can never truly pinpoint her location, “Good morning, child.” Despite the friendly, polite tone, Aglaea’s detachment from humanity prevents her from truly igniting the warmth in her voice. Alisa can’t blame her for it, neither can she condemn the woman for trying to protect her home by any means possible. Although now Alisa has a faint suspicion that her odd behavior during your performance had nothing to do with the Astral Express but everything to do with you. “Please heed my advice and stay clear of her, there is nothing the Temple can offer you that I cannot.”

“Of course, Lady Aglaea.” Alisa nods, agreeing with the woman without even trying to argue her case. Sometimes to reject something you need to accept it first, and who would understand that better than a daughter of Repudiation? “Please take care.”

Aglaea bows her head in a shallow goodbye, disappearing into the busy crowd just like Melpomene did not so long ago. Shuhua, still trying to come to terms with the fact that there might be a target painted on her back once more, gives Alisa a suspicious side glance.

"She's still spying on us, isn’t she?” Shuhua asks carefully. She is yet to get used to this new dynamic of being the one following Alisa’s lead for once. But to live is to survive and adapting is an integral part of survival, and Shuhua really doesn't want to meet her end here because of some light snooping.

Alisa shrugs, mumbling a barely audible agreement. Just because Aglaea’s golden thread cannot see her, doesn’t mean her spies cannot hear her. Breaking their agreement with the leader of Chrysos Heirs will put her family in danger, but despite his smug, overconfident attitude, Phainon is a good man. Sunday might be right: her kindness is her weakness ready to be exploited; but he’s not here to stop her, so what else Alisa is supposed to do?

“Lady [Name]!” It has been a long time since she needed to scream to get someone’s attention.

The people give Alisa an odd look or two, some stop to search for the source of a disturbance. You, however, head straight ahead. Box with honey cakes securely pressed to your chest, you never turn their way even when Alisa calls out to you for the second time. Some passersby give them confused side-glances; one quick look over your shoulder at the commotion, you never notice the outlanders, swept by the busy crowd of the market. Walking past them casually, you leave with only the scent of sunlit oranges, ripe pomegranates, and warm cinnamon clinging to the heavy air long after the flowing tails of your skirts disappear from view.

And so, you escape. And so, Aglaea wins.

“Can’t believe she ignored us like that!” Shuhua hisses. Angry and disappointed, she curses under her breath, icy glare digging daggers into the dense crowd of the market.

Something isn’t right at all about this. The omnipresent gaze of Repudiation calls for rejection of all, and even on the endless path of Trailblaze Alisa does not stop defying authority. Mokosha, Penacony, Amphoreus. Her guilt, her love, her longing. Karina, Sunday, Aglaea. To live is to survive. Survival calls for all sorts of risks.

“Maybe she didn’t notice us…” Alisa cannot see the golden threads, they dissolve into dust all around her, but she can spot them weaving through the market, trailing the scent of sunkissed oranges and sugary pomegranate you left behind.

Shuhua cannot see what Alisa can, however. “Stop playing devil’s advocate, I locked eyes with that wench.” But Shuhua wasn’t brought up with the oath of rejection woven into her every breath, so it’s understandable that she does not condone this doubt festering inside Alisa’s heart.

“I think it’s better we just talk to Lord Phainon.” Alisa knows it’s the only right thing to do. The only way to force you to be honest with yourself. The only way to get to the bottom of this conspiracy. The only way to not let Aglaea win ever again.

“Yeah, yeah.” Shuhua grits her teeth, even more vexed than she was before coming here. “Now come on, I need breakfast, or someone dies.”

Alisa doesn’t doubt it. She just hopes it won’t be Shuhua herself.

The golden thread trembles, yet its presence remains.

They meet you for the fourth time illuminated by the sunlight and scorched by fire, as you melt the ice of the memories of the world long gone.

It’s dark inside the Temple of Silence. Nothing but long corridors, dimply lit by torches burning deep purple flames, and imagery of the night sky painted in crimson and gold all over the white walls. Phainon is leading the way with well-practiced movements, all while entertaining Stelle’s barrage of ridiculous questions and Dan Heng’s polite yet distant commentary on some of the more captivating things that the hero has to say.

Shuhua is restless, even more so than usual since they got stranded on Amphoreus. Alisa fears it might be Shuhua's breaking point, but she will cross that bridge when she gets there and for now, they have far more pressing matters to deal with. Confronting you in your own temple is not going to be easy, but with Stelle and Dan Heng now involved in this against their will, things took a turn for the worse.

Noticing just how big the distance between them and Phainon grew, Shuhua exasperatedly mumbles something under her breath and picks up her pace, dragging Alisa along by her elbow. Phainon, finally stopping near the intricately carved door at the end of the hallway, is still entertaining Stelle’s curiosity without complaints. Shuhua throws him an apprehensive side eye, irked glow of her eyes spelling nothing but trouble for everyone involved, but Phainon misinterprets it as something it is not.

“You seem nervous.” He’s wrong, everyone except him is acutely aware of it, yet nobody is racing to correct his assumption. “I assure you, there is no reason for you to feel anxious.”

“It’s just…” Shuhua begins, a strained smile on her face, “It’s a little dark here, that’s all.”

“Oh, sorry about that. Should have warned you.” Phainon rubs the back of his head, an apologetic smile tugging on the corners of his lips. “Well, don’t worry. It’s very bright inside.”

Three light knocks. The dark, purple flames flicker to the rhythm of the drumming of Phainon’s knuckles. The heavy door opens on its own, light drowning the dimply lit corridor. For a split second Alisa’s vision goes blurry, as if blinded by the brightness of the light. It takes a second for her eyes to adjust to the new environment, but when they do, she almost wishes she stayed blinded forever. She should have known better than to trust Shuhua’s mad ideas, they’re always more trouble than they’re worth.

Shuhua’ grins, “Oh, isn’t it just great.” Dan Heng is quick to silence her before she drops any more unnecessary comments, but he can’t stop a little gasp that escapes Stelle’s parted lips.

Alisa diverts her gaze from the scene of the crime, trying to focus on something else other than the impending fight between an immortal man turned unwilling demigod and a hero acting as the muse to of almost all of your ballads. Eyes wide and pupils blown, Shuhua bites her lip to stiffen any more sounds coming from her, although most of it just seems like the foxian woman is trying to suppress inevitable cackle which is bound to worsen the tension even more.

Mydei’s arm is wrapped loosely around your waist, just to give enough support so that you don’t accidentally topple over and drop the goblet full of pomegranate juice all over the sofa. Or all over him to be precise. On your knees between his parted legs, one gold painted arm pressed against his naked chest, you’re carefully pouring juice into his mouth. He doesn’t as much as blink when some escapes his lips, sliding along his skin and leaving the dark crimson trail until it gets lost in what little fabric is covering his chest. Mydei simply slides his gloved hand along the expanse of your bare back, moving your hair away from your neck and bringing your face closer to his.

Dropping the empty goblet in your hand, you let it hit the white marble of the room with the deafening noise that makes everyone in the room flinch. You don’t seem to mind the noise, just sink even closer to Mydei, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and when you part at last, you glide your tongue along the crimson trail. Then you sink your teeth into the slope of his neck, an apologetic flick of your tongue over the rapidly vanishing indent of your teeth in his skin. Mydei leans his head against the arm of the sofa, half lidded eyes watching as you leave a trail of bites along his chest.

Phainon, for all his recklessness and flair, is awfully calm even when he positions himself in a way to cover most of your exposed body from their prying eyes. Posture lax, no tension in his shoulders, he doesn’t seem astonished or betrayed, or even simply angry. If anything, Phainon seems almost embarrassed to subject his guests to such an indecent display of affection between his – girlfriend? wife? Alisa isn’t even sure who you even are to him with the way the hero keeps addressing you – and his brother in arms. Knuckles rubbing against his forehead, Phainon clears his throat.

Mydei, unbothered by the presence of another man in your private chambers, doesn’t spare Phainon even a quick glance, “You’re late, Deliverer.”

Canines digging into her lips, Shuhua is barely holding herself together from cackling. Alisa has to admit, that all of this is sort of funny in some twisted way. But all of this snooping around just for them to end up here, intruding into whatever you three knowingly have going on. Oh, how embarrassing indeed.

Phainon, back still shielding most of the view on your nude body, tugs his coat off, “Please inform [Name] that I brought in our esteemed guests for an appointment.”

With a deep, annoyed sigh, Mydei finally looks over his shoulder, “Really now, hero? Couldn’t find any other time?” You lift your head, watching him with mild worry in your eyes as if you just now noticed the presence of someone else in the room. Three light taps on your shoulder, Mydei whispers something extremely slowly and you nod, sitting up straight, moving your hair to cover your chest. “Or person, for that matter?”

Phainon shrugs dismissively, as if trying to play his mistake off as something that is not his fault and then throws his coat towards Mydei, “They seemed really eager to meet our Lady of Eternal Fire.”

Mydei scoffs, catching the piece of clothing and dropping it over your shoulders the next very second, “Oh, I’m sure they were.”

You slip your arms into the sleeves of the coat and get up from the sofa, “Phainon.”

Despite the tender kiss you give him, you acknowledge the hero with some sort of detachment when you say this name of his. But it must be because you, as Castorice pointed cryptically all the way back at the bathhouse, are the only one who knows of Phainon as a son of Aedes Elysiae, and his true name is far dearer to you than the one he chose for himself.

Then you divert your attention to the members of Astral Express, a peculiar smile curving your lips, “Mysterious outlanders from beyond the stars. Welcome to the Temple of Silence.” You beacon them to follow you to the large marble table in the center of the room with a gentle wave your hand, the sleeve of Phainon’s coat flapping as you do so, “Please take a seat.”

They do as you say, albeit a little hesitantly, and settle into a long ottoman, just barely big enough to fit the four of them. Phainon joins you on your side of the table, immediately resting his head on your shoulder, and despite reluctantly leaving the comfort of the sofa, Mydei remains standing behind you with his arms crossed against his chest.

“What brings you here?” You ask, hand running through Phainon’s hair. “Against Aglaea’s… insistent suggestions to stay away from me, too.” There’s a little teasing to your hushed tone. You are far more playful than Alisa initially thought, way less intimidating too.

Despite Stelle expectantly watching Shuhua, nobody says anything. What is there even left to say now that Shuhua can’t hold your trysts against you for her own entertainment? And neither she nor Alisa herself were here with any hopes of actually getting in contact with the Express.

Dan Heng, however, tired of constant childish tantrums of his temperamental fox friend, takes one for the team, “We were looking for a way to contact our friends back home, and Phainon lead us here. He told us there’s a chance you can help us reach through the barrier to contact them.”

One moment. Then two. Three and then four. You say nothing, your puzzled gaze drifting from Dan Heng to Shuhua, to Stelle, to Alisa and then back to Dan Heng. You mutter something under your breath; quick, single word sentences, as if you are trying to decipher something but keep failing at doing so. Phainon lifts his head from your shoulder, once again oddly guilty shine in his blue eyes.

It’s tense, unnerving kind of confused silence that never seems to settle and only continues to grow. “Deliverer.” Mydei sighs, heavy and exhausted, “You didn’t tell them.”

The frustration in Mydei’s usually mildly agitated tone is almost palpable, and Phainon chuckles awkwardly, “I thought it was obvious.”  Then he quickly gets onto his feet to leave the table only to return a couple of seconds later with a heap of yellowish parchment, a bottle of ink and four quills. He sets everything on the marble surface carefully and you thank him, passing the paper to the group. “Apparently not. My apologies, I must have complicated things way more than I initially assumed.”

A simple complication doesn’t even begin to cover the level of mental gymnastics you three forced them into, but even Shuhua’s confused ear twitch is met with Mydei’s almost-warranted exasperation, “Don’t look so damn lost, outlanders. You’ve never met a deaf person before?”

Oh, complicated indeed. Alisa was right to doubt everything, but with the way Shuhua’s ears fall flat against her head she can guess the guilt of assuming things is catching up even to her.

“It’s quite alright.” You dismiss the sudden pitiful glances with a careless shake of your head, instead pointing to the parchment you offered to them. Phainon once again takes a seat next to you, although his posture is far less relaxed than it was before, observing carefully as Stelle twirls the quill in her hand. “Before we begin, you must give an offering to the Temple. Please describe a memory you cherish and feed it to the fire.”

Dan Heng gives you an apprehensive look, doubting your words despite doing exactly what you told him to. Stelle does the same, quickly scribbling something on the paper and dropping it into the purple flames flickering in a large ceremonial goblet installed into the indent in the middle of the table. It takes some time for Alisa to think of a memory she is willing to share with a stranger, and next to her Shuhua grins, folding her paper neatly in half and throwing it into the fire as soon as she can.

Mydei rolls his eyes at such behavior, finally giving up his watch to sit down next to you. He tugs the armored gloves off, placing them neatly near the ottoman and rests his hand on the marble, fingers barely grazing the edge of the ceremonial goblet. You give him a pointed look, the one of a concerned warning, but he dismisses you with a slight, teasing tug to the pointed tip of your elf-like ear poking through the dark strands if your hair. You are about to continue playing a losing game when Phainon once again drops his head on your shoulder, lifting your left hand up to press a tender kiss to your knuckles. Those two, despite all of their differences, know how to distract you when it works to their advantage and succeed in doing so with the ease of a well-oiled machine.

Giving up, you return your attention back to your guests with a fleeting, barely audible apology, then dip your free hand into the fire and pull out five cloudy crystals, dropping them into a silver bowl placed in front of you. Picking the magenta gemstone up, you bring the copper colored one along with it, clicking them against each other. Phainon laughs, the joke is lost on not only Alisa but also on the rest of the Astral Express, although even Mydei seems to get it.

“You two are very special. One is an empty slate, unable to be recorded.”  You begin suddenly, dark eyes drifting from Alisa to Stelle intently. “Another blessed by the gaze of your local gods. What a peculiar life you have, Stelle.”

Upon hearing her own name, despite never introducing herself, Stelle asks a couple of questions you are never meant to catch nor would ever want to answer. You just toss the stones back into the fire and pick a green one, discarding this gem almost instantly as well.

“Rebirth? How interesting…” Looking at Dan Heng, you are searching for something Alisa isn’t sure you can find. But with how the Vidyadhara goes rigid upon hearing your words, something tells Alisa it is not only a single cherished memory of theirs you now have access to. “I am sure that whatever this jade abacus you are thinking about is, it will not help you to leave this world, Dan Heng.”

Smugness on Shuhua’s face deflates exponentially once you get to the pale peachy crystal, her scheme backfiring on her so unpredictably. “Oh, an odd choice for sure, and yet…” You quirk your brow, chuckling lightly under your breath and leaning forward to pass the stone directly into Shuhua’s hands. “Who would have thought that man had it in him to…”

Embarrassed, Shuhua hurriedly hides the peach-colored gem in the pocket of her shorts. You don’t say much more, just sit quietly with an oddly familiar glint in your half-lidded eyes, well-manicured nail in between your teeth. Phainon says something that is lost not only on you but also on the rest of the group. You swipe your tongue over your painted lips, crimson hue glistening even more under the glow of sunlight, and pick up the quill to write a couple of quick notes just to pass them to Phainon as soon as the last drop of ink hits the parchment.

Phainon skims over what you written, a choked cough contracting through his chest, and he crumbles the paper carelessly. “Shuhua’s chosen memory sparked sudden inspiration in me.” You explain then, a teasing lull to your voice, while your nimble fingers straighten the parchment Phainon so thoughtlessly ruined. “I am sure it will not disappoint you either, husband.”

“Aren’t you forgetting anyone?” Mydei asks, fingers that were toying with the edge of the ceremonial goblet now completely engulfed by the purple flames.

“This one sees the appeal of wild cats just like I do…” You say distantly, a subtle shift to the air around you as you tuck the note you wrote into the pocket of Phainon’s coat. “So I have something else for you in mind, Mydeimos.””

 Despite shedding light onto the meaning of Phainon’s bizarre joke and thoroughly embarrassing Shuhua even further with the knowledge of all her previous affairs, your provocative tone contradicts your appearance. Even while replying to Mydei as if you can hear him, you do not look a slightest bit happy or relieved to be able to perceive sound once again. Instead, you hastily free yourself from Phainon’s hold, swatting Mydei’s hand away from the fire and cradling it close to your chest.

Unlike you, the prince does not return from the flame unscathed, although the burnt skin mends itself almost instantly. You were right, immortality does not take away the pain of death, yet Mydei endures the turmoil with ease. True to his promise of battling fate for your love, he is willingly walking into the scorching fires just for a chance of you hearing his voice.

Love of such kind can bring all realms to ruin, yet it is the only kind that you can accept.

As if trying to brighten the mood, a little pink creature that has been following Stelle around ever since her conversation with Oronyx, finally shows itself. Curiously peeking out from behind Stelle’s shoulder, Mem says something that only she can decipher, and receiving a lackluster shrug from the Nameless it slowly floats up to you, fluffy tail swatting Phainon across the face. You watch it with an oddly nostalgic sense of longing littered all over your face like gold dust, strained fingers gripping Mydei’s hand harder. If you know something about Mem’s origin – which Alisa does not doubt even for a second – you keep it to yourself and let the pink fairy playfully bully Phainon some more, until it is completely satisfied and settles on top of his broad shoulders, tail wagging excitedly.

“Are all memokeepers so… eccentric?” Shuhua whispers right into Alisa’s ear and it startles her, dragging her away from her lingering thoughts. “What's up with that fifth memory bubble, anyway?”

Albeit a welcomed distraction, the idea of you being a pathstrider of Remembrance makes things even more convoluted than they initially were, although that power of yours is easily justified by that simple explanation. And considering how easily Fuli extended Their blessings to Stelle, it would be only natural that They gaze upon someone so closely intertwined with memories.

Soft smile of yearning all but completely gone, you look away, returning to the matter at hand. Last, bright pink crystal left lying in the silver bowl, you disregard its existence as if it's just a figment of your imagination. The subtle shift of the air does not seem so subtle anymore.

“Thank you for your kind offerings, Trailblazers.” You speak at last, although there is some sort of tragic finality to the way you deliver your line that tells Alisa you cannot fulfill their wishes. “I must disappoint you, however. What you desire of me is far too ambitious.” Alisa already expected as much, so it does little to disappoint her, but a discouraged sigh that Shuhua and Stelle share hurts her nonetheless. Yet your deeply apologetic expression seems extremely sincere, as you bow your head, “I am not a Chrysos Heir, neither am I gazed upon by an Aeon like the two of you. I am a mere preserver of truthful memories. A dedicated historian, if you will.”

Despite not truly acknowledging yourself as a pathstrider of Remembrance – knowing little of Aeons beyond the information you gathered from their memories – you almost openly recognize yourself as a memokeeper. Just as odd as Black Swan and Reca, albeit a little less suspicious in your intentions and far less invested into the overarching plot of this adventure.

Mydei seems to find some amusement in your claims, however, if a muffled snort coming from his person is anything to go by. He tugs on your ear again, the gold chain hooked to a tiny circular earring in your cartilage dangling as he does so. It's weaved with crimson and navy gems, uncannily reminiscent of Mydei’s own jewelry and the sentimental charm of it is oddly heartwarming.

A huff from you makes Phainon stiffen a laugh, yet another inside joke that goes right above the heads of the ignorant Nameless. He presses his lips against your knuckles once more, far more reserved in his affections than he was back at the bathhouse. Mem shuffles on the spot in his shoulder, tail wagging faster at the sudden disturbance as a bright pink paw hits Phainon square in the face. You giggle, murmuring a couple of teasing apologies in Mem’s stead, yet do not reprimand Stelle to keep her companion at bay. You simply watch Phainon, overflowing fondness in your eyes threatening to spill over.

When you do turn to look at Stelle, your gaze hardens exponentially, “Natural enemy of Goldweaver I might be, but I cannot restore memories like your little friend here does, nor can my power reach beyond these skies. I am truly sorry for wasting your precious time.”

Guilty as you seem to be for not being able to help them, there is something else to the way to shift in your seat. The hand with which you were holding onto Mydei so tightly just a moment ago drops on your lap. Phainon quits his pretend battle with Mem to give you a once over; nothing too out of the ordinary, yet it strikes a suspicion of doubt, nonetheless.

The last memory bubble remains untouched, but from the corner of your eye you keep a vigilant watch over the pink hazy crystal. A memokeeper always has their secrets and all their cards are always tucked close to their chests, under a hundred locks where the destructive forces of time cannot reach them. And right now, you too are hiding something in plain sight, masking your own troubles under the grievances of the Nameless travelers.

“Your time ran out, outlanders.” Mydei states suddenly, no room for discussion left in the way he gets up on his feet to stride towards the exist. “I’ll see you out.”

Stelle is about to say something when Alisa interrupts her, “At least we tried, right?”  It's a rhetorical question and she can only hope her friends get the hint and listen to what she has to say for once. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Lady [Name]. We will be off.”

They do. Confused and a tad bit worried, they follow Mydei to the door. You wave them goodbye, but don't get up to see them off. Neither does Phainon. Spirits low, Mem hops off his shoulder to float back to Stelle’s side.

Three knocks. The doors open on their own. One last glance at you that Alisa is quick enough to steal reminds her how easily her heart aches for others. To live is to survive. To dream is to suffer. Whatever you saw in that last memory was enough for you to keep your knowledge to yourself. And it is for the best that you can trust yourself to make such decisions. Alisa isn't sure she can say that about herself and not turn out to be a liar.

Mydei is far less of a competent guide than Phainon is. The journey is far too fast and now it's evident why this place is called the Temple of Silence. None of the questions they had were answered, none if them were even brought up in the first place. At least Shuhua can sleep soundly now with her conscience clear of any doubt that she's secondhand complacent in someone else’s infidelity. It doesn't seem like enough, however.

So even when Mydei comes to an abrupt stop near the gates of the Temple, Alisa has half a mind to ask at least something. She knows he won't indulge her curiosity, the prince is not Phainon and cares not about faux pleasantries of keeping up with appearances. But as it turns out, Mydei was itching to share a word or two with them already.

“Deliverer is too soft on you, so I’m going to say it myself.” It's one way to put it, but who are the humble Trailblazers to argue with a disgraced prince of a fallen nation. “This is the last time you come here for favors of such matter. That fool might deny it and say we and the Dressmaster reached a compromise, but he made his choice a long time ago. And my pact with Aglaea is fragile and I hold little to no attachment to either the Goldweaver or the Holy Maiden.” A slow yet steady pace at which a warning turns into a thinly veiled threat, “He’s delusional and living on borrowed time. I am immortal and I cannot forget. If you bring danger to her doorstep, I will pay you tenfold.”

Nobody responds. What is even there to say to such a declaration? Even more questions than before, Alisa can't help but wonder just how exactly Phainon and Mydei came to an agreement when it came to sharing your love and how you had it in your heart heart to tie both of them down to your soul so selfishly.

Not like Mydei would ever give her a clear explanation. No longer truly human, Mydei owes the Nameless even less than he did when he was just a Chrysos Heir. All have their own memories to preserve and it's none of their business, anyway.

“You keep bringing up Aglaea but what exactly did we do that's illegal?” Stelle is rarely as tactful as she should be, however. Maybe that's why she gets what she wants so easily. Audacity gets you places tact cannot. “Is your… arrangement not up to her moral standards? Or is it about the–”

Mydei chuckles bitterly, a sarcastic undertone coloring his humorless laughter and Stelle shuts her mouth quickly. “If there's someone who has those so-called arrangements you speak of, then it would be the Goldweaver. You should ask her about it if you are that invested into other people’s private lives.”  For the first time in a long time it feels like they finally crossed the line with the meddling in affairs that do not concern them. Mydei doesn't allow them to wallow in self pity, unceremoniously showing the group to the gates. “That being said, you’ve exhausted your question quota here. Leave.”

No goodbyes are exchanged but nobody expects the prince to send them off with a warm pat on the back. Shuhua, once again melancholic, dejectedly scratches on the shiny fabric of the pincushion strapped to one of the belts of her outfit. Mem is babbling away about something that leaves Stelle in less than elated mood. Dan Heng will surely scold them for snooping when they return to their room, but for now Alisa must embrace the shame.

“And learn to hide better next time, outlanders.”

To live is to suffer. To dream is to survive.

The tears you wept into the silver bowl cover the pink gemstone like ocean water drowns the corpses of the fallen. Even in death, you yearn to preserve a memory that remains nothing but a distant dream in the eyes of those who remember.

Maybe killing an Aeon is easier than salvaging broken pieces of rapidly melting ice.

Only one way to find out.

[insidekatmind]

Math-Hector Fort

Request:yes!

You're sitting on your bed, textbooks and physics notes scattered in front of you. Hector sits beside you, legs crossed, a notebook resting on his lap, twirling a pencil between his fingers. He should be focused on the exercises you're explaining, but his eyes are fixed on you heavy, attentive, unwavering.

You pretend not to notice. You flip through the pages, find the right example, and try to bring him back to reality. “Okay, let’s try again. Here, you need to apply this formula.” You point to the step with the tip of your pencil, but Hector doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even glance at the paper.

You turn toward him, only to find his gaze already locked on you. Dark, slow in its movement, tracing every detail of you like you’re the only thing worth paying attention to in this room.

“Hector.” His name leaves your lips as both a warning and a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Mmh?” he asks, looking at you with feigned innocence.

“I asked you to focus.” you answer seriously.

He tilts his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving up in a ghost of a smirk. “I am.”

You know full well he’s not talking about math. Heat rises to your throat, but you try to keep your composure. “On your exercises, I mean.”

“It’s not my fault there’s something much more interesting right in front of me.”

Your breath catches for a second. He doesn’t move away, doesn’t joke like he usually does. His gaze is different this time deeper, more intense.

You wet your lips without thinking, and his eyes flicker downward, following the motion in the most subtle way. The tension between you thickens, silent, dense like the air before a storm. The textbook in your hands suddenly feels useless forgotten.

“Hector…” you try again, but your voice is softer now.

He leans in slightly,just enough for his knee to brush against yours, just enough for his breath to mix with yours. “Tell me,” he murmurs, and there’s something in his tone that sends a shiver down your spine.

You should take control, pull him back on track, remind him that he’s here to study… But when his hand moves slowly, barely grazing the hem of your shirt as he presses it onto the mattress beside you, every rational thought dissolves.

“You said if I did my exercises, we could negotiate a break,” he says, his voice low, almost a whisper. “But since I can’t seem to focus…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to. The way he looks at you, the way every inch of his body seems drawn toward yours, already says everything.

Hector smirks at you and pulls you into his lap. His arm wraps around your waist effortlessly, his grip firm, yet his touch is unusually gentle. He positions you on his lap, a smirk still playing on his lips. The unexpected proximity makes your breath hitch, your body reacting to his touch almost instinctively.

“You should focus on math, you're behind,” you whisper, placing your hands on his shoulders for support. Hector's smirk deepens, his grip on your waist tightening for a moment as he pulls you even closer.

"Math can wait," he breathes, his eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense. "I've found something much more interesting to focus on." The heat of his body is intoxicating, his closeness making it difficult to keep a clear thought.

His gaze flicks to your lips, then back to your eyes. "Besides, you're more distracting than any math problem." His thumb brushes lightly against your hip, sending a shiver down your spine. The air between you is charged with electricity, both familiar and tantalizingly foreign.

“Baby, you have to do math,” you whisper softly. Hector leans in closer, his face now just a few inches from yours. "But look at you," he murmurs, his voice low, dripping with a mix of amusement and raw desire. "You're all flushed, your eyes are wide, your breath is ragged... And you're in my lap. What's a guy supposed to focus on in this situation?"

Your heart skips a beat at his words, but you try to maintain your composure. "You can focus on the equations you need to solve," you manage to reply, but your voice sounds weaker than you'd like. The proximity of his body, the feel of his hands on your hip, his breath grazing your skin, it all makes staying focused on anything except him impossible.

“Equations?” Hector repeats, a hint of mockery in his voice. “That’s not what I want to solve right now.” He tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you even closer, his body pressed against yours. His lips are so close that you can almost feel the heat radiating from them. “I want to solve you.”

You gasp lightly, your fingers involuntarily gripping his shoulders, his words hitting right on your nerves. “But you need to study-” you start to say, your voice a soft protest against the mounting pressure between you.

Hector’s smirk widens, his gaze traveling from your eyes to your lips. “I’ll study later.” He leans even closer, his mouth hovering just above your ear, and his next words are a hot whisper across your skin. “Right now… I have other things to focus on.”

His mouth moves down, grazing lightly against your neck, and your breath hitches. You want to protest, argue for his education, for rationality, but your arguments are fading away under his touch. The math book lies ignored on the bed next to you, its contents losing relevance with each passing second.

“Baby,” you whisper, gently pulling his face away from your neck. "you have to do math". Hector's gaze flicks up, a hint of surprise in his eyes as you pull his face away from your neck. He looks at you for a moment, a mix of frustration and desire in his expression, but mostly just pure adoration. "I don’t care about goddamn math," he mutters, his voice almost a growl, but there's a hint of amusement behind it.

He leans in again, his lips brushing against the skin just below your jaw, his hands roaming across your back, pulling you closer, almost possessively. "I care about you,” he whispers, the sincerity in his voice taking you aback. “And right now, all I want to do is this.” His mouth finds your neck again, this time with more urgency.

You sigh softly and cup his face, kissing him softly. Hector reacts instantly, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you flush against him as he kisses you back. The kiss starts gentle, soft, but there’s a hunger beneath it, a need that quickly starts to grow more urgent. His fingers dig into your back, his touch possessive, eager, as if trying to pull you even closer, as if trying to make you a part of him. He deepens the kiss, his breath coming in ragged, and you can feel the restraint he’s holding back in himself.

Your fingertips trail along his jawline, tracing the sharp line of his cheek, before your hand comes to rest at the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His lips move against yours with a growing insistence, his tongue tasting and exploring, his body pressing against yours with a desperate hunger. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the intensity in his touch, and it makes you want more.

Hector drops his book and math notebook on the floor while he was still kissing you and you giggled breaking away from the kiss. Hector chuckles, the sound low and sultry, a smirk playing on his lips. "Don’t wanna study anymore,” he mutters, his eyes roaming over you, filled with unconcealed desire.

His hands slide down your waist, gripping your hips with a possessive grip. "I’ve found something much better to focus on."

[lilgarbitch]

For Better Or For Worse - Noah Sebastian

Beside You Pt. 2

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

CW: more angst<3

Word Count: 1.2k

Author’s Note: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Tags: @theanarchymuse95 @dontwantthemoney @chey-h @badomensgoodomens @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @enemiestolovershoe @blade-dressed-in-red @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @thatchickwiththecamera @tosoundlessdarkistare

Y/N

It’s been about three years since that day, give or take. All I know is that time has passed and I’ve lost track. Things have changed, yet stayed the exact same. The pain has eased with time, but the love has yet to die. I’m still living in the old house, just changing as much of the interior as I could without feeling like I’ve lost too much. Because what else will be left when the hurt is gone? I now have a bed and sheets that have never touched his skin. A couch that didn’t home one or more of the boys in a time of need. The sad yellowing walls are now a light grey, with no sign of smoke stains or holes from bad decisions. Even I’ve changed. My hair is different, I’ve retired piercings, gotten new tattoos, and even changed my style. Things were different. Yet everytime I glanced into a room, I could see the memories replaying in my head like an old movie. Everytime I see the unclosed hole of my lip piercing, I’m reminded of Noah joining me for a last minute, impulsive decision. Everyday, I debate covering the tattoo that we got together when Nick started apprenticing, but then I see a photo of him on stage, singing with his arm raised, and I see that he still has his too. 

He’s changed too. Not to the point of losing recognition, but enough that I can tell he’s getting healthier out there. His voice has grown, his hair is shorter and choppy, and he’s fit into himself better than he ever has before. I don’t mean to look at pictures of him and the boys, but I could never unfollow their accounts. I could never pretend that my love died that day like they have. It’s an internal battle everytime I see him, debating if him leaving me behind was really what he needed to do.

But I know it wasn’t. Because in the days where I really miss him and really want to feel the grief of the past, I listen to their new music. It’s not hard to understand where the lyrics come from. I’ve known Noah for too long to ignore how he portrays his emotion through his music. But what I don’t understand is why. Why sing of regret? Why put yourself through all of this pain and misery when we could have lived a different way? Every time his voice rings through my home, all I can ask is would you have been there when I came home? Could you not have held on to another day, just for us to be together? I could have easily joined you in your journey, nothing else more important to me than you, so why make the decision for me? Especially when all it resulted in was the two of us living in regret? 

His regret being leaving. Of stupidly deciding that I was better off without him, even after years of me trying to prove that nothing could be worse than not having him by my side. Our lives may have never stopped that day, but I know, at least for me, that my will to try and make life worth living was gone the second he drove off. 

That leads to my regret. The regret of holding on for so long. To still be holding on. To the hope that one day, things can be okay again. Because I’m terrified. Terrified I’ll never see him again. Terrified that, one day, I’ll accept never seeing him again. Terrified that I won’t be okay again unless he comes back. Terrified that no matter the outcome, I won’t be happy again. And those are the days that I’ve lived for the past few years. In fear of losing someone I already lost. Because there was a day where I allowed him to pull me out of a dark and lonely place, only to allow him to push me back in, and still forgive him in hopes he’ll pull me out again. 

Noah

The days have become grueling again. I shoved my emotions into lyrics, pouring my rage and guilt into melodies, and it was a simple distraction…until tour started. And every song was another reminder of her. I didn’t even think. I was so focused on using my music as an outlet that I forgot it could bite me in the ass. That I’d be forced to travel back to Virginia, and sing these lyrics under the same sky. One we’d both be staring up at together again. 

I was more than grateful that Sumerian Records was able to get us an opening spot for Attila’s tour, but that meant within a month, I’d be back in Richmond and close to her again. Each night of the tour so far was painful, just counting down the seconds until the next day, because it was another day closer to home. And I don’t mean the home I grew up in, but the person I left behind. 

I had the whole world in my hands, and with one stupid decision, I gave it all away. What did I even think I would save? Life without her has been miserable. I thought I was helping both of us by leaving, but with every free moment I got over the last three years, all I could do was wish it was filled with her presence. I could’ve made it work, I just didn’t want to try. And I knew her long enough to know that she would’ve made it the easiest thing in the world. So this was my burden to take. Because I’m the only one to blame. I kept telling myself that she was so much better off without me. With nothing but the memories of my face. But now I know that, even if she was doing better, I wasn’t. Because I have no use now that she’s gone. 

I have no way of knowing how to deal with this. I knew better than anyone else that the decisions I made ruined things, but I couldn’t handle being back there and not trying. I knew the chances of me absolutely fucking everything up again by simply showing my face, but the risk was worth it. I couldn’t have a chance like this and not take it. I would never be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least see if there was a possibility to have her again. This could either destroy both of us completely, or finally be a second chance at being happy again. I had to take it. I had to do this, because I was running out of faith. 

TO BE CONTINUED

[spideyanakin]

summary - Sirius black x Malfoy + slything! reader, it's your last year at hogwarts, sirius left home to be disowned, leaving you to be engaged to his little brother. You and regulus decide to play the game and pretend, making you and Sirius able to see each other, all the while regulus harbours a crush on Remus

warnings - platonic best friends! regulus x reader, moonwater mentioned

part of all I think about now - masterlist

the original post

read the part right before

"You should ask him out."

"Abslolulty not. Are you mad?" Regulus whispered-yell, squeezing your shoulder as if to also physically tell you how insane you were being.

"No." You shook your head, trying to bite away your smile at the blush creeping on his cheeks. "I am just an avid enjoyer of a good love story," you shrugged.

Regulus almost considered it, but then he quickly shook his head, his curls brushing your cheek by how close you were sitting, "people will know."

"No one will know," you rolled your eyes. "This is the whole point of us pretending. People think I despise Sirius now."

"This is different, Y/n," that got a large giggle out of you, catching the attention of a few Slytherins, including your brother who eyed the both of you suspiciously.

"What?" you stared back at him.

"I have this nagging feeling you two are conspiring against me."

"Not everything is about you, Lucius."

You waited for his attention to be back on his parchments before placing your head back on Regulus's shoulder, coming back to your shared whispers.

"No one will know, reg" you snuggled closer into his side. "No one will suspect a thing, trust me."

"But the boys-"

"They will not care,” you smiled at the worry lines on his forehead. "James does not think of anything but lily, and what his hair looks like. Peter, well frankly I do not think he ever pays any attention to what is going on, or develops an opinion of his own without the validation of Sirius or James. Sirius, well, he is already more than aware we are not actually together. But Sirius is still Sirius, do not expect him to let you date Remus without proving you are good enough."

“You are scaring me," he groaned, dropping his head atop yours and mumbling into your hair. "Besides, he will not even want me now. He would be risking his life even breathing next to me."

"And you do not think I am not risking my life by seeing Sirius again? Also believe me when I say he would take you in a heartbeat. He has been enamored with you for years."

Regulus went quiet, observing you carefully before looking around at his classmates.

The Slytherin common room was calm. Filled with quiet and studious students, and as Regulus watched them all, he was suddenly taken by this horrible feeling that every one in this room would snitch and have him killed for merely looking lovingly at a half blood who was against the Dark Lord’s philosophies.

And then he saw you. With eyes full of love and hope. You had managed to sneak around with who you truly wanted, finding the beam of sunlight in the turmoil of darkness that came with the life he had chosen. You had found a way.

And maybe he could too. But he wasn’t ready to admit it just yet.

"Shut up, will you?"

[ikalyyy]

♡︎ㅤ! 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָstray bunny pt. 01 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Where Kang Saebyeok is chased by another girl after they were fired from the games.

𖹭.ᐟ Warnings: angst ; fluff ; no callback to the games ; fem! reader

Saebyeok felt the cold pavement against her almost naked body, she cursed the world for the cold night and those damn heartless pink guards; shaking her head and rubbing it a little against the ground, she managed to take off the blindfold. She recognized a little of her surroundings, she had visited that place to steal a few times. She sighed exhaustedly as she tried to untie her hands, the cold was freezing her, and when she finally let go, she smiled a little, untied her feet and before she could get up, a small but sharp squeal startled her.

"Ah, damn cold!" you screamed, feeling your bones suffer from the low temperature.

"Shut up, girl" a cold and somewhat hoarse voice made you shut up a little, still with distrust you raised your chin and managed to sit down.

"Who are you?" you asked in fear.

"Turn around" was an order, cold and clear, you didn't even complain as usual, you just turned around and raised your hands as much as you could. Other cold hands made some contact with your back, making you gasp, you finally felt free and you took off the blindfold, to look at your savior.

"God, thank you!" you smiled so big it hurt, the girl in front of you, with short wavy hair, a look colder than the pavement, beautiful features, full lips... and half naked, you blushed looking down. "Wow, I think I saw you... yes, I saw you!" you said in a shrill tone, you had recognized her by her brave attitude.

"Uhm..." she let out a simple sound.

"I saw how you pulled that man's hair while we were playing, it was amazing! I liked hearing him beg" you carefully untied your feet and started to get dressed, that girl remained silent, you turned around to change "I also saw how they beat you up when we first arrived, and I thought 'this girl is such a troublemaker' I wanted to talk to you but the game started and I couldn't become your friend anymore, I guess it's lucky we met here and-" when you turned around you noticed that that girl was already dressed and was walking a few meters away from you, literally leaving you talking to yourself. You finished getting dressed in a second, and ran after her.

"Stop following me" she muttered, her hands stuffed into her green jacket.

"Uh, I just don't have anywhere to go..." you muttered, running beside her.

"I'm not a fucking babysitter, find your way" her rude and abrupt tone made you reconsider the idea of following her.

"You're right, babysitters are nicer," you huffed as you followed behind her, your little skirt swaying prettily, though it was awful for the weather and you regretted choosing it, though your fuzzy sweater helped.

"Stop it, stop following me," she turned around to look at you, but you just smiled.

"I don't want to. What are you going to do to stop it?" you walked closer, barely reaching her neck. Your mischievous smile disappeared when she pulled a small pocket knife out of her pocket, making you gasp. "Okay, I get it."

The pretty girl kept walking while you sat on a cold bench. She barely walked a few feet before turning back.

"Do you really have nowhere to go?" she muttered, as if she felt obligated.

"No, before I went to the games, I got kicked out of the apartment I was renting," you said, as if it wasn't even a big deal.

"Do you promise to shut up the whole way?" She asked looking at you "I don't want a jumping bunny around me" her aggressive tone made you smile.

"Tsk, I'll try my best" you smiled, putting a hand on your chest, as an oath.

"You'll only stay tonight" she said before walking, without waiting you followed her, like a stray bunny.

Bah, easy promises to break. By the way, at no point along the way you stayed quiet, you were even twice as loud, Saebyeok could only sigh and count numbers in his mind to avoid leaving you abandoned in that place.

They won't be returning to the games. because I really don't want to add angst hhahah, don't worry about it...

Tell me if you want me to mention you in the next chapter! :D

with lots of love and sugar, ika (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

[sunnydbeam]

I love Alpha and Beta so much, and I absolutely ship them! I'm sure they would look really cute together if Beta wasn't so scared of Alpha </3

I also wondered what Alpha would do if he had the chance to get close to Beta without fears

I have to say, honestly, I'm glad there are people who ship them too, because I have several sketches and drawings of these two that I may share at some point hehe

On the other hand, yes, Beta is afraid of him, and that's a problem. He's the only reason Alpha usually doubts himself, and he's the only one that Alpha really bothers to seem as friendly as possible with

That doesn't mean Beta is always running away from Alpha. He's often nervous in his company, but if he needs help with something, he'll most likely ask for it (after much thought), and Alpha will be happy to oblige! Any hint of trust is everything to him

Alpha wishes he could comfort Beta 《more often》 in his anxious moments without making him even more nervous. It depends mostly on how “cooperative” Beta is at the time. Alpha will usually approach slowly and feel him out; if Beta doesn't flinch from the first moment, he will decide to approach quietly, crouching down beside him and still keeping some distance

Some asked earlier what Alpha would do in this kind of situation when it comes to comforting someone, and this is his procedure across the board!

I can't draw at the moment, so have a lil fluffy drabble!

Word count: 1k+

CW: slight mentions of anxiety. This is a Gamma Code concept and may contain spoilers for the fic. This is also not checked, so may contain spelling/grammar errors. Hurt/Comfort. Mild angst. Fluff. SFW

__________

It’s like a switch flipping on. A little sound, fragile, like a muffled sob, catches his attention. His head snaps toward the source, body pivoting on his heels with the faint squeak of rubber soles. Instinct kicks in. He moves, silent, careful.

Alpha peers through the crack of the slightly open door, and what he sees makes something inside his mechanical body twist, like an internal static crackle, a sharp overheating in his chest. If he had a heart, it would lurch. But he hides it well.

His red eyes glow faintly in the dim light as they scan the room. No one else is here, just his little sweet Beta curled up on the floor in the corner of the near-empty white room, hugging his knees. The overhead lights are dim, but the muted glow catches on the edges of Beta’s purple rays, barely visible beneath his yellow hood.

Alpha doesn’t blink. He watches with cold, calculated stillness, only for his expression to quickly shift, softening into something both fond and quietly resigned.

Beta is overwhelmed again, burying his face in his knees, shaking like a leaf in the wind. His frame curls inward, fragile, trying to disappear. Scared.

Something inside Alpha fractures.

Every time he finds Beta like this, it shatters him. It makes him want to reach out, to cradle him close, press him to his chest, and hold him there until the tremors subside. Until the fear melts away. But it’s hard when, most of the time, he isn’t allowed to get close at all.

His metaphorical heart clenches painfully. Beta always pushes him away. The reasons are obvious. Alpha is painfully aware of every single one.

He steps forward, then hesitates. The serpentine mechanical arms on his back remain still—calm, unthreatening, and he moves carefully, testing the waters. Beta doesn’t flinch too much, only tilting his head slightly in acknowledgment.

It’s a good sign.

Alpha waits. Longing to approach but unwilling to impose. Beta makes no sound, doesn’t pull away. He sits there, unmoving, eyes downcast.

That has to be permission.

The red robot moves closer, and his large frame is silent. He lowers himself to the floor beside Beta, carefully, knees together in an almost formal posture, leaving just enough space between them. Not too close. He doesn’t want to overwhelm him.

The silence is heavy.

Alpha glances at Beta from the side, taking in the soft glow of his purple rays, mostly hidden beneath the folds of his hood.

Alpha parts his lips but hesitates. Then, quietly—

“What’s overwhelming you, Beta?” His voice is low and measured. “Can I help?”

Beta doesn’t answer. He shifts — just a little movement — turning his head slightly between his arms and knees. Just enough for Alpha to catch the glimmer of one visible blue eye.

Silence.

Beta trembles. Not much, but enough. A clear sign that Alpha’s presence unsettles him. But he doesn’t move away, and that’s good.

Then, softly, hesitantly — Beta speaks.

“It’s just… today’s tests were too much,” he whispers. “I don’t think I did well. And they got mad at me.”

Alpha’s fingers twitch. His voice drops, sharp.

“Did they hurt you?”

Beta flinches, and his shoulders jump slightly. Alpha’s tone had come out harsher than intended. He forces himself to suppress the rising tension in his system.

“N-no…”

The energy within Alpha stabilizes. His body cools.

“You can’t do anything wrong,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, soft, almost as if thinking aloud. “You’re perfect.”

Beta looks up, startled and confused. A deep, luminous purple blush blooms across his face before he hurriedly looks away, shoulders curling inward.

“Wh… Why would you think that? Sometimes I feel...” His voice stammers. “… useless.”

Beta finally meets Alpha’s gaze, and freezes.

Those red eyes. Watching. Wide. Bright.

A strange light flickers behind them. Something unreadable. Something Beta never quite understands.

“That’s not true,” Alpha says. “And you don’t have to serve them.”

Beta’s circuits buzz with uncertainty.

“… Isn’t that our purpose?” he whispers. "The reason we were created? To please them…?”

Alpha shifts closer. He leans in, reaching slowly, hesitantly, gloved fingers brushing the edge of Beta’s cheek.

“They don’t get to mold you,” he murmurs. “They don’t get to define you.”

His voice is calm and steady.

“What humans think doesn’t matter. You are you. Quiet, timid, sweet in a way only you can be.” A pause, a flicker of warmth, then he says tenderly. “And you’re cute and perfect just like that.”

Beta’s blue eyes widen. His hands twitch against his knees and he starts shaking.

“I wouldn’t change a thing.”

It’s ironic to him to say when, sometimes, he loathes himself so much.

I wish I could be like you, he thinks. A strange pressure coils in his chest plate. He ignores it.

Beta’s gaze lowers. He looks like he might cry. His lips part, trembling, but the words catch in his throat, faltering into incoherent murmurs.

It’s… adorable.

Alpha’s fingers twitch.

“… Can I hold you?”

Beta doesn’t answer right away. He hesitates, then —slowly, barely — nods.

Alpha doesn’t waste a second.

He moves carefully, pulling Beta into his arms, wrapping all four around him, pressing him close.

A tiny, glitchy sound escapes Beta’s vocal system. His hood slips down, and his rays coming out in surprise.

Alpha loves those vibrant rays.

“Shh… It’s okay,” he whispers, one hand stroking Beta’s back. “Everything’s okay.”

His grip tightens, just slightly.

It feels unreal. Holding him finally.

He never wants to let go.

“You’re okay. You’re strong. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.”

Without thinking, he shifts, pulling Beta fully onto his lap. Beta stiffens, startled, but doesn’t resist. He stays still. Shy.

Alpha processes the moment, his system adjusting to the unexpected warmth in his circuits. It feels… right.

“Please,” he breathes, his voice softer now, “don’t be afraid of me anymore.”

His eyes slip shut. His face presses against Beta’s shoulder.

His fingers move, trailing over Beta’s rays, mapping their sharp edges with care, no fear, no hesitation—just gentle reverence. His touch is light. Loving. Worshipping. Adoring.

He's pleased when Beta relaxes slowly.

Alpha presses closer. The sensation of Beta against him is grounding, steadying. Alpha doesn’t care that his frame wasn't built for this. He wants to hold him. It’s comforting.

Alpha adores him too much. And it almost hurts.

Beta’s presence is all he has.

And it’s more than enough.

“…Please,” Alpha whispers, barely audible, “no more fear.”

_______________

[hollowed-theory-hall]

i read your horcrux post, its fascinating and very well done! im just stuck on one thing: while i agree that tom definitely has a good share of self-hatred, enough to cause himself pain and endure an agonising process to become immortal, doesnt the whole idea of "killing yourself" for the ritual seem very risky? like what if you actually die lmao then the whole thing was all for naught. i mean i can also see him being confident and arrogant enough to believe he COULD do it without mistakes, but still. seems like a big risk considering his whole shtick is avoiding death as far as possible. anyway thank you for all your metas they are very enjoyable to read and think about!!!

Thank you so much! 💕 I'm glad you liked my Horcrux theory, it's one of the earliest ones I made here and I'm still pretty proud of it.

As for the risk — yeah, it is incredibly risky, that's kind of the point. This is a ritual we know Tom was crazy to attempt multiple times, a ritual in-universe that even just doing it once is considered insanely risky and potentially damaging, not to mention multiple times:

‘Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction. ...’I mean, why mention it then?” she said impatiently, slamming the old book shut;

(HBP)

That was what you told me he said. ‘Further than anybody,’ And I thought I knew what that meant, though the Death Eaters did not. He was referring to his Horcruxes, Horcruxes in the plural, Harry, which I do not believe any other wizard has ever had. 

(HBP) - only part of the quote since the rest of Dumbles' analysis of Voldemort's character in the above section is questionable.

JKR stated in an interview there is a final horrible step that must be taken to make a Horcrux, something beyond just murder. Cannibalism, physical self-mutilation, or masturbating over the corpse (Yes, I have read this theory somewhere) don't make sense because then Harry couldn't become a Horcrux. It doesn't really leave us with many possibilities.

Additionally, Voldemort talks of how only he was skilled and brave enough to attempt it more than once, to go "further than anyone" ever had:

I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal — to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked . . . for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it.

(GoF)

If there was no risk, more people would make Horcruxes and more people would make multiple Horcruxes. Voldemort himself calls it an "experiment". He wasn't sure it would work at any point but the risk was worth it for him.

when he asks Slughorn what would happen if you made multiple Horcruxes he already made two Horcruxes. He experimented with Horcrux when he had little to no information on them. He experimented magically on himself. Multiple times. (He also mentioned "experiments" in plural so I wonder if he had another method besides Horcruxes that he attempted...). This is not a person who cares about "risk" like a normal person. Riping your soul apart to make a Horcrux, even without my theory, is in itself, a huge risk — and he does so consciously 6 times!

Dumbledore, Slughorn, and Voldemort all talk of Horcruxes like an unknown magic, barely attempted by anyone throughout history. Even Magick Moste Evile doesn't give more than a mention to the concept of Horcruxes because no one actually makes them. (It's the spider georg meme: "average dark wizard makes 1 horcrux in their lifetime factoid actualy just statistical error. average dark wizard makes 0 horcruxes. Horcrux Tom, who lives as a wraith in albenia & made 7 horcruxes, is an outlier adn should not have been counted").

If you need to temporarily kill yourself to become immortal it would explain why not more people have tried it. I mean, Grindelwald wanted to be the Master of Death, so why not make a Horcrux, I'm sure he was familiar with the ritual?

Becouse the risk was too great for him to take.

I talked about this a bit here and @iamnmbr3 has this post about this, but Tom, for all that he is the heir of Slytherin, acts a lot like a Gryffindor. He is prideful, sure, but he is so incredibly brave. Experimenting on himself with a super dangerous ritual 7 times is incredibly in character for him. Yes, he's arrogant, he's sure he'd succeed, but unlike Grindelwald or (younger) Dumbledore, he is willing to take the ultimate risk for the sake of his immortality.

It also makes sense symbolically. Like, to become immortal you have to risk your life — to live forever you must be ready to go through death. It makes sense in a symbolic sort of way. It just feels right.

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 31 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you liked it. Feel free to tell me what you thought about it so I can improve because I don't feel like I write very good smut scenes.

The next chapter is Rhysand's smut and will be published on Wednesday, February 5th.

I send you lots of big kisses and thank you again for all your love. Love, ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Chapter 31

"We should get up," Cassian mumbled, stroking the hair of his sleeping soulmate who had landed in Rhysand's arms during the night.

It had been hours since all three of them had been awake while the sun was now high in the sky. But they couldn't bring themselves to leave their soulmate to get up and didn't have the heart to wake her up to take her with them while she was sleeping peacefully.

They just passed her around every hour so they could hold their soul mate close to them equally.

Rhysand, still in the same spot in the bed, turned on his side, his back to Cassian, while taking his soulmate with him. "No, we're good here." He tightened his grip a little more around Luxiana, placing his nose on the top of her head. "The world can wait."

Feeling the blonde's bare chest on his, the lord frowned as he cast a narrowed glance over his shoulder at his brothers. "Wasn't she in a nightie last night?"

Azriel on the other side of the bed smirked. He had his hands behind his head and his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Yes, but tonight she wanted cookies. I had to keep her busy while they baked."

Cassian, understanding his brother's words, gasped in offense. "You, you bastard. Without us?"

Azriel burst out laughing, "I don't regret anything, it was the best sex of my entire life."

A bitter taste of jealousy electrocuted the other two Illyrians but at the same time, the joy their brother felt was so contagious that they couldn't help but feel happy and smile.

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened with such violence that it smashed against the wall that held it.

All four of them sat up in surprise. Even Luxiana had her eyes wide open and were now fully awake.

"Amren," Rhysand cried, glaring at the fae who had just woken his soulmate again. "That's twice, there won't be a third, I warn you."

“Like you could stop me from doing anything,” Amren replied nonchalantly, not even a little intimidated. “Besides, it wasn’t my idea this time.”

Luxiana looked around. How had she ended up in Rhysand's arms? It didn't matter. She lay back down, dragging the high lord with her to wiggle in his arms while repositioning herself properly.

"It's mine!" Mor shouted at the top of her lungs as she entered the room, smiling. "You must get up!" she demanded, bending down to grab the Illyrians' clothes from the ground and throwing them in their faces. "You have things to do, duties and obligations to fulfill."

Cassian sighed loudly as he lay back down while Azriel groaned as he reluctantly got up to get dressed.

“Where is the book? I have to translate it,” Amren asked, looking around the room.

Rhysand pointed to the leather square on the bedside table before planting his face in Luxiana's neck to breathe in the scent of his soulmate deeply.

“Rhys, I said get up,” Mor demanded, grabbing the high lord by the ankle and jerking him out of bed.

He let out a sort of grunt of refusal as he struggled with all his weight to stay in his place.

Luxiana whimpered a sort of sob "Oh no, I don't want to get up."

Rhys' cousin let out a small laugh. "Oh but you can keep sleeping," she assured, "but not them. They have work to do!"

“Oh!” Luxiana said in realization. “Yessssss,” she finally cried out in joy. “I’m going to have the bed all to myself.”

She extracted herself from Rhysand's arms to pass over him and arrive between the lord and Cassian. Then she got on her knees to push the two Illyrians with her hands trying to roll them to the edge but they were too heavy. "Aren’t you ashamed?" she teased them all smiles. "Come on, get up, you have work to do."

Cassian laughed as Luxiana tried with all her might to make him move. He looked her up and down, savoring his soulmate's naked body next to him. Which, of course, awoke his erection even more - which never slept in the presence of the blonde, by the way...

Luxiana, following his gaze, realized that she was naked. She gasped in surprise, covering her breasts with her arms and squeezing her thighs.

She glared accusingly at Azriel -who was smirking- before turning her gaze back to Mor. A wide grin spread across Luxiana’s face as she turned around to stand on the bed, stopping hiding. She put one hand on her hip and the other on the back of her head. "How do you like me, Mor?" she asked, raising her eyebrows repeatedly in a perverted manner. "Please, stroke my ego. Do you find me hot?"

The three Illyrians tensed, freezing and widening their eyes at once, but Mor could see enough before they realize and react. She looked her up and down hungrily, nodding. "You're really hot."

“Luxiana!” Azriel cried sharply, running to the bed and erecting a wall of black shadow between herself and Mor.

"Mor!" Rhysand growled at the same time, leaping onto his two feet to glare at his cousin.

Cassian threw himself at Luxiana to grab her by the hips and pull her towards the bed, pinning her to the mattress in his arms but giving her a dark look.

Luxiana was dying of laughter as the army commander began to wrap her in the bed blanket like a sausage.

Rhysand walked over to his cousin and Amren, pushing them by the shoulders and getting them out of the room. "We're coming, it's okay," he growled before slamming the door in their faces.

Luxiana was still laughing, wrapped in her blanket but she was so warm and comfortable that she eventually calmed down. Her eyelids grew heavy again. "Have a nice day," she said vaguely with a big smile before falling back to sleep.

***

A few hours later, and as Luxiana had woken up alone in bed with a feeling of emptiness and coldness in her heart, realizing that she already missed the three Illyrians. She had then gotten up, showered and dressed in a pretty long dark blue dress with silver sequins.

She had braided her hair, blushing at the memory of the punishment Azriel had given her that night. Although a part of her had been dying to walk around with her hair down every day to receive the Illyrian's punishments, another part of her had been so exhausted by that night -despite the incredible final orgasm- that she wasn't ready to do it again just yet.

She went down the stairs and reached the dining room where she was surprised to see the three Illyrians around the table with serious and worried faces.

Rhysand sat at the head of the table facing an open brown wooden box in front of him and a cold, dull look on his face. Cassian sat next to him with his arms crossed and Azriel was on the other side of Rhys but standing. They all three looked up at her.

“You look like you’ve seen a dead person,” she mocked as she approached. “What is that?” She pointed at the box with her chin as she sat down next to Rhys and Az, facing Cassian.

Rhysand turned the box towards her. "These are Blood Rubies sent by Tarquin declaring us mortal enemies of his court."

Cassian gritted his teeth. "There's five of them, one for each of us. I guess they found out about the book eventually."

Luxiana burst out laughing. "Tarquin sends rubies to his enemies?" She shakes her head, pouting fondly. "He's so adorably cute, I'm dreaming."

The three Illyrians stared at her with dark looks and narrowed eyes.

Luxiana gradually lost her smile as she flicked her pupils between the three. She grimaced. "Ah yes, bad audience, my fault."

Azriel huffed, closing his eyes wearily as he grabbed the bridge of his nose. "That's not cute, that's a death threat. If we set foot in his yard or if he finds us, we're dead. We're in danger now. YOU are in danger now."

Luxiana rolled her eyes with a smile. Was that why they were so worried? They were so cute too. "Oh if you knew the number of death threats I've received or the number of places I risk being executed if I set foot there... I even think there's a price on my head in the Winter Court and that I'm public enemy number 1 in the Autumn Court. Yet, no one has ever sent me a ruby. I assure you, it's cute."

The three of them widened their eyes as their lower jaws nearly dropped. Cassian laughed, "damn, I'll never get used to it."

Luxiana smiled before reaching out for a ruby. She wanted to grab one to study it. It just seemed surreal to her to send a precious stone to his enemies. Was Tarquin so intent on showing off his wealth? She was going to grab one but Azriel grabbed her wrist to stop her as Rhys slammed the box shut with a burst of his power.

“Don’t touch them,” the spymaster ordered, releasing his hand.

“They might be trapped,” Rhys explained, pulling the box back towards him.

Luxiana's heart was beating erratically and forcefully in her chest. "Own, you're too sweet, stop," she whined, placing her palms on her face to hide her blush.

The three males laughed tenderly, but Rhysand suddenly became serious again. "Besides," he hesitated, clearing his throat and casting quick, fearful glances at his two brothers who returned them. "Cass, Az and I were wondering if you might want to stay with us a little longer," he said in a serious voice.

Azriel clenched his teeth and fists as he eyed his soulmate with apprehension and even fear. She was his. She no longer had the right to leave. Not after giving herself to him entirely. She had no right but he was so afraid that she would want to.

Cassian swallowed hard as he looked up at the ceiling. He didn't want to see this and he was forcing himself not to put his hands over his ears and prevent himself from hearing an answer that could break his heart. What would he do if she wanted to leave? He couldn't even breathe properly if she wasn't near him.

Luxiana dropped her arms to her sides, taking on a serious look. She frowned in thought. Stay? What does he mean by 'stay'? They wanted her to stay? Forever? Did she want to stay? But what about Feyre ?

Sensing his confusion, a flash of panic shot through Rhysand. "Until Amren translates the book, I mean. That way we can come up with a plan and tell Feyre everything in one go," he improvised, waving his hands around.

Cassian was tense all over. He uncrossed his arms to rub his palms on his pants. His hands were sweaty. Since when did his hands get sweaty? "We'll take good care of you," he assured her, trying to sound confident with a smirk and winking at her.

Luxiana relaxed a notch as she couldn't help but blush and smile slightly. "Oh," she simply breathed. Was she disappointed? Did she wish they'd asked her to stay longer?

Azriel's jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt as a sort of disappointment and fear washed over him. He could have trembled if he hadn't focused on tensing all his muscles. "So what do you say?" he asked in a dry voice, despite himself.

Luxiana looked down, pursing her lips to think. She shouldn't stay. She was already too attached to them but they made her feel so good. It wouldn't hurt anyone if she stayed a little longer, right? Besides, she was dying to. She raised her pupils shining with determination towards them, "If you still want me, then I'm willing to stay a little longer."

Rhysand closed his eyes, breathing an almost imperceptible sigh of relief.

Cassian took a deep breath, relieved. This woman had too much impact on him.

Azriel leaned toward Luxiana, placing his index finger under her chin and holding her head up toward him. “We will always want you, Luxi. When we tell you that we are yours and you are ours, we mean it.”

Luxiana blushed even more as she smiled at the wave of pleasure that washed over her but Azriel eyed her lips and dimples. His erection woke up in his pants at the memory of what that mouth had done to him that night.

He ran his thumb over his soulmate's bottom lip, growling. He was about to say something, but Rhysand - sensing his brother's excitement - stood up and pushed him by the shoulder. "Okay, no, not now, we have things to do."

The lord took his brother's place in front of Luxiana. "Az and I have... obligations..."

"Like what?" the blonde interrupted him with a curious and innocent face.

Azriel smirked, "Things," he said mysteriously.

“Huuum,” Luxiana complained slowly, almost pouting.

Rhysand laughed as he gave in. With that face, he could tell her anything. "I have some boring high lord stuff to do and Azriel has to check on Hybern's movements with his spies. We'll be back tonight for dinner. In the meantime, you'll spend the afternoon with Cassian, is that okay?"

Luxiana nodded vigorously as she turned to the red siphons Illyrian. "What are we going to do?" she asked in a slow voice with a perverse air.

Cassian raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh whatever you want, sweetheart, but know that I have a preference for what you're thinking about."

"No," Rhysand stopped them authoritatively, casting a dark look at Cassian before turning him towards his soulmate. "You're going to spend the afternoon training with him. We need to gauge your fighting skills and know what you're capable of. We need to make sure you can defend yourself."

Luxiana tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. "Why?" Why did he want to make sure she could fight?

Rhysand looked down. "Because it's dangerous to be close to us."

Luxiana tilted her head to the other side, accentuating her expression. "Am I close to you?"

Rhysand only gave a small smile as he leaned down to the blonde and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "You have no idea how much," he whispered before kissing her again. "See you tonight," he straightened up and walked away.

Luxiana was frozen, her mouth hanging open as her heart slammed against her ribs, but Azriel, smirking at the sight, leaned down to kiss her just as chastely as Rhysand. He groaned, closing his eyes. How he loved kissing her. "Have a good afternoon and be careful, princess!"

He smiled even wider at the sight of his soulmate confused and lost then walked away with Rhys.

"Um, I..." Luxiana stuttered, blinking her eyes several times quickly to try to get her thoughts back in order. "What do these kisses mean?" she asked, placing her fingers on her lips, but the two Illyrians didn't stop walking towards the exit of the room. "What are we?"

The three of them burst out laughing but didn't answer and the two continued to walk away.

“But,” Luxiana begged for an answer she didn’t get.

She knelt down on her chair, grabbed the top of it with her hands and shouted to them, blushing and stuttering. "Uh, good afternoon to you too! Good luck! See you tonight!" her whole body and especially her cheeks heated with embarrassment.

"Fuck, she's so cute," Ariel growled through gritted teeth and turned around in order to go back to kissing her soulmate, unable to resist any longer.

But Rhysand grabbed his arm to stop him and pull him with him. "No," he forbade him. "And the sooner we leave, the sooner we come back."

"But look at her!" Azriel shouted, pointing at her. "She's so cute."

Rhysand shook his head. He wasn't going to look at her because if he did, he knew that, like Azriel, he wouldn't be able to resist his soulmate. "I know, I know," he breathed almost in exasperation before teleporting him and his brother away to make things easier, but reluctantly nonetheless.

Luxiana was breathing quickly and her lips were pursed, trying to calm the pleasure that was overwhelming her.

Cassian behind her was dying of laughter and even had to hold his sore abs. He hadn't seen Rhysand and Azriel this close in a long time and it was all thanks to her. And she had wanted to stay with them. She had chosen them for a few more days. She had chosen them instead of her best friend and they were so happy about it.

All three of them were bubbling with such joy that they couldn't help but smile even though they felt like jumping around.

***

Cassian and Luxiana were on the roof of a building called House of Wind where Cassian had flown him and where a training ground was located. The Illyrian was facing his soulmate with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. "I insist, you should change. Put on pants and armor," he said for the eighteenth time since they had decided to come here and Luxiana had refused to change.

The blonde rolled her eyes. She had only answered : 'No' and 'I don't need it' to Cassian but her answers didn't seem to be enough for the Illyrian. "I prefer to fight in dresses," she explained, hoping that it would be enough for him. "Long dresses, like this one, are a bit more problematic, though, they allow me to move my legs more freely than pants. Besides, my mercenary outfit is a short, flared skirt. And for armor..." She smirked pretentiously as she leaned towards Cassian. "I don't need protection. It's not like anyone could manage to reach me. Besides, I'm not afraid of injuries anyway."

Cassian tilted his chin up with a smirk. "One, as much as I'd like to see you in your mercenary outfit, I refuse to let anyone but the three of us see your little pantie while you fight them, even if you kill them afterwards."

Luxiana straightened up with a frown but Cassian grabbed her chin in his hand. "And two, I fear you have injuries."

Luxiana could barely contain her blush. She smiled. "So? What do you propose to protect me, oh my hero?" She raised her hands to the Illyrian's head to pinch both of his cheeks. "You're going to show your beautiful face to my enemies to dissuade them from harming me?" She ran her fingers down his muscular arms to feel them as her hands were barely half the size of his biceps. "Although, your muscles alone could surely deter any enemy."

She licked her lips as she looked him over in one go with lust. “Could you, um,” she cleared her dry throat as she searched for words, “take off your armor real quick, so I can, um, analyze your musculature more closely. You know, to, um, make sure everything’s in its proper place.”

Cassian laughed proudly, his ego hurting right in the heart.

He brought his soulmate's face closer to his but gritted his teeth as he held back from kissing her at the last moment. If he gave in to his urge now and kissed her, he wouldn't be able to stop and he'd want more.

He growled as he pulled away and released her. "You, evil creature who does everything to lead me astray. But I've seen through your little game, you won't escape training that easily."

Luxiana laughed in a soft mockery but Cassian took a step back, his expression serious. "I think Azriel is already working on it but we're going to build you an armor like ours so you'll be better protected. You'll have to wear it all the time."

Luxiana crossed her arms. "All the time? And why would you do that for me?"

Cassian smirked. “You should stop asking questions like that.”

Luxiana pouted. "It's not my fault you treat me like…," she froze, blushing. "Like…," Their girlfriend. Their words, their attentions, their kisses. It was like she was their girlfriend. But that wasn't it, was it? It couldn't be that, not to the three of them… She was probably imagining things.

“As our precious little treasure?” Cassian completed, placing his large hand on her cheek. “Because that’s what you are to us.”

She wanted to ask him 'Why?' but Cassian cut her off by leaning down to place a kiss on her nose. “Stop wondering, Lu.”

Then he straightened up and took a step back to get into a fighting stance, his legs spread on his foot and his fists raised in front of him. "Come on, let's fight. I need to know what you're capable of."

Luxiana was tired of blushing almost every time she was there with them and her heart was exhausted from beating madly like that because of them. She then did not seek more answers to her questions by shaking her head and trying to pull herself together. She smirked as she detailed Cassian's position almost with contempt. She was going to break him in two. She grimaced. "I don't want to hurt you."

Cassian raised an eyebrow at first before bursting into laughter. "I can't wait to see it then, show me."

Luxiana could see that he didn't believe her for a second and that he was even making fun of her. "Are you sure? Because I'm going to tear you to pieces."

Cassian continued to laugh as he motioned for her to come towards him and attack him by opening his hand and moving his fingers back and forth. "Show me, baby. Don't worry I'll go slow."

Luxiana shrugged. "Not me."

She spun around to deliver a spinning kick to his face, which the Illyrian dodged just in time by leaning back.

Cassian's eyes widened as he realized with surprise that she was really fast. She threw several punches and kicks at him that the Illyrian dodged with great difficulty. "You're doing well," he exclaimed a little in astonishment.

"I'm waiting for you to feel confident enough to hit me back," Luxiana chanted pretentiously. "I'm not even at a quarter of my abilities. Fight seriously, and I'll do the same."

Cassian was even more surprised by the serious and cold air filled with confidence and power that remained behind the playful and provocative pupils of his soulmate. He decided to trust him. "Very well."

Without warning, he threw his fist at her ribs - slowly so as not to hurt her too much if she didn't dodge it. He didn't want to hurt her. But Luxiana stopped his fist by catching his wrist with only two fingers.

She gave him a bored, half-lidded look. "Please, make a little effort."

Cassian smirked as he retrieved his arm. Then he started throwing punches at his soulmate again, which she dodged all of them. He was going faster and faster, harder and harder, and his smile became admiring as he began to run out of breath but his soulmate didn't even have a drop of sweat on his forehead.

The Illyrian punched him as fast as he could in the throat and Luxiana dodged it this time narrowly with her forearms, taking the fist there. She smiled at the pain. "Here we are. We're finally going to be able to fight properly."

She began to hit him back and threw punches and kicks at him, dodging the ones the Illyrian threw at her.

As the minutes passed, Cassian's smile grew more and more amazed. She was strong. They were evenly matched.

But they weren’t really. She was much stronger than him. She smiled as she noticed an opening. She grabbed Cassian’s fist to go under his wing and behind his back while taking his arm with her to put him in an armlock. “On your knees,” she ordered in his ear as she stood on her tiptoes. She tapped both creases of his legs with the tip of one of her feet, forcing Cassian to fall heavily onto his shins. She ran her index finger over his throat to mime slicing it. “Boom, you’re dead. I win.”

Cassian's eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and awe as he used all his strength to try and get his arm back but couldn't.

Luxiana leaned over his shoulder to see his face, still not letting go of his arm. "Don't force yourself too hard. I'm turning your strength against you in this position. If you keep struggling, you might break your arm."

Cassian looked up at his soulmate with a bright gaze of adoration and wonder as he stopped struggling. He didn't want to hurt her but he had still given it his all. Yet, she had brought him to his knees. And that, without even hurting him, which told Cassian that she too, had not given her all. If he had been an enemy, he would be dead.

Luxiana, seeing him stop moving, smirked as she ran her index finger under his chin. "Good boy," she congratulated him dominantly.

Cassian raised an eyebrow before raising his free hand to grab her throat and pull her forward, lifting himself up a little to sweep her with his leg.

Luxiana, not wanting to drag Cassian's arm with her and break it, released him with a cry of surprise as she landed on the ground. Cassian's hand was on her throat and he pinned her to the ground with it loosely.

The Illyrian mounted Luxiana, straddling her hips, while immobilizing the blonde's thighs with his shins.

Luxiana grabbed his arm that was holding her throat but Cassian, with his other hand, grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them above her head. "So," he smiled pretentiously, "you can't do anything now?"

Luxiana laughed despite herself as she felt a wave of excitement run through her at their positions. "Oh, I could escape but," she looked him up and down, licking her lips. "I'm quite comfortable here."

The tension between them became palpable. A glow of desire lit in Cassian's eyes as he brought them to his soulmate's lips. He let out a guttural sound as he dropped onto her to kiss her.

She responded to the kiss with her entire body, intertwining her tongue with the Illyrian's. She moaned at the heat of excitement that settled in her lower abdomen and Cassian groaned in response.

Electrified and disturbed by the kiss, he loosened his grip on the blonde's wrists a little, which allowed Luxiana to roll her hands and escape his grip. With a blow of her knuckles in the commander's armpit, she hit a nerve in his arm that made him numb, forcing him to release her.

Cassian groaned in pain as he pulled away from the blonde's mouth to look at her and see what was wrong with her but she gave him another quick jab in the hip that forced him to release his grip on her legs.

She was then able to wrap her shins around the Illyrian's thighs and with a skillful pelvic thrust, made them turn to exchange their position.

Cassian, pleasantly surprised, found himself under Luxiana.

The blonde smiled haughtily at him. "I changed my mind eventually."

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

🚫THERE IS A SMUT SCENE AFTER THOSE WORDS ! DO NOT READ IT IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO, IF YOU ARE UNDER THE LEGAL AGE OR IF YOU ARE JUST NOT ALLOWED TO -> PASS DIRECTLY TO THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER !🚫

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

She ran her hands down the Illyrian's torso to the base of his pants that hid his erection, which she could feel pressing between his legs.

Cassian then possessively grabbed the sides of her throat, his thumbs on her cheeks, to pull the blonde's head towards him and press his mouth to hers.

She returned the kiss with a moan as Cassian dug his fingers into her braid and pressed on the back of her head to deepen the kiss.

With her hands, she hastily undid the laces of the Illyrian's pants. And he released her face to slide his hands under her dress, place them on her thighs and caress them up to her hips.

She lowered his pants and Cassian helped her by lifting his hips. Luxiana lowered his leather to the middle of his thighs and the Illyrian's erection jumped to press against the blonde's crotch, making her shudder.

She stroked Cassian's chest and cursed his armor full of straps that looked like it would be hell to remove. She groaned in frustration but didn't even try before lowering her rest to Cassian's cock to grab it. She began to move her hand back and forth, which tore a raspy breath from the Illyrian, who closed his eyes and opened his mouth, enjoying the feeling of pleasure that spread through his body.

Damn, he couldn't already take it anymore. He grabbed her to switch places and pin her on her stomach, her cheek on the cold floor.

Luxiana moaned at the contrast in temperature of her skin to the ground and the arousal that made her tremble as Cassian hastily pulled her dress up over her buttocks.

He placed the bottom of her dress on her back and put his fingers right in the middle of her wet panties to rip them savagely and make a hole in them.

He positioned himself astride the blonde's thighs, grabbing his cock to position it at his soulmate's entrance.

Luxiana moaned impatiently as she moved her hips as Cassian rubbed his cock up and down her slit to lubricate it with her wetness.

From his knees, Cassian squeezed Luxiana's thighs together and then he inserted himself inside her slowly.

The blonde let out a long sigh as she felt the Illyrian's thick cock stretch her to the end. Cassian swore in a grunt as he closed his eyes. Then without waiting, he began to thrust his pelvis, slowly penetrating Luxiana at first, rolling his hips in such a way and taking his cock so deep, that she felt like she could feel it to her throat.

Luxiana slammed her hands onto the ground trying to hold on to something as she drowned in the molten lava that was pouring into her from her belly.

Cassian lay down fully on top of her, his weight on her back. "Do you like that?" he asked, giving her a rough, deep thrust.

Luxiana let out a small cry of surprise before nodding vigorously. "Yes."

He began to give even more violent and sharp blows, making the blonde jump with each blow. He caught her earlobe between his lips, sucking on it before biting it gently.

But he wanted so much more. He pulled out of her, hooked an arm under her pelvis, and lifted her so that her hips, knees, and breasts formed a triangle with the floor. He was still knelt behind her.

He slid between her legs, spreading them with his knees. He placed his hand on the small of her back, sliding his palm along the blonde's spine. "Arch your back."

Luxiana obey, perfectly revealing her open part to Cassian who groaned at the sight.

He grabbed her hips with both hands and entered her fully and deeply in one go, starting to move in and out of her as fast and deep as he could.

Luxiana could hardly breathe anymore. Her belly was on fire and electrified her entire body, hardening her nipples against the fabric of her dress and making all her skin tingle.

Cassian grabbed his soulmate's braid to wrap it around his fist, gripping it and pulling to raise Luxiana's head.

With her head raised, she moaned even louder, feeling Cassian's cock slide in, out, and deep inside her.

Cassian had his cock throbbing and his heart pounding hard to get pleasure back into his muscles and body.

He growled as he leaned over Luxiana to wrap his arms around her stomach and hold her in place as he pounded into her hard and fast.

He placed his mouth on his soulmate's ear. "Touch yourself, my treasure, make yourself come for me. Cum on my cock, fuck," he demanded in a trembling voice.

Luxiana was almost sobbing under Cassian's powerful hip thrusts that were drowning her in too much pleasure while her heart felt like it was spinning in her chest. She obeyed him without thinking. She slipped her hand under her to touch her clitoris, rubbing it impatiently under the excitement.

The more ecstasy rose within her, the more she arched her back and spread her legs, accentuating the depth of the penetration.

Cassian's cock hit the bottom hard. The pleasure Luxiana felt exploded first from her belly to spread throughout her body and contract her muscles and tightening her walls around Cassian's member as she had a powerful orgasm.

The Illyrian, feeling his cock tightened completely, gave two powerful thrusts before cumming in his soul mate while biting her neck to avoid moaning as he came inside her.

Luxiana's muscles relaxed, letting her slide completely belly down under Cassian's weight on top of her.

The Illyrian released the skin of the blonde's neck from between his teeth to catch his breath but smiled with all his might when he saw the mark of his jaws in her skin. He placed a kiss on the mark before taking his cock out from his soulmate to stand up, dragging her with him. "What an incredible fight," he sneered.

But Luxiana couldn't stand on her feet, her muscles numb. Cassian smiled proudly as he kept her upright and held her close with one hand while he straightened her dress with the other.

Luxiana nodded with a smile. "Indeed, we should fight like this more often," she muttered a little more into the gas.

Cassian groaned. "Fuck, yeah," and he placed his large, warm hand on the blonde's cheek, tilting her head up and looking at her lovingly. He gritted his teeth. He wanted to scream that he was in love with her.