#Wax sealed letters: Answered asks

[pcrfumebcttles]

@inkmchine asked: “Miss, I like your outfit!”

"My outfit? Well, ain't you a peach? You're a pretty sharply dressed imp, yaself! Have we met before?"

[fcllen-star]

Tag dump: Misc

[ycungmagick]

Tag dump: Other

[phillcspherstcne]

Tag dump: Other

[shiny-jr]

from POMEFIORE

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: Hoping its not too out of character.

Ignihyde   |   Pomefiore   |   Scarabia

Perfume. The carefully sealed envelope reeked of it, like the sweet smell of lavender with spice. The envelope containing the message looked like something you would find when getting an invitation to a ball or a wedding. The envelope was pristine, and the wax sealing it was done so perfectly without a single awkward edge.

It almost looked unnatural with how perfect it appeared. The thick beige parchment was cut evenly, and not a blot of ink strayed from the elegantly curved cursive words that looked like ribbons upon the page. Looks could be deceiving. It was beautiful, but as you might've already guessed, the interior didn't entirely match what was hidden beneath the surface.

To my darling player,

I am at fault and take full responsibility for my actions.

All I've ever wished for, was to admire you. You are the epitome of magnificence, divinity that I can only dream to one day achieve but knowing I will never truly reach. There's an otherworldly sort of allure to you, which drew me in far too close. Much like the man who enhanced himself with wings of wax, but flew too close to the sun so his wings melted and he met a terrible fate. You are the sun, and I was that reckless fool with fake wings.

I allowed myself to get too close, tainting your light with my imperfect presence. Your grace was the warm sunlight on my skin, when everything around me was a horrible darkness. To think, I attempted to put out that light. It was nearly diminished. For that, I should be burned. I'm sorry, so so sorry.

I've thought long and hard on what I could possibly say to you, what sort of response could be adequate enough considering what you mean to me and the delicate situation. It didn't take long for me to arrive to the answer: no response is fitting. It doesn't matter if I pen a letter long enough to rival the river of tears I shed, coat the envelope in gold and ink of silver, with a message that would have moved the seven themselves to weep. It does not change the betrayal that occurred. I betrayed the trust you gave me, and shattered it into millions of pieces. However, know that I'll be on my hands and knees piecing it back together again, even if the shards cause me to bleed, you are worth it.

The stabbing sensation on my skin would be nothing compared to the one in my heart that I feel when I consider the fact that you might despise me. There's nothing more I would want than to see your face, hold your hands and feel the warmth of your skin that's so unlike the coldness of your vessel. Requesting a meeting would be imperious, as I have no right to ask you of this. But if I could, I would love to see you and discuss what comes next, perhaps over lunch. This is just a thought, a wish of mine, but one you are not required to fulfill.

I'd love to believe that I know you and your vessel better than anyone else could even dream of understanding, but I know that is far from the truth. Even as I pampered and polished your precious doll, your secrets continue to escape me. Did you ever hear me, when I brushed and washed Yuu's hair? When I took their freezing cold hands and painted their nails? When kneeled down in front of them to polish their shoes? When I adorned the best luxuries of brand accessories on their body?

I would kneel down to no one else.

There was always this wish, a dream of mine, that one day I might perhaps one day get to pamper you. Not Yuu. But you. Is that a scandalous desire?

Your hands would be warm, and I would hold them as I file your nails. Your arm wouldn't be so rigid and mechanical, you could actually extend it as I slather a creamy scented lotion along your skin. And if you do desired, I could lift your head and apply lipstick to your lips... This is just the process I commonly used while your vessel was under my care.

Although, I would gladly take up the responsibility of nursing you back to health, or any other role you would give me. There are countless things I can accomplish for you. I commonly deal in potent poisons, but I can just as well deal in healing and comforting. I'm skilled in self-defense and various forms of magic, so I can be your companion to protect you from everything that would wish you harm. You know of my business in acting and singing, so even if you wanted nothing else I could be there to entertain or serenade you. I only wish to be with you again, even though I know I'm underserving. I'm selfish.

If you want nothing more, then I have to be satisfied knowing I was in your thoughts for a brief moment. A twisted part of me wants your mind to be plagued by thoughts of me, just as my mind and heart is full of you.

I have to remind myself, that by getting too close I risk being burnt. But, at this point, I do not care for my own safety. I only care for yours, and I do this to keep my sanity. I truly admire you so much, that I cannot adore you from afar behind a rope like sculpture in a museum. I have to stand nearby, inspect your beauty, polish you to a shine, and value you like the priceless treasure that you are. Should someone threaten to chip off even the slightest speck on you, forcing you through more suffering...

I will shatter them into a million pieces, to preserve your peace.

Yours,

Vil Schoenheit

The wonderful aromatic smell that filled your nose brought back some not so pleasant memories. The smell of the earth beneath your feet, the scent of dew collected on every still surface, but above all were fragrant tangs that immediately alerted you to any nearby presence of a student belonging to Pomefiore.

They had chased you through those deep dark woods, like a pack of rabid hounds tracking and hunting a poor wounded rabbit. Besides their shouts and footfall, their perfume gave them away. There was one in particular which you only caught a whiff of only when you had too closely encountered the dormleader. The scent of lavender and spice hit your nose, the same fragrance on the letter.

"That reeks! Burn it!" A certain feline hissed, covering his little black nose with his paws. You swore the fragrance was beginning to form a migraine at the front of your skull. If the smell was strong for you, it must've been much worse for Grim since he had a superior sense of smell.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if the smell wasn't that strong and it wasn't the particular scent. Like vanilla or freshly baked bread. If that were the case, Grim might've insisted on keeping it or even be tempted to take a bite out of the sheet.

But it was lavender and spice. So the letter was tossed into a corner several feet away, left to an unknown fate that you would ultimately decide later. When you glanced back to Grim, you saw him holding and sniffing another letter.

For a long moment his sniffed the rolled up paper, his black nose twitching as he was likely just searching for another gift to claim as a snack. After a few seconds, he discarded it, sliding it over to you before he opted to dig through the pile like a raccoon digging into a heap of trash. "Meh, this one smells boring."

"Boring, huh?"

Boring wouldn't exactly be your choice of adjectives to describe this letter. It wasn't an envelope, it was a scroll tied by ribbon, attached to an arrow. An arrow, of all things, was likely the messenger for this message. Thankfully, this one didn't smell of anything. Even without a fragrance to match to a profile, the arrow was a dead giveaway.

Opening it up and using your hands to smooth out the curled edges, you blatantly ignored the wax seal over the ribbon. Once it was fully unsealed, a few single flower petals drifted down from the paper. Just another mess you would sweep up later and decide whether to dispose of it or not, like the first letter from the dormleader. For this one you were a pinch anxious. The sender was not like the others who came before.

Trickster,

It relieves me to see that you are finally safe.

To see you rest and heal in tranquility, nothing steadies my anxiously beating heart more than knowing you are sheltered. Well guarded by a trio of ghosts and the courageous feline Grim, I have no need to stress over your wellbeing with them acting as your valiant knights in shining armor! Although, I would also wish to join their ranks, blessed by your grace and fit to serve as your shield. However...

I am conscious enough to know that I am nowhere near fitting, no matter how much I may wish to reach out and shield you from every evil. In that most vital moment, I had failed to recognize you. I may have spared you from the sharpness of my blade, but I couldn't have guarded you from the suffering that was to come afterwards.

I'm so deeply and truly sorry. Many sleepless nights have followed, since and even before our first fateful encounter in those woods of the Pomefiore estate. Before our encounter, I was conflicted. I wanted to detest you, but I could not, I thought there must be a reason this was all occurring. I couldn't slumber peacefully, so long as I knew there was turbulence surrounding your beloved vessel. After our encounter, I couldn't get the vision of you fragile, frightened, and wounded, out of my mind. Raising a blade against you, who were a stranger shrouded in infamy, made my very heart stop.

Now I know why I was so unexplainably drawn to you. It was not due to the wild frenzy that overtook the entire campus, or a burning hatred to destroy, or even my own desire to discover answers I desperately wanted, although that last one may have played a role. The reason as to I was so enticed by you, a cunning 'imposter,' was because my heart recognized you. It must have been my very soul that pulled me towards you, and perhaps my own nature as well. My body recognized you, my heart and my soul led me to you, but I was blinded by my sorrows.

Throughout the few years I've had on this wonderful earth, I've seen countless peoples, and you are unlike any of which I've seen. In the places I've been, I have witnessed poetry be written by masters of literacy, melodies sung by the most angelic voices ever heard on a stage, and devoted worshippers in holy places kneel in solemn prayer. Somehow you as a single being, or entity, encompass all those elements into one. My aim is to admire beauty, and I see beauty in its finest form when I look at you.

I truly understand what you mean to me, and to others.

But at the same time, you remain a mystery. And I believe I'm speaking for all those who admire you when I say this. We could only dream of truly understanding you, when we only had Yuu.

So, I try to make sense of it all in what I do understand, in the beautiful things I adore that I associate with you who I cherish. In literature, music, photography, I see you in everything all at once. When I read poetic lines, I think I could share it with you. When I hear beautiful music, I imagine you might enjoy listening to the tune too. When I discover stunning sceneries, I plan to bring you there someday to share a moment with you.

Now, I can make sense of it. I understand how the poets of old felt as they penned the love and awe they felt towards the Fairest Queen. It's a rare sentiment that cannot easily be put into words, a feeling as if it held my delicate heart and squeezed when I so much as thought of you. When a song and its composer can bring an audience to tears, I understand that now too. Hearing your voice for the first time, formed a knot in my throat that prevented me from saying much. Catching that first glimpse of you, was like gazing at a perfect painted portrait hanging in a museum.

My dearest player, I am a Hunt. I am naturally inquisitive by nature, and my fondness for you comes just as naturally. You may consider it wrong, but I will continue to offer my loyalty even if you may not accept it.

My aim is to one day unlock your secrets, solve your mysteries, and understand you fully, learn what makes you tick and what drives you forward. Perhaps when the day comes when you've forgiven me for my crimes, I can proudly stand in your presence and recite the poems I have written in your name. I could admire you everyday from then on, and remind you everyday of your worth. Then, I will protect you, from all harm, and I will not allow myself to fail you once again. This is a promise.

Should you need me, I will be there.

Yours,

Rook Hunt

There was something that felt... off. Compared to some of the previous letters, these were rather tame. Of course, there was the desperation and fascination evident in their words captured by the ink, but it was nowhere near as extreme as other cases.

Although, it was still chilling, to read the thoughts they penned.

In your hand you held the arrow the letter had been connected to, feeling its thin shape and the sharpened head at its tip that nearly pricked your finger. The vice dormleader had excellent aim, and had he not been so kind, arrows like this one in your hand could've easily been driven through your flesh and caught you against a tree where you would've been helpless in their grasps.

And yet, despite the opportunities he had, he didn't let a single weapon touch you. All it would take was one arrow, one moment and he could've ended you where you stood. But he spared you. However, there's the lingering doubt that maybe the primary reason he did it was he hoped you had answers to the malfunctioning vessel. You couldn't be sure exactly why he spared you, when everyone had wanted to torment and imprison you or worse.

Beside you, there's a large crunch and a content purr. When you look over, there's Grim, happily munching away on an apple he held with his little paws. He sank his fangs into the fruit, content that he finally found an offering that appeased him. In front of him was a small basket, filled with more juicy red apples.

"These are great! And, even though I was the one who found them, I'll let you have some!" Grim picked up another apple from the basket, sticking his claws into the red peel and offering it with his little grin. Nevermind the fact that these were probably meant as a gift for you and not for him, but you didn't mind. They would have likely ended up in the trash anyways, at least someone could enjoy them.

"You should really have one. You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry, but thanks. You can have them." Ever since everything happened, you weren't too keen on accepting gifts, especially if they were consumable. For now, the only places you'd accept food from, was the cafeteria you'd venture too at the dead of night when no one was there, or Sam's shop.

In the spot of the basket where Grim had removed the apple, there was a white layer at the bottom of the basket. Perplexed, you reached in and found an envelope hidden by the piled apples.

Unsurprisingly, the envelope smelled of sweet things, apples, cinnamon, and freshly baked pies. The envelope itself was nothing special, it had no intricate wax seal or marking. It was loosely sealed shut by a brown piece of string, and covered in some white and pink apples blossoms.

The inside was less impressive, more authentic, which was refreshing in a way. Smooth cursive flowed into slightly choppy print scrawled out in uneven lines, before eventually returning back to cursive at the end of some sentences. It appears parts were rushed judging by the blotted ink stains at multiple periods. The apples were a clue as to who the sender may be, but why would the letter be hidden in a gift?

Dear Player,

If you're reading this, that means my letter got through.

Where do I even start? It seems right that I first say sorry. I'm sorry. It sounds like a load of bull, but I am sorry. Apologizing in all these other ways, won't make this any better, so, I thought this might help. I'm gonna be completely honest with you, no lies, no tricks, just the blunt truth. I'm not going to be showing you these pretty sides I polished to impress and to mask all the ugly. I'll tell you everything that's been going on. That's something only I have the guts to do.

The reason I hid this letter was because Vil and Rook have been checking anything I want to write to you. They want to keep up this positive front, they wanna at least pretend to be perfect enough to be near you. At least, that's what I think. Although I know we won't ever come close to that.

Instead of trying to write a real and honest letter for you, it feels like I was writing some essay for Professor Trein to grade. I'd have to write and write, and even if the grammar was right, the message wasn't. They want to make you think everything's okay, when it's not. I can only imagine what elegant crap they were spewing in their own fancy letters, while we're actually all a mess. We've been like this since Yuu broke down. I try to understand them, and in a way I do, but sometimes they freak me out. Yeah, I got my own problems trying to comprehend all this chaos, but they're different.

Is everyone else in the other dorms this extreme? This miserable and on the verge of breaking? Maybe you won't believe me, or maybe you'll realize that there's some truth to what I'm saying. Here, in Pomefiore, I can only tell you what I've seen. These days, Rook's smile seems strained, like he's about to snap, his eyes are sharp and watchful. The only time his smile is normal is when he's looking at some photo, but he won't ever let me see what it is. Vil, well, the only sign he's still alive and kicking are the packages that come in for him, new makeup and all that stuff, things he's using to craft that perfect mask. I did see him one night out in the hall, I swear there was mascara down his face but I was too put off to approach when he was like that.

Don't ever tell them I told you all this. Vil would probably skin me alive and wear me as a robe, and Rook... I don't want to think about what he would do... I'm kidding by the way, but seriously, don't ever tell them. I told you I would be honest to you, so here's my reason. I thought that maybe telling you all this would score me points with you, get you to trust me again. Even if this is a rotten way to go about it, I don't care.

I am rotten, and I won't hide it like them.

If I can't even be honest with you, then do I really deserve a second chance at all?

Scratch that. I don't deserve a second chance at all after everything that happened. What I did was downright terrible, but I'm trying my damnedest to be deserving again. And I won't stop trying, even if part of me thinks it's useless. I never cared for Yuu, the only reason I acted for them was because it was you behind them. My goal is to eventually be beside you, the real you.

Although, a basket of apples is a crummy way to go about things, but think of it like a peace offering. Just cause I can't get word to you, don't mean I give up. I'm not giving up. Ever. Everyone's going about their own roundabout ways of mending things. If you want to hear more, I'll gladly tell you. I don't think anyone else would tell you the truth of what's happening, because in a sense everyone wants to appeal to you with the best image of themselves they can possible portray. Don't believe all the hogwash they send you. If whoever sends something and seems to be stable, they're not. Not completely.

I'm awfully ashamed to admit it, but I'm not okay. Not since everything started, and not since everything went to hell when shit hit the fan. I'm not okay without you, and I got myself to blame for that.

This letter is helping. The thought of communicating with you again, even if I can't see your face or hear your voice and its reduced to words on paper, it's more than I could ask for. So, if you want me to spill the beans, just ask. If not, if there's no response, well, I'll get a bit of comfort thinking you might've read this. Besides, I have hope with each attempt I'll make. I'm not just rottenly selfish, I'm stubborn to a fault. And if I have to knock down someone else's chances to get closer, then that's fine by me.

All you gotta do is talk to me.

Until then, hoping to speak to you soon,

Epel Felmier

[allfearstofallto]

How easy it would be to escape them

Yandere! Genshin Men x Fem! Reader

Ft: Diluc, Childe, Scaramouche

TW: Yandere Themes, Stalking, Mentions of Punishment

Diluc - Difficulty Level: Very Easy

Do you think he doesn't regret what he's done? That he doesn't stay up all night, fighting internally with what he thinks he should do with you? Taking you was a spur of the moment thing, something that happened without a lot of thought put behind it. He just knew he needed you close. He needed you to be near. He needed you with him.

Because of this you're already able to push him around a fair bit. He gives you almost everything you want except for freedom, pure red eyes practically begging for your forgiveness.

He won't let you go if you just ask, he's not that lenient after all, but if he were to wake up one morning and you were not there, he'd go through so many emotions at one time. The manor would be searched from top to bottom, every nook and cranny searched for you. When you're not found a part of him feels calm, it feels satisfied. He stole you without your permission, so he's happy that you're finally free like you wanted. But there's also a tragic, gripping pain in his chest. You're gone, and he knows that he has no right to ask for you back. If you manage to leave Diluc, you'll probably never see him again.

Childe - Difficulty Level: Medium

His playfulness is simultaneously a ploy and his actual personality, such is the nature of him. He's so easy going most days, so funny and kind that part of you forgets that he's forced you into this. Until he has one of those bad days and you see the true strength and fury of a harbinger.

Even before you were stolen by Childe, you found him rather strange. Maybe it was the lack of light in his eyes, or how he casually talked about fighting and killing like it was nothing. Those should've been red flags, signals to stop talking to him, but his charm was laid on thick and suddenly you were stuck in his home in Snezhnaya.

Do you think you escaped because of your wit or because he let you? You'd never truly know the answer, but you thought it strange that you were able to leave his house without a single maid alerting him, without a single guard chasing you.

That sigh of relief you breathe when you're finally home may be the last one you get. Suddenly you feel so afraid constantly. You chalk it up to paranoia, but you can't stop looking over your shoulder. And then you start seeing traces of him. Fatui foot soldiers and letters with that familiar wax seal on them.

When you eventually see him, smiling at you casually like nothing is wrong, your heart practically shatters. You find yourself asking again, did you truly get away or did he let you? He always mentioned loving the chase.

Scaramouche - Difficulty Level: Very Hard

Good luck getting him to even trust you enough to let you roam the gardens without him. His home is a maze of eyes and watchful gazes, the only person you can rely on is yourself. There isn't really much you can do to get away from him, the house is guarded like a prison and Scaramouche himself is a tough man to get along with.

He loves you, he knows he does, that's what that painful feeling in his chest is, but he can't bring himself to even give you a taste of freedom. Give them an inch and they'll take a mile. Because of that you often spend time sitting next to windows, longingly looking outside at the world you're convinced you'll never see again. Not without him breathing over your shoulder.

Let yourself get away if you dare, you'd better hope your plan is air tight. Scaramouche won't fall for the same tricks twice. Fool him once, shame on him, but fool him twice and you'll learn how truly kind he was being to you before. Hope and pray to whichever Archon you worship that when you get away, he won't find you. But getting away is just the beginning. Staying out of his reach is the hardest. His home isn't the only place where he has eyes everywhere.

[leighsartworks216]

The Sound of Being Loved

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Possibly OOC. I'm posting this at like 12am and I am so tired sleepy but I needed to finish this Or Else

Warnings: some hurt/comfort, talk about The Scar™️

Word Count: 737

Masterlist

AO3

Astarion let out a stiff breath as your fingers brushed over the scar. The poem. The sigil. Whatever it was Cazador'd carved into his back.

You'd asked him about it before. He'd answer curtly and bitterly - as he’d always done when his master was the subject of conversation. But that was so long ago now. At least, it felt quite long ago. He couldn't really be sure. All he knew was things were finally dying down and becoming normal. As normal as things could be, anyway. And you couldn't stop yourself from asking again.

That's how you ended up straddling his thighs as he laid chest-down on the bed.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," you reminded him softly. You kept repeating the phrase when he tensed beneath your fingers, or got that quiet, distant aura about him.

He hummed, turning his head to peek over his shoulder at you. He offered the most reassuring smile he could muster. "Go on," he encouraged. "He's dead - it doesn't matter anymore."

You tilted your head. Sharp eyes studied him, searching for any hint of a lie. He sighed quietly as your hand massaged the back of his neck. "But it still happened," you said, "you still hate it."

He smirked, but his quiet voice gave away the false confidence. "You know me too well, darling."

"Yes," you leaned down to kiss his cheek, "I do." He turned his head slightly more to catch your lips for a momentary kiss. Your lips hovered over his, eyes boring into his soul, searching. "I can stop."

"No. Please. I... I want you to know every part of me. I trust you."

You kissed him once more, languid and sweet, before sitting back up. He closed his eyes and tried to relax under your fingers. They danced across his back, tracing each line in their circular pattern. One hand slid to his waist to thumb circles into his side. He wondered why for a moment. Surely it would be easier to feel each infernal letter with both hands? Then he realized: it was a distraction. You were giving him something to focus on while you studied his back. His undead heart stuttered in his chest.

“I could translate it,” you whisper. It’s a gentle offer. “If you wanted to know what it says.”

Cazador is dead, he reminds himself. Whatever the bastard carved into his skin, it shouldn’t hold so much power over him anymore. But the thought of knowing exactly what was written there… His lips pursed.

You pressed a kiss to his spine, in between the circles of text. He lets out a breath. “No. Let it die with him.”

You’re quiet as you go back to tracing. He wonders if you’re translating it in your mind. He… doesn’t mind the thought - not as much as he thought he would. He trusts you, enough to know you would take the words to your grave. They would never be used against him, held over him as leverage. They’d just sit in a corner of your mind and collect dust, until their meaning is lost forever. He doesn’t mind that at all.

Once you’ve felt all of the letters, your hand traces the circles themselves. Starting right at the center, you go out ring by ring. Where scarred lines branch off, you ghost your touch up and down the ridges. There are several at the bottom of the scar. It almost looks like dripping wax, sealed into his skin forever. Imagining what it was like hurts too much.

He peeks over his shoulder again as he feels your hands, full, flat-palmed on his skin, sliding over his sides. You lay on top of him, sliding your arms around him, squished between his stomach and the bed. You’re so warm. Your head rests between his shoulder blades, breaths sliding across his back and shoulders like a warm summer breeze. His body fully relaxed into the affection. All tension faded away, and he allowed his eyes to close in the comfort.

“I love you,” you hum near his ear. “My beautiful star.”

Astarion smiles. “I love you, too. My dearest blood donor.” He relishes in the way you laugh against him, full and bright and free. And he hopes, when he’s lived for centuries more, and loses the spark of life in his eye, he remembers exactly how it sounds to be loved.

[camille-lachenille]

A flickering flame

She looks at the babe in her arms, blissfully asleep and unaware of the world he just entered. This little boy who shouldn’t be, her miracle and her curse.

Drained, she leans back against the pillows as the midwife cleans the room. It’s a sad place, to bring a child to life in, this rickety little cabin in the woods. And yet, it is the only way to keep her secret, to keep her son safe.

“Do you have a name for him?” the midwife asks quietly. It is not the first time she asks, and not the first time silence is her only answer.

No, she doesn’t have a name for her son, because she did not mean to have a son. Because, by any mean, he should not even exist.

Yet, exist he does, and his warm weight against her breast chases some of the pain and melancholy away. She presses a light kiss to his soft dark hair. His eyes are blue, for now, and she wonders if they will change to her own brown or stay as blue as his sire’s. She considered calling him his father, even if just in her heart, but the wound is still too fresh and the word stings at this gaping absence. He left her, alone with this tiny, flickering life; he does not desserves any other title than sire of her son. And yet…

And yet this is not her son, she muses, not entirely, for the life in him is brighter and stronger than it ought to be. This babe a mere hours old already has a keen gaze, his large eyes reflecting the light. She wonders if they will reflect the stars, if she brings him outside.

She does not have foresight, for this is a gift of the Eldar, but she knows her time with her son is limited. That she has to secret him away and rip yet another piece of her heart if she wants him to live. He does not belong to the green forests of Ladros and the villages scattered there. He is not destined to the simple life of the men of this land.

With a heavy sigh, she carefully lays her son next to her on the bed and asks the midwife for the paper and ink she packed with her own supplies. The letter is short and to the point, just cryptic enough that anyone unaware of her identity can’t understand the message. There is precious little wax in the cabin, but she sacrifices a bit of her candle to seal the letter before handing it to the midwife.

“Give this to the closest courrier you can find,” she says, an order despite her tired voice. The midwife nods and tucks the letter in her bag. She won’t speak, she knows.

***

The answer comes swifter than she expected, in the form of a tall, cloaked figure entering the cabin at night. She almost screams in fear, reaching for the knife on the bedside, before recognising the face half hidden by the hood. The bright eyes shine in the dim light of the lone candle.

“You called for me?” the figure asks, his voice melodious and fair. If she did not know the identity of her visitor, she could have mistaken his voice for another, beloved one, just for the faintest moment. But he is not him. She will never see him again and she thinks ‘good riddance’ even as her heart bleeds.

Mutely, she signals to the visitor to sit on the side of the bed, and places her son in his arms. “Take him to safety, my Lord,” she says. “Tell whatever lies you want about his origins but keep him safe with his kin.”

“But you are his kin, my friend,” he replies calmly, even as he rocks the babe in his arms. And what a picture it would be, to see this great Lord playing nursemaid, if the situation wasn’t so painful.

She shakes her head. “He may share my blood but not my soul; I can see it in his eyes. He belongs with you. Please, take him and tell no one the truth!” and she hates how her voice shakes, how she is reduced to beg to have her son taken away from her. But she cannot keep him, she knew that from the very moment she felt this little life growing within her.

Her visitor sighs softly in defeat, and even this sound is music. “Very well, my nephew has a young daughter and his wife is still nursing. They will be happy to call him their son.” And his words sound like a promise.

A knot loosens in her chest at the knowledge her son will be well cared for. “Thank you, my friend,” she whispers quietly. “But go now, before dawn comes. There is a basket with supplies for the babe on the table.”

The visitor raises, towering over the bed she has spent the last few weeks in, close to her son, and secures the still sleeping babe in a sling against his heart with the uttermost care. Yes, her son will be safe in these hands.

He is about to leave, basket in hand, when he pauses by the door and turns to look at her. “You never told me his name.” His voice is serious and his gaze piercing.

She looks back at him, calm and sure of herself for the first time since he entered the cabin. “Artanáro,” she says with a tight little thing of a smile. “For his life is bright as a flame.”

Her friend smiles faintly as he looks back and forth between her and the babe. “Artanáro. Yes, it suits him.”

[fullsandwichmiracle]

"Oxford: A Year Abroad, part three”

Paring: Felix Catton x reader 

Warning: 18+, nsfw, smut, Oral, MDNI

Word count: 2006

01|02|03|04|05|?

When Y/N woke up Felix was no longer laying in the bed next to her, She pouted already missing the feeling of his skin. She crawled out of his bed and put on one of his shirts lying on the floor, it was so big on her and smelled just like him. As she walked out of his room Y/N saw Felix sitting on the sofa smoking a cigarette. Felix smiled and looked at her standing in only his open shirt and nothing else. “ Want a cigarette?” he asked, holding up the package. “No thanks, but I would kill for some breakfast,” Y/N said, plunging down next to Felix on the couch, still a bit damp from yesterday. Felix took up his phone and called up a pizzeria. “You okay with pepperoni?” he said as the phone began to call. “That will do” Y/N answered and leaned against Felix's arm as he answered the pizzeria. “ One pepperoni, thanks” he told them and gave them their address and hung up. “ They will be here in fifteen minutes” he told Y/N and put out his cigarette and began to kiss Y/N on the neck. “You're sexy in my shirt” he whispered seductively while continuing to kiss Y/N neck and shoulder and placing hickeys as he went. Y/N moaned as her eyes rolled back in pleasure. Felix began to passionately kiss her and feel up her body with his hands. 

His phone rang, prompting him to cease caressing Y/N's body as he answered. After ending the call, he exclaimed, "Pizza's here!" and stood up, leaving Y/N alone as he walked out of his apartment. Taking advantage of the moment, Y/N delved into his dorm, fueled by curiosity about Felix. In one drawer, she uncovered a car key and an unopened letter sealed with wax. Tempted to read it, she hesitated, realizing that tearing the seal would be noticeable. Continuing her exploration, she found a pair of panties under a cabinet, causing her heart to sink a bit. Even though she'd only been around for a week, she didn't like the idea of imagining him with someone else, preferring not to dwell on such thoughts, she discreetly returned them, concealing her snooping. As footsteps neared the door, Y/N quickly retreated to the couch, pretending as if nothing had occurred.

Felix opened the door, holding a pizza carton, entering and placing it on a table, he waited for Y/N to join him and take a seat. As Y/N approached the table to sit down, Felix opened the carton, grabbed a slice, and glanced at Y/N. "Hungry?" he asked with a smirk on his lips and held out a slice right in front of Y/N. “ Beg for it” he demanded and took a big bite of the slice. He liked being in control. "Can I pretty please have a slice?" she begged, looking at Felix with puppy eyes. "Who can say no to that?" he replied, taking a new slice. "Open up," he said, and Y/N did as she was told. Felix held the slice next to her lips, and she took a bite as he held it. They finished the remainder of the pizza, and as they were done, Felix declared, "Time for dessert." and hoisted Y/N from the chair and carried her on his shoulder, leading the way to his bedroom. Felix tossed Y/N onto his bed and climbed on top of her once again towering over her and making her feel so small in his presence, he then began to kiss her on her lips and then made his way down to her neck and placing small kisses as he went down to her shoulders then down to her chest. a small moan of pleasure released from Y/N lips as he began racing town to her belly. He began kissing her thighs and looked up at her telling her “ Beg for it”  as he went up to kiss her on her lips again. “Please eat my pussy Felix” Y/N begged as he kissed her around her neck once more. “When you're in my bed you will only address me as daddy,” he said, taking his hand and holding her chin. A bit aggressive “Got it” he said and placed a kiss on her squished lips. Y/N answers “ Yes, daddy” with his hand still squishing her cheeks. “ Good girl” he said as he let go of her and began tracing down her body as he had done before, this time when kissing her thighs began inching closer to her now wet and throbbing pussy. Slowly beginning to kiss her clit and then starting to circle his tongue and later going up and down between her folds. He held onto her thighs with a firm grip holding her still as he began tongue fucking her pussy. Y/N moaned, as she gripped his hair with one hand and clutched the satin covers with her other, scrunching the bedding. He began picking up the pace going faster and gripping her tighter from keeping her still as she began twitching with every stroke of his tongue. “Can I cum daddy” she moaned, barely containing herself. Felix looked up nodded quickly and began to finger her simultaneously as he tongue fucked her. The sensation became too much for her; she came and moaned, nearly screaming. He licked her clean tasting her cum before going up and Kissing her lips, he murmured, "Such a sweet dessert.". and kissed her forehead before laying down next to her. 

Y/N and Felix lingered in bed for a while until Y/N realized she should probably return to her room to prepare for the upcoming school week. "I should probably go back to my room, school tomorrow," Y/N informed Felix as she sat up. He sat up and kissed her neck from behind. “ As long as you promise to visit me during the week.” he murmured into her neck. "I'm going to try my hardest,” she answered, aware of the week packed with lectures.”Okey but I'm going to miss you,” Felix said, still kissing her neck from behind. Y/n didn't wanna leave but knew that if she stayed she wasn't going to be able to pull away from his passionate kisses. As Y/N started to leave the bed, Felix grabbed her hand dragging her back into his arms kissing her passionately on the lips. “Okay now you can leave” He said, then laid back down in bed, watching her leave. Y/N buttoned the shirt she was wearing, donned her pajama shorts, but couldn't locate her panties,She glanced back at Felix lying in bed one last time before heading out.

Upon returning to her room, Y/N layed down in her bed, pondering whether what had just happened was a dream or not. Ever since she first laid her eyes on him on her initial day during the tour she had wanted him, and now she knew he wanted her. After lying in bed, replaying the events of yesterday in her head for what seemed to be an hour or more, she looked outside and noticed the sun setting. Only having eaten a pizza the whole day Y/N put on something suitable to go and get something in the school cafeteria. 

In the cafeteria there were only a few people left as it was soon going to close for the day. She purchased a sandwich and took a bowl of soup that was free and sat down at one of the tables. Eating her dinner in silence and then tidying up and leaving. On her way back she saw Farleigh kissing someone down in a corridor.  Hearing quiet moans as she went up the stairs. Back in her room again she sat down and looked at her schedule for next week, filled with lectures and a seminar. They also had a writing assignment that started sometime next week. She recalled one of her professors mentioning it before everyone left the Friday lecture. After Y/N quickly outlined a brief schedule for her studying, she prepared for bed and packed her bag for an early morning lecture tomorrow. Lying down in bed, Y/N dreaded the upcoming week. However, she reassured herself that seeing Felix at some point during the week would make it more tolerable. She drifted off to sleep thinking about Felix and his soft brown eyes. 

As Y/N woke up the next day, she felt a wave of disappointment as she opened her eyes, realizing that Felix wouldn't be there. The warmth of the previous night's memories lingered, leaving a bittersweet feeling in her heart. As her alarm continued its persistent ringing, she snapped out of her fantasy, the remnants of last night's dream dissipating in the face of the new day's reality. She started getting ready for a day filled with lectures, choosing a stylish outfit to blend in with the evidently wealthier crowd at the school. Her homeschool covered the majority of the tuition, but she still had to pay a significant portion, and that alone nearly depleted her bank account. The struggle to manage expenses weighed heavily on her mind as she prepared for the day. To cut costs, she decided to pack a lunch, determined to avoid unnecessary spending in the cafeteria. 

Upon entering the lecture hall, she spotted her friends seated in the crowd, eagerly waving for her to join them. Their friendly gestures added a touch of warmth to the academic environment. Taking a seat next to them, one of her friends eagerly asked her to spill the details about what went down at the party. The curiosity in their eyes made her realize that her escapades had become the talk of the group. She began recounting the events, determined not to leave out any details. However, just as she was about to dive into the part where she jumped into the pool, the teacher started the lecture, forcing her to interrupt her story. The disappointment on her friends' faces mirrored her own frustration at the forced interruption. 

The day's lecture delved into various economic models, setting the stage for an upcoming paper assignment. As the professor explored the nuances of each model, the challenge of crafting a comprehensive paper loomed over the students.Y/N received the assignment to explore the Cournot model with identical goods and started contemplating what to include in her essay. The essay was relatively short, around two thousand words, and she figured it shouldn't take her more than a few days. The deadline wasn't pressing; they had until next week to complete and submit it. After attending two lectures, Y/N and her friends strolled towards the cafeteria, eager to grab lunch and catch up on Y/N's latest gossip. While recounting the events of Saturday, she intentionally left out certain details, feeling a bit reserved as the cafeteria buzzed with conversations. The awareness of the public space made her choose discretion, keeping some aspects of the story to herself. 

As the day progressed, she exited the final lecture feeling weary from the extended period of sitting and lack of movement. The physical toll of a day filled with classes left her yearning for some activity to shake off the fatigue. Upon returning to her room, she grabbed a bag and contemplated heading to the campus's swimming pool for a refreshing swim. The idea of immersing herself in the water seemed like a perfect remedy for the day's academic strain. Upon reaching the pool, she swam a couple of laps until she felt satisfied with her exercise. The rhythmic strokes and the cool embrace of the water provided a welcome break, allowing her to unwind and clear her mind from the academic demands of the day. Returning to her dorm, she took a refreshing shower and prepared herself for the next day of academic torture. 

Tag list: @celestialstar111

[schrodinger-swriter]

Romantic Sir Pentious

A boring title for sure but what can one do? I hope you all don't mind me not answering requests today, at least that's the plan for today. I'm not sure yet, I might knock one or two out tonight.. I just feel a little down in the dumps today, really writing this as a means to attempt to cheer myself up. Sharing in case anyone would also enjoys these little thoughts.

With all that said, enjoy! C:

Sometimes he sends one of his eggs boiz to keep an eye on you when you go out, and to be a security guard of sorts. Are the egg boiz good body guards? No... but it's a sweet gesture nonetheless. If he can help it he's going to go with you.

His hood fans out whenever you look his way and smile. It has probably smacked someone in the face before, at least once...

He takes off his hat and nervously holds it to his chest when he approaches you to talk. To try to make an advance.. maybe to try to ask you out. It's sweet, it's dorky, it's endearing.

"My Dearest," as he looks at you with so much love in his eyes. He enjoys slipping letters under your door, he doesn't care if the two of you are living together in the hotel. If you two have separate rooms he's going to give you something. Seals them with wax, with so many pretty stamps.

All of this and yet he doesn't realize that you feel the same way about him... you'd have to say it outright for him to catch the hint.. for an inventor he can be quite dense at times.

When you two get together it's sickeningly sweet. He devotes his himself to you, he's a loving man! You better do the same in return, Reader.

You both have a shared bed time routine; you both change into your sleepwear before crawling into bed. You cuddle into him while he reads a book, his chin resting on the top of your head. Until you both go to bed. On some nights the two of you talk until your words slur into an incomprehensible mess due to the drowsiness. He soothes your nightmares. Though... that's assuming he just doesn't wake you up immediately.

He pulls your chair out for you when you go to sit, and tucks it back in when you get in it. He holds the door open. He would drape his coat over a puddle if you'd let him. He'd let you walk on him, actually, if the coat didn't suffice.

Oh how he adores you, his Beloved.

Would have a locket with your picture after you two secure a relationship.

[moonchildstyles]

lily of the valley

oleander final part: y/n never pictured that her night would end like this.

wordcount: 16.2k+

cw: lots of talk ab blood and the consumption of blood! some descriptions of people who have passed away, but thats really it!

—————

(Y/N) stood behind the apothecary counter, chin resting in her palm with her eyes gazing out the window. The rain had returned last night, bringing with it a lingering fog and cloudy sky. Barely anyone was out and about, leaving (Y/N) feeling as if she were the only soul left in the village. The same way she had felt since leaving the castle and ghosting through the world without anyone the wiser to what she had learned that night. 

The last week had been one of wandering thoughts and conflicting dreams. More than once, she had woken in a cold sweat, a flashing nightmare of Harry hovering over her, his mouth full of sharp teeth and blood. She would wake with her heart in her throat and lungs tight, but the only thing that could calm her was the thought of Harry himself comforting her. She would replay a fantasy of him coaxing her down from her fright, those concerned eyes and gentle touch helping draw her in.

Soon enough, as the days packed on, those nightmares were few and far between, leaving (Y/N) with only questions and intrigue replacing her initial fear. Distance and time from him allowed the memories of his care to rise to the surface; his promise of never bringing her any harm and the actions to back it up were at the forefront of her mind. 

He had said they would see one another soon, after enough time had passed to allow her to wrap her head around it all. (Y/N) was beginning to itch for that time to come sooner rather than later. 

As if someone had been listening into her thoughts, a familiar bone white horse emerged through the fog, looking more phantom than animal. The rider had long dark hair and pale features. It was Harry's footman—Mitchell.

He was the one that hadn't learned his self-control yet. (Y/N) stiffened at the thought.

The horse was guided right to the apothecary where Mitchell hopped off the stead and tied the reins to the latch outside of the shop. (Y/N) didn't know how to keep her eyes away now that she knew what he was. 

The similarities to Harry only increased as she looked at him through a different lens. They were both impossibly graceful, lacking any flaw. Mitchell moved with a restrained strength, as if he were holding back with every movement causing him to look almost mechanical. She wondered if Harry was always holding back in the same way, but had mastered the art of blending in. 

There was no hesitancy this time when he came in. Stepping over the floorboards, he still lacked any real show of presence as nothing creaked under him or rattled around his weight. His sharp eyes landed on her immediately. 

"Ms. (Y/N)," he greeted with a nod, his voice low and clipped. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out a familiar, opulent envelope. The last time she had seen one of these was when her father had thrown the piece into the furnace, effectively banning her from going to Harry's home. "From Harry," he murmured, passing off the piece. He took great care in ensuring their skin didn't brush. 

"Thank you," she answered, a small smile on her lips, "Mitchell." 

This time, she didn't wait for the footman to leave before she was breaking the wax seal and opening the flap to the letter. Inside was a simple letter, written out in curling letters on elaborate stationary. 

My dearest, (Y/N), 

       I hope I am not asking for too much to see you again so soon. I know we had agreed on coming together so I may offer answers to any and all questions you have, but if you would prefer to no longer see one another, I understand. If that is the case, tell Mitchell as much and I will no longer contact you if that will make you the most comfortable.

       If you are still open to seeing me again, I would like to invite you back to my home. I will arrange for the carriage to ferry you up here, and we will spend the evening discussing whatever you please. If you'll have me. 

       I hope to hear from you again soon. 

      Yours,

      Harry xx

Just as she finished skimming her eyes over the text, she saw Mitchell out of the corner of her eye attempting to flee just as silently as he had before. 

"Wait," she said, stopping him in his tracks before he could push open the door. 

He moved stiffly to face her, his dark eyes clear. "Yes?" 

"Hold on," she floundered, searching the counter for the steel pen and inkwell she had stored under the podium. "If I put my response on here, could you take it back to him, please?" 

Mitchell gave a single nod of agreement. 

This letter had been exactly what she was hoping she would see today. The small correspondence sparked those dimming memories of Harry she had been treasuring every night before bed. She could hear the words in his voice, see his pinched features and worried brow. 

The only problem she found within the lines was his choice of location. She didn't have the confidence to stage another sneak out in the middle of the night, not trusting herself to keep silent and away from prying eyes so soon after the last time. While she had done a well enough job, no one having approached her about anything they could have seen that night, she didn't trust that she could do it as well this next time when she had more nerves working against her. 

He would have to come to her. 

With her writing nowhere near as glamorous as his, she wrote out: 

      I would love to see you again. I can't go back to your home so soon, I'm sorry. Come to me this time. 

      I will leave my window open tonight and tomorrow. I will be on the lookout for you, and I will let you in through the shop door when I see you're here. 

Her letters looked like sloppy black slashes against his own curling script, but (Y/N) couldn't think much about her handwriting before she was folding up the page and replacing it in the gilded envelope. 

"Thank you," she said, handing the correspondence back to Mitchell. 

She expected him to stay in line with his persona, silently taking the page before he would ghost through the shop and disappear in the night. However, when he lingered after removing the letter from her grasp, she flicked her gaze up to find him looking at her with intensity in his earnest eyes. 

"Thank you," he insisted, unwavering in his eye contact. 

(Y/N) didn't have to ask where his gratitude was coming from. He knew that she was now aware of his condition, but there hadn't been even a single whisper of such through the village. 

"Of course," she offered, a quiet smile on her lips. "Hopefully, I will see you again sometime soon." 

For the first time she had seen, the stoic mask Harry's footman always seemed to carry showed its first crack. The very corner of his lips turned upwards in a smile. 

"I am sure we will." 

With that, he took the now altered letter and placed it for safekeeping in his jacket pocket. He left the apothecary as if he were but a phantom passing through. The only trace of his presence was the bone white horse (Y/N) could barely spot disappearing through the fog.

—————

Shuttering her eyes, (Y/N) pulled in a resigning sigh.

Harry wasn't coming. 

The sun had gone down hours ago, inducing both her father's bedtime and the rest of the village's. Even the pub wasn't garnering the kind of crowd that usually haunted those halls. This was the perfect night for him to visit. No one would even notice him and she could easily sneak him upstairs with the cover of the night and her father's heavy sleeping. 

She had diligently waited just as her response said, with her window cracked open to allow any noise to filter through and her eyes periodically scanning the space. Nothing more than a few bugs fluttering through her herb garden and the bright eyes of a familiar cat could be seen in the dark. 

If he was coming tonight, he would have already been here. (Y/N) sunk heavier into her thin mattress at the thought. 

Another hour—that's what he had left. Then, she would close her window and go to bed. She will try again tomorrow.

Just as her plan came together, she could hear her name being whispered in the night. Much closer than that of a bug skittering through her garden and too vivid to be a dream. 

Her eyes shot open only to see her window shadowed by Harry's broad form. He was lacking a jacket and waistcoat, only clad in fitted black trousers and a billowing top in a matching hue. This late at night, his eyes and hair seemed to be of a coordinating shade, leaving his skin especially pale in comparison. 

"Harry?!" she gasped, startling on her bed, "Wh—How did you—" 

He looked over his shoulder in a quick whip of his head before he turned to her once more. 

"I will explain in a moment, but I think I see one of your neighbours," he murmured, gesturing to her window with a nod of his chin. "May I please come in?" 

(Y/N) scrambled at the thought of one of her neighbours catching Harry perched on the sloping roof of her home, right where her window was open. "Yes, yes," she rushed out, keeping her voice low as she moved towards her window, "Just—Come in before anyone sees you." 

Curling her fingers under the pane, (Y/N) slid it open just enough for him to slip through. Taking a step back, she watched as he fluidly climbed through her window, not even a hair out of place. He landed on her floor without a single sound, turning back to shut the window after him. 

She hadn't realized just how heavy her heart was beating until the vacuum of her bedroom was restored. She settled some though she kept her eyes fixed on the broad of Harry's shoulders. 

"How did you get up there?" she breathed out, trying to picture how he would have made it to the ledge so soundlessly despite her open window. 

Harry's answer came in the form of a sly look shot over his shoulder. 

Oh. 

"Right," she sounded. Another part of his whole existence that she had no idea about. More questions were added to her ongoing mental list.

Harry looked out of place in her tiny bedroom. He was broad and space-filling. He had a presence here among the mishmash of stuff that made up her home, though it was far from suffocating. Standing with his back to her window, his form appearing that much longer with the help of the single flame of candle light casting shadows around him. He looked around her room, a tiny smile sitting on his lips. 

"Do you mind if I look around?" His voice was so pleasant and unrushed, it almost made (Y/N) forget the gravity of their meetup. 

Nonetheless, confined to her spot before the end of her bed, she nodded her head. 

She watched as Harry took in her space the same way she had taken in his: with curious awe. All of her small trinkets, childhood journals, gardening momentos, and memories of her mother were plotted about her room for him to graze his eyes over. His hands were twined behind his back as he wordlessly stepped through the space, eyes lighting up as he looked over the small shelf her father had nailed into the wall when she had finally received her own bedroom. There was a twitch to Harry's lips when he saw the various lengths of twine she had laying over her rickety bedside table; she always forgot she had one waiting before she had pulled another to tie her hair back. 

Her room was nothing at all like his castle. While he lived in rich color, exquisite luxury, and vast amounts of space, she had the opposite. Everything was muted in her room, leave for the dried flowers and tiny splashes here and there amongst her things. Harry could cross the width of her room in three strides with the length being met within four. It was far from the standards he likely had. Despite the obvious differences, (Y/N) could see the shatters of green appearing in his eyes the longer he made himself at home in her room, his features softening and bones relaxing.

She hoped that meant he liked what he found. 

Just when she thought he was planning on spending all night dissecting any and everything he could find in her bedroom, Harry finally turned on his heel, hands still clasped behind his back, to face her with a gentle smile. 

"Thank you for agreeing to see me again," he told her, voice a low rumble, "Have you had time to think?" 

Sitting on the end of her bed, she gave him a small nod. Her bottom lip fit between the blunt ends of her teeth, worrying the sensitive skin. "I have a lot of questions." 

"I figured you would. I am an open book, (Y/N)," he affirmed, coming to stand just before her, "Anything you want to know, I will answer to the best of my ability." 

(Y/N) could feel his eyes on her as she shuffled back on her bed, folding her legs underneath her with her nightgown falling around her form. "You can sit with me if you'd like" she offered, eyeing the empty space on her mattress for him. 

Her heart bubbled in her chest at the realization that she was asking a man to her bed. She had been so occupied on learning her answers and ensuring no one saw them together in the dead of night, that she had completely forgotten the fact that she was alone in her bedroom with Harry. When she had come up with this plan, she hadn't given much thought to the fact that she was supposed to be worried about her reputation (or her safety, if she was considering the non-human aspects of him). The racing of her heartbeat increased that much more when he cautiously took up her offer and crawled onto the bed in front of her. In the back of her mind, she wondered just how terribly her bed stacked up against the velvet covered monstrosities he had in his own home. 

"Thank you," he said, settling himself amongst the folds of her quilt. His observing gaze settled on her with rounded corners to his eyes. "How are you?" he asked, sincerity in his voice, "Have you been well since the last time we met?" 

"I am well, yes," she answered, dropping her eyes to her lap where her hands fumbled with one another, "Just thinking and trying to figure everything out. And yourself?" 

"I've been okay," he answered earnestly, "But, much better now. I'm glad to hear you've been alright; I have been worried I frightened you or been too much that last night." 

(Y/N) canted her head. "I wouldn't say frightened, no, but I've been overwhelmed." She swallowed. "Confused." 

"I understand; I felt the same way once, too," he sympathized, his tone tender, "What has troubled you the most?" 

Peeking at him through her lashes, she swallowed around her suddenly dry throat. 

"The—um—the bodies," she whispered, a pinch appearing by her brows, "You said that you haven't been the one doing... that recently, but you had in the past. What did you mean?" 

Just as troubling as it was for her to ask that question, it appeared Harry had the same issue answering it. 

"I..." he started, cutting himself off before he could get very far with his mouth settling into a grim line. "There was a time right after I had... become what I am now, that I was not myself. I was confused, scared, and unable to think rationally. All I knew was that I was hungry. The food I could find made me terribly ill, and no amount of water, or wine, or anything could quench my thirst. I could only have that." 

While (Y/N) felt as if she already had the answer she was asking for, she couldn't help but to pose her question anyway. 

"What do you mean, that?" 

Harry dropped his gaze from hers when he answered. "Blood."

Her fingers were a nervous bundle in her lap before her body stilled like the dead at his answer. The memory of the corpse she had found, bloodless and pale like snow, reentered her mind. 

"Y-You drink it?" 

"Yes." 

Her heart hammered against her ribs, though the feeling made her think only of the blood rushing through her veins. 

She must have sat there silent for too long, she realized when Harry piped up, feeling the need to mend the shock he had given her. 

"It's not something I want to do, (Y/N)," he started, choosing his words carefully, "It is the only way I can continue living, but please believe me when I say that I have not committed those kinds of atrocities in almost one hundred years. The second I learned that I could survive off of animals, that's what I started doing. I haven't done anything like what has been happening since." 

As uncomfortable as she felt, thinking about Harry drinking any kind of blood or taking any kind of life, she could live with the fact that he was choosing animals over those of her village. She had to eat too, and while she would have loved to keep every animal alive and frolicking around, she had to do what she had to do as well. She couldn't judge him too harshly. 

"But, Mitchell. He doesn't know yet?" she asked, thinking back to the man with the long hair and ghostly demeanor.

Harry sighed, the same kind of sigh her father used to give when her sister was too stubborn for her own good. "He does know, but it is a hard transition. He wants to change, but he cannot always contain himself should an easy opportunity present itself. I am trying to teach him how to work past those urges, but it is taking longer than either of us would like." He dropped his head then. "I am sorry for what you have seen and what he has done when he is not able to think. I live with the guilt just as much as he does, but we are getting better everyday. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive both him and I."

(Y/N) pursed her lips. "I don't like it, but I can understand," she offered on a delicate breath. Truthfully, Mitchell sounded like a child: impulsive and taking steps forward before taking just the same amount back. "We all do things we are not proud of. I hope he can learn from this soon, and give these families peace." 

"He will," Harry cemented, "I am going to make sure of it." 

A beat of silence sat between them as she rifled through her head to decide on her next question. "Pardon me if this is inconsiderate to ask," she prefaced, "But, is your... condition the reason both you and Mitchell are so... pale?" 

A genuine grin stretched across Harry's lips at her words. His laughter was a quiet huff from between his lips. "I would think so, yes," he told her, likely grateful for the easier line of questioning, "Every other vampyr I have met, we all tend to be on the paler side, lacking that life in our skin." 

It was an odd thing, hearing him talk about all of the others he had met. She couldn't help but to wonder if Harry really was the first she had ever encountered without even realizing. "Is that why you are cold, as well?" 

"Am I?" he asked, tipping his head to the side with a crease between his brows, "I suppose I've never really noticed. Though, the few times you have allowed me to touch you, you are so pleasantly warm I should have figured as much." 

"You think I'm warm?" she asked, feeling a small sense of pride hit her chest. It was entirely silly to feel flattered over a comment about the temperature of her skin, but she couldn't help herself. She was a simple girl, at the end of the day. 

"Very much so," Harry affirmed, dimples pressing into his cheeks as she smiled at her, "You are like the sun to me." 

Now she definitely couldn't bite back her smile, dropping her head to watch her fumbling hands pluck at the seams of her nightgown. "The sun?" 

"The very one," Harry teased, "Though I haven't felt the sun since I changed, I imagine the rays feeling like your touch." 

"You haven't felt the sun?" (Y/N) blanched, a set of questions hitting her that she hadn't even considered, "But I've seen you outside?" 

Harry gave her a pointed look, "Only on cloudy days. I learned the hard way a long time ago, but I now burn under the sunlight. It's a rather frightening experience, if I'm honest." 

"You burn?" (Y/N) pressed, suddenly scanning her eyes down his form as if she could pick out any marks or scars upon his skin. 

"As if I have touched fire," Harry grimly detailed, "But, I am lucky enough that because of what I am, my skin mends itself. I can't remember the last time I have had any kind of injury without an instant recovery or even fallen ill." 

A new lens fell over (Y/N)'s gaze as she looked at him. Harry was always strong in her eyes, both physically and in the way carried himself so regally despite the swirling rumor mill. Now, though, the descriptor had an entirely new meaning. No wonder he was so flawless—there was nothing in this world that could even blemish him. 

He was the perfect predator—and protector.

"You don't remember anything about the night you changed?" (Y/N) asked, mimicking the language he had been using himself. 

He didn't even blink at her shift in conversation, instead furrowing his brow and canting his head as he threw his memory back. 

"Not really," he mused, pursing his lips, "There are fuzzy bits and pieces I can recall, but nothing I can be sure of. Most of my life before is just as muddy, but I can remember a few things." 

"So you don't know how you became this?" She couldn't imagine going to bed one way and waking up another, not a single idea as to what happened only knowing that she was not the same. No wonder Mitchell was struggling; how do you cope with something so overwhelmingly monumental? 

"I don't know my story, but I do know how vampyrs can be made." He flicked his gaze to her as if to gauge her reaction, scanning for any minute change in expression. When he didn't see anything more than a curious blink, he cautiously continued. "There are three different things that can happen when we bite"—(Y/N) tried her best not to blanch at the blunt word—"someone. One is the kind that we use solely when we are eating, of course. That kind usually includes the end of a life." His own tone grew solemn at this example, that guilt he spoke of resurfacing, though (Y/N) appreciated his honesty. "We can make another vampyr in a similar way, though before the end, we have to have the control to stop. I do not know how it happens exactly, but there is something that changes humans and makes them like me. It can take time, but it can happen." 

"Have you ever... made someone?" 

Harry shook his head. "I've never considered making someone like that—it's too risky in my eyes." 

(Y/N) slowly nodded her head, taking in all of the information she was learning. It was hard to think she was only in her bedroom, and not in some fantasy world that had violently merged with her own. "You said there's a third kind of... bite?" 

"There is one more," he told her, sounding somewhat hesitant as he started, "It is called a Blood Bond. It is usually something that is shared between people that are intending to devote themselves to one another." 

"How do they do that?" (Y/N) was intrigued now. This whole thing—being a vampyr—sounded so solitary, she didn't even think that there could be something like this within their culture. A union.

"They have to bite one another," Harry answered vaguely, "and share blood. Usually at the neck." 

"And, it's like a marriage?" she pressed, trying to merge the concept with something familiar. Nonetheless, it was hard to picture her sister's wedding ending with she and her husband snapping at each other's throats.

"Something like that," Harry shrugged, "A bit more binding, though." 

A troubling thought struck (Y/N) then. "Have you ever...?" 

Harry all but blanched at her words. He shook his head immediately. "No, never. Mitchell is the only person I've ever kept in my life for longer than a month." 

While she hated the thought of Harry being alone, solitary in his castle overlooking the village, there was a selfish part of her that keened at the thought that he had never devoted himself to anyone. 

"How long have you known Mitchell?" (Y/N) rolled on. She wanted to get a picture of Harry's existence, even if she didn't completely understand the details yet. 

A small smile plucked at the corners of his mouth then. "You really are quite curious, aren't you?" 

Sheepishly dropping her gaze from his, she lifted her own shoulders in a small shrug. "It is alright if you'd rather not answer anymore, I know I can ask a lot at times. I do not wish to bother you or anything." 

"No, no," Harry rushed, impulsively dropping his hand to land on her nightgown-covered knee, "Please, you are not bothering me. I love your curiosity. I told you: I am happy to answer anything you have for me. I want you to know me." 

Matching her gaze to his, (Y/N) couldn't deny the genuine sincerity she found swimming in his irises. Refractions of crystal green had appeared in the pitch black, giving the look of a moonlit forest. There was a warmth to his expression, giving him the illusion of life with the dimples in his cheeks and the dazzling smile on his lips. 

She couldn't imagine being anywhere, but here.

—————

"What happened after that?" 

Harry directed his gaze towards the ceiling, searching the air for the rest of the story that lay in his head. 

"Nothing too eventful, really," he mused, "I suppose that was when I started focusing on blending back in with the world. I felt comfortable in my control and wanted to stop hiding away so profusely—plus, I was beyond bored with my own company. Brooding can only fill so much time." 

(Y/N) let out a tittering laugh at his words, leaning that much closer to Harry. 

As he spoke about his life, telling her of all of the things he had seen, people he had met, and the details that made him up, the space between them had slowly dissipated until Harry was laying at her side. The longer they talked, the easier it was to grow closer and more comfortable sharing space. (Y/N) had even twisted until she was laying beside him, flat on her stomach with him on his back, hands folded over his stomach. 

This close, she could practically count the lashes lining his eyes, the faint set of freckles that dusted his skin. For a fleeting moment, she wondered what he had looked like when he was human. Did he have perpetually flushed cheeks? Were his eyes always green, or just as dark as they were now? When he was cold, did the chill show on the tip of his nose? 

She didn't allow herself long to wonder over those questions. Harry as it he was in front of her was enough—more than enough, really.

"Was that hard?" she asked, her voice a low whisper as if she was conspiring with him in the dead of night, "Trying to be human again?" 

"At times, yes," he mused, his eyes on the ceiling as he found his thoughts, "Humans, without realizing it, will pick up on the things that make me different and avoid me out of survival—even when I mean no harm. It is hard to feel normal when that happens." 

Laying her cheek down on her pillow, admiring him as her head sunk into the down, a frown plucked at her lips. She could imagine him after trips down to the village, shopping and trying to socialize, though it was no secret the townspeople would rather him stay away. More and more she learned, the less Harry was a creature of the night with blood-stained teeth, and more a lonely soul adjusting to something he never asked for. 

"I don't avoid you," she said, a quiet attempt to make him feel less alone. 

She had the perfect view of the smile that stretched over his lips at her words, dimples and all. The bed dipped as he manueavered on her small bed, laying on his side to face her with his own cheek pressed to the same pillow. Her breath caught in her lungs. She'd only been this close to him once before, when he had traced his nose over the column of her throat just when she had seen his lack of reflection. 

This time, she had nothing else to focus on. He was her everything right then, everything around him blurring out of focus. 

"I know you don't," he responded to something she barely remembered saying, "And I feel so lucky every time I remember that. You are one of the few, (Y/N), that hasn't run the other way. But those other times were never like this." 

Blinking with a flutter of her lashes, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. She loved the sound of her name in his voice. "Like us?" 

"Yes, like us," he said, a rewarding smile on his lips for her, "While it concerns me that you seem to lack any real survival instincts, I am grateful that you are not scared of me." His eyes glazed over her features, taking everything about her in as she held onto each word. "I have been drawn to you for longer than I have been able to admit to myself. Every minute we spend together means something that I cannot fully express." 

"Drawn to me?" she peeped, her blood bubbling under her skin. 

Harry looked sheepish now, the way he flicked his eyes to her before letting them fall. She wondered, if he was the same as her, if there would be a flush to his cheeks, and a pounding in his chest. "You've intrigued me for a very long time, before we even started speaking in passing. I have made excuses to come down to the village, shopping with you when I didn't really need anything. Even though you didn't mean it, you made me feel less alone." 

Tentatively, (Y/N) reached out a hand, her fingers holding a small tremor before she placed her palm on his chest. The chill of his skin could be felt through his shirt, leaving goosebumps on her arm. The slight cold was worth it when she saw Harry all but melt at her touch. She really must feel that warm to him. 

"I have always been very interested in you, too," she murmured, unable to meet his gaze should that give away the exact feelings she was trying to say, "I never understood why anyone would try to gossip or say anything about you. I guess they aren't too far off, though—those rumors." 

Peeking through her lashes, (Y/N) held a smile on her lips as she hoped her tease would land. When Harry huffed out a breath of laughter, his hand landing on her own on his chest, holding her fingers snug, her own grin grew three sizes.

"I suppose not," he smiled, pulsing his hand around hers. 

Gazing at him, (Y/N) could nearly count the amount of green shatters floating to the surface of the pools of black. Everything about him was clear and steady, unwavering. "Thank you for coming tonight," she started, "My initial reaction was overwhelming, and I apologize for that. I would never want you to think that I felt the same way as the others or that you frightened me enough to never see you again." 

"There is nothing to be sorry for," he insisted, ducking his head until he was directly before her, the tip of his nose just barely missing her own, "I am sorry that I didn't assure you enough that you were safe with me and had nothing to worry about. I was planning on telling you myself, I was only waiting until I knew how to say it without using the wrong words." 

"I think you've done alright," she smiled. If she blinked, would their lashes tangle together, or would she need to be just a bit closer for that? 

"You have such a power over me, (Y/N)," Harry told her earnestly, his eyes swimming in devotion with his tone tinted in worship. 

Rolling her lips between her teeth, (Y/N) wondered if anyone had ever felt like she did in her bed right then. Did her mother ever feel this way for her father? Did her blood ever burn for him the way (Y/N)'s seemingly did for Harry? Did her sister ever feel her lungs squeeze and heart batter her ribs when looking at her husband? Did Mr. and Mrs. Wayfield feel their skin crawl with the need to join one another? 

Or was (Y/N) the first? 

Had everyone felt this way before, or had she invented the idea of falling in love right then? 

It was impulsive, reputation-ruining, and entirely unladylike the way she surged forward and pressed her lips to his. If Harry had any inhibitions, he didn't show them with the way he reciprocated the contact in a heartbeat. Molding his lips to hers, he led her through the kiss. It was far from refined, (Y/N)'s lips clumsy and off centered but Harry didn't mind correcting her until his hand was holding her cheek steady and he was pushing and pulling with her moving in tandem.

Drawing away, (Y/N) pulled in a gasp. Her hand on his chest clenched the shirt covering his chest, nails raking along the planes of his muscles. Harry didn't offer her much of a reprieve before he was diving back in, the chill of his mouth feeling nonexistent with the heat that began coursing through her veins. 

While she hadn't noticed it, Harry must have with the way he pulled away, allowing her suddenly aching lungs to take something in. He offered a smattering of kisses along her cheeks instead, affection pouring over every inch he could reach. 

"I adore you, darling," he murmured, his voice dripping like the nectar from a flower deep into the marrow of her bones. "I will never get enough of you." 

(Y/N) could only smile, a dreamy expression as she dipped her head back. A pleasant chill crept up her spine when Harry distributed his kisses down the column and over her thrumming pulse. 

She could stay here forever. Never moving, never changing. Right here with Harry was her home. 

"I wish I could stay," Harry murmured, responding to words she hadn't realized she said aloud, "But the sun will rise soon, and I believe you still need to sleep." 

Drawing away, Harry righted her head with his hand on her cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing her cheekbone. She wasn't sure if it was just her eyes or if it was truly there, but she swore there was color to his cheeks, a flush to his lips. 

"I don't need to sleep," she countered, ready to dive back in. 

Harry barely sated her with a single kiss pressed to her pout. "Yes you do," he insisted, "You are caring for your garden tomorrow, right? You need rest for that or you will be exhausted before you can finish." 

For a moment, she hated that he knew anything about her and her routine. She didn't care for the sage or the rosemary or whatever she was meant to be pruning in the morning. She cared for who was in her bed. 

"Don't look like that," he said, unable to keep himself from laying another kiss on her lips, "We will see each other again soon, I promise. I don't think I can wait very long, either." 

"You can't stay any longer?" she asked, slowly releasing her hold on his shirt. From where she could see out her window, the sun was still down with the sky dark, but she figured Harry would know his limits and timings much better than she. 

Glancing out the glass himself, she could see the gears turning in his head. "I can stay a little while longer. Until you fall asleep, yes?" 

That was more than she could have wished for, truly. To fall asleep in his arms was the stuff of dreams. 

"That's perfect," she smiled, "Thank you." 

Harry responded only by bundling her to his chest. While there was no heartbeat to compare to her own, nothing to beat in rhythm against her ribs, (Y/N) had never felt more comforted. 

Sleep didn't take long, even when she had fought her tired eyes. 

—————

(Y/N) shyly peeked through her lashes as she descended the narrow aisle between the church pews. For the third service in a row, her eyes met that of a dark figure seated in the last row. Harry flicked his gaze to hers for a heartbeat before he looked away, a conspiratorial smile on his mouth. She felt her skin warm as she followed her father out the church doors, rolling her lips between her teeth. 

Ever since he had climbed through her window the first time weeks prior, Harry had been more involved in the village than ever. He had told her between breathless kisses in the quiet of her bedroom that he wanted to see more, that he could barely keep himself away—she was on his mind constantly. With going to his estate in the night wasn't always a smart option for her and her bedroom wasn't exactly easy to hide away in, he was going to find another way to see her. Since then, whenever the sun was shaded enough, he was ghosting among the village with a tendency to haunt the apothecary or anywhere else (Y/N) might have been. (She could only imagine the stack of lavender and tobacco bundles he had laying around his home with the amount of times he came in to shop with her). He had even started showing up for Sunday morning service for another chance to see her, despite neither of them particularly caring for the sermons. 

Their moments were made up of subtlety with stolen glances and conspiratorial smiles, near silent conversations when no one was listening or the quiet confirmation that they were thinking of one another. They shared more secrets than she was sure anyone would even know what to do with. 

She was the only one who knew the real him amongst the chatter, and she was the only person in the world who knew what it was like to kiss her. And, no one had any idea. 

No one had seen the way he slipped scraps of notes into her hand when she passed off his herbs. No one else noticed the way they gravitated towards one another during the after church gathering at the pub. No one knew that he slipped in through her window most nights or how a letter on exquisite stationery would appear when he couldn't. 

No one knew (Y/N) was in love.

So caught up in her head, she didn't even register the chilly air filtering around her as she descended the church steps being her father. She had followed mindlessly even when he stopped to make conversation with another parishioner, not noticing his pause until she tripped right into his back.

Turning around, her father steadied her with a gentle hand and concerned eyes. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, looking over the bridge of her nose that had smacked right into his spine.

"Yes, sorry," she rushed out with a shake of her head, "I wasn't paying attention." 

His worry seemingly settled in permanent lines across his face. "Are you sure? You're not growing ill, are you? You've been off in your head these last few days." 

Unconsciously, her eyes trailed over his shoulder and towards the fringes of the group where Harry stood by himself. She could just barely see the amused curl to his lips. He had definitely seen her misstep.

"No, " she answered, blinking back into the conversation though now she had her own efforts focussing on keeping her features in line. "I'm just tired."

—————

"Harry," (Y/N) murmured against his mouth, "My father..." 

Drawing away from her kiss-puffed mouth, Harry sighed. "I know. I am trying, but you have to understand my struggle, darling." 

She couldn't help the plume of laughter that fanned from her lips at his words. He practically beamed at the sound, his deep green eyes glimmering in the low light of a single lamp. 

(Y/N) loved the way he smiled when they were alone. It was a wonder thinking that there was time before she had even known he had dimples. 

"I'm sorry," she told him, settling into the down pillow under her head. Harry hovered above her with a delicate hand roaming over her cheek, his other propping him up from where he laid at her side. She barely noticed the chill when they were like this, huddled under her quilt with the heat of their breath and curious hands. "I wish we didn't have to worry." 

"Come to me tomorrow," he offered in an instant, a bit breathless as he dropped his hand to boldly skate down her side, "We can be alone then." 

His palm settled over her waist with a pulse, fingers tightening just when he mentioned alone. Shifting in her bedding, he didn't hesitate to pull her closer to him. 

From the heat in his refracted gaze and the exceptional curiosity of his hands tonight, (Y/N) had a blushing idea of what he wanted to be alone for. While it wasn't the first time in the last weeks that there had been the passing possibility of allowing him to push her nightgown up or pull apart her corset, this was the first time Harry had given such a hint to his own intentions. 

For fear of assuming too much, (Y/N) slid her eyes down the slope of his neck. "I don't know." 

Creases appeared between his brows as he gazed down at her. "What are you unsure about, darling?" 

Avoiding his eyes, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. "I—We—" she stumbled, tongue lazing around her mouth while she searched for the right words, "I want to be alone with you too, but... We're not married." 

She didn't match his eyes for fear that she had misread the situations and every other before this that she had sworn Harry was worked up on her account. For all she knew, he wanted nothing more than to speak at full volume and have more than a squeaky bed to sit upon.

Ducking his head into her line of sight, he forced her to meet his gaze. "I would never want to do something that you do not want as well, (Y/N). If you would prefer we do nothing more until we begin publicly courting and doing things in order, then that is what we will do." His hand on her side softened. "This is already more than enough for me—I can wait." 

Despite his kind words, (Y/N) didn't feel any of her stress alleviate. She had already known Harry would never rush her into anything thatch was not ready for, just as much as she knew that she did not feel any real inclination to wait until they were betrothed. But, neither of those truths made her decision any easier, not when there was more than just her own wants and desires to take into account. 

"I know, and I want to, really," she said, reaching out to play with the loose fabric of his top, "I just—It's... I don't want you to see or think of me any differently afterwards. I know it is not proper to want anything outside of marriage—I do not want anything to change if I were to... indulge." 

She hoped he understood what she was trying to tell him, specifically the kind of pressures that were placed on her for the simple fact that she was a woman in society. There were enough stories she had heard of women who had taken what they wanted, or fell in love with another and expressed that love, and were later shamed for doing exactly that—oftentimes by their own partners or people she trusted in her life. She didn't want to be cast aside in case he found that he no longer wanted her afterwards, after seeing how willing she was to be with someone that wasn't her husband.

Harry's features twisted with a frown touching his lips and his eyes saddening. "Have I ever made you feel as if my feelings would change should you spend the night with me? If I have, I want you to know—" 

"No, it's not that," (Y/N) rushed out, already feeling guilty, "You've never made me feel anything like that. It's just that... I suppose I've made myself feel this way. I just don't want you to change your mind about me." 

For all she knew, Harry would have sex with her and learn that he was only attracted to her for the fact that he wanted to be with someone after such a long time. It was not his fault she had these doubts, but they were ones that lived in her head.

Harry didn't shy away from her as she spoke. He only listened, patiently waiting for her to finish her thoughts. 

"I will just have to prove it to you then, that I have no doubts about you or anything I feel for you." His words were solid, unyielding. There was no room for argument. "In the meantime," he contented, his tone decidedly softer as he shuffled closer to her, "Would it be enough to tell you that I adore you? That I care for you more than I have for anyone or anything before?" 

(Y/N) suddenly felt shy under his attention. He had murmured as much to her in the heat of the moment before, but never so clearly and earnestly before.

"Harry," she started, settling her palm against his chest as if to contain him. 

"It is true," he smiled, unwavering in the way he spoke ,"You are like no one I have ever known before, and I could spend my entire existence only wishing to learn you. I know we are not married, or even engaged, but I hope it is enough to know that I do love you." 

Refractions of green sparkled in his eyes, brightening his gaze in a way she swore only happened when they were alone. Her heart bubbled and beat heavily in her chest. She could n longer contain the budding grin fighting to pluck at her lips. 

"You truly mean that?" she whispered, selfishly asking if only to hear it again. 

Dimples were thumbed into his cheeks. "Of course, I do. I've come to believe that the reason I was kept alive for so long was so that I might get to meet you." 

Looking up at him with his words ringing in her ears, Harry was like the moon to her. Never had she heard devotion like that. Even in her most romantic of daydreams, she never could have imagined that harry would say something like that to her, his eyes fixed to hers and his touch an anchor. Her chest practically ached as she processed. 

Her hand on his chest curled until she was fisting his top between her fingers. "I love you, too," she peeped out, the sound of her heartbeat sticking in her ears. 

Harry didn't hesitate before he was sealing his lips to hers once more. It was a hurried, excited kiss, leaving their mouths just a bit off center and his nose mushed against her cheek, but (Y/N) couldn't help but to smile into the contact. 

When he pulled away, (Y/N) could have sworn there was a flush of color to his skin. "If not for how badly I want to do this the right way, I would be proposing right now, (Y/N)." 

"You don't have to," she murmured, surging forward and pressing another kiss to his lips, "This is enough for me." While there was still undue shame she was going to undoubtedly feel tied to any decision she made, she didn't want that to come before what she wanted when it came to Harry. "If you were still offering," she started, dropping her eyes to follow the line of his nose and the pillow of his lips, "I would like to see you tomorrow. At your home." 

"Really?" he asked, his voice an octave deeper than she remembered. 

She nodded, a soft smile on her features. 

"Only if you are sure, my love," he murmured, "The door is always open for you."

(Y/N) could only answer him with a kiss.

—————

Pacing around her bedroom, (Y/N) counted, the numbers climbing in her head. Her simple white dress flourished around her ankles with every step, though she took care to avoid the creaky floorboards. 

When she reached two hundred, she took in a deep breath and strained her ears to listen to the rest of the house. All she heard was the sound of her father's snoring, just as she had when she had started readying herself. 

Releasing that breath, she took quiet steps to her slightly ajar window. She had run over this plan enough times in her head for her brain to go quiet as she finally put it all in place. Repeating her steps from the first time she had snuck out, (Y/N) made it out of her home in one piece before starting towards the long winding route leading to Harry's home. 

It wasn't long before a familiar black carriage and bone white horses hit her line of sight. A broad grin took over her features as she pace doubled to reach the coach. 

"Hello, Mitchell," she chirped, catching the familiar head of dark hair and pale features sitting in the coach box. 

"Hello, Ms. (Y/N)," he smiled at her, formality still hitting his tone despite (Y/N) assuring him more than once that he didn't need to offer her any, "He's been eagerly waiting for you." 

"I have been, too," she confessed through her grin, rounding the carriage with less grace than she figured she ought to have. Before she even had a chance to knock on the door or surprise him, Harry was practically jumping out of the box. 

"(Y/N)," he practically sighed, wrapping her in his arms the second his feet landed on the solid ground. 

Her own arms around his neck, she all but melted into his hold. Harry held her snug to his chest, his face buried in her hair. "I've missed you so, darling. I feel as if it has been years since I've held you." 

"You were in my room just last night, Harry," (Y/N) laughed. As if she hadn't been feeling the same way today, though it was much more fun to tease him.

"Exactly," he countered, stiffening his hold on her to lift her feet from the ground. (Y/N) squealed a laugh in his ear as she clung to him. "It has been much too long since I've held you."

She could offer no argument to him as she wrapped her limbs around Harry, allowing him to carry her into the carriage effortlessly. (Y/N) felt breathless by the time he had her settled on the bench beside him, wrapped in velvet and warmth despite his chilled skin. 

As she caught her breath, the horses started off in the direction of the castle, a rhythmic thumping starting with their hooves against the path. Harry looked down at her with amusement on his features. 

"Have you truly not missed me, darling?" he asked, his voice a soft song filling the space between them. His hand was just as gentle as he removed hair from her face, giving him a full view of her eyes. 

"I have," she smiled, shaking her head, "But, Mitchell..." 

Harry waved her off. "He doesn't listen, believe me. He only wishes to see me happy." 

"Are you? Happy, I mean?" 

Dipping his head down until he could press his lips to hers, (Y/N) received her answer in a murmur: "Undoubtedly, so."

—————

"If you're ready, I have somewhere I'd like to show you." 

Looking at Harry from over the rim of her wine glass, (Y/N) brightened. "What is it?" she asked after swallowing her gulp, the center of her lips tinted a berry red. 

"Let me show you," Harry countered, standing from his place at the dining table before offering her a hand. 

(Y/N) placed her palm in his without a second thought, fluidly following after him. 

Her new gown flourished with every step she took with her hand cradled in the crook of his elbow, the white ensemble having been waiting for her when they arrived at the estate. Though it wasn't as grand as the red one that now hung delicately in the wardrobe, it was no less luxurious. 

The fabric was a satiny cream, gliding over her fingertips when she first touched it. The neckline cut straight across her décolletage with the sleeves being nothing more than swathes of material that draped over her arms, leaving the boned corset to keep the bodice upright. The skirt wasn't full like her last garment, leaving the shape slim and sleek around her form. Harry had practically mooned at her when she descended the stairs after dressing, his eyes never leaving her for long. 

With the way the fabric gleamed and shimmered, (Y/N) felt as if she fit in with the moonlight when Harry led her outside. At her side, he blended in with the dark night aside from his pale features, acting as the heavens around the bright moon. 

The ground under their steps was dewy, appearing as if drops of starlight had landed on earth with the reflection of the sky on the droplets. Looking ahead, through the draping wisteria and dark purple blooms, was the greenhouse. The building was in much better shape than the last she had seen, now with a complete roof and frosted glass on every wall. 

"You finished it!" she bubbled, eager to see if he'd had the chance to fill it with any exotic blooms just yet. 

"I did," he smiled, his profile illuminated by the full moon, "I wanted to make sure I could take you here the next time you came." 

Approaching the door, Harry pushed it open for her to enter first. 

Inside, (Y/N) felt that same wondrous glee she did when he had shown her the ballroom for the first time. This small space put her entire apothecary to shame. 

The space was warm and humid, condensation trapped along the windows. Strung along the roof were familiar bundles of all of the herbs Harry had come by to pick up over the last month or so whenever he wanted an excuse to see her, the air tinted with the matching lavender and tobacco fragrances. The greenhouse itself had shelf after shelf, stretching tables, and hanging pots full of different plants. There were still plenty of places to grow, more room to put more and more flowers and herbs, but there was already enough filling that space that (Y/N) couldn't help the joyous gasp she let out. 

Harry allowed her to wander through, looking over every leaf and every shrub, fawning over the blooms, and finding things she had no name for. When she wasn't so lost in her daydreams, romanticizing everything, (Y/N)'s hobby was her plants. She doted on them like pets, and took care of them every chance she could. Being in a place like this, with Harry, in a gorgeous dress, was exactly what her dreams were made of.

Coming up to an unfamiliar plant, (Y/N) gazed at it with wide eyes. The open leaves resembled that of an open jaw, with spines on the very edge of the leaves acting as teeth. It was colored a bright, smooth green, not a single blemish altering the perfection. Curiosity took over as she reached out, attempting to touch the spines to see if they were as sharp as they looked. She jumped back with a yelp when the leaves snapped together upon contact, acting just like the gnashing jaw she had compared them to. 

In an instant, Harry was at her side, cradling her back to him with her hand clasped in his. 

"It didn't get you, did it?" he asked with a concerned furrow to his brow. He cradled her hand in his palm, the pad of his thumb brushing over her fingertips as if he could heal any wound with a touch. 

"No, I am alright," she answered, canting her head as her eyes stayed locked on the biting plant, watching as it reopened its jaws for the next victim, "Does it always do that?" 

Bundling her hand in his own, Harry followed her this time as she approached the trap once more. "Only when it is trying to eat," he shared, watching her with the same fascination she offered to the plant. 

"It eats? What do you mean?" 

"It is called a Venus Fly Trap," Harry explained, "Unlike the others, it eats meat—bugs and the like. When it thinks it's caught any prey, it'll snap closed and take its meal." 

(Y/N) had never heard of a predator plant—had never even imagined something like this could exist. "You feed it?" 

"It does rather well for itself, I choose not to interfere too much."

She tried to picture something that looked so flimsy, a pair of leaves that mechanically moved together, could trap a living being. "Has it ever bitten you before?" 

"Once," Harry admitted, "It was more startling than anything. That is when Mitchell shared that we would most likely benefit from leaving it alone." 

Without much thought, she reached out once more as if to test the theory that the trap was nothing more than a scare. Harry quickly had her hands bundled in his own, twirling her away from the exotic bloom. He shook his head when his eyes met hers, a lopsided smile on his lips. 

"I have said it before, but it always surprises me how much you lack any sense of survival," he laughed, pulling her hands to his chilled chest, "Though I said it did not hurt, does not mean you should try it out yourself." 

"Sorry," she answered, a sheepish smile on her lips, "I just wanted to try for myself." 

"Don't," he teased, bringing her hands to his lips where he gave her a soft smattering of kisses along the fingertips.

A soft laugh plumed from (Y/N)'s lips as she watched him, wiggling her hands out of his to cradle his cheeks in her palms. "This place is wonderful, Harry. I had no idea you wanted to make something like this." 

He leaned into the warmth of her touch. "I made it for you." 

(Y/N) felt her features soften; her eyes rounded out, cheeks softened around the width of her smile, every muscle she hadn't even realized she was tensing now going lax. "Did you really?" she crooned, following the refractions of light that danced over his features from the moonlight streaming through. 

"Of course, I did," he smiled, "I'd do anything for you."

It was a moment like this that she wondered if she could really handle being engaged for a whole two years the way her sister was. She had spent so many years dreaming up someone like Harry, she wasn't sure if she could wait that much longer to have him be hers in every real way. All she could do was hold him tighter.

Harry's smile widened as he gazed down at her. "I wish I knew what was going on in your head." 

"Just you," (Y/N) answered, "Always you." 

Turning his head in between her hands, Harry pressed his lips not puckered kisses against the palms of her hands. She could feel him smiling against her skin. 

"I don't know what I did to deserve you, my love, but I am forever grateful." He pulled her hands from his cheeks only to hold them against his chest once more. His features, though still swimming in adoration, settled into something more somber then. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about something out here." 

"Oh?" (Y/N) sounded. 

For the first time since they met, (Y/N) saw a small amount of uncertainty leak into his gaze. "I know we have talked some about our future," he started, gaze traveling over her features to capture any and every reaction, "And, I have been thinking about something that I wanted to share with you." 

"Okay," she nodded, trying not to betray her own nerves on her face, "Something good, I hope." 

A faint dimple was pushed into Harry's cheek as he stretched his smile that much more. "I hope so, as well." Within a breath, he was entirely serious once more. "You know that I wish to marry you, right? Outside of just our talks in your bedroom, I have meant every word I have said about sharing my life with you." 

"I do," she smiled, hoping to lessen his worry, "And I feel the same. I wish we could be married tomorrow, even." 

Small traces of relief had his features loosening up, the cut of his jaw rounding and his brows relaxing. "I do as well, but I want to do that the right way, with a real wedding and everything else you could want. Though, I feel that the both of us are rather impatient." (Y/N) let out a small fan of laughter at his truth. "Because of that, I have been thinking and found some old correspondence with a friend that gave me an idea." He paused before continued, as if gathering his words. "Do you remember the Blood Bond I told you about?" 

(Y/N) gave a silent nod. She could recall the short details he had shared with her and the way her mind had traced back to the binding more than once in her daydreams. 

"I know it is a lot to ask of you, as neither of us really understand what a Blood Bond truly entails outside of theory, but I have wondered if... If you might be willing to complete a Blood Bond with me." He rolled his lips between his teeth wrestling with both his nervousness at presenting the idea as well as his hope for her answer. "I found letters from an old friend, someone who knew someone else who had completed the bond with another, and it sounded promising. There weren't many details, but they sounded happy." 

"Were they—" (Y/N) floundered over her question, unable to find the right terms, "Were they both like you? Or was one of them like me?" 

His mouth formed a grim line. "Both were like me. I can't find anything on any couple like us, unfortunately. I suppose we might be the first," Harry posited, the very corner of his mouth turning upwards. 

While (Y/N) was more than warm to the idea of bonding with Harry—marrying him in the way they could without having the follow the steps of courting and engagement while also easing her father into the idea—she was unsure. The lack of details that even Harry knew tickled a part of her mind she had trouble ignoring. 

"Would it...If we did, would it make me like you?" While she loved Harry for who he was, and understood his story, there was little desire in her to completely forgo her own life in favor of a still heart (and the blood thing was still very much not something she had interest in). 

"I do not think so, but, again, I can't be sure." It appeared as if it pained him to give her so little detail. "But, I would never offer this if I did not think it would be a good option for us, darling. Selfishly, even if we can't share this with anyone, I don't know if I can wait much longer before I know I am yours and you are mine."

He peeked at her through his lashes, reflections of green glimmering in the pale moonlight. (Y/N) understood what he meant. While this would be another secret between them, something she couldn't even share with her father, it was enough to look at him and know that Harry was hers and she was his. It was enough to know that there was a place they belonged: at each other's sides. 

Pinching her bottom lip between her teeth she asked, "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore than I can imagine a regular bite does," he offered, giving a small shrug of his shoulders, "But, I can't be sure. I would do everything I could to make it as painless as possible, darling." 

There was a part of (Y/N) that stayed wary, and urged her to do the same. It poked holes in the logic and filled everything with doubt. There was no easy way to be the first, there was no safe way. There was so much unknown about what could happen should she bare her neck for him and allow Harry to bind them together in whatever way the Blood Bond would do. There was even a chance that she could drop dead immediately after, leaving the rest of her life—including Harry—behind. 

There was no way to be sure that nothing terrible would happen, but the rest of her wasn't certain if that really mattered. She had no way of knowing that Harry was telling the truth when he revealed his nature to her, or if she could be sure that she was truly safe around him. She had no way of knowing that she was doing the right thing by continuing to invite him to her and to fall in love with him on the way. But she did each of those things anyway, because she had felt in her bones that it was right. She had felt that she could trust Harry with everything—every fall down the rabbit hole of love, every time they were alone with her neck at his teeth, everything that her instincts told her was okay because she trusted him. 

That trust in him piped up, flicking (Y/N)'s gaze to match his as he patiently waited for her answer. "Okay." 

Harry perked up at the word. "Okay?" 

The beginnings of an ecstatic grin bubbled over her features. "I want to bond with you. We'll learn all of this together. I don't want to go another day without being yours." 

In the middle of the greenhouse, Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest before lifting her off of her feet. (Y/N) giggled, looping her own arms around his neck and clinging to him as he spun her around. Her dress twirled around them, enclosing Harry in lily white fabric as if he were the center of a moonlit bloom. 

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he repeated over and over, his face burrowed in her neck with his nose skimming the column. 

(Y/N) could only smile, her eyes shuttering closed. She buried her hands in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. This is the kind of joy she pictured when she finally found her one and she agreed to spend her life with him—another assurance that she was doing the right thing. Something so wrong or hasty wouldn't feel so good. 

Positing her down on the edge of a sparsely populated table, Harry stood between her legs as he settled his hands on her thighs over her silken dress. He had a bubbling smile on his face as he looked up at her, his eyes almost entirely green with only his pupil and a few slivers of the familiar coal remaining. 

"I will write to my friend, and see if he has any more answers. Then, when you're ready, we can—" 

A furrow pinched (Y/N) brow as she spoke, "We're not doing it tonight?" 

Harry paused to consider her question. "I thought... I don't want to push you or make you feel as if we have to do this tonight. I figured you would like more time." 

While Harry was erring on the side of caution—once again being the more responsible of the two compared to her impulsiveness—she didn't want to do the same. She had no fear of the Venus Fly Trap despite almost being caught in its clutches, and she had no fear of Harry and the unknown. 

"I don't need any more time," (Y/N) cemented, reaching to settle her hands on his shoulders with her fingertips digging into the luxe velvet, "I trust you, and I don't want to wait anymore. I waited my whole life to find someone like you—I practically dreamt you up. I don't need time to be sure." 

As she spoke, Harry had his eyes fixed on her, watching her mouth wrap around every word and the devotion of which she hoped he felt. His own lips had fallen open in a small gape, eyes glimmering as if he were looking at the sun. HIs hands on her thighs pulsed, tightening his grip as if he could drift away at any moment. 

He didn't have to say it for (Y/N) to know that he loved her. That he knew what it was like to wait and hope there was someone there at the end who understood. 

Reaching to cradle her cheeks in his palms, he brought her in for a slow kiss, his lips slotted between hers with his nose brushing against her own. There was an urgency behind it that she had never felt from him before. 

"I love you," he murmured. 

The delicate curl of her lips had him pulling away just enough to drag his kisses over her cheek. "I love you, too." 

"I'm not certain in what I'm doing, (Y/N), so I need you to tell me if I am hurting you. I do not want this to be ruined because of me, so please stop me if you feel the need." His lips never lifted from her skin as he spoke, his words being painted across in sweeps of his breath and skims of his nose. 

"I trust you," she reiterated, dipping her head back as he descended lower towards her throat, "I love you." 

"I love you, too," he responded simply, before pulling away, "But you must promise me. If there's even a moment where you are no longer sure, do whatever you need to do to make me stop." 

His jaw was set and eyes hard as he spoke, determination settling on his features. "I promise," she said, her hands still firm on his shoulders, "If anything changes, I will tell you." 

A small curl lifted his lips as he took her vow, features softening. "I will tell you before I bite, is that okay?" 

"Please," she responded, relaxing into his arms as he wrapped them around her middle with his hands spanning the planes of her back. As much as she did trust him, the fact that his teeth would be biting into her neck in a few moments was most likely going to be her least favorite part of their bonding. 

When Harry dipped his head down, the chill of his touch grazing her throat, (Y/N) expected to feel the scrape of his teeth, the point of something predatory catching on her skin. Instead, she felt the soft press of his lips and the drag of his nose over the column. He worked slowly, familiarly, kissing his way along until he stopped. He paused on the side of her throat, just under where her pulse thrummed. 

"I'm going to bite here, alright?" he murmured, "Just long enough to forge the bond, darling." 

She clenched her hands on his shoulders. "Okay." 

Against her throat, she could feel his lips moving though there was no sound. She wanted to ask what he was saying, but before she had a chance that searing slice she had been waiting for finally struck. 

The feeling took her breath away, her hands tightening on his shoulders. It didn't hurt like a cut from a knife or a stab from a needle, no—Harry's bite burned. It was a bubbling burn, as if something inside her was melting all within the span of a second. The searing brought tears to her eyes, stealing her breath before she had a chance to understand. 

Just as quickly as the burning started, it was gone. In its place was something pleasantly cool, like a breeze on a warm day. Her vision cleared with her breath restored. She was hyper aware of Harry's shoulders under her hands, the warmth of his velvet jacket and the welcome chill from his skin. She clung to him, conscious of every stretch of fabric on her skin and every anchoring touch he gave her. It was overwhelming, verging on euphoric, urging her to shutter her eyes and absorb every second. 

The moment could have lasted anywhere from two hours long to two seconds, (Y/N) had no way of telling by the time Harry pulled away. He kept his grip on her firm, his arms barred around her back as she came back down to the greenhouse. 

With a fluttering blink of her lashes, (Y/N) saw Harry for what he was, for the very first time.

He looked at her with eyes darker than she had ever seen before, no semblance of any green she was accustomed to. She could clearly see a flush on his cheeks, appearing more human than she had ever realized he wasn't. The most jarring part: the blood dripping down his chin. It was a stark rub against his skin, staining his lips and coating his teeth.

That was her blood rolling down his lips.

For the first time since meeting him, she felt that fear she had lacked. It was nothing more than a zip up her spine, but it was there. If he were any other person, any other version of him in the years past, this would be the last thing she saw before she would be laid to rest on the forest floor with her throat ripped out. 

As much as she was startled at the sight, the feel of her blood dripping down her neck, she also saw the way he was looking at her. Within the depths of his dark eyes, he was seeing her and tasting her and knowing her for the first time. There was no way that she had been the only one to feel that overwhelming euphoria, not when he looked at her like that. 

In a distracted movement, he wiped his sleeve over his chin, intending to clear some of the crimson though most of it only smeared over his skin.

He was breathless as he spoke, "Ar—You're... (Y/N)." 

Tears filled his eyes as he clung to her. 

Though her hand shook, (Y/N) still reached to place her palm on his cheek. She couldn't avoid the blood on his skin, but she didn't have the mind to care as she attempted to comfort him. 

"I'm here," she whispered, hooking her ankle around the back of his leg, "You did it." 

His hands on her back curled until his fingertips were denting her shoulder blades by how tightly he held her. He shook his head as if to clear whatever was going on inside. "We—It's—Your turn." 

In that second, she remembered the small detail she had willfully forgotten. For the Bond to go both ways, she would have to also take his own blood. The prospect of him biting into her didn't seem so bad anymore compared to this. 

Her eyes dropped to his neck, floundering suddenly. "I—But, I can't... I'm not like you, I can't... bite." 

The fact seemed to hit Harry as well, though his brain was still clearly flooded with whatever it was he was experiencing with his end of the bond forged. He blinked to clear his eyes as he dropped his gaze to her neck. 

"I think—I can take care of it," he offered on a stilted tongue. 

(Y/N) didn't have any time to question before he was bringing his arm around to his lips, pushing his sleeve out of the way until his pale wrist was on display. The same way he had sunk his teeth into her neck, he now did to his own arm, opening up a gash with decidedly darker and thicker blood than she had ever seen before. 

She understood what he was doing for her—taking out the work so she could close her end of the bond by taking in his blood—but she still felt repulsed at the prospect of tasting any of the ichor oozing from his arm. She wasn't like him. She couldn't see any way she could enjoy the taste or the feeling of drinking his blood. 

All it took was one glance into his shimmering eyes, the same ones that had pleaded to her to not be scared of him, that prosed over his devotion to her, that had her shakily taking his arm in her grasp. 

"Wh-What do I do?" 

"Jus' drink, darling," he swallowed, "Quickly. Before it heals." 

For the sole fact that she wasn't sure if she could stomach seeing Harry bite into himself once more, she closed her eyes and brought his wrist to her lips. The second the blood filled her mouth, she wanted nothing more than to retch over and spit it out. It was metallic and heavy, coating her mouth in a way she couldn't compare anything to. 

The first gulp was the hardest—the most troubling. Just as soon as she swore her throat was closing, urging her to gag and be rid of everything she was taking down, something changed.

Similar in the way that there was an overwhelming stillness when Harry had bitten her, she was now left with an overwhelming sense of fullness. Before she had been contently in her skin, aware of every motion and touch. This time, she was conscious of everything that wasn't entirely her. 

She swore she could feel her own wrist warming, her own thoughts picturing her bent over Harry's arm, the feel of her dress under her palm. 

These were Harry's thoughts and feelings she was experiencing. She was no longer just her in that moment. 

The Bond was there, allowing her a peek into who it was that was at her side. 

Including the immense amount of love he was feeling just then. 

She had never been aware of a missing piece in her, never been aware that there could be more of her somewhere, until then. This is what Harry had been feeling when he bit her, when he looked at her with tears in his eyes and clung to her as if she were the only one to give him breath, to make him whole. 

Pulling his arm from her mouth, she didn't think twice of the blood staining her lips or coating her chin before she was throwing herself at him. Looping her arms around his neck, she clung to him with tears leaking down her eyes. 

That was the Bond she could feel pulsing through her system. Harry was now a part of her just as much as she was his. 

There was no doubt their clothing was ruined, blood staining the material that they had no chance of removing, with the ends of (Y/N)'s hair caught in the crossfire, but she couldn't find it in herself to care for more than anything but Harry. 

"I love you," she whispered, her voice brittle under the lump in her throat and the tears glazing her eyes. "We did it." 

"We did," Harry sighed, the smile on his face apparent in his tone, "I love you so much, darling."

(Y/N) could only close her eyes, melting into his hold with the greenhouse falling away around them. She clung to him tighter. 

"I've got you, darling," he murmured into her hair, his voice a soothing balm to her wired nerve endings. 

Relaxing into the moment, a quiet smile etched its way onto her lips. 

This was going to be the rest of her life. 

—————

"Harry, be quiet," (Y/N) giggled into his mouth. 

"Why?" he countered, only pulling away just far enough to speak, "It's just us here, remember?" 

Drawing him back to her lips with her hands on his cheeks, (Y/N) could barely keep the smile off of her face long enough to kiss him back. She sunk further into the luxe mattress under her back with every earnest press of his lips to hers, the first swipe of his tongue darting out to run along the seam of her lips.

After stumbling their way out of the greenhouse and through the gardens, Harry had led her to his bedroom with a kind of giddiness she had never seen in him before. Despite the blood on his face, he was almost child-like in his wonder with the way he looked at her. 

His bedroom was just as laden in luxury as the rest of the castle, though it was clear that there was someone actually inhabiting the space. She could see stamps of his presence everywhere; in the stationery on his desk to the unkempt bedding as if he couldn't be bothered to remake his bed everyday despite having nothing but time to fill. A pile of lavender bundles and chamomile blooms were stacked on his bedside, familiar twine holding the herbs together. 

When he offered her the bathroom to clean off, (Y/N) didn't hesitate, wanting to clean herself from the crust that was forming on her chin and the bits of blood that had dried in her hair. By the time she finished, there was a nightgown waiting for her and an invitation on familiar stationery to join Harry in his room when she was ready. 

Under different circumstances, she would have taken her time, luxuriated in the thick towels and scented lotion. There were different creams and oils that she didn't recognize, the kind she would have loved to take her time and learn. But there was someone waiting for her—someone that was as close to her husband as he could be without sending her down the aisle in a white dress. 

She didn't want to leave him waiting. 

(Though, she did notice that the bite he had given to her neck was healed almost completely. The wound that had bled enough to fill his mouth was now reduced to a pair of pin pricks on the side of her neck, just barely visible if someone was looking. She was going to have to ask at some point if that was the effect of the bond mending her skin).

That was how she found herself with Harry hovering above her, damp hair tossed across his pillow and her hands cradling his cheeks.

"I can feel you right here," he murmured to her in wonder, his hand on his chest where his unbeating heart sat. 

Sprinkling her own kisses along his cheek, she smiled against his skin. "I can feel you in my heart, too," she whispered against his skin.

Drawing away, (Y/N) tried to chase him for another kiss before failing and sinking back into her pillow with a breathy laugh. Harry's smile widened at the sound. His gaze slipped over her with enough depth that she could have sworn his hands followed the trail, goosebumps erupting on her skin. 

"I wish I knew what you were thinking," (Y/N) said, stealing the same line he said to her more than once. 

Matching her gaze once more, he looked at her with gleaming green shards in his eyes. "Just you. Always you." 

Creases appeared by her eyes from just how far her smile stretched. She knew that line just as well. "Of course it is," she teased, petting the pad of her thumb along the height of his cheek bone, 

"I mean it, my love" he smiled, sweeping a hand across her forehead to pull any stray hairs out of the way, "I have never felt before the way I do right now. Because of you." 

(Y/N)'s heart surged at his words. She knew exactly what he was feeling. Through something she was beginning to understand as their bond, she felt the ardent truth in Harry's words as much as she could hear it. There wasn't enough vocabulary available to tell him what it meant to her to feel and hear his love. 

Selfishly, she resorted to tugging him down for a kiss instead, hoping he understood just as well. 

He smiled into the kiss, a good sign, just before he settled in with her. 

With her legs spread wide for his hips to sit between, she couldn't help but to cling to him. There was no other way she could tell him how much she loved him, how deeply excited she was to spend the rest of the unknown with him. The feeling brought her back to the night before, when he had invited her here in the first place—when he had told her he loved her. 

Despite the chill of his touch, she had never felt so warm when recalling the memory. 

Her hands on his cheeks slid down from his face, following the line of his neck to his shoulders. The neck of his loosely buttoned shirt gave way under her touch, allowing more of his cold skin to sit on display for her to graze her fingers over. 

With their mouths slotted together, (Y/N) grazed one hand up the column of his throat unsure of if it was her own warmth being reflected back or if he was feeling the same way as she and something had awoken in his body. Without thinking, she dragged her nails lightly down his skin, entranced by the new skin she had never touched and barely seen before. 

Harry let out a low moan into her mouth, the sound rumbling against her own chest. Through the bond, she felt that touch of euphoria she was only familiar with through the bite in the greenhouse. Her stomach tightened at the thought. 

Pulling away from her mouth, he dragged his kisses down the line of her jaw. "What was that for, darling?" he asked, his voice a deep grumble compared to the dulcet tones he typically served her. 

"Did you like it?" she countered, a sheepish tone to her voice. She hadn't meant anything by it, really. 

It was the smile she felt against her skin that had her relaxing. "I did," he answered, dragging his lips down the slope of her neck, "Is that what you wanted?" 

"I always want to make you happy," she simply chirped back. 

Drawing away, Harry hovered over her with a slight curl to his lips and only a sliver of green showing around his dark pupils. "Your job is terribly easy then," he smiled, "As I can't help but feel anything but completely ecstatic around you." 

(Y/N) could only shake her head, suddenly feeling bashful under his gaze. She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her with her face buried in his neck. She could feel the plume of laughter he let out as much as she could hear it. 

Pressing his weight into her as he reciprocated her hold, he wrapped his arms around her middle in a snug hug. The length of his body was pressed against hers, including the hard to ignore ridge nudging between her legs. While it wasn't the first time she had felt as much between the sheets in her bedroom, it still took her breath away. 

Harry undoubtedly felt her reaction, causing him to pull away just enough to look down at her. "What's wrong, love?" 

She floundered over her words, unsure of how exactly to phrase what she had caused her gasp and the feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. "You—I mean... You're—" 

Pursing his lips, Harry held back his smile. "I know, darling," he smiled, "Don't worry, alright? We've done enough tonight, I don't think we need to add anymore new experiences like we had planned." 

"But—" She unceremoniously dropped her gaze between them as if she could get a peek at what was prodding at her core. "I don't want to... You're not hurting, are you?" 

He couldn't help the laugh that fell from his mouth then. "No, I am not hurting," he smiled, squeezing her to him one last time before relinquishing his hold. 

Meandering out from between her legs, he moved to lay beside her. (Y/N) rolled with him, unwilling to let him go very far before he settled at her side, sharing the same pillow despite the vast amount of negative space available. 

"You don't want me to...?" (Y/N) trailed off, unsure of what exactly she was asking. She knew Harry had asked her over, hoping to take advantage of the time alone without having to worry about the creaks of her own home. Despite the turns that night had taken, she didn't want him to believe she was no longer willing, even if she was a bit exhausted. 

Harry's smile was tender on his lips, adoring just as his eyes were. He took one of her hands that had been clasped behind his neck and brought her palm to his mouth. Pressing his lips to the back in a smattering of kisses, he trailed that line up to her wrist and along her arm until she could no longer contain her giggling. The bright smile he gave in response had to match that of her own. 

"Not tonight, my love," he crooned, "I know we had talked about how we wanted to spend this night by ourselves, but I know my outlook on the night has changed some." His gaze dropped to the pinprick marks on her neck, his features brightening that much more at the sight. "I don't feel any rush to do more. We have all the time in the world to learn each other in that way. I'd rather tonight be about you and I and learning the bond we now have." 

Through that bond, she could feel his sincerity. There was no rush in him, nothing clamoring to take her virginity just to have it. It was more important to him to know his wife—his beloved, his bonded. Through his eyes, she saw the stretch of time they had together and the many nights they could fill between the sheets. There was no rush to be had when he had her for the rest of their lives. 

"You're sure?" she asked, shuffling closer to him over the velvet duvet, "I don't want to disappoint you." 

"How could you disappoint me, my love?" he asked through a dazzling smile, dimples denting his cheeks and perfect teeth on display. He brushed his hand over her cheek, fingertips grazing the fan of her lashes and the height of her cheekbone as if she were the most delicate of flowers in his garden. "You're here," he said in awe, "In my bed, brave enough to bond with me, and looking at me with stars in your eyes. How could I ever be disappointed with you?"

Heart thumping in her chest, (Y/N) looked at him and saw the life he had envisioned.

There were so many nights they were going to spend just like this, laden in velvet and kisses, chilling touches and warm gazes. They had all the time in the world, there was no reason not to savor these quiet moments with him.

All she could do was pull him in for a kiss.

—————

The following morning, (Y/N) was exhausted as she traipsed around the apothecary, though she felt as if she were floating off her feet. She took care to restock each and every cubby, straightening the displays and ensuring only the best of the best were placed out for customers. Her father was manning the register as she did so, leaving her to sit in her rose petal thoughts and appreciate the stiff muscles of her neck and bruises from her early morning climb back into her bedroom.

It was all reminders of the best night of her life, she decided. Her wedding night—even if it wasn't in the traditional sense. 

There was a new piece that now lived inside her, a remnant of Harry's soul that now replaced the piece she had given him last night. It felt easier to breathe, now knowing that he was on the other side. 

More than once since starting her day, her father had asked what had made her so chipper. She had only replied that she had slept well, or simply woke up in a good mood. She couldn't wait for the day that she could tell him that it was Harry that had her heart so full and eyes so bright.

The bell above the door jingled, alerting that a customer was coming in, though that wasn't what had (Y/N) perking up in her spot. There was a fumbling in her chest, as if her heart knew something she didn't.

Looking over her shoulder, her lungs squeezed when she saw who had walked through the door.

Armed with a draping bouquet of wisteria and the tiny bell-shaped blooms of lily of the valley, was Harry. He was dressed immaculately as ever, though she could see a color in his cheeks and his eyes almost glimmering with the amount of green shards that had surfaced. From the corner of her eye, she saw her father stiffen at his presence, though Harry gave her a passing glance with a lopsided smile before even acknowledging his presence.

"Mr. Styles," her father gruffly greeted him, "How can we help you today?" 

"Actually, sir," Harry started, a pleasant voice to match his expression though (Y/N) could see amusement swimming in the depths, "I was hoping I could have a chance to speak with your daughter." 

"She's busy at the moment, but I can help you with anything you need." Her father's voice now held an edge to it.

"Unfortunately," Harry said, skipping his gaze back to her where she stood with her hands knotted behind her back, "I don't think you can help me with this, sir. I was looking to ask for her permission to officially begin courting her—if she is interested, anyway" 

(Y/N) had no hope of wiping the smile from her face, but she did everything she could to keep herself from launching into her husband. Instead, before her father could make any objection of any kind, she piped up with, "I am definitely interested, Mr. Styles. You have all the permission in the world." 

Though she was sure that if she spared her father a glance he would be just as angry as the night he had thrown her invitation into the furnace, but she couldn't draw her eyes from Harry. 

She couldn't wait to marry him. For the second time, technically.

—————

lily of the valley, though delicate, can stop the heart when consumed

ahhhhh that is the end of my little Halloween/fall story! now my break will be starting and ill be back with more writing after the new year!!! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any ideas for anythign at all!

[pcrfumebcttles]

@inkmimicry asked: 💭 - Potions The little things...

So y'all know the locket that she wears all the time? Yeah, there's a vial of poison in it. It's sort of a swift army knife of the locket world, even holding a variety of sleeping pills and even deadly poison that hides inside the locket. She saves it for life of death situations or when she needs to take someone quickly but quietly. The sleeping pills, however, she's a lot more frivolous with.

[coralinnii]

Can we get a fluff with Vil and Riddle in the villain au?

Villainess au Side story: the villain in my heart feat: Riddle genre: fluff note: follows the villain/ess series Riddle ver. but can be read independently, no pronouns were used, roughly 1.5k word count

Vil's part will be in a separate post because I didn't want the post to get too long (typical me)

“He’s busy again?” 

Cater had a hard time keeping his smile as he watched your mood damper over his answer. He doesn't want to be the bearer of bad news but what was he to do? You have been asking for Riddle but the monarch has buried himself in his work since the proposal of an alliance with a neighboring kingdom. “I’m afraid so, your highness” 

You let out a sigh as your mind wandered to the last time you had the chance to be your husband. As competent as Riddle was, you worried that he may soon suffer from overwork should he keep his schedule the way it is. 

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him take a break” you lamented on your Riddle’s bad working habits. “His temper is not the best when he’s gets too stressed” 

“It’s not exactly the greatest to begin with, though” Cater muttered a joke under his breath but made sure no one heard, lest he wants to be “off with his head”. 

To his luck, you didn’t hear (or perhaps just ignored) his quip and instead decided on a plan for Riddle’s sake. 

“I will get him away from his work for a break” you looked straight into the red-haired advisor with conviction in your eyes and a mischievous smile on your lips “and you’re helping me” 

Riddle was ever diligent in his work, efficiently breezing through his paperwork with appropriate time to go over his preparations for the appointment later with the noble heads. Trey stayed by the redhead’s side, poised and alert to Riddle’s needs and commands. Nothing was out of place and were in order, to Riddle’s satisfaction. 

But during his less hectic tasks, he finds himself wondering how you were doing and where you might be while he was kept away from you since the influx of work on him. He denies the need for your constant company since he is not a child (of course not) but he misses the earlier days where he had more moments with you other than meal times and the nightly routine of wishing each other goodnight, something you insisted and he was later grateful for. 

A series of knocks rang through the room and Cater’s voice was heard behind the door. With Riddle’s permission, the red-haired aid entered with a letter in hand. Riddle raised his brows curiously and motioned to the letter. 

“Who’s letter is that?” Most of his urgent letters were delivered early today and unlike those letters, this new one was much simpler without so much as a wax seal. “It’s poorly made without even a seal of identification on it.” 

“It is from your partner your highness, King Riddle” 

“Hand it over” 

As soon as Cater reached out his hand, Riddle snatched the letter from his grasp before slowly unraveling the letter as though he feared he would tear it. To avoid his wrath, Trey and Cater stifled their laughter with all their might. 

Hello Riddy, 

Do you remember days like this? Where we would exchange letters during our time apart to keep each other company. I cherish those moments but I’m happy to be with you again in the kingdom. 

How unfair of you to stir Riddle’s feelings like this through mere written words. Riddle can feel his heart flutter at the thought of you and how you enjoyed writing letters together with him. He held every letter you wrote to him and was even kept away safely in the family’s treasury room, even your last letter which haunted him when you announced your initial plans to escape the kingdom. 

But I’m a little upset that my dear friend and husband has been working all these days and I haven't been able to even have a glimpse of him aside from our shared meals and the dead of night. So, I prepared a challenge to the great Riddle Rosehearts as retribution. There are clues scattered around the palace and you must follow them to find me before your meeting with the ducal family. 

Riddle checked his pocket watch and saw that there was roughly 30 minutes before his guests were to arrive. That seems to be enough time for some people but for Riddle who rarely sees his beloved, that’s hardly the case. 

”Cater, tell me where my beloved is right now” he commanded but said man kept his mouth shut, to Riddle’s shock. 

“Um…King Riddle, have you read the entirety of the letter?” 

In his impatience, Riddle missed the last contents of the letter which he then read, 

If you command Cater or anyone else to tell you where I am, I will refuse to speak or look at you for the entire day and night, which includes our nightly goodnight wishes. 

Your first clue is …. 

Riddle left his study room and proceeded to breeze through the clues you’ve left behind which should lead to you. Your first clue brought him to the imperial library, specifically to an aisle towards the corner of the large room where the two of you first hid together when Riddle played hide-and-seek together with Chen’ya and Trey. The second clue he found brought him to the stable where a letter was placed atop of the box of apples which is the preferred treat of Riddle’s favourite horse, who whined happily seeing Riddle after so long. The next clue led him to the main kitchen where the kitchen head had just brewed his preferred tea blend at the request of his partner. 

Each new clue gave Riddle a new burst of energy which fueled his steps as he got closer and closer to the end of adventure. The last clue implied that his last stop was in the palace garden, at the gazebo in the heart of the maze. As he got closer, he could hear your voice and soon his feet quickened his pace and he saw you at the gazebo as he predicted. 

Though he didn’t think he would come face to face with a distressed look of your face which appeared when your eyes caught his. 

“Riddle? You’re already here?!” You panicked as you stumbled with arranging the tableware on the table before giving up with a sigh “What an absolute failure” 

Riddle looked at the contents on the table and saw what you were attempting to hide. A plate of strawberry tarts but the edges had broken off and the tart looked to be breaking apart, barely in one piece. It was an unusual site as the patissiers of the palace were handpicked by Trey from his family’s business for their talents. Such a mess would not be their handiwork. 

“I wanted to surprise you by baking your favorite tarts but it started crumbling and the filling was leaking out” you groaned at the sight of your baking disaster. “I’m sorry for how disappointing it must be” 

You feared the redhead’s reaction to your failure but instead, you were surprised by the sudden embrace you found yourself in as Riddle wrapped his arms around you, with him resting his head on your shoulder. It wasn’t as though you don’t share hugs like this but it was rare for Riddle to initiate them, especially one so close and tight. Regardless, you were quick to reciprocate by encasing Riddle in your arms as well. 

Riddle couldn’t help himself. You chose your clues based on your time with him. Riddle’s heart was set ablaze at the thought that you not only remembered your cherished past with him but also kept his current interests and preferences in mind. In under 30 minutes, you managed to give him more love and attention than he had in such a long time. 

“I’m unbelievably happy” he whispered softly into your shoulder, but you heard him which brought a smile of your own. “Thank you, truly” 

“I’m glad” you replied but even if Riddle was pleased, you weren’t satisfied with how this adventure ended so you adjusted your position to force Riddle to face you. “But I still want to give you something before your appointment. Is there anything else you might want?” 

Riddle looked to be in thought as he looked into your eyes. You guessed that he was taking great consideration which on one hand made you happy he’s taking this seriously but at the same time you felt a little nervous. Then Riddle spoke. 

“I would like…to ask for forgiveness” 

Before you could question him, Riddle proceeded with his plan. Carefully, he placed a hand on your cheek guiding before leaning in to place a light touch on your lips with his. The young King’s cheeks were burning red but you were no better as you could feel the scorching heat building in your body, your face must be hot to the touch under Riddle’s palm. 

Riddle continued his bold actions by adding pressure into the kiss, his mouth fully closed on yours as he subtly brought you closer by your waist. He was not usually such a daring man but your letters and your sadness over something as trivial as disappointing him drove him to capture your lips in an impulsive act of affection. 

You bring silliness to his orderly world and he’s ecstatic that you do.

[sara-scribbles]

Melting the Dragon King’s Heart (Part 2)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Malleus Draconia/F!Reader Summary: After falling down some stairs, you wake up in the body of a villain from one of Idia's cheesy romance books. Destined to die a fiery death, you have to figure out a way to change your fate. Word Count: 8,000 Notes: I decided to split this part into two. The original is about 11k words and counting. This way I can work on the final part but also provide everyone with something. Reader uses she/her pronouns Warnings: Physical abuse, emotional abuse

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

After revising the proposal and sending along the messengers, you spent a lot of time filling out paperwork. Malleus seemed to trust you to do more, so you found yourself given more work. Though you’re glad he trusts you more, you hate all the new work.

Because of all the work, you’re unable to do much besides hole up in the office. Thankfully Diablo is always there to bring snacks and remind you of the time. You often get lost in the paperwork and forget to do the basic necessities such as eating dinner. Malleus is always happy to answer any questions you have, and having his office across the way is very handy.

It’s a few weeks later that you notice the castle is abuzz with more activity than usual. You can hear everyone rushing back and forth while signing off on a few things. You can see staff rush by with vases, flowers and linen. 

“Diablo, what’s going on?” you ask the butler, who places a new cup of tea down.

“The palace is preparing for his highness’s birthday,” he informs you. “It is a national holiday so Briar Valley throws a party for the citizens. There’s also a ball that is hosted in his honor where we invite the surrounding kingdoms. This year's theme is a masquerade.”

You had completely forgotten about his birthday. Setting aside your work, you lean forward on your elbow while strumming your fingers on the desk. “What should I get him as a gift?” you muse aloud.

Glancing over at the butler, he pretends to stare straight ahead. After a moment, he sighs before shaking his head. “I apologize, your highness, but I do not think I should tell you what to get his highness.”

“But I don’t really know what he likes…” That’s not completely true, but it would be nice to get something that you know Malleus will like.

“My advice is that as long as the gift has your thoughts and feelings, his majesty will like it.” Diablo bows slightly before leaving.

Letting out a deep sigh, you jot down a list of things you know Malleus likes and dislikes. From your previous conversations, you do know some things. He likes gargoyles, abandoned places, and cold treats. He dislikes whole cakes and gargoyles that serve no function.

“What to get him…” A maid gently raps on the door, disrupting your thoughts.

“I apologize for disturbing your highness, but a letter just arrived.” She hands you the cream colored envelope with a rose wax seal.

Once she leaves, you open the rather thick letter. Reading through it, your eyes slowly widen with each word. Excitement and trepidation fill every fiber in your body. Leaving your study, you make the very quick trip to Malleus’s office next door. Your sudden intrusion startles him from the paper he’s reading.

“He responded!” you exclaim, slapping the letter down on the desk.

He quizzically looks at you before taking the letter. You watch as he quickly scans the contents. “Riddle Rosehearts wants to meet about our proposal,” you explain. “It’s a good sign, right?”

He sets the letter down and nods. “It would seem he wants to iron out the details. I’m surprised he responded so quickly, since I’ve heard he’s the type not to make decisions without careful consideration.” He ponders, “Perhaps he’s been wanting to establish relations with us and this gives him a good excuse.”

“Right! So, when do you want to go?”

“You wish to do this soon?” he asks.

Nodding, you explain, “I think it would be ideal to do this sooner rather than later.”

“Hmm… I have a few meetings to attend with some diplomats from other countries. And then there’s the banquet…” He shifts through a notebook containing his day-to-day schedule. “Maybe we could go… no that won’t work.”

After a while of going through his schedule, he sighs deeply. Brows furrowing, a small frown appears on his lips. “It seems I will be busy for a few months. We may not be able to do this as quickly.”

There’s a pause before you throw out a suggestion. “What if I go and meet with him?”

“Alone?” His frown deepens.

“Yes. I believe I can work on this with him. We won’t sign anything, but it will at least iron out the details.” You want to do this. It’s something you worked on for a while, so it would be nice to be the one to close the deal. And you can’t say you’re not curious to see what the Queendom of Roses is like.

“I know you might be worried about my abilities, but I would like the opportunity to prove myself beyond paperwork and readings.”

Malleus regards you quietly. The frown has left his face but his brows are still creased. “I do not doubt your abilities. I just worry about you being in another country alone.”

A small laugh escapes your lips. His concern for your safety is endearing. “I can bring a guard or two with me, if that will ease your worries,” you quickly add.

That seems to alleviate some of his worry. “Yes, I think that will be fine. When would you like to leave?”

Taking the letter, you fold it back into the envelope. “His highness said he could meet starting next week. How about a week from now? It should give me enough time to send a response back and prepare for the trip.”

“So soon…” he mutters. Letting out a huff, he waves off whatever is concerning him “I will instruct Silver and Sebek to accompany you. Diablo will help you prepare everything else.”

You’re surprised he’s having his two closest knights go with you. “Are you sure? I could take someone else.”

He shakes his head. “These two are one of my most trusted knights, so it would be appropriate that they guard you on your journey.”

Seeing the firm set of his lips, you know not to argue. “Thank you. I will gather some material and start packing.” 

Turning to leave, Malleus calls to you. “How are your parents doing?” he asks suddenly.

You halt, almost stumbling in your steps, before slowly turning toward him. “They’re fine. Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking we can send them an invitation for my birthday ball,” he explains. You can’t read his expression.

Every fiber in your being wants to scream ‘no’ and that you never want to see them. But you know you can’t. You have to keep up appearances for now. “If that’s what you would like, then please invite them,” you respond as calmly as you can.

He’s quiet as he studies you before nodding. “If there is anyone else you want to invite, please let Diablo know. The invitations will go out in about three weeks.” He returns to his papers.

You suddenly have an idea. “Is there anything you want for your birthday?” you inquire, walking over to stand in front of his desk.

“Nothing in particular,” he says, not looking up.

“Really? Nothing at all?” You’re hoping he’d give you some ideas. Buying birthday gifts for Idia was easy since he usually wanted something related to his games or anime.

Malleus finally looks up from his papers. “I’m sure whatever you decide, I will like.”

You resist the urge to groan. “Diablo said something similar, you know…” Placing both hands on his desk, you give him a stern look. “If I give you something you hate, let me know right away. Okay?”

He blinks twice. “I doubt you’d ever give me something I’d hate.” He pauses when he sees the slight turn of your lips. “...but I will let you know if that happens.”

“Great!” Turning on your heel, you leave his office. You miss the smile on his lips as he watches you go with a fond look.

---

The trip to the Queendom of Roses is an uneventful ride. Silver and Sebek do accompany you on horseback. Neither say much so you’re left going over things in your head. You’re not sure how this will go, but can only hope you don’t start a war.

The Queendom is lush and green with picturesque homes. Everything reminds you somewhat of images from the Victorian era. When you arrive at the castle, you’re greeted by the queen’s personal advisor, Trey Clover.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your highness,” he greets with a deep bow.

Taking his offered hand, you step out of the carriage. “Thank you for having me, Mr. Clover.”

“Please call me Trey. If you’ll follow me, his majesty has prepared some tea.” Silver and Sebek follow a few paces behind as you’re led through the rose garden. Some of the roses, you notice, are white while others are red. And some of the red roses almost look to be dripping in paint.

When you arrive at the heart of the garden maze, you are greeted by the queen himself, Riddle Rosehearts. He’s dressed impeccably, though you wouldn’t expect less from someone who follows rules strictly. Though much shorter than Trey, there’s something about his presence that seems to tower over everyone.

He greets you with a bow. “It’s nice to meet you in person.” He’s polite but firm.

“Thank you for having me.” As you dip into a bow, you can’t help but marvel at his composure. For someone who’s around your age, he carries himself as if he’s much older and wiser.

“Trey, please place her highness across from me,” he orders. Silver and Sebek melt somewhere into the background without a word.

As you take the offered seat, you give him a tentative smile. “You can call me by my name. I’d like to think we’ll be good friends soon.”

He seems to sputter a bit before finding himself. “If you insist. Please just call me Riddle, then.”

As tea is served, you engage in small talk. Though you’re eager to get on to the topic of the proposal, etiquette dictates you share pleasantries. It would be considered rude since the tea and treats were specially prepared. The strawberry tarts are delicious so you don’t really mind.

After enjoying the tea, Riddle wastes no time getting onto the business. “Your proposal is indeed interesting to us, however, I want to ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

He leans forward, hands propped under his chin. “What would you do if we said no?”

There’s a pause. You hadn’t actually considered they would reject your proposal. After a moment, you carefully choose your words. “I would respect your decision. Ultimately, you do not need to accept the proposal. We are not the type of country to force our will on to another. Though, I do think it would be foolish not to take the deal.”

He gestures for you to explain. “Though the Queendom is rich in crops, you do lack magical resources. As you’re aware, Briar Valley is old and has many deposits of magic, which have been refined into its purest form. I’m sure trading between us would help increase the Queendom’s magical might.”

Riddle leans back as he mulls over your words. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, wondering what is going through his head. After a few moments, he smiles. “Let us draft up an official agreement, then.”

“You accept?” you ask, a bit surprised considering how serious he had been looking. He almost looked like he was about to reject the offer.

“Yes. I’ve always thought it would be good to become allies with our neighboring countries,” he explains. “I realize we haven’t really interacted in the past, but I hope this will be the start to a good relationship between our kingdoms.”

Relief washes over you. “I agree. I think this will be beneficial to both of us in the long run.” There’s a loud commotion that causes you both to turn and look around. “Is…is everything okay?”

Riddle frowns. “There shouldn’t be any problems… Trey?” The green haired man from before does not appear, which causes Riddle’s frown to deepen.

Then, there’s a loud shout. “Get back here!”

A gray blur bursts through the bushes and makes a beeline toward you and Riddle. A redhead and a brunette follow suit, both looking disheveled. “You can’t be here, Grim!” the brunette shouts.

The gray blur stops short and you realize it’s a cat. A strange cat that can stand on two feet with blue flames coming from its ears. You can’t help but stare as you realize who this cat is. And just as you thought, another person comes through the maze, out of breath. Yūki, the protagonist of ‘Melting the Dragon King’s heart’ and the one who saves Malleus, stands before you.

“Grim! Trey said he’d feed you some tarts later!” Yūki shouts.

“Mrrrawh! I want a tart now!” Grim howls.

Riddle stands up, his chair falling to the ground. His face is bright red. “What do you think you’re doing! We have an important guest and you make a spectacle!”

“Uhh… uh oh!” The cat slinks back at the sudden anger rolling off in waves from Riddle.

The redhead manages to grab Grim by the scruff of his neck. “Gotcha!”

Trey steps in along with Silver and Sebek. “I apologize, Riddle. We weren’t able to catch him.”

You, however, can’t take your eyes off the protagonist. In the books Yūki is a magicless human in a world filled with magic. However, that never stops them from traveling to different places and having adventures with their friend, Grim. It’s during one of their trips that they happen to meet Malleus, and everything else falls into place.

You never thought much about where Yūki’s last adventure was before coming to Briar Valley since the story glossed over everything. But to see them before the start of the novel is strange, yet you’re curious.

Feeling your gaze, Yūki turns to you. Their eyes are bright and filled with wonder. “Hello, your highness.” They bow. “I apologize for interrupting your meeting.” They ignore the others who are still squabbling. Riddle doesn’t look ready to calm down any time soon either.

“It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Yūki! And that,” they point to the cat who’s munching on leftovers, “is Grim. We’re adventures.”

Though you’ve only spoken a few words, you can feel their warmth and sincerity. No wonder they’re able to break the magic on Malleus so easily. They’re like an early spring day coming to thaw the remaining coldness from winter. Ironic, you think.

“An adventure? Where else have you traveled?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, we just came back from visiting the Island of Woe. But we’ve also seen the Shaftlands, Scalding Sands, Coral Sea, and the Sunset Savanna.” They tick off each location on their fingers.

From your memories, you’ve never been anywhere besides your home and then to Briar Valley. The Queendom of Roses is the first place you’ve ever visited. “That’s a lot of places! You must have a lot of fun.”

Yūki chuckles, rubbing the back of their neck. “Yeah… we always manage to get into some kind of trouble, so it’s not that great. I’ve heard Briar Valley is a nice, quaint place…”

“Yes, it’s quiet but the people there are wonderful. You should come visit someday.” The offer is genuine. 

They smile, making their face light up. “We definitely will. I think right now Grim and I are going to rest a bit more here.”

“Is the food good there?” Grim suddenly butts in. There are crumbs all over his mouth, which Yūki begins wiping off with a napkin.

You nod thoughtfully. “I would say so. If you come to visit the castle, I’ll make sure to have our chefs whip up a wonderful meal.” You haven’t had much complaint about the food. Though there are some comfort meals you miss from home.

“Sweet! Let’s go there next, Yūki!” The cat’s eyes light up at the prospect.

They groan while crossing their arms. “I still need time to rest from our last adventure. Anyways, Riddle said we could stay as long as we wanted, which means you’ll have access to unlimited tarts.”

Grim huffs but doesn’t seem too bothered. “I guess you’re right…”

Riddle, having calmed down, sits back in his seat. “I do apologize for the abrupt intrusion from my knights.”

The two who had been trying to catch grim, kneel. “We apologize for intruding, your majesty,” they both say in unison

Trey shakes his head. “Honestly… this is Ace and Deuce. They’re newly appointed knights, so they’re still rough around the edges.”

“I don’t mind. You’re knights are a lively bunch.” The two have the decency to look embarrassed.

“A bit too lively,” Riddle mutters. Letting out a sigh, he gestures to Yūki and Grim. “These two are esteemed guests.”

“That’s right! Me and my henchhuman are super important!” Grim boasts, crossing his short arms while puffing out his chest.

Yūki glances at you with an apology in their eyes. “Don’t go getting a big head, Grim,” they warn jokingly. 

“Too late! His head is already huge,” Ace teases.

“My head’s normal sized!”

You hear Riddle sigh once more as he rubs his temples. It seems any talk about the proposal is over, but you don’t mind. With how lively everyone else is, things are bound to never be boring.

Your gaze once more turns to Yūki. They’re different from what you expect. Seeing them laugh without a care in the world reminds you about something in the book. In the story, Yūki does lament the fact that they won’t be able to travel anymore once they marry Malleus. They put their adventures on hold. You don’t remember the story ever saying that Yūki laughed in such a carefree way.

Meeting your intense stare, they regard you curiously. “Is there something wrong, your highness?”

You wave them off. “No. It just seems like you’re really close with everyone here…”

They nod eagerly. “The thing about adventuring is that you meet people from different backgrounds and walks of life. I enjoy adventuring for that very reason. I guess I can’t imagine staying in one place for too long when there’s places I still haven’t seen.”

“So, would you want to adventure your whole life?”

“Yes, that’s the goal!” Their grin is infectious. 

As Deuce and Ace draw their attention away, you find yourself thinking. Seeing an enthusiastic Yūki and Grim compared to the more subdued versions in the story is so jarring. It’s almost like once the events of the story happen, all of Yūki’s personal dreams and goals get pushed to the back. 

By now you’ve accepted your life as the queen. And perhaps with you here, the story has changed. Perhaps you don’t have to follow the story in order to live. A very selfish part of you doesn’t want to leave Briar Valley like you had originally planned. And maybe that’s okay.

As you watch the two adventures talk animatedly, you make a decision. You’ll figure out how to stop your parents your own way.

---

Returning to Briar Valley after a few days away, something has changed. It seems like Malleus has started following you around more. The moment you stepped out of the carriage, Malleus was there to greet you, which you thought was sweet. However, he’s started coming into your office for nothing in particular. He’ll sit in one of your chairs pretending to read whatever papers or book he’s brought with him. You can often feel him hovering, gaze following your every move. It’s like he’s watching and waiting for something to happen. 

It’s much like how your parents were always watching you, and if they couldn’t monitor you, they had one of the maids do it. Like a bug under the microscope, you never had peace to yourself until you slept. By then, you were too tired to do anything more than just sleep.

It’s starting to get on your nerves. When you ask him what he wants, he simply says he doesn’t want anything. But you can tell he wants something! But he won’t tell you!

SNAP!

You blink as you stare down at the now broken pen in your hands. Black ink oozes out and drips onto the paper you were working on. Malleus immediately perks up from his spot across from your desk.

“Is everything alright?”

Letting out a long breath through your nose, you summon some magic to clean up the mess on your hand. The broken pen is tossed in the trash. “I’m fine,” you mutter, not looking up.

There’s a pause though you can feel him staring once more. Finding your spare pen, you crumble up the ruined papers. “It seems you’re upset,” he muses. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No,” you reply curtly.

Perhaps your tone is a bit too icy because when you look up, you can see the hurt in his gaze. Sighing, you lean forward and cover your face. “I… I didn’t mean to be snappy with you, Malleus. …Why are you hovering so much?”

There’s silence before he answers, “I missed you. Lilia said that if I missed you, I should spend more time with you.”

Looking up once more, you’re not sure what to say. You let out a dry chuckle. “I see… If you want to spend time together, just let me know. I don’t mind spending time together, I just don’t like you hovering.”

“I didn’t realize. I’m sorry,” he apologizes sincerely.

“I’m sorry too for not communicating with you better about this.” You sit back, body suddenly feeling tired. “I’ve spent a lot of my life being watched, and it wasn’t pleasant. I want to spend more time with you, but not like this.”

You glance at him tiredly. There’s a harshness in his gaze but it vanishes too quickly for you to fully understand. “I apologize for making you uncomfortable. It was never my intention.” He lowers his head, his lips are pressed in a firm line.

“I know.” He would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.

“Do you want to take a walk in the gardens?” he asks suddenly.

A break would do you some good. Following Malleus to the gardens, you stroll through the roses. Though the Queendom had lovely roses, there’s something about these roses that you like more.

He leads you to the center of the garden where you sit. You lean against his side, eyes closed, enjoying the fresh air. Malleus traces patterns on the palm of your hand. You sit like that for a while before Malleus breaks the silence.

“While you were away, I walked into your office wanting to see you. It made me realize how little time we spend together outside of our work. I’d like to spend more time with you doing things like this,” he admits.

You hum in agreement. “I’m always open to spending time together.”

Malleus weaves your fingers together with his. “Even if we don’t do anything?”

“Yes. Sitting here and enjoying each others’ company is enough.” Opening your eyes, you smile back at him. “I prefer this over you hovering.”

He nods. “I will keep that in mind. Perhaps next time I should be more clear with Lilia on my question…”

“Or you could ask me. Why not go to the source?” you suggest. It’ll save you from any miscommunication.

“Alright. I’ll come to you if I have any questions or concerns.” He chuckles as he squeezes your hand.

There’s a pause before you ask a question that’s been plaguing your mind for a while. “Why did you marry me? I don’t come from a country that can offer much, so it’s not like Briar Valley gained anything.”

Pulling away slightly, his brows crease. “Did your parents not tell you of the deal?”

“No. They just told me it was an honor to be marrying you.” They had told you nothing beyond that you were to marry a complete stranger. The glee in their gazes as they concocted their scheme to take over Briar Valley remains fresh in your mind.

He mutters something under his breath before shaking his head. “One of your ancestors from long ago sought out my grandmother for a blessing. Apparently their land was on the verge of collapse and my grandmother offered to bless the land once more. In exchange, they or their descendants would have to marry off their first born to her grandson. I wasn’t born then, but it seems grandmother already knew I would be eventually.”

You slowly process the information. “So essentially, it was just timing that it happened to be me?”

“My grandmother never really explained but when the time came, she told me I’d be marrying you.” He runs his thumb over your knuckles. “But I am glad it was you that I married.”

Your face warms as he gazes at you sincerely. “I’m glad too,” you manage to sputter out. Sometimes Malleus can say the sappiest things with a straight face. Yet, you know he’s always true to his feelings. It never fails to make your heart flutter.

Your gaze drops to his lips and stays there for a bit longer than you mean. You haven’t kissed him, and now you’re wondering how it would feel. You wonder if he would be a gentle kisser or would he bite at your lips with his sharp fangs. You wouldn’t mind either way…

Feeling your face warm at the sudden thoughts, you realize that Malleus has shifted a bit closer. Peering back at him, he watches you with half-lidded eyes. His usual bright eyes are dark with swirling emotions.

“Malleus…?” Your voice is barely a whisper.

He reaches up to stroke the right side of your face. He traces the curve of your jaw before gently grasping your chin. There’s a fire burning in his gaze as he leans closer. You stay completely still, barely daring to breathe.

His lips are inches away from you before he asks, “Can I?” His gaze flickers to meet yours.

You nod wordlessly and he-

“KING MALLEUS!” The voice that echoes through the garden causes you to jerk back in surprise. You almost stumble off the bench if not for Malleus’s quick reflexes as he steady’s you with a hand to the small of your back.

“Sebek, I don’t think you need to yell so loudly,” another voice admonishes with little heat.

Nervously clearing your throat, you quickly stand up. “Looks like your knights are looking for you.”

Warily turning in the direction of where the voices are coming from, his eyes narrow. “It would seem so.” He hands clench and unclench a few times before he stands. “I should go see what they want…”

“Right… See you later!” You make haste to leave before he can say anything else. You rush past Silver and Sebek on your way out of the garden.

“Your highness?” Silver calls to you, but you’re too busy running away to stop.

Face still warm, you can’t get the image out of your head. The way Malleus looked at you was like he wished to devour you whole. And you wouldn’t have minded.

---

The birthday party is as lavish as you could have imagined. A full orchestra plays music while guests mingle, eat food and dance. As guests arrive, they each approach Malleus to wish him a happy birthday. Presents are left in a different room as they’ll be opened later. Standing beside Malleus, you can feel your mouth aching as you politely smile at everyone that comes over. 

Speaking of the birthday boy, he’s dressed impeccably in black silk accented by silver thread embroidery. His black mask is much like your own except the gems match the color of your eyes. His hair is slicked back though there are still a few stubborn strands that refuse to stay put. You can understand why he’s the love interest with how beautiful he is. Your heart did a weird flip when you saw him before the party.

“Are you alright?” Malleus asks once another guest leaves.

Meeting his gaze, you give a tired nod. “I didn’t realize how strenuous just greeting people can be.” From what you could remember, no one ever approached. You spent most parties trying to melt into the wall. 

His lips turn slightly down in a frown. “You may rest if you wish. I can handle the guests.”

Shaking your head, you chuckle. “I’ll be fine. It seems like there aren’t too many more people coming.”

“If you’re sure…” He trails off as another guest arrives. This time, you recognize the guest as none other than the ruler of the Queendom of Roses, Riddle Rosehearts.

“Happy birthday and thank you for inviting me,” Riddle says, inclining his head in greeting. You admire the vibrant red mask he has. The design incorporates a subtle rose pattern.

Malleus greets him just as politely. “Thank you for coming, Rosehearts. We are both glad you’re able to come.”

With how many times he’s said the same thing, you can repeat everything word for word. “Is Yūki and Grim here?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “They went to the Coral Sea for something. They should be back in a week or so.”

“Oh…” You did want to speak with Yūki a bit more. You wanted to hear more about their adventures.

Riddle pauses as if wanting to say more. He shakes his head. “This is a celebration, so I will not bring up business. But perhaps we can meet again sometime. I’ll be in Briar Valley for a few more days.”

Nodding, you gesture for Diablo, who stands a bit away. His sharp eyes never miss anything. “Diablo, please discuss with his majesty when we can meet.”

“Of course, your grace.” To Riddle, he bows. “Please let me know when you would like to discuss scheduling, your highness.”

The redhead nods. “I’ll have one of my men reach out.” He turns to you with a smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”

As Riddle leaves, Malleus shifts closer to you. “It seems that the agreement with the Queendom is going smoothly.”

“Yes. Riddle Rosehearts is fair but has a firm hand.” He has his eccentricities, but from your conversations, he’s a good ruler. From the rumors you heard while in the Queendom, he’s loosened up a bit from when he first ascended the throne.

“You should come next time we’re invited to the Queendom of Roses,” you continue. “It’s a lovely place and so vibrant.”

“Do you prefer the Queendom to Briar Valley?” Malleus asks. The way he’s looking at you, you can almost hear sad puppy dog whines.

Biting your cheek to keep from laughing, you shake your head. “Of course not. The Queendom is different from Briar Valley. But Briar Valley will always be home because the people I care about are here.” And that’s the truth. You’ve come to like the people in Briar Valley. And though you won’t admit it aloud, you’ve come to like Malleus a lot more.

Before he can say anything else, a voice that sends chills down your spine breaks in. “Happy birthday, our dear son-in-law.” 

Malleus turns to greet your parents as you try to contain your fear. Though you’ve only experienced them through old memories, your body involuntarily stiffens as you try to hide your shaking hands by clasping them behind your back.

“Duke and Duchess Wynters, thank you for coming,” you hear Malleus say. However, his voice becomes muffled as those old memories try to resurface. To outsiders, they look like a sweet older couple.

However, you know the truth. Their eyes are too cold. Their smiles filled with malice. Their hands are covered in your blood and the blood of others. Their hearts are darker than any ink and colder than ice. You force the memories that are trying to surface and adopt a neutral expression. You’re glad for once that you have a good poker face.

When you meet your father’s eyes, you almost forget to breathe. “Dear?” The sickeningly sweet way your mother calls to you fills your mouth with bile.

You managed to force a smile. “Mother, father, I’m glad you could make it.” As much as you didn’t want to, it would look suspicious if they weren’t invited.

“How could we miss our dear son-in-law’s birthday?” she chortles. “And we miss having you home. You haven’t been home at all since you got married. Your father and I are starting to think you don’t want to see us anymore.” She feigns hurt, but you know the truth.

You bow your head slightly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy with everything that I didn’t realize how much time has passed. I promise to visit soon.”

“You should come too, Malleus,” your father says. “We’d be all too happy to host you for a few days.”

Digging your nails into the palm of your hand, you gently touch Malleus’s arm. “I think I will check in with Diablo,” you murmur.

Malleus nods though there’s worry in his eyes. “Of course. I will see you later.”

“Father, mother, if you’ll excuse me.” You force yourself to walk even though every fiber of your being wants to run.

When you’re out of their line of sight, you head outside to the garden. More guests mingle in the rose garden. Floating lights illuminate the garden making everything seem almost dream-like. Feeling the cool night air on your skin, you let out a big breath. The anxiety is still there, but at least you no longer feel like throwing up.

You didn’t think you’d have such a reaction to meeting the parents. You had memories, so you knew about the vile things they did to their own child. Yet, you had thought since you hadn’t seen them in awhile, things would be fine. But the moment you heard their voices, you lost all control.

Wandering away from the guests, you find a secluded area of the gardens. It’s quiet though the music from inside drifts faintly by. Taking off the mask, you breathe deeply for a bit. If you can avoid them for the rest of the party, you should be fine.

After a few more minutes alone, you decide to return. However as you turn to go back, something catches your eye. In the low light, it looks to be a rope of sorts. You reach down to pick it up but when your hand brushes against the rope, it moves.

You let out a startled gasp as a voice from the bushes grumbles, “You’re either brave or a fool for trying to touch my tail.”

The bushes rustle before a figure sits up. You stare wide eyed at the sleepy-eyed guest. His cat-like ears twitch as he regards you with annoyance. “Are ya gonna just stare at me with that stupid look on your face or apologize?” He glares at you as he pulls himself up and out of the bushes. His mask is nowhere to be seen.

Finding your words, you raise an eyebrow. “Well if you didn’t just leave your tail hanging around, I wouldn’t have mistaken it for something else. Maybe don’t go napping in other people’s bushes,” you bite back.

His eyebrow twitches but you can see the way his emerald green eyes light up. “Heh… you’re a brave one to be speakin’ to me like this.”

Standing up straight, you regard him coolly. “You speak so freely for being one of my husband’s guests, Prince Leona.” 

You remember him now as he came with King Falena of the Sunset Savanna. He barely gave Malleus a glance before stalking off, though his nephew immediately ran after him. You’re pretty sure he didn’t even notice you as he seemed to want to get away as quickly as possible. You had read about Beastmen in the books, but this is your first time meeting them.

Leona was decked out in brightly patterned material that showed off both his lean physique and the wealth of the nation. The deep reds and turquoise complemented the gold mask that hung at his hip.

He scratches his ear nonchalantly. “So, you’re the one married to the lizard. Huh… you’re not what I expected.”

“And what did you expect?” You tilt your head to the side. He has a few leaves still stuck in his hair. Your hand twitches but you resist the urge to remove them.

He smirks. “A weak little herbivore. But it seems you actually have a spine.”

You feel your own eye twitch and his smirk grows wider. “So, what were you doing in the bushes?” you ask, changing the subject before you decide to do something un-royalty like.

Yawning, Leona stretches. “I was trying to take a nap.” He notices you’re staring at him intensely. “What are you looking at?”

Pointing to your head, you gesture around. “You have some leaves stuck in your hair.” He lazily swipes at his head but it does absolutely nothing. “No, you missed! No, no, a little more to the left.”

Grunting, he gives up. “Why do you take them off for me, huh?” He leans closer with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Honestly…” You know you shouldn’t since you’re a queen and all, but the leaves are bothering you. Reaching up, you gently pick the leaves out of his hair. His hair is surprisingly soft to the touch. “Done!”

Looking up, his face is much too close. “Thanks, herbivore.” Your cheeks suddenly feel warm as his gaze doesn’t leave your face. His eyes are hooded as he watched you like you’re some kind of prey.

“…”

“There you are.” Whatever spell Leona had you under breaks as Malleus steps forward. You move away to a more respectable distance from the second prince.

The look on Leona’s face could kill a man. He scowls as Malleus places his hands on your shoulder. “Kingscholar, it’s nice to see you again.”

Leona mutters, “Whatever. I’m heading back inside.” He walks off without another word. Seems he can’t stand being in Malleus’s presence for even a second.

“He left in a hurry,”  Malleus muses.

Taking Malleus’s hand, you ask, “Did you need something?”

“I was just wondering where you wandered off to.” He glances at the direction Leona left. “You seemed to be very close to Kingscholar…”

“I found him napping in the bushes. He had some leaves in his hair, so I was just helping him get them out.” You chuckle when you notice the slight pout on his lips.

“Hmm… I see.” Sometimes he can be quite childish.

Deciding to distract him, you lead him to a back entrance to the palace. “I know it’s early, but I do have a birthday gift I wanted to give you.”

That perks him up. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Of course I have to. And since you weren’t much help in figuring out what to get you, I had to do a lot of thinking.” You lead him to the kitchen, which is empty. “Stay there.” Finding what you’re looking for, you bring over a plate that holds a miniature cake.

He stares at the cake. “...”

Slicing the cake in half, you hand him a fork. “Just try it.”

Malleus hesitantly takes a piece. You watch as his confused expression melts into shock. “Ice cream?!”

Grinning, you nod vigorously. “Yup! It’s an ice cream cake. The pastry chef helped me make it since I’ve never done it before. It took a few tries but we got it eventually. I used some ice magic to keep it from melting.”

He chuckles as he sets his fork down. “You know I don’t like whole cakes, but you played quite a trick on me.”

Taking a bite of your own slice, you’re surprised how tasty it actually is.  “I thought a small one wouldn’t be so bad, and one filled with ice cream sounds even better. You don’t have to eat cake alone, Malleus.” You set the plate down on the table. “You have Lilia and your retainers. You have Diablo and the rest of the staff, who would love to share with you. And you have me.”

Reaching for his hand, you give it a gentle squeeze. He leans forward pressing his forehead against yours. “Thank you for the present. And thank you for being here with me.”

You recall your almost kiss in the gardens two weeks ago. Not quite brave enough, you gently grasp either side of his face. Moving back, you meet his tender gaze. You press a kiss to his forehead; his breath hitches. The scale markings on his forehead are cool to the touch. Pulling away, you watch as the apples of his cheeks slowly turn red. It spreads to his ears as he stands there frozen.

He doesn’t speak and you wonder if you broke him. “Malleus?”

Blinking a few times, the red has faded away. It’s honestly cute how the tips of his ears are still red. “Can I…can I kiss you?” he asks.

Heart thumping in your chest, you nod. No interruption this time.

You move your arms to drape around his shoulders as he grasps the side of your face. Leaning closer, you admire his long lashes. Closing your eyes, you feel his lips brush against your like a whisper. Then a little more firmly. His lips glide against yours in a sweet and hesitant kiss. He smells like magic, old parchment, and ink. He spends so much time working, you’re not surprised the smell has seeped into his very being.

He pulls away all too soon. He stares at you with the same look as in the gardens. He wants to swallow you whole. His hands have drifted to your waist as he hesitates to make another move. 

You’re not quite done with him. “Come here,” you mumble before dragging him back for a better kiss.

You lead him in the kiss. It’s not hesitant as your mouth moves against his. You nibble at his lower lip before giving him a nice, sharp bite. He grunts before you soothe the sting with your tongue. His body shudders. You slip your tongue into his mouth causing his grip on your waist to tighten. Your fingers play the hair at the nape of his neck, twirling the strands around your finger and gently tugging. Your heart feels like it's going to beat out of your chest as your lungs beg for air.

Finally, you pull away with a gasp. Your face feels hot. He breathes heavily as he holds you flush against his body. Meeting his gaze, his pupils are blown wide. He licks his lips as he regards you. A pleasant shiver runs down your spine when you see his sharp canines glint in the light. You wonder again what it would feel like if he were to bite you.

He leans close again. “Can I have another?” he asks in a hoarse whisper. You’re all too eager to agree.

---

The party goes on long into the early mornings. After your alone time with Malleus, you both returned hand-in-hand. Thankfully it seems the guests are all too tipsy to even notice the birthday boy had disappeared. Only Sebek, Silver and Lilia notice. The green haired half-fae frets over where his master went. Lilia has a devilish smile on his lips while he gives you both a knowing look.

Malleus bids the guests goodnight, though the party continues. You’re about to follow when your parents stop you. Your grip on Malleus’s hand tightens for a second, but you quickly try to relax. 

You smile as sweetly as possible. “Is there something you need?”

Duke Wynter picks off invisible lint on his jacket. “Your mother and I have something to discuss with you, dear.”

Glancing over at Malleus, you want to tell them to fuck off. However, you know you can’t. “Diablo, can you bring my parents to my study?”

“Of course, your majesty.” 

As he leads them away, you turn to Malleus. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.” He leans forward and kisses your forehead. Your face grows warm at the gesture. His eyes sparkle as he smiles, amused. “Goodnight.’’

Letting out a deep sigh, you head to your study. Diablo is there waiting at the door. “You may leave, Diablo.”

“Your grace…?”

“You don’t have to stay. I’m just having a chat with my parents.” You offer a too bright smile.

The old butler hesitates before giving a bow. “As you wish. Goodnight, your highness.”

Stepping into the study, you close the doors. Your parents are busy looking around. Walking over, you square your shoulders. “What did you want to talk about?”

Your body tenses before your brain can process the pain. 

SMACK!

Your mask flies off and clatters to the ground. The force of the backhanded slap causes your ears to ring. The left side of your cheek throbs painfully and a metallic taste fills your mouth. You stare at the ground blankly.

“You idiot!” your father hisses. “What did you tell the king!?”

You count backwards in your head from five before answering, still keeping your eyes on the ground, “I don’t know what you mean, father.”

He scoffs. “The war with the Queendom of Roses! We were supposed to have a war with them!”

You had almost forgotten about that. “I thought that making a deal for resources would be more beneficial. The land would have been otherwise destroyed beyond repair if a war broke out. It would be useless to you, father.”

The man paces back and forth. “We could’ve expanded our territory…”

Your mother’s shoes come into view. She grabs your face, tilting your head up so she can stare into your eyes. She squeezes your cheeks together and digs her nails into your skin. Your cheek hurts even more. “Oh, our silly, dumb child,” she tuts, clicking her tongue. “You don’t need to think. Just do what we have instructed and leave the rest to us.”

Her cold, sharp eyes gaze at you with disgust. She releases her hold. “Come, dear, no need to be agitated. We can always start a war after everything is complete.”

Your father stops pacing and sighs. “You're right.” He glares at you. “Stick to the plan,” he orders. You recoil when his hand raises, but by some miracle he decides not to hit you again.

The two brush past you. “Make you sure you heal that unsightly face,” your mother calls. “We don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression, do we?”

The door to the study opens and then closes with a thud. Staring at the wall, you fall to your knees. Hand resting lightly on your cheek, you run on autopilot as you heal it. There are many memories of something similar to this happening. And each time you’re left to tend to yourself.

You can’t tell Malleus. Not yet. If you reveal your parents’ plans, they’ll make sure to bring you down with them. You’re not sure how Malleus would react if he finds out you were trying to control him. Anyone in their right mind would be upset if they found out the truth. He might be understanding, but you’re pretty sure Lilia and the others wouldn’t be.

And there’s still the issue of the weapon. In the story, your parents find a dagger that can kill anyone, including a being as strong as Malleus. Yūki is able to get their hands on the dagger before it can be used. Yet, the story never explains where or how your parents got this magical dagger. It also glossed over how Yūki was able to get it. You need to find out.

So even as your body shakes, you’re determined to take them down.

Tag list: @candlewitch-cryptic, @whatstheoccasion, @nimko, @yo4sblog, @mc-cos-charm, @mochiclouds, @41sh4

[praisethesuuun]

Hello:3

If your request are open, can you write record of ragnarok poseidon x reader?? Well, the topic is up to you^^

I hope you have a nice day!^^

awww thank you so much, ofc I can write for this grumpy fish, hope you like it❤️

Poseidon x fem!reader: Savior

Type: fluff

Warnings: blood

Poseidon thought you were the weirdest goddess in Valhalla, he didn't even know how you were friend with his brother Hades. Sometimes he watched you walking between humans, assisting them every day without caring about the other gods' judgment. Truth is, you were a goddess of medicine, you lived to help humans and you couldn't understand why you should use your powers for everyone except mankind.

"How can a deity assist heartless creatures as humans?" asked the King of the Sea to his older brother. Hades was quieter than usual: he knew you and your motivations, but talking about you behind your back didn't seem right. "You help fishes" was the only thing that came to his mind to help the other reflect. Poseidon looked at Hades, pure rage in his eyes.

Fishes were perfect; they couldn't talk, sin or feel emotions. Their beauty was in their mere existence. "Why don't you just ask them?"

But Hades didn't have an answer back as Poseidon stood up to exit the Underworld. The older brother sighed loudly while the other walked away angrily. He sighed loudly before calling one of his servants, asking them to call for Hermes as fast as possible: he had a message to deliver and it was urgent. Poseidon was going to give you a visit, you had to be prepared.

In the meantime, you were bandaging one of your patients because of a very bad injury. A tap woke you from your thoughts, you turned towards one of the windows seeing a strange shadow outside. "What the..." you said confused. The clinic was about to close and you needed to clean all your tools. Fear began to set in with each step closer to the door, a shiver running down your spine. "I'm sorry, how can I...Hermes?" you said widening your eyes. Why was Hermes there? Everytime he came around was to announce an important meeting or to inform you of some sick god. In short, he was bad news.

"Lord Hades sent me here to hand you this" he answered solemnly with his usual smile. Only now you realize that he was holding a letter in his hand: the paper was pitch black, while the wax seal was of a beautiful purple. It was obvious that it was from Hades.

"Thank you, Hermes. You can go now"

"As you please, Lady Y/N" said before leaving with a cloud of dust behind him. You coughed violently, cursing. "Hades, what happened now?"

You said returning into your clinic, letter in hand and dirty because of Hermes. Deciding to retire for the night, you said goodnight to the patiens and turned off the lights. If Hades had sent Hermes it meant that something big was about to happen, the real question was, what was it? It could've been anything and this didn't help your anxiety. Sitting on the bed, you released a deep breath before discarding the "mysterious thing". The handwriting of the King of Helleim was hasty, as if he was in a hurry to finish it and you didn't miss the little dots of ink that decorated the sheet.

"YOU'RE KIDDING ME" you shouted in the middle of the night after reading it. You wanted to cry so bad that you started to tremble like a leaf. Apparently, Poseidon would've visited you in the next few days and his older brother had well thought of leaving you a list of behaviors to follow. The King of Sea was well known to not giving a shit about the life of anyone except his family: one misstep with him and you'd be considered shark food.

"This can't be true" you sobbed hiding your face with your hands. You were terrified of that god, but maybe being friend with Hades might change the outcome of your meeting. "Who am I kidding, he wouldn't care anyway"

In the end, you decided to sleep on it, trying not to make it so much of a drama.

You didn't close eye that night and everyone in the clinic could see it. Patients worried about their golden-handed doctor, but no one seemed to be able to calm you down. Eventually, the time to confront Poseidon came: the god was found on the beach next to the clinic, standing in the strong sunset light, which seemed to brighten his blue eyes even more. You started to sweat, at least you shouldn't be worried about locking eye contact, something that you were grateful for.

"It's a pleasure to see you here, Lord Poseidon" you said in the friendliest way possible, trying to not show any trace of fear; your heart was beating so loud that you thought he could hear it and the tension in the air was as thick as ever.

"Why are you here with these humans?"

You jolted at the sound of his deep voice. Since he was still turning his back to you, you couldn't tell if he had actually spoke or if you had just imagined it. You hummed, pretending to think about a plausible answer, then you talked: "I am a goddess of medicine, it's my job to assist as much people as I can"

Seconds passed. "Humas are heartless, horrible creatures" he said, a bit of confusion in his voice instead of the rage that you were expecting. "A god cannot be considered as such if he has no believers who pray them. If they ask me to help them, then I will, it's part of my responsability as a deity, Lord Poseidon"

For a moment you worried about all the things you just said. Maybe you shouldn't have been so confident, damned Hades and all the messes he puts you through. "You'll change your mind" he said before walking in the sea, disappearing step by step.

When even the last hair disappeared under the dark surface of the water, your legs gave out and you couldn't help but bring a hand to your chest. "What the hell was that?" you asked yourself. You only returned to your room after spending an hour lying on the beach just digesting what happened that evening, and you only did that because you were starting to feel cold.

The day passed, but you kept worrying about Poseidon. Hades hadn't been heard, either with a letter or by sending Hermes and it wasn't helping you, at all. Your negative mood began to affect your healing powers, causing you to no longer be able to heal as before and the people of the village you were helping decided to put an end to your deal. "What do you mean?" you said when the village chief showed up at your door with about fifty people behind him, some even armed. You couldn't believe your eyes: despite everything you'd done for them, they'd even found the courage to stand against a deity; your heart became empty seeing the evil that hovered among humanity.

"He was right" you thought holding yourself against the door jamb, too weak to even react. But just as the traitors were about to attack you, a figure thrusted themself between you and them, and within moments, all was silent. You opened your eyes only to find blood in front you, a lonely figure in the middle of the corpses. "I told you, you fool" talked Poseidon turning around slowly and cleaning his trident with a single swing of his arm, the remaining blood trickling from the blades to join the rest of the puddles. "What are you...doing here?" you said without believing your eyes. "I was coming to resume our discussion"

And it was the truth: the King of Sea had thought a lot about it, trying to find an answer sensible enough to calm his mind, then he decide to come find you when he wasn't able to do that. Honestly, he certainly wasn't expecting to be faced with a similar situation and without even thinking he was ready to kill. For Poseidon, humanity had to be reminded of their place every now and then; Hades would take care of them, in the end you two were friends and his brother could be cruel when he wanted

"Thank you, Lord Poseidon"

He turned around to look at you and he was surprised to see you smiling despite of the situation. He approached you and your heart jumped as your feet left the ground. "Wait!" but Poseidon wasn't listening to you as he took you princess style into his arms. "This isn't safe anymore, so you'll be staying with me for the time being"

You blushed feeling his hot skin in stark contrast to the icy sea water. And for the thousandth time that day you wondered how you got into that situation, but all your concern vanished as you looked up at your savior only to meet his icy eyes, already turned on you. Maybe, being his guest wouldn't be so bad.

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part IV

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this head canon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :) And a huge thank you to everyone reading!

Tag List: @anishake

Part V >>

The Autumn Court was on the constant verge of death, Elain knew, but it was still the loveliest place she had ever seen. Eris had winnowed them first to the border, where the trees created a canopy so thick, she couldn’t even see the sky. The richest reds, the darkest oranges, and the deepest greens had surrounded Elain. Cora had looked as equally impressed by the change of scenery, and Elain had wondered if the woman had ever left the stifling Hewn City. 

Autumn was everything Elain had imagined the lands of faerie to be like. The chill was biting, she had noticed, cold like the first kiss of winter. She had been stunned into silence, had forgotten she was upset that Eris had not even let her say a proper goodbye to her family. 

Before Elain had had a moment to catch her breath, before she could truly appreciate the wild flowers and the unfamiliar trees, Eris had not bothered to warn her or Cora as he took them directly to the Forest House. 

Eris had let go of her hand so suddenly that Elain had stumbled, and had grabbed onto the woman who would act as her lady’s maid. Cora had gently supported her, shooting an angry glare at the Autumn heir’s turned back. 

Eris had led them through winding halls, windows dark at the late hour, torches their only light. Elain had realised that she much preferred the flickering flames of Autumn to the faelights ever-present in the Night Court.  

Eris had given them a moment to look at the guest suite, all wood and stone and comfortable carpets, before he had told Elain they would be going straight to Beron.

Elain understood that Lucien was in a great deal of danger, but the quick pace at which everything was happening was enough to make her light-headed, unsteady. 

“The High Lord is expecting you,” Eris offered her his arm, but when Elain hesitated, he added, “and it’s best not to keep him waiting.” 

Elain did not reach for Eris, instead she asked, “Because I’m Lucien’s mate?” She very nearly spat the last word at Eris in distaste. Saying Lucien’s name out loud was like a vicious blow, especially since she so often refused to allow herself the liberty. On the other side of the wall it was improper, Lucien wasn’t Elain’s husband, and the familiarity with which his name fell from her lips was enough to rattle her. 

Eris shook his head, the firelight from the torches reflecting off his golden jewellery. “Because he received your letter.” His answering smile was ruthless, that of a wolf. The expression didn’t reach his amber eyes. 

Elain only frowned in confusion, she glanced at Cora. “I never–” 

Elain did not get the chance to finish her statement, not as Eris waved his hand elegantly and a letter floated gently past her face. She snatched the paper from the air, her eyes scanning its contents with growing disbelief. 

The Night Court’s wax seal was still intact and the letter was simply worded, respectful. 

Lord Eris Vanserra, it is with great urgency that I write to you, so that I might request an audience with the High Lord of the Autumn Court…

Elain continued to skim what was clearly a plea for help. Cora moved closer to peek over Elain’s shoulder and she made a low sound of displeasure. 

What surprised Elain the most was not what was written in the letter, but rather the elegant, looping scrawl, exactly like her own. Even the signed name, Lady Elain Archeron, was identical. Her lips parted slightly in surprise at the perfect forgery. 

Before Elain could say anything, Eris spoke, a hidden warning in the tone of his voice. “I received your letter just in time, Lady, my father was growing tired of waiting for someone to notice Lucien’s absence.” His words were careful, so much so that Elain wondered if Eris was worried about someone listening in on their conversation. He offered her his arm once more, a flawless gentleman. 

This time, Elain was quick to loop her arm through his, nodding in understanding. Briefly Elain wondered how Eris had managed to forge the letter so well, but she pushed those thoughts aside, vowing to bring it up again at a later time. The light blue fabric of her sleeve was an ugly contrast to the deep green colour of Eris’s velvet jacket. “I am glad, then,” Elain said softly, “that I sent my letter to you when I did.” 

Elain saw as Eris’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly in relief, although he said nothing in response. The thick oak doors of the guest room opened silently, the long hallway beyond was menacing, shadows dancing as the torches flickered. 

Elain took a deep breath to calm herself, her posture perfect, just like her mother had taught her a lifetime ago. Elain wondered if the steady heartbeat she could hear was her own or Lucien’s, now that distance no longer separated them.   

Eris stepped forward, and Elain followed, Cora just a few steps behind. Elain was grateful for her strong and silent presence, but before all three of them could walk past the stone entrance of the room and into the hallway, Eris paused. 

Auburn brow raised, he glared at Cora with flames in his eyes. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“I’ve come with the Lady, shouldn’t I stay by her side?” Cora snapped, her words sharp and lacking any of the respect one would have expected her to show a prince. Elain liked her instantly. 

“It’ll only annoy my father,” Eris replied, glancing at Elain before he faced Cora once more. 

Cora looked like a queen, Elain thought, her braid as good as any gold crown. “And leave the High Lady’s sister alone with you?” The last word was a snarl.

“You’re her lady’s maid, not her personal guard,” Eris responded, not taking his eyes off Cora. She continued to glare, and Eris smiled mockingly, daring her to argue. 

Elain felt as though the tension between them could be cut with a knife, locked as they were in their silent battle of wills. 

“Besides,” Eris drawled, “what use will you be against the wrath of a High Lord?” 

A blush stained Cora’s brown cheeks, the fingers of her one hand curling into a fist. Elain wondered if she would have hit Eris, but she did not wait any longer to find out if that would have been the case. 

“Thank you, Cora,” Elain interjected. “I’ll be fine.” Her words were confident, even though Elain herself was anything but. 

Cora did not seem satisfied with the way the night seemed to be unfolding, but all she did was sigh in frustration. “Good luck, then,” she said quietly. “I’ll be here when Lucien is freed.” 

Cora’s words were enough to spark an ember of hope within Elain, but as she walked arm-in-arm with Eris to the throne room, panic was beginning to send unwelcome shivers down her spine. 

“Don’t be afraid,” Eris murmured, not looking at Elain. He continued to walk at an unhurried pace, the sound of his boots hitting the stone in a steady rhythm. The carved double-doors of the throne room towered just a few more steps ahead of them. “No harm will come to you, Elain, I swear it on my life.”  

Elain did not know why she believed Eris’s words, but she tightened her grip on his arm, grateful. The doors opened, the hinges groaning with the weight of the wood, and the throne room was revealed, so unlike the one Rhysand and Feyre had in the Hewn City. 

Beron Vanserra sat on a throne of ancient maple, leaves carved into the thick wood with a steady hand. Elain’s first thought was that he looked nothing like Lucien, but there was a ghost of Eris in the turned down corners of his full lips. 

Elain fought not to shrink into herself, to keep her head high, at his assessing gaze. He was frightening, and Elain could almost feel his power within the space. Beron was the oldest High Lord, Feyre had warned her, and Elain wondered if that made him the most dangerous. 

The Lady of Autumn was a striking figure in a gown the colour of fresh blood. Her throne was just as lovely as her husband’s, although it was smaller. Elain caught the way the lady straightened her back, how she brought herself forward to look at Eris. Her husband did not see the desperation in her eyes as she looked at her eldest son, but Elain recognized the emotion, had seen it before on countless women hoping for miracles. 

Eris stopped right before the pair of rulers, dropping his hold on Elain’s arm. Elain elegantly curtsied, her face downturned, the movements practised, and she was grateful for the lessons she had suffered as a young girl. Elain was surprised momentarily as Eris bowed slightly at the waist beside her, the respectful gesture clearly deference to his High Lord and not the comfortable greeting of a parent.   

“Lady Elain Archeron of the Night Court,” Beron’s voice was harsh like the slash of a knife. “You have requested this meeting, and while I am pleased by your arrival to my court, I can offer you very little of my time.”    

Elain raised her head, smiling pleasantly. “High Lord, Lady” she greeted as her eyes flicked between them, “thank you for welcoming me to your lovely home.” 

“You were most troubled in the letter we received,” Beron stated, raising a dark eyebrow as he silently asked her to make her case. 

“I am troubled still,” Elain responded, trying her best to twist her words together just as faeries did. It came unnaturally to her, but her time in Velaris had allowed her to become familiar with the specific patterns of the High fae. “I’ve asked only for a moment of your time to make a most significant request.”

Beron’s answering smile was cruel, embers flared in his dark eyes. “Then make your request, child.” 

It was intended to be an insult, Elain was sure, calling her a child. Elain was not bothered by it, and she looked straight at the ancient being before her, chin held high. “I have come to request that my mate, Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of Autumn, be allowed a safe return to the Night Court.”

Elain’s words rang clear in the near-empty throne room. The Lady of Autumn’s sharp breath was like the shattering of glass as they all waited for the High Lord’s response. 

“The bond has not yet been accepted, everyone knows this.” Beron waved a hand dismissively. “You have no claim to him.”

“High Lord,” Elain began, and Eris reached for her elbow, tension in the set of his mouth. “We were to be married,” she continued, ignoring his silent warning. 

“When?” Beron Vanserra questioned, casting a devastating glare in his eldest son’s direction. It was clear that the High Lord doubted Elain’s words. 

Panic gripped Elain so suddenly she could barely breathe. “In two weeks' time, on the first day of Spring.” Elain hoped she sounded certain, confident. Eris looked ready to shove her behind him, his body angled in a way that suggested he was ready for a violent confrontation. 

Beron’s lips curled into a vicious smile. “I believe you, Lady Elain, and take no offence, but I still must confirm the truth of your claims with my son.” 

No sooner had the High Lord finished his sentence and the throne room’s doors opened with a groan. Elain couldn’t help but turn around, drawn to her mate. 

You are mine. 

The thought crashed through her mind like a wave against the shore, shocking and unwanted. Elain could finally sigh in relief, though, at seeing Lucien bruised and bloody, but knowing that he was relatively unharmed. 

Lucien looked proud, arrogant, as he was shoved further into the throne room by a careless guard. He did not notice Elain at first, not until she tugged on the golden thread that tied them together. Beron watched them like a predator watched prey, hungry for a slip in their demeanour. 

Elain’s brown eyes met Lucien’s, and all the fire he had possessed a moment before quickly went out. Like the first rays of the sun going over the horizon, horror dawned daybright on the lovely features of Lucien’s face. 

Elain looked at Lucien, the smell of burning wood and dying leaves thick in the air, and she wondered if perhaps she had made a terrible mistake coming to the Autumn Court.