#and there's much to be said for tenderness between those who have so rarely been dealt it

[forestofsprites]

[bg3ficreviews]

Thunder reforged: Rolan x Dammon - #BG3 FanFic Review

Review by Aivu (@aivuthedragon)

Happy timezone, dear readers! Today I'm happy to bring you this incredible series of works by velocitross on AO3. What's hotter than a tiefling wizard with a knack for a well-timed thunderwave? Said tiefling wizard having a rendezvous with his tiefling blacksmith paramour, of course.

A note from the BG3FicReviews team: The entire BG3 community was been rocked by the recent controversy surrounding Dammon's VA, including the various fanwork creators who've fallen in love with Dammon, included him in their work, and are part of the LGBTQAI+ community themselves. We want to express our support and love to Dammon fans, Dammon fan work creators, the LGBTQAI+ community generally and all those adversely affected by what's happened. As such, we have decided to feature such works in our reviews this week. Make your love louder than the hate. 💜

As always, mind the tags! Our review is continued below the fold due to the NSFW nature of the content in these works.

This incredible artwork by @arczism was inspired by velocitross's Rolan x Dammon fic Working Steel, which is included in today's review.

Working Steel, the first of velocitross’ three works that include this rare pair, is a masterwork in character portrayal. The author adeptly captures the at-a-glance somewhat incompatible personalities of the two tiefling refugees who fled Elturel together and now reside in Baldur’s Gate. In this work, the relationship between Rolan, the ever-surly wizard and the newly ‘appointed’ master of Ramazith Tower, and Dammon, the gentle yet infernally talented blacksmith of the Forge of the Nine, has grown far beyond mere friendship.

Rolan, frustrated by his attempts to catalogue the mindless chaos remaining after the untimely death of the tower’s former owner, approaches Dammon to ask for his help and visits him at his forge. But what could a blacksmith possibly offer a wizard? Well, a good fuck, for one thing. Rolan is pent-up, impatient, and needs a good lay. And, it turns out, so does Dammon. The smut that ensues is not only blazingly hot but also beautifully captures the tender affection between the two tieflings through not only their words, but small, unique gestures of love and care. (Mind the tails. I mean, tags. No, tails.)

In Up in the Tower, it’s Dammon’s turn to visit the wizard’s domain. But the blacksmith receives a less-than-warm welcome, as the ever-grumpy Rolan becomes highly annoyed at having his work interrupted. But considering Rolan is dressed in little more than his underwear and an open robe, I’m more than willing to forgive him for his surliness. Dammon, however, being the sweet, gentle soul that he is, insists on taking care of Rolan beyond his carnal needs alone. In this work, the relationship between the pair deepens, and the author has wonderfully captured the intimacy of the pair. Lastly, we have Within the Storm. This work takes us back to the Shadow-Cursed Lands as the tiefling refugees attempt to cross its desolate lands on their way to Baldur’s Gate. When the Absolute’s forces ambush the group, Rolan expertly wields his magic to stave them off. But when something happens to Zevlor, the battle takes a turn for the worse. In the chaos, Rolan’s siblings, Cal and Lia, are kidnapped and several of his friends and co-travellers are brutally murdered.

Once at Last Light Inn, Rolan is a fucking mess, devastated by his siblings’ capture. Lost in the depths of his despair and way too much drink, the tiefling wizard finds comfort in the arms of a fellow refugee he’d known since childhood - Dammon. And thus the gentlest embers of affection between the pair begin to spark to life. This lovely one-shot serves as a prelude to the author’s much-anticipated long fic about the pair, their growing affection for one another and what looks to be a truly beautiful love story. If you would like to follow velocitross’ incredible work about the love between a tiefling wizard and blacksmith, please be sure to subscribe to the author on AO3 and follow their work and the pending long fic. We have included a snippet of Working Steel below for your enjoyment. As always, please support the writers of our incredible fandom by leaving kudos and comments on their work. 🫶

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Working Steel

By velocitross on AO3

The ring of his hammer fills Dammon’s ears and his attention as he works. A soft frown of focus curves his lips. It’s a simple enough repair—restoring a blade for the halfling woman standing outside the forge watching him work. Still, there’s a satisfaction to it: the rhythm of his strikes, the heat of the day in Baldur’s Gate warming him beneath his layers of apron and clothing. The ordinary busy noise of the city goes on just outside his focus, a subtle, stabilizing comfort even months after the Netherbrain’s defeat.

When he glances up from his work, a distinct figure catches his eye amongst the passersby. Rolan, with his proud bearing and his regal blue and red robes, coming toward the smithy with a tense, bothered scowl and his tail lashing behind him. A smile touches Dammon’s lips. He knows that look.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” he says as Rolan comes to a stop an awkward few feet from the halfling waiting on her sword.

“Well, don’t take too long,” Rolan snaps, and then reddens further when Dammon raises an eyebrow at him. “Sorry. I’ll just—I’ll wait.”

Dammon lifts the blade off his anvil to study it. He smiles at the halfling as he passes her the sword.

“Give that a try. Come back if you need anything else.”

She moves off to the side to examine the blade, allowing Rolan to step up to the forge. He stands, arms crossed, his face flushed as he fixes Dammon with his bright yellow stare.

“Anything I can help you with, Rolan?” the blacksmith prompts.

Rolan sighs. He places his hands carefully on the edge of the anvil, glances again toward the halfling woman, and leans in toward Dammon.

“I need . . . Steel.”

Dammon breathes a good-natured chuckle.

“Come on,” he says, nodding over his shoulder toward the building. “I could use a break, anyway.”

[doumadono]

Who's laughing now? - Aizetsu x Reader

Warnings: dom!reader, sub!Aizetsu, modern AU, Hantengu clones are brothers, tormenting, dirty talk Synopsis: you are plotting revenge against your ex-boyfriend, Aizetsu, for ending your relationship because of your dominant nature. Little does he know that your plan for revenge involves using that very aspect of your personality against him Requested by: my lovely @within-eyesight ♥

MASTERLIST

It had been a long and arduous night, and you couldn't help but feel a tinge of anticipation. Tonight, you were going to assert your dominance over him once again.

His name was Aizetsu, and he had truly messed up. Once upon a time, he had been your boyfriend, though the relationship had only lasted a brief month during your college years before mutually deciding that remaining friends would be a better path to take. Well, at least he had made that decision. Aizetsu, with his reserved nature and gentle demeanor, rarely voiced his opinions, even when faced with a wrong order from a waiter. In contrast, you possessed a bold and vibrant personality, exuding confidence and an extroverted charisma that both charmed and overwhelmed Aizetsu. Initially, his timidness had intrigued you, as you were drawn to men who could be easily rattled. And in the beginning, things seemed to go smoothly. Despite your contrasting dispositions, there was an undeniable attraction between the two of you, and you managed to navigate your differences fairly well.

Difficulties began to surface when your intimate encounters took center stage. In the realm of the bedroom, your true nature emerged — dominant, in every sense of the word. You reveled in overpowering others, relishing in their helplessness, delighting in the act of humiliating them. It was vulnerability that stirred a primal desire within you. Unfortunately for Aizetsu, he was not exempt from this treatment.

During your first sexual encounter, Aizetsu anticipated a conventional experience: a gentle exploration of each other's bodies, perhaps some tender foreplay, and a traditional missionary position that would conclude the encounter. Little did he know, your desires ran much deeper than that simplistic script. So, imagine his surprise when you slapped him across the face, ripped off his clothing, and threw him onto the bed. Before he could even form a word of protest, you straddled him. "Shut the fuck up, slut." That was all you said, before sliding him into you and fucking him amazon style until his eyes rolled back into his head. In the depths of passion, he succumbed to overwhelming sensations, his hypersensitive cock relentlessly stimulated, eliciting gasps and moans that pleaded for respite. Aizetsu must have come three times at least. Yet, you disregarded his pleas, driven by an insatiable desire to fulfill your own gratification. Unyielding, you continued to thrust your hips into him, unrelenting until your own satisfaction was attained. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the drool escaping his mouth, as you taunted and belittled him, mocking his vulnerability and dubbing him pathetic. You reveled in his submissive state, declaring his moans akin to those of a feeble soul, challenging him to futilely attempt an escape, fully aware of his inability to overpower you.

Following that intense encounter, you engaged in sexual intimacy only once more, and the outcome echoed a familiar pattern. However, a week or two later, Aizetsu timidly approached you, breaking the news that despite his affection for you, the relationship simply wasn't working out. He expressed the sentiment that although you shared mutual friends and could still spend time together, he believed that the two of you were not compatible in a romantic sense. He did not explicitly state that the reason for the breakup stemmed from the intense and degrading sexual experiences you had shared, but the deep crimson blush on his cheeks spoke volumes as he delivered the news, implying an unspoken acknowledgment of the overwhelming strain on his masculinity caused by those encounters.

In the aftermath of the rejection, you outwardly handled it with composure, maintaining a facade of acceptance. You gracefully navigated the remainder of your college years, engaging in amicable interactions with Aizetsu and the shared friend group. There was no need for anyone to pick sides as you all continued to hang out and study together. Initially, Aizetsu approached the situation with caution, wary of any lingering grudges you might hold. However, over time, the ease and familiarity that characterized your friendship from the beginning began to resurface. Aizetsu came to believe that you had moved on, finding solace in the arms of his older brother, Sekido. He assumed that you both had reached a mutual understanding, accepting that remaining friends was the best course of action.

But he was wrong. Oh, he was so wrong.

Your viewpoint on sexual partners was characterized by an unwavering and stringent belief. Once you had assumed the dominant role with a partner, in your mind, they belonged to you. This conviction held particularly true for Aizetsu, considering the extent to which you had exerted dominance over him. It baffled you that he could oscillate from weeping and pleading, exhibiting complete submission and vulnerability one moment, to requesting a breakup the next. How could someone in a submissive position have the audacity to believe they had a say in matters? The idea that individuals in such subservient positions could determine the course of the relationship was entirely unacceptable to you. The moment Aizetsu welcomed you into his bedroom, he had made a choice, whether he comprehended it or not. In your mind, he now belonged to you, and it was necessary to remind him of this undeniable truth.

And so, your meticulous planning, patient waiting, and cunning schemes were finally reaching their climax tonight, following the party hosted by Sekido, Aizetsu's older brother. As you stepped into the living room, the soft glow of the TV screen casting a serene blue light, three of his brothers — Sekido, Urogi, and Karaku — were strewn across the room in different states of repose. One nestled in an armchair, while others found comfort on the love seat or curled up on the couch. Disregarding their presence, you carefully tiptoed past them, your focus fixed solely on your intended target, your prey.

Aizetsu lay sprawled on a small couch, isolated from the others, his body barely concealed by a scanty blanket that partially slipped off onto the floor. Your gaze roamed over him with an insatiable hunger. Deep in an intoxicated slumber, he lay stripped down to his boxers, exposing much of his physique. One arm stretched behind his head, while the other dangled over the edge of the couch, his fingers grazing the wooden floor of the living room.

The mere sight of him in that vulnerable state stirred an overwhelming arousal within you. He was oblivious to the impending events, completely unaware of the intense desire that coursed through your veins. Gently settling yourself near his waist, ensuring not to disturb his slumber, you delicately trailed a solitary finger along the length of his muscular torso. Your elongated nails traced a tantalizing path from his collarbone to his waist, eliciting a slight twitch from him as you brushed over his nipple. Aside from that subtle reaction, he remained still, oblivious to your presence and intentions.

"Perfect,” you whispered, smiling at how well your plan had worked.

Your hands ventured beneath the confines of his waist, cautiously  prying open the front of his boxers. With delicate precision, you extracted his flaccid member, revealing it to the cool air. Aizetsu's legs twitched slightly in response to this intimate intrusion, his body instinctively reacting to the stimulation.

"Shhh. That's it, bitch," you cooed in response, your tone barely above a whisper. You took the head of his penis in one hand, slowly rubbing the underside with your thumb. 

Aizetsu let out a soft moan.

"You belong to me," you whispered, even as he remained lost in slumber, oblivious to your presence. His manhood responded, gradually stiffening under your touch. With increasing fervor, your stroking intensified, adding three fingers to the top of his shaft, gliding up and down with a swiftness that mirrored your mounting desire. A soft moan escaped his lips, and his lithe form began to stir. Aware that time was fleeting, you quickened your pace once more, firmly grasping his throbbing member. It grew fully erect now, and you propelled your hand up and down its length, the rhythm deliberate and unyielding — once, twice, thrice. His hips instinctively bucked, a subconscious response to the intoxicating sensations of arousal that engulfed him. Sensing his impending release, you hastened your movements, gently caressing his balls with your free hand, fueling his mounting pleasure.

His moans grew in intensity, a mixture of vulnerability and desire escaping his lips, the very sound that you had often ridiculed him for. His hips undulated eagerly, meeting the air with fervor, while his legs quivered and tightened in sync with your rhythmic motions. The signs were unmistakable — he was on the precipice of release. In a daring move, you leaned forward, your tongue tracing a tantalizing path along the head of his erect dick, further heightening his pleasure.

His eyes flew open, startled by the abrupt interruption of his slumber. Confusion etched itself upon Aizetsu's face as he grappled with the bewildering realization of being roused mid-act. His gaze shifted from you to his throbbing member, then back to you, a concoction of shock and revulsion coursing through his features — an expression that you secretly craved. Swiftly, you pressed a hand firmly against his mouth, stifling any protest that threatened to escape. Simultaneously, your other hand maintained its unwavering grip on his erect shaft, persistently stroking up and down, despite his futile attempts to resist. Sensing the need for further control, you straddled his hips, leveraging your weight to subdue his movements entirely.

"Keep that fucking mouth shut, you little bitch," you whispered, a sadistic glimmer dancing in your eyes. "Do you really want to awaken the others? Is that what you desire, to showcase your debasement before your brothers? To reveal the depths of your sluttish nature?"

Aizetsu's eyes widened in sheer terror at the mere notion of his brothers witnessing such a compromising scene. The fear of their judgment, of their perception of him being dominated and coerced by a girl, consumed his thoughts. It was a vulnerability you recognized, a weakness you could exploit.

"Will you comply?" you inquired, a sadistic smile playing upon your lips. "Or shall I awaken them to indulge in the spectacle?"

He hesitated a moment, considering putting up a fight but he knew it was hopeless. He couldn't risk being seen like this. Reluctantly, he gave a small nod. “No, Y/N, p-please. Don’t do that.”

"Good boy,” you replied, before returning your tongue to his cock head, swirling it around and around. 

A stifled gasp managed to escape Aizetsu's lips, swiftly muffled by your hand. Sensing a need for further control, you shifted your hand from his mouth to his throat, exerting a light pressure as your fingers encircled its delicate contours. "Better be quiet, Aizetsu. Karaku is a light sleeper,” you teased, "If you wake him up, I'm gonna ask him to join us." You gave his shaft another hard pump, grinning. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Fucking pervert. Maybe I'll wake him up on purpose."

"P-please, no!" Aizetsu whispered in response. “Don’t, please. They can't see me like this," he pleaded, his voice laced with a sense of anguish and vulnerability.

You tightened your grip on his throat, cutting him off. "Or maybe I'll wake up Sekido?” You continued to stimulate his throbbing shaft, your fingers deftly caressing the sensitive head. Aizetsu's member twitched in response, signaling his impending release. However, you maintained control, deliberately keeping him on the edge of climax. With a skillful touch, you twirled his cock between your index finger and thumb, exerting just enough pressure to tease and tantalize, but not enough to grant him release. "I can only imagine the surprise on his face," you remarked, a hint of twisted amusement tainting your words. "To witness his little brother, who he perceives as meek and delicate, being dominated so effortlessly by a mere girl."

Despite his conflicting emotions of fear and revulsion, Aizetsu found himself helplessly succumbing to the twisted allure of your taunts. The shameful prospect of being humiliated in front of his brothers, dominated by a girl, and reduced to nothingness ignited a perverse arousal within him, intensifying the conflicting sensations coursing through his body.

With one final firm pump, Aizetsu reached the peak of his pleasure. However, you swiftly withdrew your hand from his pulsating shaft and seized both his wrists, pinning them above his head to deny him any true gratification. His hips thrust aimlessly into the air, desperate for contact, as his essence spilled onto his own chest and stomach, leaving him marked by his own surrender. You strategically positioned yourself just beyond his reach, denying him the satisfaction of any physical contact with your body. Helpless moans escaped his mouth, prompting him to bite down hard on his lower lip in a futile attempt to stifle his cries. The look of desperation in his eyes, the silent plea of a man utterly defeated, served as a gratifying sight to you.

After a few moments, his spent body slumped against the couch, drained of energy. Slowly, you released your grip on his wrists, taking a moment to admire the aftermath of your actions. His face flushed with embarrassment, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, and his entire being adorned with his own release from chin to groin. The expression on his face revealed a complete absence of masculine pride, a stark indication that you had truly stripped something significant from him.

Extending your hand, you gently ran your fingers through Aizetsu's hair, coaxing him closer to you. Your lips met in a passionate, fiery kiss, tongues intertwining in a display of unadulterated desire. Breaking the kiss, you pushed Aizetsu away, asserting your dominance. "Lie on your back, fully," you commanded.

Complying with your instructions, Aizetsu obediently positioned himself, his body stretched out before you, vulnerable and exposed as he pushed his boxers down his legs.

You positioned yourself astride him, allowing your front-buttoned dress to fall open, revealing your enticing breasts and the absence of panties. With deliberate intent, you traced your fingertips along Aizetsu's chest, tantalizing him with delicate caresses that elicited shivers of anticipation.

Aizetsu moaned quietly, desperate for more.

You leaned in close to his ear. "I want you to worship every inch of my body," you whispered. 

Aizetsu nodded eagerly, his mouth finding your neck as he lavished you with kisses.

You raised up and moved your body forward, sliding up Aizetsu's torso.

Your wetness enveloped his face as you pressed yourself against him, the sensations causing you to emit soft, sultry moans. Aizetsu's tongue eagerly complied, skillfully exploring your intimate depths. With fervor, he lavished attention on your inner thighs, gradually ascending towards your pulsating cunt. Intense pleasure surged through you as his tongue delved inside, while his hands firmly grasped your hips, keeping you in perfect alignment.

"Yes, Aizetsu," you gasped. "That's it. Just like that, you’re such a pretty boy. Worship your mistress like a good boy you are.”

He found himself in a state of bliss as your open pussy enveloped his face. You had taken control once again, using him for your own pleasure. His tongue worked eagerly, lapping at your delicate folds and exploring your clitoris.

Your ecstatic moans resonated throughout the room, momentarily disregarding the presence of his slumbering brothers nearby. Lost in the intoxicating pleasure, you rhythmically undulated your hips against Aizetsu's eager mouth, the intensity escalating with each passionate grind. His devoted tongue explored your intimate folds, skillfully delving deeper to savor the essence of your desire, propelling you towards the precipice of absolute bliss.

The room reverberated with the symphony of your ardor, the unmistakable wetness of your intimate connection resonating in the air.

Sensing your body's mounting tension, Aizetsu redoubled his efforts, wholly dedicated to bestowing upon you the ultimate pleasure. His ministrations intensified, driven by an insatiable yearning to fulfill your every desire.

As your body quivered with an impending climax, the culmination of your ecstasy permeated the atmosphere, enveloping Aizetsu's senses. His gaze, fixated upon you straddling him, your thighs provocatively parted, reflected his own insatiable longing, aching to be consumed by the intoxication of your passion.

You let out a low moan, moving your hips down against his rock-hard cock. You were wet and ready for him. "And now, let me fuck you, my little bitch. Are you going to be a good boy for me?"

His affirmation unspoken but unmistakable, Aizetsu positioned his hands beneath the curvature of your supple buttocks, lifting you with a purposeful grace. With precision, he guided you to the precipice of his pulsating cock, and in one fluid motion, he impaled you deeply, filling you completely with his throbbing length. The fusion of your bodies, an exquisite joining, ignited a surge of pleasure that coursed through your intertwined beings.

The electrifying sensation of his presence within you elicited a gasp that escaped your lips, punctuating the air with a symphony of pleasure. In perfect harmony, your bodies moved as one, synchronized in a passionate dance. Your hips gyrated with fervor, grinding against his, igniting a rhythm of unadulterated ecstasy. Each connection fueled the fire within you, compelling an unending cascade of breathless moans to escape your quivering lips, surrendering to the waves of sensation that surged through your intertwined forms.

Aizetsu's gaze was fixated upon you, his heart drumming a wild rhythm within his chest, matching the fervor of your passionate union. In that moment, he embraced the intoxicating blend of pleasure and degradation, fully embracing his submissive role. The realization that you held absolute control over him fueled a surge of exhilaration and contentment. Surrendering willingly to your every desire, he discovered a newfound joy in the depths of his submission, relishing the sensations that washed over him with each commanding touch and fervent connection.

As your bodies intertwined in a passionate dance, Aizetsu could feel the familiar signs of his impending release. The mounting pleasure surged through him, rendering him powerless to resist the imminent eruption of ecstasy. His voice quivered with desperate urgency as he vocalized his inability to restrain himself any longer, his plea intertwining with the rhythmic thrusts. "Fuck. Y-Y/N... I can't. I fucking can't..." Yet, he pressed on, driven by an insatiable desire to bring you pleasure. And then, in a primal release, a guttural growl escaped his lips as he spilled his thick cum deep within you, the warmth of his seed mingling with your own intimate embrace.

You were overcome with waves of pleasure, your voice echoing in the room as your climax washed over you and your moans became loud. Your body quivered, and you clung to Aizetsu's torso for stability, surrendering to the bliss coursing through your veins.

Suddenly, the room stirred with movement as his brothers began to rouse from their slumber. 

A mix of panic and disbelief swept across Aizetsu's face, his mouth agape, unable to find words to explain the unexpected turn of events.

Urogi opened his eyes first. "Aizetsu? What the fuck?”

Karaku chimed in, rubbing his eyes, "Dude, what the fuck?! You’re fucking your ex in our living room?! Are you serious?”

The room was alive with shouts, jeers, and laughter, all directed towards Aizetsu. He tried to defend himself, tried to explain; but only sobs would escape his lips. 

You got off Aizetsu, and smiled, feeling your mixed cums dripping down your thighs, content in the knowledge that Aizetsu's torment was only just beginning, particularly when his brothers discovered what had transpired.

"Wait a moment, Y/N. Where do you think you're going?" Urogi's voice echoed in the room as he swiftly rose from the love seat, displaying his well-built physique. He closed the distance between you, placing a firm arm around your naked waist. “I’m sure you would like to taste a real man, wouldn’t you?”

A faint blush spread across your cheeks, and instinctively, you rubbed your shoulder, feeling a mix of discomfort and unease settle within you.

"She's quite attractive, isn't she? Despite being a bit of an idiot, I must admit, Aizetsu, you have a discerning taste," Sekido remarked, sitting up on the armchair, stretching with a yawn. "That being said, it doesn't change the fact that I'm fucking annoyed you woke me up."

Karaku, already in the process of removing his shirt, nonchalantly tossed it aside. "It's not fair that only Aizetsu gotta have fun with her gorgeous cunt. I want a taste too."

Their objectifying words washed over you, leaving you feeling unsettled, as if reduced to mere objectification, as if your worth was nothing more than that of a piece of meat.

Meanwhile, Aizetsu remained nonchalant, sitting up on the couch, unaffected by his nakedness. "Well, my sweet Y/N, sometimes the tables turn, and this time, it seems you're not the one doing the tormenting, but rather the one being tormented." 

[perfectsunlight]

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝒌𝒊𝒎 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒋𝒊 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢��, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟒.𝟖𝐤

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨

know that i loved you so bad

i let you treat me like that

i was your willing accomplice, honey

you were in the middle of talking about your day on the phone with your girlfriend. the both of you went to the same school, but of course her idol duties put her out of the classroom all the time. you were no idol, naturally leaving you and minji with a bit of estranged distance since you rarely saw her.

“oh, and then one of the fire alarms went off–” “can you just stop talking?”

minji’s sharp voice cut you off mid sentence. the suddenness of her words left you stunned, the hurt hitting you like a swift blow to the chest. the silence that followed was heavy, suffocating, as if the weight of the unspoken emotions hung in the air between you.

your mind raced, desperately trying to comprehend what had just happened. this was supposed to be your moment, a chance to share your day with her, to bridge the ever-widening gap that her job had forged between you. 

and yet, here you were, your heart sinking as her cutting words echoed in your ears.

"i've had a long day, and i just don't really feel like hearing you ramble right now." the idol said monotonously on the other line, her words landing like a cold, heavy stone in the pit of your stomach. each syllable felt like a dagger, twisting and turning in the wound that was already so tender. 

it was as if the person you once knew, the one who used to hang on your every word, had been replaced by someone distant and indifferent.

your voice caught in your throat, the hurt and confusion making it impossible to form a coherent response. you had hoped that your words, your voice, could be a lifeline to bridge the gap between your worlds, but instead, they seemed to have driven the wedge even deeper.

the words hung in the air, the silence stretching out like an eternity. what had you done wrong? was it your fault that you couldn't understand the pressures of her life, the demands of her career? a sinking feeling settled in your chest, a mix of sadness and anger, a complex emotion that was hard to untangle.

you could feel your own heart squeezing in your chest, the vulnerability of the moment leaving you raw and exposed.

the person you loved, the one who used to make your heart skip a beat, had just dismissed you with a single sentence. the sharp contrast between the past and the present was a painful reminder of how much things had changed.

"i understand that you're tired," you managed to say, your voice trembling with a mix of sadness and resignation. "i just thought maybe we could talk, even if it's just for a little while."

the line remained quiet for a moment, the silence heavy with unspoken words. you could almost picture minji on the other end, her expression impassive, her eyes perhaps staring off into the distance, disconnected from the conversation. 

it was a stark reminder that you were now a secondary character in her life, a role you had never anticipated playing.

"i don't know what to say," she finally responded, her voice lacking any warmth or emotion. "i'm just not in the mood for this right now."

those words felt like a final blow, a confirmation that the divide between you had grown too wide to bridge. the tears you had been holding back now spilled freely down your cheeks, each droplet a testament to the pain that was too deep for words.

you wanted to tell her how much you missed her, how much you longed for the connection you once shared. you wanted to ask her if there was a way to mend what was broken, to find a way back to each other. but the weight of her indifference hung heavy in the air, suffocating any words that might have brought solace.

in the end, all you could manage was a whispered, "okay." and with that, you hung up the phone, the silence on the other end echoing the emptiness you now felt inside. 

and i watched as you fled the scene

doe-eyed as you buried me

one heart broke, four hands bloody

the next few weeks were a continuation of that one evening. minji stopped calling you, she left you on read often, and occasionally she wouldn’t even read it until the next day. this was not the kim minji you fell in love with.

no, this was entirely someone different. your minji would never do this to you.

the minji you loved always asked about your day, always called even just to say goodnight. 

the minji you loved always asked about your day, always called even just to say goodnight. she was the one who made you feel like you were the most important person in her world.

but now, that minji seemed like a distant memory, a bittersweet echo of a time that was slipping further and further away. the weight of her absence bore down on you like a heavy cloud, casting a shadow over every aspect of your life. the joy you used to find in the simplest of things now felt hollow, incomplete.

you found yourself constantly checking your phone, hoping for a message, a sign that she was thinking of you. each notification that popped up only brought a pang of disappointment as it turned out to be from someone else. 

you wondered if you were being too needy, too clingy, but deep down, you couldn't help but feel that something was fundamentally wrong.

nights were the hardest. 

the absence of her goodnight messages left a void that was difficult to fill. the empty space beside you in bed seemed to grow colder each night, a physical reminder of the emotional distance that had come between you. you missed the sound of her voice, the way she used to tell you about her day, about the small victories and the challenges she faced.

you began to replay that evening in your mind, searching for clues, for any possible explanation for the sudden change in her behavior. had you said something wrong? was there something you could have done differently? the uncertainty gnawed at you, feeding into your insecurities and amplifying your pain.

those things i did

just so i could call you mine

the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

one afternoon, you found yourself waiting in line at a fansign for new jeans. you didn’t tell minji you were coming, since you thought it would be a good idea to surprise her with your presence. it had been over a month since you had seen your girlfriend, and you were over the moon to just see her face again.

especially since you had found yourself ditching your last period of class to come to this event.

the atmosphere around you buzzed with excitement, the energy of the fans filling the air. the posters, the merchandise, the anticipation—it was all so overwhelming. as you inched closer to the front of the line, your heart raced with a mixture of nervousness and eagerness.

finally, it was your turn. you stepped up to the table, and there she was, looking every bit as stunning as you remembered. her hair cascaded in waves, her eyes sparkled, and her smile was radiant, lighting up the entire room. for a moment, it felt like time stood still, and all the pain and uncertainty of the past weeks melted away in the warmth of her gaze.

minji looked up from signing the album placed in front of her, her eyes widening in genuine surprise. "you?" she exclaimed softly, a mixture of shock and something else you couldn't quite place in her voice.

"hey," you managed, your own voice a little unsteady. "surprise."

a range of emotions seemed to play across her face—surprise, confusion, and something akin to disgust. but she quickly masked them, putting on a professional smile as she continued to sign your album. the brief interaction felt surreal, like you were strangers meeting for the first time, and the dissonance was almost painful.

"thank you for coming," she said politely as she handed the album back to you. you held onto the album, your fingers trembling slightly as you searched her eyes for a hint of the minji you once knew.

before you could respond, a staff member gently ushered you along, reminding you that there were other fans waiting. 

minji didn’t bother looking back at you, not even once.

and just like that, the fansign moved on, and you were left standing there, clutching the album to your chest. the encounter left you feeling both heartened and heartbroken, a reminder that surprises weren't enough to mend what was broken.

but maybe it was your fault for not understanding? minji was an idol. she was busy with her schedules and promotions. of course she isn’t going to have time to see you. surely you should understand that, right?

however, you couldn’t understand why she acted the way she did towards you. little did you know it would only get worse.

you used me as an alibi

i crossed my heart as you crossed the line

and i defended you to all my friends

“y/n, come on. you can’t keep defending her.” sullyoon said bluntly, pointing a finger in your direction as she glared at you.

your best friend had been present to witness yet another one of you and minji’s arguments. this time, you called your girlfriend asking for a day she’s free to hang out with you, only to be met with an argument with her.

minji blamed you for being late to her photoshoot because you called her at a bad time. she also blamed you for making her stressed out with all of your constant messages.

you sighed and looked down, the weight of sullyoon's words hitting you like a ton of bricks. she wasn't wrong, and deep down, you knew it. you had been trying so hard to defend minji's actions, to justify the distance that had grown between you, but at what cost?

"i know," you replied quietly, your voice tinged with sadness and frustration. "it's just... i love her, sullyoon. i don't want to give up on us."

sullyoon's expression softened, and she stepped closer to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "i know you love her, y/n. and i'm not telling you to give up. but you deserve someone who treats you with kindness and respect, who values your time and effort."

tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded, your heart aching with the truth of her words. you had been holding onto the memories of the past, the love you once shared, but the reality of the present was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

"it just hurts, you know?" you admitted, your voice quivering. "to feel like i'm not enough, like i'm the one causing her stress and frustration. she’s an idol and i feel like i should understand better."

sullyoon pulled you into a gentle hug, offering you a source of comfort in the midst of your turmoil. "you are enough, y/n. relationships are supposed to be a two-way street. it shouldn't be one-sided, and you shouldn't have to constantly defend yourself." 

as you buried your face in her shoulder, you couldn't help but feel the weight of your emotions crashing over you. the love you had for minji was still there, strong and unwavering, but it was becoming painfully clear that love alone might not be enough to mend what was broken.

“and i’m an idol, too. but i still make time to talk to you more than minji does.” she added, patting your back gently. “she’s just making excuses.”

with a heavy heart, you pulled away from sullyoon's embrace, wiping away your tears. "i need to have a serious conversation with her, don't i?"

sullyoon nodded, her gaze filled with empathy. "yes, y/n. you deserve to be heard, and you deserve honesty. anything less than that is not enough.”

and now, every time a siren sounds

i wonder if you're around

'cause you know that i'd do it all again

after two months of not seeing each other, you and minji finally had arranged a time to see each other. it was actually minji’s idea to meet up and have lunch together. 

after two months of not seeing each other, you and minji finally had arranged a time to see each other. it was actually minji’s idea to meet up and have lunch together. the anticipation and nervousness you felt were palpable as the day approached. a part of you hoped that this would mark a turning point in your relationship, a chance to bridge the gap that had grown between you.

as the day dawned, you found yourself getting ready with a mix of excitement and trepidation. your heart raced as you drove to the restaurant you both had agreed upon. the familiar sights of the city felt almost surreal, like you were stepping into a dream. you couldn't help but replay the upcoming meeting in your mind, wondering how it would unfold.

when you arrived at the restaurant, your heart skipped a beat as you saw minji waiting outside. she looked just as stunning as ever, a mix of nerves and excitement in her eyes. for a moment, it felt like time had stood still, and all the struggles and pain of the past weeks faded into the background. it was just the two of you, like it used to be.

"hey," you called out softly as you approached her, a tentative smile on your lips. minji's face became visible as she turned to you, a half smile tugging at her lips. "hey," she replied, her voice a mixture of nonchalant and monotone.

the awkwardness that had been present in your recent interactions seemed to intensify in that moment. as you sat down at a corner table, there was an unspoken dynamic. minji was acting like an idol, not like your girlfriend.

the conversation started off hesitantly, with small talk about each other's lives. minji talked about her busy schedule, her recent projects, and the demands of her idol career. you sat and listened attentively, unsure if you should say anything yet about a breakup.

when there was a pause in her monologue, you took a deep breath and finally spoke up, your voice soft but determined. "minji, i think we need to talk."

she looked at you, her expression not changing much, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—maybe surprise, maybe annoyance.

"what's there to talk about?" she replied, her voice tinged with a touch of irritation.

your heart ached at her dismissive response, but you pressed on, knowing that you needed to be honest. "i miss us, minji. i miss the way things used to be between us. but lately, it feels like we're living in two separate worlds. your career, your fame—it's all so overwhelming, and i feel like i'm being left behind."

minji's gaze remained fixed on you, her eyes guarded. "you knew what my life was like when we got together. this isn't something new."

"i know, and i tried to be understanding," you replied, your voice cracking with emotion. "but it's not just about your career. it's about how we've changed, how our relationship has changed. i want us to be partners, to support each other, but it feels like you're closing yourself off from me."

minji's expression hardened, her walls going up even higher. "so, what are you saying?"

your heart ached as you looked into her eyes, searching for the minji you used to know, the one who would have listened and cared deeply. 

"i'm saying that maybe we need to take a break. to figure things out, to find ourselves again. i don't want to keep feeling like i'm fighting for your attention, like i'm the one causing you stress."

the silence that followed felt suffocating, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air between you. minji's lips tightened, and you could see a storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. and then, finally, she spoke, her voice laced with anger.

"you're giving up on us just like that?" her tone was sharp, accusatory. "it's not about giving up," you said softly, your voice trembling. "it's about recognizing that we both need to be happy, that we both need space to grow."

minji pushed her chair back abruptly, her face contorted with frustration. "i can't believe you're doing this. after everything."

you reached out for her, your heart aching at her reaction. "minji, please understand. this is tearing us apart. maybe some time apart can help us find our way back to each other."

the restaurant seemed to fade into the background as minji's words pierced through you like a knife. her anger was palpable, her frustration a tangible force. you watched as she stood there, her eyes blazing with hurt and anger, her voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and betrayal.

"i can’t believe i took time out of my busy schedule to come on a date with you for the first time in months and all you’re doing is this?" her voice trembled with a mix of emotions, and you could see tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

you swallowed hard, your own heart breaking at the pain in her voice. "minji, i didn't want it to be like this. i thought a break might give us a chance to work through things, to find a way back to each other."

she shook her head, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "you think this is what i want? you think i'm happy with the way things have been?"

the raw emotion in her voice cut through you, a stark reminder that this wasn't easy for her either. but her anger was so intense, so overwhelming, that it felt like there was no room for understanding or compromise.

"i don't think you're happy either," you said softly, tears welling up in your eyes. "i just thought maybe this break could give us a chance to heal."

minji's gaze bore into yours, her eyes blazing with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "you think i need healing? you think i need you to tell me what's wrong with my life?"

the accusation in her words stung, and you felt a mixture of guilt and frustration swirling within you. "no, that's not what i meant."

"of course it's not what you meant," she spat back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "you always know what's best, don't you?"

you closed your eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a heavy burden. it wasn't supposed to end like this, with anger and accusations. 

but the reality of your relationship had become so tangled, so complex, that finding a way forward felt almost impossible.

“i'm not saying i know what's best," you said, your voice cracking with the effort to hold back tears. "i just thought maybe a break could help us both find some clarity."

she turned away from you, her fists balled as if trying to hold back the flood of emotions and her jaw clenched. "i can't do this right now. i can't talk about this."

you watched as she walked away, her steps hurried and determined. the restaurant felt cold and desolate, the aftermath of the conversation leaving you feeling hollow and defeated. 

it was supposed to be a chance to reconnect, to find a way back to each other, but instead, it had only driven a deeper wedge between you.

all the things i did

just so i could call you mine

the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

you didn’t really know what to call your relationship with minji after that. even though you were the one who tried to break up with her, you couldn’t help but feel guilty about it.

maybe you were wrong all along? what if it wasn’t minji’s fault, but rather your own? she was still trying, right?

in the days that followed your encounter at the restaurant, you found yourself replaying the conversation over and over in your mind. doubt gnawed at you, and you began to question whether your decision to suggest a break was the right one. 

after all, minji had come to meet you, she had taken time out of her busy schedule, and you had essentially rejected her.

seeing her upset and angry had left a pit in your stomach, a nagging feeling that perhaps you hadn't fully considered the consequences of your actions. the guilt weighed heavily on you, a constant reminder that relationships were complex and messy, and your attempt to address the issues between you had only seemed to exacerbate them.

as the days turned into weeks, you found yourself missing minji more than ever. the silence between you was deafening, and the space that had grown between you felt like an insurmountable chasm. you wondered if you had pushed her away for good, if your efforts to address the issues had only served to drive her further away.

you couldn't help but notice how minji continued to appear in the media, performing with her group, smiling for the cameras, all the while masking the turmoil that had once been so evident between you. it was as if she had moved on effortlessly, while you were left grappling with the remnants of a relationship that felt more shattered than ever.

the clock on your bedroom wall glared at you with the numbers 9:55 pm. minji was still awake, she always was at this time. you memorized her practice schedule during the talking stage with her.

it was a bit ironic that you remembered her daily schedule but you couldn’t seem to remember to eat or sleep.

the past few weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions, and the attempt to repair your relationship with minji had left you emotionally drained. you were trying to rebuild what was broken, and it was proving to be both challenging and rewarding.

but it wasn't easy. the memories of your arguments and the pain you both felt still lingered, and they often invaded your thoughts, especially during these quiet moments when the world seemed to slow down. the disparity between minji's public persona and the reality you both faced weighed heavily on your heart.

as you sat there, staring at the clock, a surge of emotions swept over you. you missed her more than words could express, and you longed for the love you once felt from the girl. 

yet, there was a lingering fear that the cracks in your relationship might be too deep to mend completely. the doubt, the insecurity, and the uncertainty gnawed at you, reminding you that love alone might not be enough to heal the wounds that had formed.

you picked up your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen. maybe you should send her a message, just to let her know that you were thinking of her. 

it's bittersweet to think about the damage that we do

'cause i was going down, but i was doing it with you

your fingers typed and erased over and over again, the indecision evident in your actions. the glow of your phone's screen illuminated the dim room, casting a faint light on your contemplative expression. the cursor blinked in the text box as you struggled to find the right words.

"i miss you,” you typed and then hesitated, your thumb hovering over the send button. it was a simple message, but it held so much weight. would it be welcomed, or would it come across as too needy? you deleted the message and started again.

“how was your day?” you tried, hoping for a more casual approach. but as soon as the words appeared on the screen, they felt inadequate, empty even. minji deserved more than a simple inquiry about her day.

with a frustrated sigh, you locked your phone and placed it on the table. you leaned back in your chair, your thoughts a swirl of emotions. the turmoil within you mirrored the unease you felt about your relationship. it was as if your actions on your phone screen were a microcosm of the larger struggle you were facing.

part of you wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed, to show minji that you were still here, still committed to trying. 

but the other part of you was afraid—afraid of rejection, afraid of making things worse, afraid of being a burden to her busy life.

yeah, everything we broke, and all the trouble that we made

but i say that i hate you with a smile on my face

as the minutes turned into hours, you found yourself lost in your thoughts, a battle raging within you. the screen of your phone remained dark, untouched, a silent testament to your internal struggle. the clock ticked on, and the night grew deeper, but your heart felt heavy with the weight of indecision.

finally, you gave a resigned sigh, realizing that you couldn't keep grappling with this forever. with a determined exhale, you unlocked your phone once more. your fingers tapped out a message, slower this time, each word chosen carefully.

"hi minji, i've been thinking about us. i miss what we had, and i'm willing to work on things if you are. i don't want to push you, but i just wanted you to know that i'm here, whenever you're ready to talk."

you read and reread the message, the words holding your hopes and vulnerabilities. with a trembling hand, you pressed the send button, watching as the message flew off into the digital void. the anxiety settled in once again, the seconds stretching out.

the room was silent, save for the soft hum of the clock on the wall. the minutes passed, and you felt a mix of anticipation and dread. 

oh, look what we became

somewhere between now and the moment you had sent the text, you couldn’t help but feel like something was off. you picked up your phone again, only to be met with a blank screen of no notifications. 

all the things i did

just so i could call you mine

when you scrolled back to the conversation, you noticed your message didn’t say it had been delivered. confused, you decided to double check her schedule by looking online. was she flying somewhere right now?

as you searched for any information about minji's schedule, you felt a growing sense of unease. it wasn't like her not to respond, even if she was busy. and the fact that your message hadn't even been delivered left you feeling a mix of frustration and concern.

you clicked on various fan sites and social media platforms, hoping to find a clue about her whereabouts. but your search yielded no answers—no mentions of her current activities, no updates on her schedule.

the clock on your wall ticked away, and you found yourself trapped in a cycle of uncertainty. the more you searched, the more your anxiety grew. what if something had happened? what if she was in trouble or facing an emergency?

all the things you did

well, i hope i was your favorite crime

finally, after what felt like an eternity of scrolling, you stumbled upon a tweet from a fan account. it mentioned that minji's group finally had a break in their schedules for the first time in months.

your heart sank as you read those words. minji was still here in seoul. 

but if she was still here in the city, why wasn’t your message going through?

your favorite crime

moving to her contact once again, you about calling her. you missed her, you loved her, and you wanted to let her know that you were sorry for not understanding her.

even though none of it was your fault in the first place. 

your favorite crime

your thumb pressed on the call button and you brought the device to your ear. the sound of your heart pounded in your head and your hands shook.

would she be mad? would she be happy to hear from you? or maybe she would feel just as sorry as you were feeling right now? 

surely she can’t miss you less than you miss her, right?

'cause baby, you were mine

the number you have dialed is not in service at this time…

a/n: this was literally so rushed im sorry LMAOOO

[aziraphales-library]

Hello, thank you for the work you put into this blog. It might be a bit early, but are there any S2 fix-it recs yet?

Hi! We have a plentiful #fix-it tag now! Here are some more to add...

you're the victim of your crime by JustNerdyThings (T)

It's a simple decision, really. It's simple in the way things rarely are, in that it's not much of a decision at all. Whatever Aziraphale might stand to gain by staying in Heaven, it cannot possibly compare to what he's already lost down on Earth. So Aziraphale leaves. He miracles up his letter of resignation, pretends to clear out his still-empty desk, and leaves. And he hopes against hope that somehow, someday, Crowley might forgive him.

hungry work by CCs_World (E)

“You must understand,” Aziraphale had whispered. He was on the doorstep of the bookshop, months after his departure, looking in at Crowley — disheveled, both of them. Broken, both of them. Afraid, both of them. Hopeful, both of them. “I understand, Aziraphale,” Crowley had said back. They had stretched out a hand to Aziraphale. “Come on. Let’s think of a plan together.” And they had. Somehow, miraculously, ineffably, a second apocalypse had been averted. Heaven and Hell were cut off. They were free — truly free. And they had all the time in the universe. So, naturally, they left London. OR: After the Second Coming does not Come, Crowley and Aziraphale move to the South Downs. However, living together is difficult when there are over 6000 years of tension between them - tension which must be resolved if they are to have their happily ever after.

Trembling with tenderness by HolRose (T)

When the former demon Crowley is surprised in his Mayfair flat by a visit from his erstwhile boss and their ex-Archangel partner asking for assistance, Crowley has that familiar sinking feeling that something he did in the past has come back to bite him on the arse. When the current Supreme Archangel materialises in his flat shortly afterwards, Crowley knows the time has come for them to really talk at last. Just as soon as they’ve got rid of their visitors, that is. A post Season 2 fix-it fic in which they communicate properly, and Aziraphale demonstrates just how crafty, and also loving, he can be. This is one for those who might like something genuinely soft and romantic after the ending to Season 2.

We'll make Heaven a place on Earth by arabellas_court (E)

Aziraphale unfolded the piece of paper slowly beneath the horrid lighting. He cleared his throat and looked around, the corners of his mouth faltering just a second when he landed on Crowley. He looked down at the paper. “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth—” “Jesus Christ,” Crowley grumbled. “No, dear, he came later, remember?” ------ Crowley knows his worth. He can't take Aziraphale back immediately after how hurt he's been. And for once, Aziraphale has to work for that forgiveness. Both of them are a mess. Both of them go to therapy—unexpectedly, together. Angst with a happy ending.

Snogging on Heaven's Door by Tetrisbiene (M)

What if Aziraphale actually said, 'Do it again. Please. Right now!'? A Post-Season 2 Fanfic. Aziraphale has to go to Heaven to thwart the Second Coming, and Crowley just can't let him go alone. Follow the pair as they meet old and new faces, go to heavenly meetings, sow mischief, and tempt some angels to fall in love with humanity. May the two find a flat surface to talk things over with each other before this big promotion can tear them apart. This is the story of our ineffable idiots in a roller coaster ride of emotions, heavenly bureaucracy, and stolen kisses against doors. Have some angst, some stupid puns in the chapter titles, and an elevator ride that's basically an excuse for me to write a cheesy alternative ending to help me get over the actual finale.

In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you by sunrisesinthesuburbs (T)

Aziraphale stares back at the Metatron with renewed optimism. “I know where my loyalty stands, Sir,” he starts, even managing a small smile. “And I do not need to prove myself to them. When the Time comes, they will enjoy what I’ve been working on.” He sounds convincing, really. Honest, reliable and responsible. Crowley decides this is a good time to whistle: “Someone’s getting all professional up here.” Aziraphale dares to peep in his direction, hoping to convey with one brief look everything he is thinking about: ‘Shut up, will you? I’m trying to do something here.’ Crowley smirks, of course. He really is so annoying. “Well, Aziraphale, you may not need to prove yourself to them,” the Metatron reaches for something inside his jacket, “but you need to prove yourself to me.” Aziraphale fails Heaven's test (of course), and now he has to fix an even bigger mess. Throw a messy break up and a Second Coming in the mix and, somehow, you get a getaway car and a cottage in the South Downs. A lot can happen in a day. (Post Season 2; my very own attempt at fixing things.)

- Mod D

[cowboylament]

“Is this alright?” He asked.

I nodded. 

He placed his hand down, nothing but warm hot skin. He slid only low enough to grab the blanket, dragging it back up over my arms and hovering there a moment like he wasn’t sure what to do now. When he pulled away I didn’t stop him. I forgot what it was like to be young, inexperienced. How much weight everything had, the touch of a hand, the place beside you in bed. I’d once spent hours thinking about it, how it would feel to get to sleep beside someone forever. To reach through the dark and grab the person beside you and curl into their body, to find such tender relief whenever you wanted. To be so hungry so long you didn’t even recognize it as need, as want. Not until that first reach where no matter what you imagined, how small you’d convinced yourself it was, you found your hands shaking. 

Or

Lucien has been lying Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Five, Bonus, Ao3

“I have news.”

Rhys had called both Lucien and me into his office. Where he’d managed to find my mate I didn’t know. It had been nearly two weeks since we’d slept on my bathroom floor. The only thing that had changed between now and then as far as I could tell was that the bond had reopened between us and unlike the time before our argument, his emotions surged through the tether throughout the day. Intense and complex emotions, not often recognizable to me until they diminished and I could see with greater clarity their edges, pull them apart, find the individual threads. There was such a weight to them I had seen only rarely. They knocked my knees out from under me, my breath. I don’t know what had changed, but suddenly his feelings were far bigger than they’d been before. 

He could have fooled me, however, sitting to my left so stoic. Had I seen him in the past few days I like to think I’d have at least asked if we were okay, if he was. Maybe not at first, not when I really wanted to, but eventually. With such feeling, I didn’t want him to hold it all on his own but we’d somehow found ourselves back again in the things we did after our fight—doors closing late at night, things going unsaid, the memory of a body, the fear it’s leaving. 

Rhys looked tired, but he laid the news outright. 

“I’ve claimed you, officially.”

Before I could speak a swath of grief, like a cloud passing over the sun, twisted inside of me. Waves of it pushed away thoughts and breath, and between crests, regret, suspicion, something hesitating and withdrawing, only to surge forward like the leaving could be undone. My words were obliterated, the male was fluctuating and balancing a hundred new degrees of feeling every second and the only thing that had changed in his appearance was the slight opening of his mouth. Though he remained alert, his gaze forward. 

“And my father is aware?” Lucien asked. 

“Yes.” 

Out in the hall, a door closed idly. For Beron to be aware of his son, to know his location during accusations of treason was a delicate game. Rhys must have played it very carefully these weeks. Such a burden sat on his face rather plainly, dragging it down, as if it were still there. 

“It took dozens of negotiations, he’s informed the other courts you’re a traitor who can’t be trusted. But to be honest,” Rhys continued, breaking only now to rub at his eyes, “his word will mean very little to most of them as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“I am,” Lucien said. His voice steady, but within there was a stir. Regret, grief unending, but not new grief. It was old, so old, like it had been born with him. Beron the cruelest, the eldest of the High Lords. His youngest son still gentle despite. What had been endured and remains to be endured?

“Normally I’d wait to negotiate with your father but, your brother said that the longer he sits on that night the greedier he’d get.”

My attention shifted away from my mate. Greedier, negotiate, those were specific word choices. I took in a long breath, clearing away any lingering fog of foreign emotions and temporary blindness. This was something I myself had not considered, that Beron wouldn’t become greedy, he already was. The High Lord of Autumn was not rash, not rash enough to invade when he found out where his son was. What were the choices for Beron, truly? Wage a war, lose males, or gain leverage. A blind spot on my part, how foolish I’d been, to have labored under such illusions and fear for so long. War wasn’t imminent. Beron knew for some reason we wanted Lucien, and he’d work out something had to have happened for us to want to fight for him. He didn’t have to know what it was to have guessed it was dire, our need.

We’d given ourselves away.

What could he demand, what did he feel that he was allowed now that we’d given ourselves away? He was cunning, calculated. He’d always wanted power, specifically power over us. My stomach clenched. The least loved son, a perfect token in his game. Beron had nothing to lose. 

The blessing he’d called for that night would mean little in this exchange. I’m sure the only thing it allowed for Rhysand to negotiate was against a war Beron didn’t want to fight anyway. You don’t come here and I won’t go there. It was the way it went, crimes against Prythian were greater than those against its females. There was no use in pretending otherwise, in languishing too long. 

Lucien relaxed back in his chair, unaware of the sickness climbing through my bones, and asked, “What are the terms?”

“As you have known, you will lose your title and you cannot go back to Autumn court. If you do, Beron has sworn a blood duel.”

Lucien crossed his leg over the other, “I’ve no desire to ever see that place again.” 

My own growing grief at once enveloped me, reaching further than my body, reaching out. The strength broke Lucien’s composure. He glanced over at me and I at him. There was no need for either of us to say what we were thinking, he knew what I wanted to give. The irreplaceable thing he’d had almost two months ago, taken in the middle of the night like nothing. I knew that he had always wanted to leave his home, that the loss was always meant to come for him eventually. But I knew something about loss too, about the things we cannot have back. The family you make will never be the family you had, that is their blessing and their curse. So I grieved for him, for what he’d lost and what he’d never had to begin with. 

Rhysand remained wholly ignorant of the private feelings between us, but waited to speak until we turned away from one another.

“He also agreed not to declare war.” 

Whatever Lucien anticipated, this was better. His relief came light but demolishing, easy like a gust, as it moved through my body. I forced in place his feelings like a veil over my own, hiding my wound. It soothed what was rotting within me momentarily, but could not clear entirely the lingering scent. Lucien would never see his home and I could scarcely know it even if I went without him. If I were to go, it would be by force. 

I stilled. A panic ripped through me.

 Life for life. 

The veil was gone. 

Those were Lucien’s terms, but what of mine? I had broken the one rule I knew with Beron I could never break. 

A thin coat of sweat settled against my back. Beron had wanted one thing from me. He could still ask for it. The truly deplorable males, those weak worthless males he called sons, could be betrothed to me. I would not have Eris, I had lost any chance with Eris. I’d live in that house with him, the male who’d cut away at me, next to those woods blood had been shed in. And none of the terrible details would matter because I would go. They wouldn’t even have to ask twice, I would go. Not because of the bargain between some nameless God, but for my mate. He deserves it. He’d given his life, so I’d give mine. I’d hunger for an immortal lifetime.

I found at last the words I’d had before, “What are my conditions?”

Rhys was silent, Lucien too. The thing inside us both had gone still. Lucien wasn’t naive, but in a moment of such intensity, he’d made the mistake of thinking we were lucky. This world didn’t work that way. There was perhaps only one thing Beron hated more than his youngest son. Such despair, such blinding terror clawing its way up my legs, into my heart. I don’t know if I could see the world. I think the fear had reached my eyes by then.

“You are to go to Autumn as an emissary on all future endeavors. You will remain the point of contact and we are forbidden from sending anyone else with you.” Just hearing the first half of his sentence had turned my stomach to lead, made me flinch. I was waiting to hear the word bride, but then he said it, Emissary. I was the point of contact still. That meant I was still Night Court. I forced myself to be present, to listen to the whole of his words. 

“We also cannot prosecute him for the blessing,” even sat down my legs felt weak. I suspected this. I knew this. No war. Rhys opened his mouth with finality, “If we speak of the events to anyone who does not already know, the bargain is void. Lucien will die.”

I gripped the chair. It was like being born again, my relief. Whatever lingering fear had found itself between my ribs and my joints, was washed clean away. I could have wept, such profound relief it rubbed my insides raw. The price was silence. The price was denial. A scar wrapping around my waist like an unwanted hand, the delicate body, the flimsy memory—our only proof it had happened. And even that would vanish eventually into the dust seen only when it passed through sunlight. But we were free and for such a price. Such blind spots, what greater prize to Beron was there than a silenced female. 

“So he gets away with it?” Lucien barked. Rage flared between us to the point that it forced Lucien to his feet. I was not yet strong enough to manage, not yet in my body entirely. 

“We both do,” I said. This was a gift of many meanings. I got to stay here with my family, keep what I’d won. The power to choose, I could marry or not marry, I could stay or go. My mate, he was granted the same. Happiness came wrapped in sorrow. My bargain had been finished. He was no longer in danger. The price had been paid. Lucien could go as he’d always meant to, somewhere he truly loved, and I wasn’t afraid of him leaving anymore. Prythian had opened for him, thanks to Rhysand. My brother did what I would never have had the power to do. Though I had gotten Lucien to safety Rhys would be his savior. 

Lucien’s hand gestured out in front of him like the memory was before us plain to see, his exasperation in every word, “We acted in self-defense it’s hardly the same.”

I shook my head, “Not to Beron.”

Rhys nodded and gestured for my mate to sit. For the rest of the hour, he explained to us what had been happening these weeks of correspondence. How Beron was growing stricter, less malleable to any negotiation. He had asked for a life, but somehow he’d been persuaded to avoid more bloodshed. I did not push for details, it was a terrible business, having to delegate pain and suffering. I placed no blame on Rhys, what hands he had to play for this outcome. I could see it though, how Eris had been right. If we waited too long the price would only increase. Rhys was backed into a corner, he had to agree. No matter the justice he wanted for me he could see the alternative I had seen too, he could see what was so close to being asked. He did not have to say this, we looked at each other after all had been shared, all that could be shared, and we both were aware of what the other knew. Lucien opened his mouth, not doubt to argue our side, but I spoke first. 

“If you have yet to agree, agree to the terms. That night is over and with good reason.” 

I didn’t want to return to that court or its memory. Anyone who needed to know already did. We’d moved on from that place better than we had been before, no longer so hostile or cruel, needing always to have something over the other and trying to win. I was glad to move on, even if moving on meant losing Lucien. I didn’t want him to go, but I had already gotten so much of what I wanted. And regardless, some things were more important. There were fates I could stomach even less, like his being somewhere that made him unhappy. I would not cage him. He loved leaving and I loved staying. Now his life was safer than it had ever been, to do what he’d always wanted. That was something to live for.

Whatever lingering fear I’d been holding onto in all these weeks emptied out of me with such intensity I started to shake. A different kind of crumbling, happy but sad, grateful and grieving. Lucien, to his credit, swallowed his argument, even as a foreign anger clawed at my chest like it could feel the immense relief flooding through me and wanted to sink its teeth in.

My brother, I had no doubt, understood this would be my choice. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here. He’d be arguing to Lucien’s point with a male who would never bend. He’d just wanted to be sure. The grave look on the High Lord’s face was the realization I’d already had many weeks ago. That night was always going to be my burden to bear. 

“I’m sorry,” he offered. 

I stood, turning from Lucien. He had my brother’s protection now. My presence would be redundant. I fought the enormity of my sorrow and my ambivalence to his departure. I had to get away, let it out, or I would start to drown in it, lose air, and composure. But I had one thing left to do, I had to put Rhys at ease. I had to be at ease for that to happen. That was always my work, I had to go first.

“There is no apology needed. That male will succumb to the life he lived.”

Rhys began to fumble with his desk. There was nothing he could do and he would suffer for it. I could not help him, could not pull him from his mind, the what if, the hand he hadn’t been dealt. That was his burden. So instead I slunk into his mind and said: thank you.

I hoped he could feel how much I meant it. I wish he knew that this was also a gift.

When he pulled out his ink, wordlessly I made to leave. Lucien trailed behind just as silently. With each step it became clear the level of erosion that had happened these weeks. I hadn’t even known how much worry there really had been inside me until it was gone. It had weakened me. I didn’t know if I could stand, could support the weight of the reality that took its place. I slipped into the library across and stumbled forward, clutching onto the couch, and waited for that door to close, the front door, waited for the tightness in the chest of someone far away and stretched thin, but there.

Someone entered the library and I righted.

“Y/N” Lucien said.

I pressed my hand to the heat of my face, covering my eyes. The one time he thought to say goodbye.

“Will I see you at dinner?” I asked, keeping my back to him. “Or are you going now.”

“I can stay.”

I nodded, “But you don’t have to. Not anymore.”

“I want—” his sentence ceased. Whatever it was he wanted, whatever fell at the end of those words either he didn’t know or didn’t want to say. There was a long pause, a probing gaze, before his hand ghosted my shoulder, but I pulled away. If he was even a little kind to me I’d break. I’d beg him not to go and that was worse than saying nothing. He’d stay just because I asked, because he was loyal to people even when they didn’t deserve it, and then I’d never know if I deserved it. Not when I caged him in a different way. So that was it, this was it. I took two long breaths, caught air, steeled myself as I had before, and turned to face him. 

“I want you to go.”

I knew there was a chance saying that would lead him to lash out in his anger, as he had that night we’d fought. Where for some unknowable reason he’d felt unwanted by me when I was trying to convey the precise opposite. But I could feel something had changed between us now that he stood before me, its occurrence happening maybe over the last few days without our participation. We were no longer fighting each other. Not at least, how we’d always been fighting each other. He stared at me in thought, the sounds of a clock somewhere in the room ticking. Today he didn’t seem far away, he seemed so close.

“I can feel you,” he said simply. “And I have the sense if I go you’re going to fall apart.” 

“I don’t wish to keep you.”

“Nothing is keeping me here besides my desire. Now, please, explain to me what’s going on.”

I shook my head, “If you don’t know then maybe that’s the Mother’s will.”

“No.” He was commanding in his tone, but still gentle. So gentle that I looked up to meet his eye even as I felt my own go glassy, even though to do so would give me away. He studied me before he continued, looked in his way that really looks to consider the image before him entirely. “In your brother’s office, there was a moment of panic for you like that in the woods, and I want to understand why.” He paused then added somberly, “I was there that night too. I felt what you felt. So help me understand.”

I stared at my hands. Thin skin, over flexed muscle and bone, wrinkled where it seemed a long time ago, longer than a life, lips used to go. I blinked away any lingering moisture and dropped my gaze. I could not have it both ways, could not say he should have what he wanted but deny him the explanation he asked for. “Beron was going to ask that I be married to one of your brothers.”

“Okay.” He said calmly, still so gentle and attentive, “What do you know, what am I missing?”

“It's what he said that night. You remember?”

“Yes, but why would he, after everything, ask that?”

When I found his face again he wasn’t angry. Not even for what I’d implied earlier, as if the idea I wanted him away washed clean off of him. I think we’d stopped being angry when it came to matters of the heart. Honestly, it didn’t even feel like anger when we’d fought that night in the foyer, the way a kind animal will bite when injured. I think all along we’d only been scared, wounded. But there was no room, no time anymore, for something so self-indulgent. 

“Because there are rules that I have that you don’t, and I broke the one that with him I’m never allowed to break.”

“What?”

“I won,” I said plainly. “Not minorly or arbitrary, it was absolute. We got away and I had the last word.”

 There was something briefly there, on his face. A kind of denial I’d had those nights ago, where you realize you were so unknowingly close to danger. And it makes you sick, just the possibility of what might have happened if you behaved differently. How the alternative sits stark on your chest and you want to deny it all, give yourself a little distance, maybe find some reprieve, and remember what had really happened.

I explained, “A life for a life. He’d get the last say in mine, and then any power I had was free for him to command. You know this, you know why he wanted me for Eris.”

“I’d never let him.”

“I’d have accepted.” 

He was shielding from me again. I could tell. Nothing came through, not the thing that made him go pale or the force that seemed to send his body moving forward without the help of his legs. How he seemed to have been struck in the back. My shoulders slumped.

“Why?” He asked.

“Because you’re Lucien.”

He searched my face, but the answer wasn’t there. He was lost, the only thing that wasn’t adding up was why. Why any of it? In an attempt to hold myself upright, trying to seem sturdy and sure, I found everything caving inward. He could see that at least, my whole body his to understand, and he did. He stayed because he did, but right now he needed more. 

“It’s all the same. Why do you think I said those terrible things that night in the woods, blaming you, about ‘not letting you make commands?’ Or the lie about the wards. They couldn’t keep you here, I know you knew that, you’re not stupid.” I said throwing my hands up in irritation or maybe still fear. A fear that he hadn’t figured out what everything meant together, and he never would. So I said it outright, “I needed you to choose me. Just until today. Because I don’t have any power, Rhys does.”

“That's not true,” he said, voice slicing through the air with renewed command. 

“It’s true enough. Whatever power I have only works here. If Rhys didn’t like you, I knew my weight. I could persuade him to claim you. That is true nowhere else, I could protect you nowhere else if you left. How many High Lords could take on treason?”

Lucien, exasperated, stepped closer to me, “I had options.”

“I know,” I said, voice echoing. I could see the force with which my perspective met him. I watched each word strike like a fist. “I know that now. But you’re Lucien.” 

“So?” 

“So this was the only outcome that mattered to me, the one where you got out.”

“And what about you?”

“You’re not listening. I need you safe. I need you free. You’re my mate.” 

Then a real fist, my own, struck his chest, as if to show him who I was talking about, like he didn’t know. He grabbed my wrists, tight but not hard, and leaned down to meet me at eye level. His words were clear and desperate enough to straighten my spine.

“I’ve been out.”

“Not to me!” I said, meaning to be strong and clear like him, but what came out was broken and ridiculous. Like a wail. Whatever feelings were beginning to rise obliterated my forced composure, and revealed to him entirely the crumbling form I’d taken. All these weeks, the doors closing, the dread of the final door closing. The thought of him slaughtered, the thought of Beron killing my mate. It had eaten away at me, eaten my form and my fire, and any displeasure that could have been found in having to marry. Until at last the only thing that was left was the one thing that had always been true, even before I knew it: I needed him. 

Lucien’s face, finally, betrayed him. Pain, grief, soft eyes, sorrow carving out his fine beauty. Rough warm hands dropped mine to hold my face. He said, “Hey,” and it was so gentle, so sincere, that at last it broke me open. I cried. Cried for everything that had for weeks gone unsaid. For the pain of what could’ve been, for the relief that it wasn’t. I cried because he was safe and because for so long he wasn’t. We’d crossed a universe, I’d once thought. 

And now he would go and I would stay and whatever sorrow was there connected me to the world and its beauty. The fact that good things do happen here, and what we want is often difficult to predict, stranger up close, and hard to hold, but it’s there in our hands. As he was now in mine, clutching to his shirt as he tucked my head into the crook of his neck and moved me into him so I could fall apart. 

I don’t know how long he held me there, letting me cry into his fine shirt, but it felt like an age. I thought I’d cry until the new one came around, but suddenly I was empty of it all. I pulled away, and when I opened my eyes he was staring at me with such care if I had anything left I’d have cried more. The generosity he gave me. His hand moved the hair from my face like the night we’d come back, like the night in my room two weeks ago when he’d asked if I needed him and somehow I’d said yes. 

Curiosity drove me to do it, what I did next. He watched me, holding his breath. Two options seemed to present themselves to me as clearly as if they were spoken aloud. It would take one look—just one, and the distance which we existed now would feel too large where before it seemed so close. Though if I didn’t, we’d return from this closeness and go about our life as we always did. And I didn’t doubt that the moment would present itself again, but I didn’t know when. 

But I was curious, like I said. He’d chosen me when he walked through that library door and now finally, I got to choose him. So I let my eyes, in their peripheral, find his lips, and looked. 

To be so understood—Lucien’s hand slipped through my hair and rested against the back of my neck. My fists balled in his collar, and suddenly no one was going first, instead we went together.

Our lips met somewhere between need and the patience of wanting to know something. Lucien kissed with an urgency to feel everything, how I tasted, how I moved. Each opening and closing of his mouth seemed to be met in sync with my own like we knew each other but accidentally. He was precise where he kept himself, lingering in the firstness of it. A desire, despite our age, to keep it here, in this moment, until he knew me on purpose. 

And I knew with certainty unlike all the other softness, this was happening in our world and not the other I’d thought was close by. That it was never really another universe at all, but this one right here. The seam by which we slipped through had always been the old boundaries of us, where the tangibility of his kindness had been so potent it pushed me beyond myself and had made me brave. He made me want to be brave. 

Our knowing completed, the urgency changed. Our breaths picking up. I had curved into him, chest to chest, and maybe it was the fact I was on my tip toes, or his height, but our balance went as our need grew and we stumbled backward. He sacrificed one hand and gripped the bookshelf behind us, supporting us fully, the books rattling. Yet his other hold was unwavering, falling down my back, tucking our hips together for relief. If we fell, we fell together. There would no longer be any separation. 

His mouth didn’t trail away, didn’t meet my neck or press lingering kisses into my cheek. We moved like water: naturally and instinctual—anciently. So fluid, he was, his tongue slipping against my own. I almost didn’t notice, could’ve mistaken him for myself. 

When he pulled away I half expected the frenzy, but I found that the moment was complete. I wanted more and yet, not now, this was good and whole on its own. I might not have even known I had wanted if it weren’t for his grip on my body, the shelves pressing into my spine. We were panting like we’d been running to each other since the night we arrived. Perhaps in a way we had been, running and running and running but now we could finally rest. There was a premonition of wanting but for now, the satisfaction filled me, doubling in the presence of Lucien’s.

 I felt it then, the familiar moment his shield dropped. Our realization was mutual and simultaneous. He’s staying, and I need him. Our emotions intertwined seamlessly. Gratitude, longing, hope, happiness, grief, all of it tangled together—No. More woven than anything now. Both of our feelings, a seam down the middle like a choice, made like the space where one side of your body meets the other. 

I understood something now too, the feeling I’d had before, that bone that had been broken then set again. It was our power. His and mine meeting, no more fear, now we were together. There was only one place for it to go. 

“Where have you been?” I asked.

Lucien laughed and I understood how it sounded only after I said it. He didn’t immediately let go of me. His eyes just moved over my face, like it were the first time he was seeing it so close.

“I mean—I meant where do you go when you’re not here.”

The male stood up to his full height and I let go of him. He said simply, “You’ll know soon.”

Just then the house seemed to awaken around us and what had once seemed like a private moment between us became precariously full of others and their noise. I could feel the Cauldron and now the Mother, pulling me across Velaris. My answer inherently understood, just a little longer. The tension vanished, not without a final tug. They knew though, I was never so easily persuaded. 

Lucien backed away and gestured for the door. As I walked past I brushed my hand against his own. I let it hang there between us. He grabbed it, just the very tips of our fingers held to one another and kept in place the intimacy. I led him back, his chest pressing to my spine as we stood before the exit. I hesitated, turned the knob as slowly as I could. Metal ground against metal, his every breath pressing into me, each click prompting me to grip him tighter, become more aware of how it felt for him to be just there, to remember what it felt like to have the option not to leave at all. I took a breath, dropped his hand, and the door opened.

We slipped out into the hall and stood our normal distance. No one was there and I turned to my mate. It probably looked like our usual business, a standoff of wills and stubbornness. It probably was, still, in some kind of way. I crossed my arms and felt the tired and sadness of my eyes, even if I had cried and been kissed and had someone close who did understand what I meant.

Lucien stood, his arms at his side, face stoic but otherwise at ease. We were silent. I think everything had been said that, for now, needed to be said. Lucien reached up and brushed a lock of hair behind my shoulder. 

“I’m not going to visit Gawayn,” I admitted once the long beat of silence had passed.

“I know.”

The front door opened and I knew that whoever it was would see the redness of my eyes and know what had happened. I hoped though our scents had not mingled too much, or despite our separation, it could still be mistaken for living together. 

When Cassian stepped through the door it took him a minute to notice us. Though when he did, his brows creased with distress and understanding. It was obvious what I had done, what I had been told. I don’t doubt he was aware, if only because his silence was needed too. 

“I’ll see you tonight,” Lucien said. A new promise made with the understanding of the fear that had permeated the house in his absence. In any case, I appreciated the goodbye, even now knowing he’d no intention of leaving.

“Bye,” I said as he began to turn with more somberness than I meant. 

The male upon hearing the tone looked back. Slowly he leaned down and pressed a kiss on my cheek. I was stunned. Cassian too, seemed to be frozen with the moment. My mate though having all the tenderness in the world pulled away and only upon seeing my face, did he begin to smirk. It was one of genuine joy not because he’d bothered me or because he won anything by doing it. He’d wanted only to soothe that sadness he’d heard, and he had. So even if I wanted to be angry I couldn’t have.

“Cassian,” Lucien said, and passed the male before ducking out. 

The warrior and I remained locked into place, our mouths slightly agape as we stared. Heat reached my neck and face and I tried to find the answer, to say we’d never done that before or that it was all Lucien. Luckily, however, Cassian found the nerve. 

“Given the day you’re both having, we’ll let it slide.”

***

Azriel sat in the library, his back to the door and a knife in his hand. We were meant to convene at the house of wind for dinner. The reason unknown, but I suspected the deal with Beron had something to do with it. With the finery of his clothes, the weapon seemed to be the only thing out of place. I’d heard Lucien return as I was dressing and let myself believe he’d come home early for me more than the obligation. I liked thinking I was allowed such speculation now. Azriel didn’t turn at my entrance or pay much mind. He seemed, as usual, deep in an inner world to which I wondered if anyone but him had access. Even Rhysand, I suspect, was sometimes at a loss.

“Something planned for the evening or should I grab my own blade?” I asked.

“We made a pact did we not? If you don’t marry and I don’t marry then we would marry each other.”

His words recalled our night two weeks ago after the wine had truly taken its hold on us. A moment of somberness, the feeling that my mate was far away. Azriel had seen no one of interest, no one I could even attempt to talk him up to at the bar, so I’d offered the pact. In 500 years it would go into effect. 

I smiled, raising a brow, “So you need a blade?”

“I hear there’s some competition.”

Whistling from the hall could be heard, and I turned toward the male with a damning finger before he could show himself. Casual, cool, Cassian was unphased by the circumstances of his entrance to the room. His whistling didn’t falter and his gaze passed over me as if I were nothing more than a piece of furniture he’d seen a thousand times.

“You can’t keep a secret to save a life.”

Cassian shrugged, “I said I’d let it slide, not keep it secret. Azriel had a bet to collect and I’m a good friend.”

I crossed my arms, turning toward the shadow singer, “I thought you lost.”

But Cassian answered for him, “Just the one. We have to have a few going, otherwise, we’d have no cause to continue interfering.” He winked and made himself a drink, as unruffled as ever, and found a seat. 

I opened my mouth but three voices spoke in unison, “You’re wretched.” The males already knew what I was going to say. Proof, perhaps, that their bets were not badly or so arbitrarily placed. I remained silent thereafter.

We waited for Lucien. Rhysand had gone ahead earlier in the day. Something to do with Mor and Amren, matters in the library. I didn’t pay attention once the word Library had been uttered, but I did expect his guilt had made him want to get away for a while. If that were the case then we’d hear no more about it, not for a good hundred years if at all. Cassian and Azriel exchanged idle chatter and I tried to listen for the sounds of my mate down the hall, but the house yielded nothing to me. Just as it had that lunch I’d found him, the lingering anger of his morning a ward between us. I quirked a brow.

“Go get him,” Azriel pleaded, interrupting my thoughts. His head fell against the back of the couch with boredom. He was more aware than anyone ever of when we were too close to being late to arrive anywhere. 

“Why me?” 

“You’re his mate,” Cassian said. “If he’s undressed we have no desire to see.”

“I’m dressed,” Lucien said, appearing before us in the doorway, fixing a button on his sleeve. He looked at no one else. His gaze was already there against my face, knowing where I’d be somehow before turning the corner. It might have been the kissing, what I knew now, about how his body felt against mine, or that he too had chosen me, but warmth fell around me like a halo. My skin rose against it, like his very presence, just the sight of him, was power enough to pull me clear across the room. Life called to me in a thousand tiny ways. 

He looked happy. He felt happy, a surge of it constrained at my chest. It was so precise the feeling sunk itself into my being, marking it. An added layer of protection and memory, to recognize him in any life, once his happiness met mine. 

Cassian and Azriel must have noticed our staring, because without word between them, the two stood and loudly boasted about their going outside, about how noisy the city was, about what they wouldn’t be able to hear. When they wanted to they could be my best allies. Their footsteps trailed away and all it took was the sound of the door to snap us from our stupor. 

“I can help,” I said, nodding my head toward his hands, clumsily pulling at his sleeve.

“Please,” He raised his arm out, holding the pieces in place and I grabbed the weighty metal, hands shaking. I swallowed, Lucien’s smile in my peripheral, as I could see him watching my face, my neck. We shared a fondness it seemed for moments of gracelessness, the failure of all preternatural skill and reason. No longer a joy born of torment, but the revelation of each of our significance to the other. That we made each other nervous now, that we’d even reveal such a thing. How unwavering we’d once been. This a reminder that our lives were transforming, happening, and would continue to happen, with one another if we so chose.

“I’ll have to teach you to make the drop into the house of wind.”

He hummed, half paying attention. With a clearer voice he said once the words registered, “Mor taught me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Two weeks ago, after Rhys found us in the bathroom.”

“It took me two months to learn it properly. I’m surprised you didn’t come back with shattered ankles.”

“I’d have received no sympathy from you.”

I laughed and secured the button at last. No, he wouldn’t have. His hands reached for the sleeve, adjusting it, while his attention remained fixed on me. Our satisfaction of the afternoon was short-lived. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to kiss him just as soon as I saw him again, but unlike before I could tell from the way he was smiling that it would take great effort to pull away. The moment would last longer than I could manage and there were still things to be done. But the more I looked at him the more difficult it became, to convince myself to deny any wanting. I cared less and less about giving myself away to anyone, now that with Lucien I already had. I thought about how his hands would pull my hair from its pins, what it would mean if he ripped the seams of my dress, and when I tried to find embarrassment over who’d know what we’d done, I couldn’t find any care at all.

“We can be quick,” He lied.

“We could.”

We leaned in slow, a poor mimic to the juvenile delivery of before where now hiding was something in us that was enduring. His mouth moved against mine, flat, and for a moment I almost believed our lie. When his lips parted against mine, however, I realized there would never be enough lifetimes to answer the need I found waiting in his mouth. Thus, despite all consequences, I wanted for him to know everything immediately.

My body opened for him. His thigh pressed between my legs parting them with little effort.

He ran the length of my exposed spine, fingers grazing, feeling rolling over bone and pressing into the spaces between them. He settled himself dipping only the knuckle below the low hemmed back but reached no further. We’d barely any control before, but whatever was there that morning had ceased. I closed my legs around him. 

A hum of pleasure escaped him, rich but quiet. It vibrated in my throat and I knew unequivocally that it belonged to me. I held his pleasure in my mouth. His desperation didn’t waver any control he had in his movements. I let no noise escape, not as his thigh pressed further into me, or as my mouth fell open with the sudden relief. Stifling any proof of his effect on me only made Lucien more desperate to hear it. His lips trailed away to make space for my voice, his hands worked harder, moved to my breasts, and revealed his need. He wanted me to moan, but the advantage was mine, having had to be utterly silent so often in this house where ears lingered nearby. He, however, cared little for who heard. How precarious we’d become, how tightly we’d been wound. 

A different tug, one from another direction, began to snag on me. Its own need was familiar. The tension between myself and the rest of the world with its obligations was the only reason I had not fallen entirely into him. This way, take him. We had to go, had to eat. He took my earlobe in his mouth. I grabbed his wrists, holding him in place. 

He whispered, suddenly conscious of the volume with which we wanted each other, “Be good.”

“I can’t.” 

He shifted his leg, pressing his thigh into me again harder. I gasped and closed my legs against him tighter. “I know,” He said. 

My hold became flimsy, even the tiniest movement, the craning of his neck, the shift of his eyes, encased me and released me. As if the echo of my relief returned as, and reinforced, my desire. He watched, attentive as he learned just what he could do. He withdrew from my failing grip and grabbed my waist. Against his thigh, he guided me. His attention was acute and unbreakable, watching my mouth from which I revealed nothing.

He leaned in, placing a lazy kiss along my cheekbone, before he whispered, “You’re going to make me beg aren’t you.” 

It was the only game I could play for now. He knew this and he knew what he was doing to me. The heat pooling under the skin, between my legs—he knew what I felt and needed no sound to tell him so. The answer was so obvious everywhere else. I tried, then, to press harder into him, to find more release, but he held firm, withdrawing with a raised brow. 

In my desperation, where he was stern and commanding I was clumsier. My jaw slack, eyes half open, I knew though, he was desperate too. The need was too heavy to feign anything exceptionally well. We had to give it all away.

He dragged his eyes across my neck, landed on my pulse, and replaced his gaze with his mouth. He nudged my head upward for access, but I’d have given it to him anyway. He ran his tongue flat along the skin before he sucked harshly. One of his hands pressed me into him, moving me as he liked, moving me so he could have me as he wanted. It was an authority he wielded easily. The warmth of him, just the curve of his chest against mine relieved me of something I’d needed my whole life that even had I wanted him to stop, if I were afraid he’d leave a mark, I’d have said nothing. His every gesture answered a question I did not know I was asking. 

It had never been like this. The ease of movement, the knowledge of a body you’d never seen, never quite touched before. He knew where I wanted him. So when he pressed a light kiss where he’d left a purpling bruise no amount of practice silence could keep the whimper that fell from my mouth. 

His laugh, weighed with everything he desired, slid between us to the floor. His amusement heavy on my skin, “Pathetic.” 

It was the only thing that could pull him from his control, an insult, a tease. This dominance he felt to be his was too sure and unchallenged. I shifted his hips against mine and he moaned. I was surprised he let me, the wretch. He grabbed my wrists and pulled them behind my back and leaning with the momentum he gently placed a kiss on my shoulder where his lips landed. Before I found him in my bed I’d have what it was I needed to win this kind of game. I’d know how to make him beg. But for now, I’d play this hand. I had no other choice. Or more likely, I didn’t have the will to find the other choices with the length of him press against me through his pants.

“How can we stop?” I said aware it would not be so simple. Unlike this morning the Illyrians were outside waiting. We only had so much time.

Lucien’s fingers tensed but released. Trust was not the reason for his withdrawal, but I kept them behind my back anyway. If he thought I could behave it could be to my advantage later. Such fun it had once been, the new irritation we might inspire in each other. 

He turned his head, idly resting his cheek on my shoulder, thinking. I was not so easily fooled. With predatory slowness he crept forward, pulling me back toward his lips. There was a precision to the hold, I would not move unless he willed it. 

“I have an idea,” He bit at my ear. 

“What?”

“You’re not gonna like it.”

His voice was almost melodic like he was humming the words, taunting still. A ghost of a smile, twin to his own had just begun to move along my face when Lucien’s teeth sank into me. The thin skin below my ear gave way, easily, as if warped by the heat of him. Yet unlike the inclination of all other injury, my body relaxed into his hold—so aware of the safety, so sure he wouldn’t hurt me. My eyes closed, but by the time I smelled blood, felt his tongue lap at the skin, those instincts retreated in again. I pressed both hands at his chest and shoved. 

He fell easily back and stumbled into the low table behind him. The furniture loudly slid away, scraping across the floor. The world stilled, waiting. He recovered with ease, wiping at his mouth. Something wicked settled on his face. Yes, I’d need to learn to play this game expertly. Such pleasure on those features, waiting for a challenge, waiting to dole out punishment. Like he’d been planning this for far too long. He ran his tongue along his lips and arched a brow. Don’t you play anymore? A dare. He needed only a glance to say it. 

So I lunged for him. 

In a moment of brute rage and lack of thought, my arms wrapped around his waist and my head hit his stomach. His breath hitched as we launched backward onto the table he’d just managed to right himself from. Tight, warm, and familiar arms, grabbed for me and I was pressed securely against him as we fell. The perfected silence was broken first by the splintering of wood, the shattering of glass, and then a laugh. The loudest most joyous laugh I’d ever heard from him. Pure and mine, unwavering, even as we landed. Even as I lifted from his hold, gripped his hair in my hand, yanked his head to the side, and bit back.

Cassian and Azriel barreled in just as I’d withdrawn, “You’re a miserable pig.”

I could taste his blood in my mouth. Lucien didn’t move just kept that genuine joy, boyish even in his amusement at the chaos. Not miserable at all. His eyes brightened as he looked at my mouth. I could see on his face what wasn’t said. Good girl. I gripped his hair harder and he hissed before I was lifted off my mate. The both of us righting ourselves, I pulled from Azriel’s grip once we were standing. 

“I hope you keep your promises,” Lucien said coolly as if the two males weren’t even there.  

“You never fail to be insufferable,” I snapped.

“I learned from my mate.”

All words failed Cassian and Azriel as they looked between the two of us, to the table now in ruins. They did not at once notice the claim, but I’m sure they smelled blood. Their sharp gazes continued to assess, trying to piece together our tension, looking for a wound, yet missing it all the same. The pair exchanged glances, their mouths open in unsaid questions, unsure of what to do, of who to speak to. The room was silent aside from the heaved breathing coming from Lucien and my chest which thus became almost an oppressive sound. And just as it seemed they were about to ask, I saw it. A sharp inhale, they stood up straighter in near sync. Their eyes drew to our necks, knowing. 

The two blinked, wide-eyed. 

Behind the smell of blood, the claims had caused our scents to mix.

Azriel sucked in his cheeks and turned his back to us. His shoulders shook. Bastards, all of them. It was Cassian’s drawl, however, that lazy amusement that fell out of him with such speed and ease that bothered me most. I clenched my fists before the words had even registered. 

“Are you flying with me or does another male have claim over you?” 

“Fuck off,” I said pushing through the group and moving to the door, Cassian’s wide smile no doubt unfaltering. “And get to the house of wind!”

Rhys was waiting for us when we arrived. The fight had made us late. I’d let everyone go first, hoping both to delay the inevitable and to arrive at the house to find Lucien had shattered his ankles. I could slap him. I was not, at that point, prepared to give him credit, but it was true that his idea made going to dinner far more plausible. All need or want for him vanished. But I remembered how it felt, the weight of his hands, where there’d been everything, where there was absence. I remembered all of it. 

Cassian was waiting, and as I landed he walked toward me still as casual as ever. The three males displayed a united pride, endlessly and forever amused by their own worst behavior. Even Azriel, before he’d taken flight, had laughed loudly to the murmured gesture of Cassian. Lucien was waiting unruffled, not a scratch or tear in his clothes—he’d landed perfectly. Two weeks he’d said. I narrowed my eyes. Leaning against the railing he was separated from a long fall. I said nothing. 

“What took you so long?” Rhys asked.

Cassian mused casually, “Oh the usual, these two at each other’s necks.”

“Pathetic, all of you males,” I hissed. The words bounced back at us, even the echo had power. I didn’t even acknowledge Rhys as I passed him. A sharp crease formed in his brow at my sudden hostility. He’d see it eventually. I had no doubt dinner would be a riot to them all into the centuries to come. It would rival even that of the winter in the cabin. No one, though, would find it as funny as Cassian did tonight. 

Rhysand’s bewildered voice floated over to me just barely as I hit the stairs. “What did we do?”

Azriel laughed, “Oh, it’s not what we did, it's what Lucien did.”

***

At dawn the next morning I was awake. I probably didn’t need to be up that early, the village just a winnow away, but it was getting cold. I liked thinking that, for some, this morning would be warmer than the last. I rubbed at my eyes lying there, listening to see if Cassian had risen. Downstairs, the kitchen had movement, plates clinked, so he’d be leaving soon. He was probably already dressed, his own plans to attend. Despite last night, I was glad he was to accompany me, if only until the next morning. The company would be good. Then I’d have all that time to plan. 

The morning light had softened the dark of my room into a nice blue. I stared at the ceiling, not quite ready to move, and ran my fingers absently over the mark on my neck that ached. Last night we’d said our goodbyes, briefly and in secret, with very few words. I’d winnowed into his room, all smugness having vanished, and managed a chaste kiss goodnight. He asked after my plans and I reiterated them and then I was gone. There was no need to linger. There were more answers now than questions. 

I rubbed at my eyes, stretched my arms across the expanse of my bed, and rested my hand on something woolen. It startled me enough that I withdrew like I’d been burned. I sat up. No one else was here. I hadn’t woken, hadn’t heard the wraiths or Rhys or anyone come in to check I was ready and up. I peered into the bathroom but it held no life. The cold air bit at me through my clothes, the blankets falling away, but I reached for the folded wool again on the other side of my bed. I dragged it slowly into my lap, already beginning to understand what it was. 

It was deep green like an endless grassy hill or the leaves when light passes through them on the last days of summer. A scarf, a knit one had been carefully laid along my bed, folded with gentle care in wait. I squeezed the yarn in circles between my fingers, feeling the weight, the thickness of it, and found a hole. I paused, an easy mistake, anyone might make it. I had a thousand times. One finger slipped through it, stark against the green. I wiggled it back and forth, feeling the looseness, feeling for the nothing. The hole was slight, but the stitches around it warped and adjusted to fit the mistake. 

I held the thing up to look at all of it, to scan the rows. Beside me, a tag fell out against the blankets. Even through the dim, even not knowing it, I knew the script to whom the note had once belonged.

To cover the bite.

—Me 

I picked the scarf up, pressed it into my face, and inhaled. It smelled just as it looked, like sunlight over an autumn grass. It smelled like Egrette’s. The night classes. I smiled into the yarn, foolish. I almost wished to wake him, to say now, I know where you’ve been. All my suffering, only for him to be in Velaris, at the classes I’d suggested, learning to make with his hands.

A thread pulled inside of me and I let it move me down the stairs. I didn’t knock, didn’t even check if he was awake. I pushed open the door and there he was, sitting as if he expected me. He was already smiling, at ease with the world. I didn’t let him ask, I knew he wouldn’t. I cut through the quiet morning with a demand. 

“Change of plans.”

Rhysand’s smile grew. 

***

The cold was bitter up here. The inhabitants too. The females who’d I’d been in correspondence over the years were at least warm and welcoming. They were motherly in the way I had once imagined my own mother would be once I’d gotten to adulthood. Time had passed and I could say the things at one time I hadn’t always been able to say. I could complain about males with blanket statements and we would all roll our eyes, only for them to, in jest, try and set me up with their sons. They let an hour go by before they teased me about my scarf indoors. Somehow knowing, as mothers always tend to.

After a cup of tea and some food, I bid them farewell, promising to come the next month with more to give. Outside the village was rather quiet compared to the last visit I’d had at the end of summer. I’d not seen Cassian all morning, he apparently going first to a camp not far from here. Some snow has fallen, light flakes, barely enough to cover the ground, but a few caught on my eyelashes, their size growing. I was rubbing them away when my name cut through the weathered stillness.

Gawayn appeared from behind, hands in his pockets, wings tucked in tight, fighting against the wind and cold. He was a handsome male to be sure, tall and leaner than the others. He didn’t pack on the same muscles as everyone else which had made me like him.

“Rumors were going ‘round saying you were injured,” He said once he was close. “You alright?”

I wondered for a brief moment if it would matter that an Illyrian knew. Who could he tell? For so long he’d been a kind of savior for this reason. There was mutual confidentiality, a desire to keep things between us that some people kept only because they were afraid of Rhysand. I’d come to him and tell him what I felt I could, show him maybe something I was afraid of in myself, and he’d take it without word or echo. There was an old way of moving, of thinking, that leaned toward him. But that was over now, at least in some ways. 

“Terrible sword incident. Cut my side.” Beron wasn’t one to count Illyrians for anything, but a deal was a precarious deal and just the idea of risking anything made my heart strain, causing a panic to settle between my bones again. Even the shadows shuttered. I braved the cold air and moved my clothes to reveal the scar. He frowned then let out a low whistle. 

“If it didn’t heal it had to be bad.”

“Bad enough.” 

His face relaxed some despite the subject and he smiled slightly, all sweetness, “You should’ve come here I’d have taken good care of you.”

“I had good company.”

“How many times did they tell you the story of the 10,000 steps.”

“Less than a dozen but more than a handful.”

“I can venture to guess that it must have been an extraordinary wound rather than exceptional company that I didn’t see you.”

“I was bedridden, believe me, I’d have liked to get away. Not that you could do anything I hear you’re busy these days. Rhys sends his regards.”

He rolled his eyes, a slight break in the tension, “Your brother is having a riot I’m sure. I don’t suppose now would be the time to exercise your talent for persuasion.” 

“And how might I persuade him for your bedding me and lying about it?” I said crossing my arms.

“Well for one thing we bedded each other and we’ve been doing so for years without getting caught.”

“This is the angle you’re going to take, that you’ve been fucking his sister for a century in secret?”

“Rhys should be impressed by my stealth and quick thinking and use it to his advantage.”

“I don’t think he’ll see it that way.”

“I can’t do your job for you.”

I waved a hand, “Let me mull it over and perhaps I can be of some use. I have no desire to be a bother to you if you can believe it.”

“I don’t believe it and you can always bother me.”

I smiled, “I know.” 

That was it, what I’d once needed. This intimacy, the knowing, a weight that almost satisfied. There was a new need within me, but I wanted to appreciate what had once been enough. This friend of my own, this place to practice being. One more time I would feel it, our small intimacy, before anything had been said. How enormous it was in hindsight, what it made me able now to do.

“I’m guessing by your guilt you’re the reason we’ve been caught.”

I scrunched my nose and nodded, “They overheard me telling someone.”

“Figures, you’re a loud drunk,” He mused with a certain fondness. “Who’d you finally own up to, Mor?” 

My shoulders straightened but my mouth pulled into a smile, a rare bashfulness that made me think I’d have to turn away if my feelings got any larger. I knew though regardless the behavior said everything that for now could not be said. The words I had at my disposal were too narrow, friend wasn’t right, but mate seemed despite its rarity even less the word I’d use. The one that remained had to first go to Lucien before it was said aloud to anyone else. 

Gawayn noticed my silence and smiled slightly, arching a brow. His demeanor lifted with a little mischief. “So that’s where you’ve been.” 

I nodded, “Partially, yes.” 

“What’s his name?”

I blushed and had to turn away. He was everywhere, across the snowy peak, in the narrow between two trees. How he’d like it up here I think, among the leaves. Next fall I’d bring him. We could stay in the cabin and we wouldn’t have to see anyone else. It could be just us, as the nights went cold. We’d have to come early when it was still warm in Velaris. Yes, who knows what we’d become by then, but I should think I would be able to ask that of him. 

I turned back to see Gawayn still waiting, watching me intently. My every gesture revealed our fate at last had arrived. 

“Lucien.” 

“Will I meet him?”

“This one? Definitely.” 

His eyes brightened, “Is he nice.” 

I smiled.

“Is he handsome?”

“Stop it.”

A gust blew from behind. The scarf at my neck fell from its place on my shoulder opening it. I knew within an instant, as the cold touched the indents along my skin, pushing the new scent out to the world, that I’d been caught. The Illyrian’s brows lifted into his hairline.

“Any chance this is the same male that put a claim on you.” 

I rolled my eyes, “Yes.”

“Is he brave or stupid?” 

I shrugged.

Gawayn shook his head again, now halfway amused, “I can’t imagine anyone brave enough.”

“My mate might be, but it remains to be seen.”

He didn’t at first seem to process the words I’d said. The confusion came delayed in the wrinkle of his forehead, the downturn of his mouth. He looked me up and down like he could find some distinction he’d not noticed as he’d arrived, one that would reveal to him the truth of my circumstance.

“You’re mated?”

I smiled coolly, “More or less.”

“When did this happen?”

“50 years ago.” The male's eyes bulged and I laughed, “Circumstances have only recently changed.”

A small relief to him. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

I waved a hand, “Neither of us was particularly thrilled about the match.”

“And suddenly…”

“Yes.” 

Whatever he was holding back, if anything at all, at once peeled away. He let out a loud yell of joy, lunged for me, and launched us into the sky. I yelled over the roar of the wind but he didn’t hear, nor would he have cared. So I decided not to care either. I tucked my nose under the scarf, eyes watering from the force of the wind. He was screaming, cheering, for the Cauldron, and the Mother, for me. Below us, the inhabitants mulling about didn’t even flinch. The world got smaller as he arced upward and again something enormous revealed itself as we moved into that midday sun. This was my life. Good things had really happened. Someone was waiting for me to get home. For a small moment, I began to believe I’d earned it. So when Gawayn let out another howling cheer, I let out my own. 

We landed after ten minutes breathless, laughing, stumbling in the snow. He placed me down but the energy within him of truly earnest happiness scattered out of his very being and spilled into the space between us. Such feeling not just for me, but for who I’d become. And there it was, I could see it but couldn’t say where. Something had gone, and left behind in its wake, was my friend. 

“It’s well deserved,” He said, letting out a long sigh. “In case no one told you that. And I wasn’t just going to part with you for anyone you know.” 

“You’ve been looking out all this time?” I said mockingly.

Gawayn got suddenly a bit serious, “Of course. We’re friends aren’t we?”

“I like to think so.”

Someone called the Illyrain’s name and he looked over his shoulder and he waved them off for a moment before he turned back to me with a shrug. He had to go. 

“I’ll see you around. I’ve got stories you’d love to hear.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” I said.

“Don’t wait too long between visits next time, even if you’re injured,” He said walking away. “And don’t get me into any more trouble. Your brother is one thing but I’m too old and precious to be dealing with a mated male.”

“It keeps things interesting,” I yelled back and just before the wind was too loud for me to hear the laughter that came from his tilted head, he said,

“For you!”

I watched him until I could no longer see him. The sky held not a spec of red, nor the Illyrian it belonged. The cabin lay empty. I wrote a note to Cassian and walked outside. Snow was falling heavy now, enough to cover the grass. I did want to sit inside admittedly, curl up for the evening and watch the world go white, but something tugged. Things to do, as always. Just a winnow away, as always. I looked across the camp—no one in sight. Then I took one step through the crease in the universe and was gone. 

***

Even tucked into my scarf, the lashes of wind off the river proved bitter cold. Winter was imminent. I could feel its sting at my cheeks as I walked up the steps of the townhouse the morning I got home. If anyone was around, my arrival was well enough announced by the frantic shutting of the door in attempt to keep the cold out. From Rhysand’s office, the murmured voices of Amren and Azriel flitted through. Too muffled to make anything out, too boring for me to care anyway, I didn’t stop to say hello or snoop.

The wraiths were clearing the dining table, all chairs but my own were pulled out, plates dirty. They looked at each other, a small smile snagging between them before it vanished as easily as they could, as if it hadn’t been there at all. 

I understood then, what such knowing looked like. I tried to imagine how Lucien and I appeared to others, even before. Eyes narrowing, searching through a room and meeting, the pull of a mouth the nod of a head, so much said without a word. How no one guessed at the tether between us I will never know. Most people, I suppose, pay little attention. Up close, however, it becomes obvious the private moments constantly occurring between two people where only a silent look communicates an array of feelings. Even beyond the bond. 

The bets placed by our court produced a sudden and secret fondness then. There was something nice about it, the way they saw such a thing as proof of something good and sincere between us. The quickness, even playfully those years ago, that deemed our knowledge of each other to be born of some endearment. Who can resist such understanding? 

From this perspective, it would make you think such endings were inevitable. They knew what we’d do before we had, so they’d placed their bets. Let them win, I like knowing now that they were right. I watched the wraiths disappear. I liked also seeing such intimate knowledge on other people's faces, aware now we looked the same. 

I retreated to my room and stripped. The cold had reached my bones and being inside was not enough to remedy its settling. I ran a bath, letting my hand fall under the stream. Everything felt warm by comparison. When the water seemed just on the edge of scalding I plugged the drain, dumping contents in it at random. Something to relax, something to revive, something to brighten, any remedy went in. I waited for it to fill, the aroma already of some comfort, while standing before the mirror. The punctured skin at my neck had begun to inflame, just barely closed and healing. Surely something to do with magic, something to do with mates, to heal faster than my side but slower for fae. I ran my fingers over the ridges, recalling his tongue against my skin. My fingers grazed my ear—I turned, bent, and looked at the imprint of my spine.

My three days away had yielded nothing of my desire. I didn’t expect it to, not even when I’d originally planned to let my mind wander in the empty cabin. I’d thought about torturing Lucien, letting my emotions run rampant down the bond, but perhaps another time. It had not been totally worthless to give those three days up, in the end. 

Bargains are a precarious thing. 

My eyes dropped to the skin at my side where a burning had been and nodded at it, knowing no one was watching. 

I hissed as I sat down in the tub. The heat of the bath almost instantly subdued me. I’d be useless, if I were in danger I don’t think I’d have noticed. I draped my hair beyond the side and relinquished myself to the lethargy. There was so much to do, but there was time now to do it. Behind my eyelids, I could see it, that cold beneath my skin vanishing, running, as if chased away. The house settled and I listened to it, tried to find Lucien, stretched a hand down the bond, but didn’t tug.

A fern reached back, unfurling, wrapping around a table.

I saw the harvest. 

“Where’d you go?”

Lucien had appeared from nothing. I might have thought he’d just winnowed if the water's heat hadn’t cooled so substantially between one memory and the next. His smile, though slight, contained the amusement of having caught someone doing something. He’d been watching me a while then. Yes, I’d fallen asleep and he’d found me.

“Hm?” I fought the heaviness of my body, pulled from sleep. 

“You didn’t stay at the cabin.”

I shook my head.

“Where did you go?”

“Day court.”

“Why?” He asked.

I sighed, lifted my foot to turn the knob, and filled the end of the tub with a little more hot water, “To consult Helion’s library.”

“For Rhysand?”

“No, for myself.”

Lucien paused, surprised by my honesty. “Anything interesting?”

I shook my head again and rubbed the tired from my eyes. That had been a waste of time. I had not found what I wanted. The collection was too vast, I couldn’t narrow my search down well enough before I had to be back again. Even with the help of a few of the librarians there, we’d been fruitless. Helion was generous though, just for letting me in.

“Looking up Gods and folktales again?” My gaze snapped to his but he made no move. He let out a small huff of a laugh, “In the dining room you said your book wasn’t interesting.”

“It wasn’t.” I shut the water off. 

Lucien lifted from the door frame, “You say this topic is of little interest to you but you’ve read two other books on similar themes. It’s an easy guess.” He began to roll up his sleeves, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Observant, I thought, but didn’t say. I didn’t have the chance. His languid steps, the casual manner of his being, eradicated all sensible thought. My admiration of his usual beauty falling away into the homely devices he’d begun to reveal did not go unnoticed. His face didn’t show, but it passed between our ribs like a well-known secret. A sincerity threaded through some amusement which said despite his desire from how he’d found me he really did wish to help if he could. The sensation filled the emptiness of my chest. Yes, we were now doing things together. After a weekend of shielding, it was a fine feeling.

“It worked itself out.”

“Oh?” He grabbed the chair near the mirror and set it behind me. I didn’t look, skimming my hands over the top of the water watching it ripple. 

“At least until after solstice.”

“Why solstice?”

“We like to use that time to be together as a family. No distractions.”

“That's nice,” he said with a voice somewhat distant. I let our silence take the place of the grief between us. He pressed his warm fingers to my hairline and without a word instructed me to lean my head back. Warm water slipped through my hair and fell down my shoulders. I’d set some aside and I knew it was only still warm because Lucien willed it. I closed my eyes and focused on the feel of his hands, his fingers, running along my scalp. The hair beginning to weigh with its wetness, he grabbed a soap off the shelf nearby. When he stuck his hand in the bath to wet it I felt immediately the warmth increase as he took care of me, took care of everything. The soap lathered and the bath was so hot I thought I’d sleep again. 

“You’re tired,” he said.

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re being so compliant.”

His words, closer than before, tucked themselves along my neck. I could feel the smile he had and would have felt it had he said nothing. The quality of air, the shift of a draft, I knew when he was smiling the way you know your own mouth is. 

“I didn’t sleep well,” I said ignoring him.

“If you’re ever restless my door is open.”

“I might have accepted before.”

He laughed reminiscent of the teasing one he’d used before he’d made his claim. “Still mad are we? Think of the perks,” he took a sharp inhale, “you smell like me.”

“Like bastard?”

He tugged at the hair a little and my head angled back so I could see him fully, “Like me.”

“The scarf hid your stench. Somewhat counterproductive on your part.”

“Not in the slightest,” he cooed.

His words slid between us once more and I could no longer resist. I had enough slack from Lucien’s grip to turn my head slightly into him. Our noses nudged, his lips just barely apart from mine. One slight breath and I felt his exhale brush over my lips. Let's see, I thought. When he didn’t move to kiss me I leaned forward but the distance didn’t close. The ends of his mouth quirked up slightly when, on instinct, I leaned in further. His trick was revealed after our mouths didn’t meet again. He’d pulled away. He wasn’t going to let me kiss him, not unless I embarrassed myself first. I feigned a scowl and he sat back. 

“Egrette told me to tell you to visit again.”

“I take it her nephews are suddenly working fewer hours.”

I’d yet to have the chance to ask about the alliance they’d procured behind my back. It took little thought to put together the pieces, after the fact, of her lying about their coming to the shop to get me away. Lucien, no doubt, was in the backroom hiding in the event I came around. I’d been so concerned with the game Rhys was playing I hadn’t thought to look at the other boards. So it seemed we all had pieces we were moving both out in the open and in the wings. 

“She told me you didn’t like each other but who knew I had suitors to fight off. She spent half the weekend finally filling me in on that little history.”

I stilled momentarily, his fingers working through a tangle that had gathered at the base of my neck idly. “Is that what you did while I was away then? Spent your time with her laughing at my expense.”

A test.

“More or less.”

I smiled, the fool. “Well, if you’ve met them you can understand why I had no choice but to tell them you existed.”

“They seemed to think I was a real brute.”

“I’ve got stories.”

“Loudmouth.”

Lucien rinsed my hair again and wrung it in his fist. Water flooded his arms, dripping onto the floor, but he continued until it was damp before he let go. I flipped around and watched him, his sleeves clinging to him. I licked my lips and he noticed, content I suspected. No feeling revealed itself. 

I met his stare, narrowed my eyes. “I lied to you,” I said.

A test.

He didn’t flinch, “When.”

“I said I wasn’t going to visit Gawayn but I had a message to deliver from Rhys.”

“And?”

In my chest something rolled through, small and miniscule. Lucien’s mouth slightly agape. “He wants to meet you.”

“Good. I’d like to meet him too,” He said with the utmost sincerity before leaning in to place a kiss against my forehead. “I’ve just come to check on you. I’ve got to run.”

“Where?”

“Solstice gifts.”

I peered up at him where he now stood. From his place above me, the soap wouldn’t truly hide my figure. The water wasn’t opaque enough and he watched my eyes smiling like he knew this. He didn’t look away. He didn’t dare. 

“I’m glad you’re home,” he said.

“I’m glad you are too.”

After my bath, I found Mor in Rhysand’s office. My brother looked up only briefly.

“How was Helion?”

“Handsome, as usual. Mor,” I said turning to face my cousin. “When did you teach Lucien to do the drop into the house of wind?”

She thought a moment, “The morning after your fight.”

I tutted my tongue, kissed my teeth, “I’d have liked to see that.”

Yes, my mate was lying to me. 

***

The night before solstice I snuck into Lucien’s room. I continuously over the days offered up tests, opportunities for him to tell the truth, but he never did. Down the bond filtered small waves of emotion, endearment, amusement, joy, less grief than before, but still some. He was gone most days but so was I. He’d find me though, wherever I was, and before he left he’d kiss my cheek, tell me he’d see me that night and he always did. Even when he came home late he’d find me in my room, sit on my bed for a while, and talk, before disappearing again downstairs.

Meanwhile, Rhysand watched me with certain suspicion to which I could find no origin. He knew my plans had changed, knew why I’d gone to Day Court, and I suspect it left a certain impression on him. I couldn’t leave the house without coming home to an urgent string of questions at his hand. Something about where I’d been, something about solstice gifts, something about when I’d give him Lucien’s. 

“Here,” I’d finally said dropping the large parcel on his desk. 

“What's this?”

“Gift for Lucien.”

He peered up at me and let out a long breath. I could hear the disappointment but its cause was not revealed. “This is it?”

“It? It’s a rather big gift already no?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“What you discovered in Day Court.”

I tapped my fingers, “Nothing.”

“Will you go back?” He asked leaning in his chair. 

“I don’t need to.”

“Why?”

I didn’t reply. Those old folktales had offered only a shallow glance at the entities I was searching for, the answers I needed. Somewhere in the library I had no doubt that what I’d wanted would have been found, but everything visited and revealed itself with time, the right time. And the right time was not in Day Court. For Rhysand, there was a time for him to know what I’d learned too, but it wasn’t now. 

I smiled as we sat through the silence, letting him come to this same realization. That he would know what he needed to know when it was called for. His body slackened, his eyes dimming. I could guess his motivations.

I raised a brow, “What did you expect I was getting him for Solstice, Rhys? A ring?”

He scowled, looking away, damning himself and his cause. He’d placed his bet those weeks ago and I had little doubt of the answer he’d given. He believed I was going to be mated to Lucien by Solstice. When I told him of my reasons to visit Helion he must have suspected the library would yield an answer, or lack of one, that would be cause to bind Lucien and I to one another for the rest of our lives. It wasn’t a bad assumption I could admit. Everything had been going his way, he thought he was winning, but now, time was running out. 

“How much did you bet?”

If I would not answer, then he wouldn’t either. He stared at my neck and said with a grunt of disgust, “How long until that heals, you reek.”

So I left him in his office and climbed the stairs to my room slamming the door. It was good cover, I waited about half an hour until he retired for the evening before I winnowed to Lucien’s door. I was careful to move quietly, with Cassian sleeping across the way. I gave just one knock before I slipped in. I leaned against the wood, shutting the door silently behind me. Lucien sat on the bed, book in hand, his pants unbuttoned, his shirt discarded, The Forgotten Prythian read the spine. His face was laden with surprise.

“Didn’t expect I’d see you,” he said. 

“I can leave.” 

I  opened the door, but he was there, within one blink, pressing his palm flat overhead and shutting it silently again. Half caged in he peered down at me, mouth pulling into what, at another time, would’ve been an imperceptible smile.

“Don’t,” he teased. 

“I wouldn’t wish to impose.”

“Aren’t you precious.”

“You didn’t find me today so one is free to assume.”

He leaned forward, “Y/N, please.” His voice surprisingly desperate, as if he thought I really would leave. “I want you here.”

The thread between us was quiet. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. Liar. My mind repeated, even as I turned my head and let him nuzzle into my neck. I ran my hands through his hair, stroking idle pattern. His tired seeped out of him, the weight of his body growing as he used me for support. It is a long game, keeping up such antics. Did he know, like I knew, that we couldn’t continue this way? What he wouldn’t say I would surely find. 

Over his shoulder, I took in his room. Had I come here earlier I might have been less inclined to believe he was on the verge of leaving Velaris. The closet was well-kept, clothes of all his best colors hung with care. Heavy sweaters in deep reds, light shirts made for summer. On the windowsill, the glass open ever so slightly, books were stacked somewhat haphazardly. They seemed to be borrowed, or else, he’d been recently flipping through them because a few others were set on his desk with greater care. 

He hooked his fingers in a strap, dragging it up my shoulder where I hadn’t noticed it had fallen off. He kissed the thin material and pulled back, holding me by my hips at a distance.

“It’s not as I pictured it.”

“What?”

“The dress.”

I looked down, it was the one I’d bought with Mor that afternoon Lucien threatened to claim me. My neck burned with the memory. I wore it with the intention of distraction. I wanted to use his maleness to my advantage. It was too cold otherwise, but I knew his skin was warm. I’d learned that more than once.

“Mor told you?”

“I asked.”

“Why not ask me?”

“Because I wanted to know what became of your little outing after I begged Mor to get you out of this damned house.”

I dropped my hands from him. I’d believed it to be Rhysand, or Mor alone, that had interrupted us that afternoon. Her questions then made sense, if Lucien was so curious about the books I was reading then I’m sure he caught my lie once she’d told it back to him. Another ally revealed, moves from the wings, while I was distracted by my sorrow. 

“You were brooding so terribly over our fight still and Egrette was occupied so I asked her to take you outside,” Lucien said. A smile began to form slightly, “I might have suggested too she buy you something that would tear away easily.”

“You’re vile.”

“I’m kidding,” he said. “I didn’t care where she took you. As long as it wasn’t here.”

So he was capable of telling the truth still, at least when he wanted to.

I crossed my arms, “Doubtful.”

“I have no intention of bedding you in a house full of Illyrians.”

“But you do wish to bed me?” 

He smiled, confirmation enough. He was right, not in a house of Illyrians and neither with the lies between us. 

I pulled from his hands, the topic a good distraction, and walked toward the desk. He’d blushed when the moon had passed through my pajamas before. What, by this light, would my body do to him? I felt with acute precision his watching me, but still, he didn’t stop me. Not even as I got close enough to see the scattered papers on his desk, with the same script as a gift tag I found in my bed. My hand slid along the fine wood. Names, names I didn’t know, were scratched haphazardly. 

I couldn’t look long enough. I didn’t want him to notice. He was smart, even distracted.  

He surprised me, however, when I turned around. I expected something heavy and needy, but his mouth had formed such a careful curve, his features softened, as he leaned against the door admiring. I’d seen him happy, joyful, but never like this and it made the emotion difficult to place. The bond revealed nothing. 

I would’ve teased him, but in the low light his skin looked golden and it occurred to me with greater clarity, beyond my ambition, how I’d found him. He was at ease with the world in a room that was his. His warm chest exposed, he was undressed. It was a different desire entirely, to notice him, to look. He was so beautiful, so mine. To think that I was in this bedroom, that I knew I’d lie in that bed beside him and sleep, it filled me with warmth, it made me soften back.

He yawned.

“You’re tired.”

He nodded.

“Let's sleep.”

“Just sleep?”

I smiled. I turned away. I needed more answers. If he wouldn’t tell the truth, then I would find it on my own. My eyes fell on a list of names, I didn’t have long enough to scan them all, just the first letters. I found E, the fourth name on the list began with E. I read. My stomach dropped, my heart picked up speed, but I turned still to face him again in the hopes the new voraciousness against my ribs would be mistaken for nervousness. He looked fondly. Had he always been so easy to fool?

I held my hand to him and said, “Yes.” 

He approached without question.

It was easy with him there to find my composure. He kissed the top of my hand. We separated only to find our side of the bed. In unison, the sheets were pulled back, but he did not immediately join me. The last of the lights needed to be put out, and only then did I see the shadowed outline of him pull his pants off the rest away. If he’d had asked me to close my eyes I would’ve. If he’d asked me to watch I would’ve. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, as he climbed into bed I sensed again the need to keep things in something innocent and first. He did not move toward me, but he laid on his side and we faced each other, hands tucked under our heads.

“Happy solstice,” Lucien said with a faint whisper.

The gesture reminded me of childhood. The excitement for gifts, the not wanting to sleep. 

“Happy solstice, Lucien.”

A breeze from the window filtered through and I tucked my shoulder away from its icy caress. Lucien’s eyes found the spot that had been struck and tentatively he reached across the bed. He hovered over the skin, the heat of his palm already kissing my shoulder without having to touch.

“Is this alright?” He asked.

I nodded. 

He placed his hand down, nothing but warm hot skin. He slid only low enough to grab the blanket, dragging it back up over my arms and hovering there a moment like he wasn’t sure what to do now. When he pulled away I didn’t stop him. I forgot what it was like to be young, inexperienced. How much weight everything had, the touch of a hand, the place beside you in bed. I’d once spent hours thinking about it, how it would feel to get to sleep beside someone forever. To reach through the dark and grab the person beside you and curl into their body, to find such tender relief whenever you wanted. To be so hungry so long you didn’t even recognize it as need, as want. Not until that first reach where no matter what you imagined, how small you’d convinced yourself it was, you found your hands shaking. 

“I went to the cabin.”

The words, though whispered, struck with strange weight. They pulled me from my thoughts abruptly. I asked, “When? Why?”

“Your weekend away. Mor brought me, but  you weren’t there.”

From the darkness I expected that dreamlike look on his face, something far away, but again he surprised me. He was visibly here, with me, in that moment. In fact, his stare seemed hardened, anchored to what he’d begun to unfold. I shook my head, confirming what we both knew. I wasn’t there.

He didn’t elaborate. I pressed a steady hand across the divide and rested it against his face.

“Are you alright?”

He smiled, placed his palm against the back of my hand, and said, “Why did you sit so far away?”

“I was waiting for you.”

He opened his arms and moved forward. It was invitation enough, I shoved across the bed and he enveloped me. The night in the bathroom had been too quick, too sickly, too delirious. We entangled ourselves like there was a risk in the night some invisible hand would pull us away. Perhaps there was. We said nothing more. I took in a long breath and closed my eyes. 

My mind drifted as I felt his hands splay across my back, a different kind of desperation. His heart beat slow beneath his skin. That name repeating with each pulse.

Erinyes

Erinyes

Erinyes

Dawn didn’t arrive quickly, but it came. I woke on my own. I stared at Lucien a long time, craning my neck to watch such peace sit on his face. I wanted to remember—just in case. I wanted to lean in, wanted to kiss him, but even softly I wasn’t sure if it would wake him. I couldn’t risk it. So I just stared for a long time, longer than I had time to do, and it was like a kiss but in a different way. Tonight, I’d ask my questions. We’d have our answers. 

Slipping from bed involved feigning sleep. I moved the way a lover pulls away once they are through with you. It was easy, I’d seen it for myself a thousand times. He let go. Not so reluctantly either, convinced I’d be here when he woke up. 

But I would not. 

At his desk, I stared at the name once more to be sure I’d seen it right. He’d circled it. I’d missed that somehow. Did he know what I knew? I looked back at him, a streak of sunlight through the window cut the reigning night away. He would not like it when he woke, that I’d left without word. He would soon understand. Whatever this was, was over. 

***

“You remembered!” Cassian yelled, holding up the sweater from his box. The one I’d made him years earlier snagged and left a gaping hole last winter. He’d felt so badly I tried to see if Egrette knew of any maneuver to save it but alas it had been ruined. “I’ll wear it tomorrow morning,” He smirked.

“What’s tomorrow?” Lucien asked. He’d not mentioned my slipping away. He seemed happy when he found me that morning in the library decorating with Mor. He’d even helped us hang garlands in the places we were too short to reach. 

“Their childish snowball fight,” Amren said looking at a fine stone Rhysand and I had picked out for her. I knew better than to knit her anything.

“You’re welcome to join us, Lucien,” Cassian said casually, turning to face the male beside me on the couch. I didn’t expect he would, but the nature of these things was precarious. The unexpected thing, what you didn’t plan for and couldn’t know, always makes its appearance. 

Lucien raised a brow at him in pure Autumn snobbery, “I’ll pass.”

“Well aren’t you precious,” Cassian drawled with a wide grin. I stilled at his words. Though I barely believed it, I hoped for a moment it was mere coincidence. That he had not heard us in Lucien’s room the night before, but when he sent me a wink it was clear he had.“Just as well, I suspect you’re tired after last night.”

“What was last night?” Mor asked with genuine innocence. 

Cassian turned toward Lucien waiting, and my mate didn’t even pause, like it were a lie he had been thinking about all day, “I fell asleep in the library and Cassian found me.”

“Precious indeed,” Mor said. 

Cassian’s attention waned from Lucien as he fixed on me, “You seem a bit tense.”

“Haven’t got much sleep these days.”

“So I hear,” Azriel muttered from the chair beside me. I shot him a glance, traitor. Rhysand was in conversation with Mor and Amren, his mind elsewhere but it would be foolish to pretend that he wasn’t at least half paying attention. 

“It seems none of us are getting any proper sleep,” Lucien mused as casually as Cassian.

“Not me,” Cassian replied. “I’ve been sleeping perfectly well.”

“We know,” Lucien said turning toward him with a half smile. “You’ve no reason not to.”

 Cassian’s jaw clenched but the thread of amusement was running through his face. The Illyrian sat back in his chair, “Next time I can’t sleep I’ll come find you.”

“I thought you didn’t wish to see?” I murmured into my drink and Cassian coughed as he took a sip of his, the contents splashing up into his face. It captured Rhysand’s attention well enough that he rolled his eyes and grabbed the last two gifts.

“These are for you two.”

I knew it was from Lucien. He was the only one left. I’d thought, maybe, the scarf had been a gift he’d given early. I’d brought it from my room and hung it carefully in the hall for when I needed to defend him, needed to reveal the kindness. But in my lap now, another gift. It was so finely wrapped I didn’t even wish to open it. I ran my fingers under the seam. Everyone’s eyes on us, and heat rose to my face. I’d never known opening a present to be so embarrassing, but tonight it felt like revealing something intimate that I wanted to be shared only between us.

The paper tore next to me. Lucien began to pull the box out, and so I too lifted the paper. We took the lids off in unison. 

Mittens. 

The same fine green. 

Lucien held up the sweater. I’d gone back to the tailor and found out what colors suited him. It was a rich olive color, even just holding it up drew the attention of the room. His skin was warm, glowing against it. I’d had to hide the project when Lucien came home and stationed himself in my room if it were late. I’d been up most nights rushing to finish in time. I’d been half asleep most days, but it was worth it, to see his face. I thought maybe he’d find it superfluous. I’d already given him one, but I wanted to make it with clearer intention. I wanted to make it for him on purpose. 

“So you’ve met Egrette,” Rhys said, and I realized how quiet we’d all gone. I huffed an awkward laugh as the room resumed its usual noise and splendor. The cover was just enough to give a reprieve, to offer a veil of privacy for which we could feel and speak freely. Lucien had the same soft smile he’d had the night before.

“I’m supposed to tell you, Egrette helped me with the cast-off.”

I laughed, “Did she help pick the color too? It’s my favorite yarn of hers.”

Lucien shook his head, “No. I saw it through the window that day you took me to get new clothes. It reminded me of the night we met.”

My brows furrowed, “In what way?”

He rested his head against the soft back of the couch, the memory just there for him. As easy to conjure as a smile. Pulled back into the past he spoke with an endearment I didn’t think he’d have reserved for that time, it contradicted everything, but I understood it nonetheless. To be at the beginning, to know how it ends, to hold those facts beside each other—it could wind you, such grief and gratitude together.

“When you arrived that night I was admiring the trees overhead. It was the Autumnal Equinox. I was sad to miss it for an eternal summer but just before you walked in I noticed the leaves were a deep green they tend to get just before they change and it made me think of home. When I looked away I saw you, talking with Mor.” His eyes looked around my face like a caress, half in memory. “That green was the color of the world the first time I saw you.”

I’d remembered wrong.

He had looked at me. I’d wanted for something that had already happened, something I’d missed. I was wrong. I doubt it would be the last time with him, but it was the first. We’d begun all wrong.

“I was afraid what my brother might do if he saw, if I looked too long.” He said absently like he knew what I’d been thinking. “So I looked at the leaves for a long time that night.”

If he saw me he’d said once of his father. Now too of his brother. Just to look at someone was a risk. The way you witnessed me, gave you power over me and for some reason you never used it, he’d said also. How brave he had to be in all those years just to let me be his witness. It’s any wonder what we might do with such bravery and power together, where we might go with it. 

“There’s a note,” He said pointing to one of the mittens.

I reached for it and a finger poked through a hole. A big one at that. More than just a mistake.

“That one was on purpose.”

I laughed, “Why?”

“So I could still satisfy your hunger.”

I turned away, hiding the deep red of my cheeks at those words. It had felt like an age between that first kiss and this moment. Standing alone in the hall after dinner at the house of wind. My fingers latched to the note and withdrew it.

For what I can’t chase away.

—Me

I smiled and the joy erased all notions of private feeling. It was obvious that anyone who looked, even those who didn’t know me at all, would know the intensity of the joy I was feeling. I peered around the room. They were watching Mor as she leaned into the dramatics of a story—all but Rhysand, who was watching me. If it were another time, the time of before, I might have turned away and hid that joy from him. But Lucien, it was Lucien who had made me feel I could be brave. So when my brother’s surprise eased into deep joy and esteem, I was glad I hadn’t missed it.

***

I winnowed directly into his room this time. I landed directly next to his bed where I’d found him the night before. Midnight was closing in, the boys were headed for their rooms, their voices carrying down the hall. Mor and Amren remained in the library. It was time.

Lucien went to speak and I rushed my palm against his mouth. We were close, my knee on the bed beside him, our noses nearly touching. Rhysand and Azriel’s conversation carried far away until their doors closed. But it was Cassian who I was worried about. He walked toward his room whistling. I needed to know what he could hear. I’d anticipated he’d heard the knock on the door but not much else. When I saw him this morning he looked between Lucien and me and I knew I’d had that much correct.

The door across the hall shut and I shifted my attention back to Lucien, one eyebrow raised at me as if I were being ridiculous, as if Cassian hadn’t revealed he’d heard everything. A stroke of dumb luck that the male couldn’t keep a joke to himself. Last night was practice, tonight was the real thing. I slid into his mind.

Come to apologize for leaving me this morning?

No. It was deserved. 

Really?

I narrowed my eyes at him. You’ve been lying to me Lucien. 

His mouth opened against my hand and before any noise, any confirmation or denial, could be pressed into the skin of my palm I wrapped my other arm around his neck and fell backward through the universe. 

It was a stumbling really, just as it had been through the wards, as it had all begun. A risk I knew, we could land flat on our faces, but after the table incident, I could better predict his instincts. So when we landed on the doorstep, Lucien’s hands shooting out to catch the brick, his other curved so tightly against my back, I smiled for having guessed correctly.

“By the Cauldron,” he swore getting his footing just barely to let me go. He glared at me before turning to see where we’d landed. I realized then he was wearing the sweater I’d made. The new one. I’d forgotten to tell him inside the collar I’d stitched the words less drab. If after all this was over I could tell him I would. He turned a few times as if he expected us to be somewhere else, the cabin maybe. I could’ve winnowed inside but I wanted him to know where we were, wanted really for him to see it. His eyes slid over the brick and looked to the right where Velaris lay in scattered excitement, the warm glow of Solstice settling behind the windows and seeping out into the world. His brows furrowed in confusion he looked toward the Sidra next to us, cutting through the lawn, curving out toward the sea. Not the cabin, not with the boys headed its way tomorrow. 

So began an immediate shift, where turning back it wasn’t that he didn’t trust me, it was something else entirely. Like he needed always, to find the margins of a place to know the boundary of access, where he felt allowed to go. Starting on the outskirts where nothing was, he seemed to believe he had to earn his way in. I wish I’d seen him that first night walk into his room, to compare it now to the way he looked at me. So unsure, a bit uneasy that a door was about to slam shut and he’d no longer have access to what he’d been shown. He didn’t seem to want to get comfortable, didn’t want to let his other place in the world out of his sight lest he lose them both at the same time.

I nodded my head toward the door. The warmth, once I opened it, was immediate and I let out a sigh of relief. Things were going unnervingly to plan. Lucien and I crowded inside the small entry. Even the cold that night had been a little much for him to bear. Though I felt him close, I knew his attention was nowhere near me. He was taking in everything he could see. The ornate, albeit old, carpets trailing the short hall. Jackets hung in the open, the somehow free and yet cramped space where rooms dueled for attention across from and beside each other. As we walked further in Lucien turned to each.

“Is this a family home?” He asked running his hands up the exposed wood, the cottage itself a little more rugged. If the townhouse wasn’t High Lord-like, then this was an even further cry.

“No. It’s my home.”

Lucien’s eyes slid over to mine. I nodded ghosting a smile with his surprise. It was not extravagant, it wasn’t even big. It had a small sunroom next to the garden that looked along the Sidra and that was about as luxurious as it got. It didn’t even have a library, but there were books, plenty. Along shelves where they fit and in stacks where they didn’t. Decorated with paintings and art collected at the rainbow, candles along the windows, ticket stubs and scrap papers in frames of the court’s most extravagant mischief, a kitchen I’d cooked just once in before I went home. Lived and not lived in, proof of having been alive but not really there in those rooms.

“When my mother and father died I bought a home. I needed a project, somewhere to go, somewhere alone, and mine. No one aside from Rhys knows it exists. Took about two years to quietly move in but I don’t stay here that often.” 

“Why?” Lucien said.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Once all the builders cleared out I remembered I was alone.”

We moved into the sitting room. Two couches sat opposite each other. Maybe he sensed it, that we should be apart for this, because he sat across from me even though we were alone. Or perhaps it was all manners, that's how he was. When I met his face again he had the look he always had from before Velaris, before all of it. A trace of softness still there, a touchstone to what we’d become—to what we might be. I didn’t know which way this would go, if he’d detest me, if I would detest him, but there were things to be said and we could no longer not say them.

“So,” he said, “you’ve brought me here to lay it all out then.”

I nodded, “It won’t entirely be unfair. I’ve been lying to you too. But nothing will make sense until you tell me yours first.”

He thought a moment. In the weeks leading up to this, the feeling of inevitability seemed real and present. Everything I did, every question, every moving piece had been effortless and unwavering. I’d imagined this conversation not to be simple but somewhat the same. Only as we arrived at it did I find there was a kind of impasse. We’d both need to reveal ourselves, to want the same thing. We’d need to do the things we’d only just recently learned to do. This was the very last test. 

He took in a long breath, tutted his tongue like a kind of tic while he thought. He held something before him, a hypothetical, whatever he believed he’d lose by going first. He didn’t want to. Not until he turned to me. The reluctance lifted as he fixed himself upon me, his mate, sat across from him, like he was placing a bet on me too.

“Where should I begin?”

He saw the breath I let out. He didn’t join in the relief. 

“The night we arrived when it was revealed that my emotions were running down the bond you said you’d lower your shields too. But you didn’t, not really. Why?”

I don’t know when I began to suspect it. I hadn’t wanted to believe it. But the moment his emotions were building in Rhysand’s office to which the only tell was the slight opening of his mouth I began to wonder. He’d given himself away in the bathroom. Gawayn’s name had struck deep in his chest the morning of our walk after I’d mentioned him. Only for him later, after our affections deepened, on the tale end of a lie, to hear his name and feel almost nothing. That primal thing seemingly vanished. 

“Do you know what your emotions feel like?” He said blinking slow. “They’re like notes, like music. Your feelings hum really, and they build into chords. I can tell when you’ve made sense of something because I can feel the harmony in my ribs. My emotions, they’re not like that.”

“I didn’t know what my emotions were like. How could you know yours?”

“I’ve watched you. In Rhysand’s office, I saw them wipe your thoughts clean away, like a wave. Or that night in the foyer, you winced. Moments where I wasn’t or couldn’t withhold from you the intensity of my feeling. Your words, they’re very important to you. I would hate to be the cause of your silence, even accidentally,” he said plainly. “But you can correct me if I’m wrong.”

“You could’ve let me try,” I said, by way of confirmation. His emotions often built rapidly, striking with full force, indeed like a wave. “I’m not so weak you know, I would’ve figured it out.”

His eyes became swallowed with pain. “I know,” he said.

“I’d assumed you were unhappy, that this place was not agreeable to you. Or worse, at times I thought you felt nothing.”

“No. No, it was the opposite,” He said. “I didn’t mean to shield entirely. I only wished to diminish everything enough for you to think.” 

That mutual vulnerability I believed us to have was a lie. Perhaps the most devastating realization, that it was all on the line for me, from the beginning. How much joy had I missed, intense complex and beautiful joy, for what he’d seen those first weeks? It was something I could never get back. My brows furrowed.

“But your end of the bond has been quiet since the beginning, before you saw what your emotions could do. I didn’t feel you fully until after our night in the bathroom.”

He huffed a laugh. It wasn’t malicious, in fact, I think he was almost impressed. A testing of our limitations, of my noticing continuity. There were things he didn’t want to say, things perhaps he wouldn’t offer up unless asked directly. I frowned.

“You seemed unsure of how things had changed between us that first night. After you asked me to hold your hand I hesitated because I was very sure of what had changed but I couldn’t tell if you desired it or not.”

“What was it then?”

“I wanted to stay,” he admitted, shoulders slumping. “I thought perhaps it was just Velaris, being rid of my father and brothers, but then Mor found me in your room, told me to leave, and I realized I actually just wanted to stay with you. But I didn’t know what was to come of me, Rhys didn’t want me there, you’d given no indication you were to have them claim me. I thought, eventually, I’d have to go. And for the first time, I had no desire to.” He said, breathless eyes focused, here with me. “But I couldn’t bear it if you knew my desire, so I diluted everything to you.”

“How?”

“It’s like setting a ward really.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want the bond to be laborious to you, for my emotions to weigh in your decision. If you decided to ask me to stay I needed to know it was what you wanted, not an obligation you felt bound to.”

“You believe me so easily persuaded?”

The corners of his mouth creased but if it were a smile or a frown I wasn’t at all sure. “You said once you acted as you did because I’m Lucien, well my reasoning is just the same. You’re you, you’re good and you want to do good. You are singularly motivated to ease suffering. You wanted to marry Eris to save my home, stepped between your brother to save me, even the hobbies you choose benefit other people. That Night Court business didn’t fool me. I’ve known for a while that though you are cunning, you are never cruel.”

“I’d let anyone stay if they wanted to, if they needed to.”

“Then you understand why I felt the need to hide from you,” He said. When I didn’t answer he shook his head, “You’re so good you don’t even notice it, not as I do. It’s simple, really, I wanted you to pick me. I needed you to do it not because you’re kind or for the same compulsion with which you act toward everyone, but because you wanted me there.”

“It isn’t for everyone.”

Lucien didn’t even reply, he just gave me a look and I conceded. 

“So you made me tell you I wanted to see you, you asked me to ask after you.”

“Yes. For you to reveal yourself to me a desire, a feeling, anything about me really, it would have to be something you really wanted. I believed though you’d do it and once you told me that you held your own hand at night and I began to see the weight of my being here, the threads which pulled at your feelings, I was less afraid,” he said. His eyes which had settled on my two clasped hands lifted to look at me, unsure. “But…”

“But what.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, “The morning after we had dinner at the house of wind I had to test you, just one last time.”

“Why, was it something I said? Did I do something to make you feel I didn’t want you?”

“No.”

In a way I had hoped it had been me who misbehaved. I didn’t want the alternative to be true, a remaining loose end with which I had not inquired further when I should’ve. That I had not been there to do anything was worse than being the very reason he’d felt the need to test my feelings again at all. At least then it would be another misunderstanding. At least if it were me it was something I hadn’t even meant to do in the first place.

“What did my brother say to you that morning at dawn?”

“That he’d been in your mind,” He said curtly.

“Lucien.”

He sighed, “That he’d been in your mind and there was something old there, a pattern of thought he recognized from years ago that had made a return. You’d been distracted, talking to other people, thinking about the court, but there was an underlying sense of powerlessness. But that was not how I knew you, not as I had ever known you, I was sure that he was wrong. So I waited for you to come get me, for you to assert yourself after our conversation as you always have, but the longer I waited the more convinced I became that there was some truth to it. So in the foyer after breakfast I baited you.”

And you wouldn’t let yourself be so powerless, would you? 

“When you told me to tell Rhysand that you could make your own decisions, what did you mean?”

Lucien sat back, waving a hand, “Rhys had tried to tell me things you liked, how I should go about talking to you, where in the city I should have you take me. He wanted me to act and do things in a specific way which, I’m sure, was well-meaning, but I knew how I wanted to court you.”

Court me

I sat up. My whole body heated, culminating in a sheen of sweat on my back. In the weeks that had passed had that been his motive? The walks, the going to Egrette’s, the lips pressed against the skin of my hand. How plainly he said it, that he wanted me, that he wanted me the way that he did. Even as it replayed in my mind it was hard to imagine him saying it, having really said it.

He smiled, his voice soft, “You’re surprised.”

“I just. I didn’t think—”

“Probably because I didn’t get to do what I had wanted, what I had planned after I left your room the night before. You’d know if I was romancing you I would hope.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” I murmured and he laughed.

“No, think better of me, of my efforts at least.”

I laughed then and the breaking of the tension relieved something in the room, added a little knowledge to what had seemed unknown to me before. Looking at Lucien I got the same sense that he got when he’d looked at me, it made me decide that, yes, I would tell him everything. It all seemed inevitable once more. 

“What happened then, that you couldn’t do what you wished?”

Lucien grew serious again, “Rhys said the feeling was old, but that it had returned. He believed I was responsible for it. Whether it was my distance from you or something that happened in the woods, he didn’t know. By the time you’d found me I was so annoyed that he’d been right about the first thing, I had to collect myself when it occurred to me there may be some truth in the other too—that it was I who had caused it.”

“It isn’t so simple, the origin of that feeling.”

“I know,” Lucien said. “After you told me of Gawayn and your brother I suspected that it was, indeed a very old feeling.”

Curious really, the more I thought about it. I have a terrible feeling I’m to blame in part for whatever’s going on between you two. One had to wonder if Rhys had not heard Lucien sling his insults, call me powerless, and felt the guilt of a century renewed. To have, at last, overstepped so overtly, so foolishly, that he’d realized too late what had so constantly happened.

“Due to the nature of our relationship before, I never told you really, how impressive you actually are. The way you use your words, the attention you pay to things, the balance you manage in the private and public duties is something to admire. Even my father knew it and respected your ability in whatever way he is capable of.”

“My words are a shield more than a weapon. I’m not often brave enough to hold real power, to let anyone really know me.”

“You’ve always been braver than me.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s true enough,” Lucien said staring at me for a moment, thinking. His eyes narrowed, “The problem isn’t that you have no power, it's that we see what real power is very differently. Power to you has a ceiling that cannot be surpassed and as such fluctuates, moving in and out of hands but there will always be only the amount that you began with. Knowing the stakes, controlling them and what was revealed, seemed by your logic to nullify anything your opponent had,” He said sitting up, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“And what do you believe?” I asked.

“Real power has no finite amount. That, actually, there is more to gain when we meet someone else's power with our own. Then whatever leverage there was becomes obsolete. You use your position this way all the time.”

My brows furrowed, “When?”

“The night we got here when you called me handsome, revealing your thoughts to me, it opened something new to us both where we no longer needed the upper hand. Or with Cassian, as Madja stitched you up, when you asked him to try you were revealing a fondness that created a door for the court to meet you where you were. It’s why at breakfast I became more agreeable. You looked at me. I’d have never looked at you. If it had been me reading and you wanting my attention, before coming to Velaris I’d have never given in. That was better though, for your power to call to my own. It showed me what life could be if we came at things, bad moods and feelings, together. So, yes, you’re very powerful because you invite people into your power. You know how to play your cards even when you keep them close.”

I attempted to swallow the dryness in my mouth to no remedy. I understood and perhaps had known this definition before tonight, since that moment after our kiss, where it seemed something between us had met and suddenly we were together in ways I could not ignore. A meeting of power, a touching where I had never once been touched. I understood him, yes. 

 “After we spoke in the den I realized your brother was right in a way. It was me. My coming here obliterated our dynamic. Suddenly there was more power in play than ever. There was no way you could know how it had been divided between us at any time. For you to find me at all and say what you said, I imagined it had been hard, terrifying even. So after we almost kissed, after the lights went out, I wanted you to see yourself as I did and that became the motivation of everything.”

A serene silence came about the room. The both of us slumped against the back of the couches, the Sidra quiet behind windows I knew were thin enough for it to be heard. As if everyone was listening, the world holding its breath, the walls standing taller, waiting—all of it waiting for the moment we didn’t wish to address. I licked my lips and swallowed again with nothing to swallow. 

“So why then, did you use those words against me in the foyer?”

Lucien rubbed at his eye with the palm of his hand, blinking a few times. I could almost imagine him as a child, could see him young and laughing, full of life. He seemed to recede just a moment to a boy in trouble and afraid of what would happen. It tore me in two. I wanted to tear the whole world in two.

“I waited on you to ask for me for another reason which I haven’t said.”

“Lucien—”

“I must say this, it explains everything,” he began. “My father married my mother when she was very young. She had little say in the arrangement, in what she could become. I lived within the consequences of what she was not given and it made me determined, at all costs, to avoid becoming anything like my father. I was content to remain alone if I had to. I was the seventh son there was no urgency or attention placed on my duty. But even the last son must produce strong heirs.” 

That look of disgust when the bond snapped, it had never been for me. Mates, they are not always gifts. Yet sacred they are. I did not often like to think of it, how young my mother was when she was mated. All that life she hadn’t lived. What her life became. 

“Our fates became intertwined that evening in Day Court.”

“So you proposed we tell no one,” I said.

“Then you got your freedom as you wanted and I would never be the male who trapped an unwilling female. It was a convenience that our motives aligned, but I never deluded myself into seeing my decision as a noble choice. I acted entirely in my own self-interest and I went about my life enjoying it in silent rejection of the bond. I smothered all feeling, all possibility of feeling, until two months ago when my father cut into you. The first thing I felt from that tether after 50 years was unimaginable despair.”

I’d already told him what had hurt so badly, that he was there and Eris, that these males I believed could be better had, for a moment, appeared precisely the same as everyone else. To reiterate for him the origin of the despair would change nothing. It was the first thing he felt that was mine from what between us he believed to be a wretched link, proof that he could not outrun his long-feared fate. 

“That is how you saw me then. I stood for everything you resented,” I said quietly.

“You are not the bond,” He said with cool control. 

“You cannot sever the two. They are interwoven, it exists because I exist, it feels what I feel.”

Lucien shook his head. I gripped the cushions of the couch tight in my fist, his eyes drawn to the small movement in the otherwise still world. When he looked back at me there was nothing but pain and pity in his eyes. It turned my stomach, it helped nothing.

I said, “I don’t understand.”

Lucien’s eyes softened, “I wish that it was different, that it was more romantic, but it isn’t. I liked the life we had together, which was a life apart but unlike the bond, I could not rid myself of you. That, to me, is the difference. After I shielded, things reverted back to what they had always been. You still had what you had always had which I remain inexplicably compelled and annoyed by. You were still witty and charming and smart and irritating and when I’d see you at court I was glad as I’d always been to have someone to play the game. What happened in Day Court was confirmation of something I’d always known to be true, that you and I were equals, intellectually and emotionally, but that was it.”

I squeezed my hands once more into the cushion. This time he didn’t look but I knew he was aware of it. He retreated ever so slightly, and for a moment I wanted to stand, cross the room, take him very carefully into my arms, and forgive him for everything. But it was not time for such things. 

“I meant it on the terrace, I knew how I wanted things to be different,” he explained. “After dinner at the house of wind, I wanted to feel everything. You’d laughed for the first time, really laughed. Not the polite one you use at court and I felt it between my ribs. Those building notes of your joy…You misunderstood me, when you asked me how I wanted things to change. When I said ‘you’d laugh’ that wasn’t me worried that you’d laugh at me, I was asking you to.” He shifted uncomfortably, “That was what I wanted to be different, I wanted no more illusions. I began to understand something that I’d never understood, how precious it all was and I swore never again to waste it—to resent that inherent beauty and intimacy.”

I swallowed, “But I made you resent it again, in the foyer, didn’t I. When I shielded?”

Lucien’s jaw flexed. “You made me feel like I was my father.”

He could’ve said anything else—anything, and it would have been a more gentle demolition. It swept through me with a clean break. On one side a perfected before and on the other a new moment in which I had learned something I would forever have to know. That despite all intentions and lines drawn when we were two mates with no desire between us, I had done what I had sworn I would never do. No one in the whole of Prythian was unaware of the animosity between the High Lord of Autumn Court and his youngest son. It was not news to me that his motivations stemmed in part from his terrible father. His words tightened on my throat like a carefully pulled noose. I could not undo what I’d made him believe and what in consequence resulted after, all that suffering. 

Speechless still, Lucien continued quietly, “Mor reminded me, of the world you inhabit. She referred to your ‘private definitions,’ but you must understand something, when you said burden it devastated me, it was everything I had been trying not to be.”

My cheeks heated and I pressed my palm against my forehead, rubbing at it. Lucien’s gaze burned into me with such intensity that my palms began to sweat.

“It wasn’t what I meant,” I said looking up at him. “Burden, I meant something else.”

Lucien huffed a laugh with great effort, “You couldn’t have picked a more loaded word.”

“The one I wanted was even worse, but I was scared.” 

His throat bobbed, swallowing the question I knew he wanted to ask. I would tell him the other word, but he was not finished yet. So I asked mine, “She found you that night and she taught you how to make the drop.”

He nodded along in confirmation, “A few things happened before that, however.”

“What things?”

“She agreed to help me. I told her with much embarrassment what I’d originally planned to win you over and we conspired to get the court away from you so I might try again. I had already been going to Egrette’s classes and I had a small disadvantage in that I didn’t know anything of the city, so I used the time away from you to know it. Sometimes I spent all day with Egrette, listening to her talk about you, other times I went with Mor in search of places I thought you might like, tea shops I could take you, bookstores.”

“Sometimes you were with Cassian,” I said.

“I wanted to find an apartment. It was important to me that I have something to give you. I wanted to be ready, I wanted you to have as much privacy as possible and control over the pace of our relationship and if you ever desired to consummate it then we had somewhere to go.”

I raised a brow and turned my head to the side to reveal the very obvious bite at my neck which had still not entirely healed. Every conversation I’d begun since it happened started with eyes drawn to the curve of my neck. Even Rhys who dared mention nothing had finally acknowledged it that evening in his office.

“You really do believe I’m such a brute,” Lucien smiled a little, still smug about it, but he took on a more endearing quality. “Once we realized you were not, in fact, bluffing about going to the Illyrian village we met and made a plan. I asked Mor to take me to the cabin once Cassian left but we know how that worked out.” He shot me a glance, “This was also the night I made the plan for her to walk in on us fighting, under the guise of getting you out of the house and I asked too that she orchestrate Rhysand and Cassian so that we could be interrupted, so that all three of them would hear the threat I made against your neck. I didn’t want it to appear as anything more than a ploy to annoy you. Then if, with the time we had alone, something happened, our scents had already mixed. No one would know unless you told them.”

The clock in the hall began to chime. 12 bells rung out into the silent house before it even occurred to me that I might have something to say, that there was something to be said to the male who’d done everything, had thought of everything. 

Lucien sighed, “I’m not so territorial over you, and I know that it hasn’t always been so obvious, but you have me and have had me so all that was left to give you was the moment. I wanted to give you what you were denied the first time, I wanted it all to belong to you entirely. That's why I went to the cabin it's why I bit you it's why I’ve been lying.”

I cleared my throat, and despite how badly I wanted to I did not look away from the intensity of his stare as he admitted his feelings. It was not a mercy to anyone, no. I was being cruel.

“There's one more thing you need to tell me.”

Whatever he thought I’d say or do, that was not it. His whole being deflated. But we could do this no other way, it had to go as planned, as it had been. I could spare nothing, not even his feelings. 

“What's that?” He asked. 

“Why did you have Mor teach you to make the drop?”

Lucien sat back, his voice flat and uncaring, “In the woods when you overpowered me despite your injuries it felt as if something were going on that I didn’t know about. I suspected that you were reading about Gods because you believed something happened too so I went to the library to see if I could find anything. After our night drinking, when you told us you’d made a bargain, I narrowed my search some and started going more frequently.”

My eyes fell to the small table. A fern was laid across it—green and full of life, of new beginnings. There was no water. It had sat there two weeks, still alive. 

It was my turn now, to emerge from the wings.

I brought him to the kitchen and he waited by the counter. Dejected and yet curious all the same he stood before me with certain sternness. His even breaths were in contradiction to the waves of emotion that passed off him. He pushed his sleeves up, the kitchen warmer than the sitting room from use. I bent before the oven, its low fire just enough for the occasion, and from the dull heat, I pulled out braided bread. 

“One other person has a key to my house,” I explained as the bread slid into the light of the counter. “Egrette. She lives next door. I knew you were lying when you said you spent the weekend with her because she’d spent the weekend here, with me, helping clean the house so I could bring you and teaching me to make this.”

They made it in the Autumn Court on the equinox. Vegetables inlaid swirling toward one another, an image of an Autumn harvest. I’d been betting on Lucien, that it would all go as it should. Believing the worst of him was a habit I no longer had. If he was lying to me then I believed he had good reason. I just didn’t know how good it was. 

“I’ve been waiting, really, for everything to be done, for the circumstances to be right so that we could have time alone. That's why I left this morning so early, I had to prepare the bread. I asked Egrette to warm it in the oven for you.”

Lucien straightened at those last words. I could hear his heart, pounding furiously, as if in echo. For you for you for you for you. 

“Yes I suspected that my bargain in the woods was legitimate but unlike my court’s magic, there was no marking on me. I’d been reading to try and figure out who was there with us but once you gave me the scarf I felt more urgency. My own, yes, but there was also a thread being pulled but from a different direction, toward the house, like the Mother wanted me to come here. But I didn’t want to mate you without knowing the precise terms so I went to Helion who offered me his resources. Though I found nothing, when I got back to Velaris that night, our…audience made an appearance.”

“Erinyes.”

I nodded, “Just one, not all three.”

“Which?”

“Tisiphone,” the avenger. “She and I spoke for a long time, about that night, about what I’d done. The Gods, they do not mark bargains the way we do. Ours once they are finished disappear. We are no longer bound by their terms and circumstances. The oath I made in the woods, to protect you, it is a different standard,” I swallowed, “I am bound forever to the promise I made. Not just in this life, but the ones that follow too.”

Lucien stared blankly. I’m sure when I learned I’d looked the same. The counter between us became a chasm. I don’t know what I thought he would reveal, but I wanted something from him, anything. I did not wish to be cruel with my silence, with the direction I took or didn’t take the conversation, but he had a freedom I did not have and I don’t know if he was aware he wasn’t using it. I wanted him to, before this. Before the hardest part of all. I wanted what could be our last words to be different. I steeled myself, I refused to reveal the pain of it, the fear. He must again choose me on his own. 

“She met with me to tell me the terms, but specifically this last one. The nature of fae mating, it is a union of souls. If you eat, if you accept, it will result in you inheriting the same oath over me. You will protect me and I will protect you, we will forever be each other's keepers. We can never move fatally against each other. Our purpose will always be divided: The thing we were born that life to do, and then this, the oath I made.” I let out a breath, paused, and with conviction said it at last. “If you mate me I will always be your burden and you will always be mine.”

It was cruel really, as the Gods can be, that his fate was reduced eternally to be the thing he feared most. That he had to choose between having and not having. The weight with which we existed now would rest somewhere beyond this kitchen, in rooms I wouldn’t know as myself, where Lucien was not Lucien. He did not have to be bound because I was, however. I refused to cage him as he had not caged me.

“How can you be sure that this is true? That it was not a dream?”

I turned toward the living room, from the kitchen, the table could be seen. “She was holding that fern stem when I arrived. I watched her watch me sleep and she placed it on my chest. I woke to it, brought it downstairs, and it's been sitting there ever since.”

His eyes wandered from the living room over to the bread, then back to me, but he himself didn’t move. From the sunroom, a fine mist had gathered on the windows. Too early to be dew, but it seemed the outside world with which we’d been trying to hold back from us had at last ducked behind the curtain to give us privacy. No one was listening for his answer but me. His chest rose and fell with the breath that he took instead of giving me one. 

“I know this changes things,” I said eventually, when the silence stretched too long. “I won’t hold you to what you said or felt before this was revealed. But the food, it’s there, and the offer will always be there if you should change your mind.”

“It’s not that.”

“What is it then?”

“My resentment toward the bond, I don’t understand how you feel.”

I clapped my hands together to brush away some crumbs. They fell at the counter and seemed loud by comparison to the silence that had come in and out between us. 

“It's a nice idea, that the time before this was more agreeable to what we’ve come to realize, but it isn’t true and I don’t want that life anyway. I want this one where you are you and I am me. It’s been a long time since that dinner and I have no desire to let any more time pass us by. I want to end it, this thing we’re doing or not doing, for good. I need no romance and no convincing. I know you and have known you all this time.” I smiled, small, with all the hope I had left, “You said it once, knowledge like ours is a burden and that to know someone risks love, to me that night they became interchangeable. I didn’t mean burden. The word I was afraid to say was love.”

That careful rise on his chest ceased. I had been meaning to tell him. 

I shrugged, “So, you didn’t like the bond, well luckily for me I never desired your good opinion.” The words struck a familiar tune and I allowed myself a bigger hope, a different smile—the kind that broke the tension just as his laugh had before. An invitation, something that couldn’t be misunderstood. He’d known such looks since we’d met. “Besides, I can’t break my oaths now. I think it’s only fair that I see through my prayer to the Cauldron. If we have children they should have a chance at being more intelligent than us and the libraries here are very fine.”

His eyes didn’t leave mine, mouth slightly agape, bond silent, still shielded. I could see our life together so clearly it made my mouth water. The sudden weight of a mate more palpable than ever, the food before him waiting. In the pause before the decision was made, I was given one last moment to feel what it would mean if he ate. And it would be okay if he decided against it, but it would be nice if he did too. I’d begun to believe in such things, that I could be happy, that life would give you what you wanted. And what I wanted was Lucien, entirely and wholly. So eat, I thought, and let’s be done with this. The time we took, it was good, but let’s be rid of what fear and secrets keep us here. 

Lucien’s eyes which had remained fixed on the bread rose to my own. His breathing returned just before he gave his answer.

“You’re my burden.”

At last, he understood everything. 

Then Lucien stepped forward, cut the bread, and placed a single bite in his mouth. 

I saw it, the change. Familiar and unforgettable, the joy he’d had that night in the library after he bit me. The kind that had pulled laughter from his chest, truer and more pure than anything I’d ever heard, ever held. His mouth moving with a sensual slowness. Swallowing the present so it became forever. He stepped out from behind the counter between us, my body trailing his, turning like the shadow of a sundial. 

I do not know who lunged first, but suddenly the distance between us was not so large, the heat of two bodies too real, and the taut string of need that had been pulling us closer for a lifetime snapped and he had me in his arms. Where once there had been absence, there was everything. 

He walked aimlessly hands sliding the hem of my dress down my thighs. The bedroom upstairs, the world beyond his immediate body seemingly vanished. He did not ask and I did not tell him where to go. To do so would be too much space between us. Landing only as far as the sunroom he dropped to his knees. We were careless, yes, but with a sudden clarity of intention, he laid me against the ground with all the tenderness in the world. It was the only reason I could imagine the parting of our mouths.

He lowered his face, nudging along my waist, kissing me through the thin fabric, I wanted it to be easy, if he accepted, I wanted to feel him immediately even with clothes. His nose found my hips, the heat of his mouth pooled beneath the seam of the dress. His fingers found either side and pulled, tearing the stitching in two, exposing the skin beneath for his mouth to reach. He rose and met the place between my breasts with a moan, his voice deeper than I’d ever heard it, weighed and so needy it rattled between my ribs. 

The firmness of his kiss contradicted the laze of his tongue as it swirled along the slope of my breast. I arched into him, the whole world warmer. 

I couldn’t have had him any sooner, but I couldn’t fathom it, how long I’d been without. I’d become so hallow with need I no longer knew how to be just one person. My hands fumbled with the buttons of his clothes, and the clumsiness of our bodies, hip bones sliding along hip bones, the rough feel of his thigh, he turning and I following. 

If we could get closer I’d do it. 

If he could devour me then I’d devour him. 

I could no longer wait. There had never been so little between us. The veil had been lifted, there was no margin, just a layer of want beyond measure. 

His fingers splayed between my shoulder blades as his hips shifted. I felt him just there. His nose against mine, he paused and stared at me, questioning, like I could ever go back. 

I nodded.

Our mouths open, pressed together, first pressure, then 200 years of relief. 

[sd1d-enthusiast]

After years of people acting like Daemon “never loved” Rhaenyra or was using her for the throne, it’s so funny to see those arguments completely obliterated in just two episodes. 

In episode 1, we see that he genuinely cares for her: 

he brings her gifts with meaning and sincerity, things that have value that both of them appreciate and can treasure

she is the only one he speaks Valyrian too (he doesn’t do it with Viserys or Mysaria despite them knowing it!). One of the actors said it’s like their own secret love language a

nd that couldn’t be more accurate

look at their banter during the throne room: the way he teases her and the way she snipes back at him but instead of getting angry, he smiles. she makes him smile. 

with her, he puts aside his claws and shows a very rare tenderness. that scene of him carefully putting that necklace on her? he wouldn’t be caught dead doing that to anyone else. 

the look in his eyes when he goes to comfort her during her mom’s funeral? if he was really only looking to use Rhaenyra for the throne this would have been the perfect chance to drive a wedge between her and her father and draw her over to his side. but he doesn’t. why? because he cares for her and sees how alone she is in that moment

In episode 2, we see that Daemon is truly and utterly whipped:

the moment Rhaenyra arrives on her dragon he goes from smug douche mode to “oh fuck the wife is here and i need to behave now mode.” He literally clutches at that egg like a boy caught putting his hand in the cookie jar and Mysaria gives him the biggest wtf look lmao

there’s this tiny smile on his face when she lands and all of Otto’s side is in shock. he’s fucking proud of her for that glorious entrance. he’s glad to see her even if it means things are now much more complicated

Hell, you could even argue he engineered this whole scenario and trolled the fuck out of everyone, just so he could see two people that he cares about most. His brother. And Rhaenyra. He chose the one thing that he knew she’d be pissed about him taking: her brother’s egg. This is what happens when Daemon is bored, lonely, and separated from the people he cares about most for too long.

For all the people who claim Rhaenyra was the unsuspecting victim to Daemon’s desire for the throne and just manipulated and used, Rhaenyra destroys those claims with just a few sentences. “I’m right here, uncle. The object of your ire, the reason you were disinherited. If you wish to be restored as an heir, you need to kill me. So do it. And be done with all this bother.” 

She straight up challenges him and tells him to kill her. Why? Because she knows that there’s no way in seven hells that he would ever come close to doing it. She sees right through him and calls his bluff. She knows he cares too much. And he knows that she knows. Hence, the slightly amused, slightly proud, and very much exasperated “you know I would never do that” look on his face. 

So it’s established that he would never hurt her even if she gave him the chance. Then it’s also established that he would never lie to her either. He does his whole elaborate prank about getting another wife and having a child to everyone, but under her stare, he can’t bring himself to lie. That shows more than just care and affection. That shows that he respects her too much to lie. He can play everyone else for a fool and have his little game, but not Rhaenyra. 

“You already have a wife.” “Not of my own choosing.”  The look he gives her afterwards when she tells him to kill him and he just stares at her in silence. He’s clearly not thinking “this girl really ruined my plans smh.” You can practically see the wheels turning in his head. This mf is involuntarily thinking “I’m going to make this girl my wife one day.” 

TLDR: Daemon is whipped for Rhaenyra and I will hear no objections

[hypocriticaltypwriter]

Hello wifey!😚 I am hear to ask about Chrsyta and her boys!✨🍒🦇

What was their first “I love yous”??? Where were they when they said it, WHO said it first? Were they all together when said or was it just chrysta alone with one of the guys???👀 ((saying I love you seperated))

PLEASE I WANT MORE OF DEM AND JUST THE THOUGHT OF DEM SAYING THE ✨THREE MAGICAL WORDS✨ TO HER MAKES ME ALL GIDDY N STUFF🤭

YALL

GET YOU A WIFE WHO WILL LET YOU GO ON AND IN ABOUT YOUR WEIRD LITTLE GOOBERS AND STILL STICK AROUND AFTER 57 PARAGRAPHS!!! 😫🙏❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

GET YALL A GIRL LIKE MJ (Oh wait, you can't caUSE SHES MINE/j)

Babes is a strong one for sticking around this long MWAH 🩷🩷 you have NO idea what the boys being softies so rarely does to me it makes me WEAK

NOW, into questions hehehe... >:]

First 'I Love You?'

Starting this one off strong with Dwayne! I know, shocker that it isn't (*COUGH* Cherry's favorite *COUGH*) David, but our tall brunette was actually the first one to get a confession of feelings. 👀

It was after Chrysta decided to split off from the rest of the boys to take Laddie off and see some street performers and Dwayne decided he was the only who'd be able to keep his childish coven member and girlfriend in check.

Now, Chrysta had always used silly little excuses to (get spoiled 🙄) get Dwayne wrapped up in something she either wanted to do or wanted to have.

Example: "cause I'm too pretty to say no to?" "Cause I'm your favorite?" And it either made the two giggle or it worked enough Dwayne couldn't say no and was pulled into her mischief making. He doesn't look it, but he can be a pushover. 😉

🦇🍒🦇

"Dwayne? Can we please go get matching piercings?" Chrysta hurried over to the tall males side, Laddie tagging along her her hand was interlocked with his much smaller one, the boy looking just as excited, glancing between the two.

"No. Why do you want one anyway? Wanna get caught?" He had asked almost mocking, like a scolding parent, while he hooked a finger around one of Chrysta's hoop earrings, tugging on it gently to emphasize his point.

Chrysta studded put her bottom lip into a pout, giving a small huff turning her head from his hand and craning her neck up enough to look at him, before taking his hand into both her own, bringing it up to her lips to hide the little grin forming on her face.

"...Cause I love you?"

That did the trick. Dwayne fell silent for a second, obviously fighting every fiber of his being, keeping him from making a decision he'd regret.

"... Fuck..." He hissed through his teeth with a smirk he tried so hard to fight from showing. "You know how to get what you want with those big eyes, don't ya, babes?"

Chrysta didn't verbally answer, she just nodded with a small giggle, as her heart raced both relived and nervous about waiting for a reaction from the dark brunette to her silly little proclamation.

"How about we wait till Laddie's a little older for those. Can you do that for me, baby?" Dwayne spoke in a tender voice, getting closer to Chrysta's face, gently setting the pad of his thumb against her bottom lip while he spoke.

"Okay." She replied quietly, giving a little nod in case he hadn't seen her mouth the word, her gaze felt shy but she never looked away from him.

He kissed the tip of her nose in response, his thumb leaving her lip and his pointer finger gently ran down the bridge of her nose, tapping the end of it where his lips still lingered.

"I love you too."

---

Now David... He's a man who has been in immortality for a long time, and many days, and many years, he's heard 'I love you' from everyone and all. And everytime, that's all it's ever been. Words. Words from people who merely saw him as something he made himself appear to be, and never the thing he was- and I don't mean a vampire thing. But he was a man, for hells sake, a man with feelings.

So after a while, the meaning of such a confession was something he'd never take seriously, and some part of him almost made a promise to stay to that opinion, and stick to it for the rest of his immortality.

That was... Until she showed up.

🦇🍒🦇

"I love you."

The words left in a soft whisper against his skin, causing his eyes to open and look at the young woman who had made herself comfortable in what she considered safety, nestled against his side his one arm around her figure, the other resting behind the back of his head against her bedframe, while both of her own pale limbs were folded atop his shoulder, resting her chin atop them, her face so close to the side of his, he could feel her thick lashes brush against his jaw.

Her emerald eyes gleamed in the dim light of the lamp at her beside, sleep heavy on her eyelids as she fought sleeping just yet, the late night hour ticking by on the clock echoing in the empty hallway.

"You don't mean that." He responded simply, no malice or teasing in his voice, no heartbreak or longing, he spoke as though it was passing conversation. He turned his head to look back up at the ceiling, an ache where his heart used to beat strumming low in his bare chest. "None of them do."

It was quiet for a while, but there was no tension or awkward filler in it. It was almost.cknsidered peaceful, if Davud couldn't hear the furious beating of her heart thumping in his ears and the rushing blood deep in the veins on her wrists.

She exhaled a breath he supposed she was holding for a second, before he felt her fingertips brush against cheek gently grazing along the stubble etched down his jaw. "That's fine. You don’t need to believe me."

Her head lolling to the side, going limp against the comfort of pillows as she continued to stare at him while he fought even a single glance at her. "You don't need to love me right now, or ever. Just know that's how I feel."

Her warmth never left his side, even if he was expecting it, and to be left in the cold, hollow husk of his own comfort and body. But it never came, just like a response on the tip of his tongue he felt unable to say. It was only then, he cosidered to look back at her, only to see her eyes had finally closed, her heart slowing as she began to fall asleep, her lips slowly parting as soft breathing followed, rolling down is collarbone. She slept blissfully unaware of how up till this point, how much she'd truly captivated David.

He'd have to leave soon. Before the sun began to show in only a few hours, before he'd have his boys looking for him for running off into the night much longer than he expected. But... He didn't feel like leaving. He didn't want to leave. And he knew why. She'd know why too.

Yet she didn't pry it from his lips or demand him to say it. She'd wait, and she'd wait as long as her life could handle. He wondered if she already knew while he wouldn't be able to vocalize it, something deep down in his lost soul, could tell her, whisper to her in a moment of passion that he did love her. Maybe. Just maybe...

---

NOW breaking from the sappy and dramatics LMAO were going to Paul who had may or may not have been under the influence of... Um... A very likeable weed. 👁👁 And Chrysta was put on babysitting watching duty of the goofy rocker who was... High off his rocker.

Sort of like Dwayne, Paul's confession was spoken in a playful banter, but the words did the job. It started when Chrysta decided to tease her loopy boyfriend after he had cotinuesly confirmed he 'liked her so much' to which, she challenged him 'What if I like you more?'

So the banter continued and escalated until Paul had finally said "I like you sooooo much that I love you~"

Chrysta had a hard time keeping it together after that, and gladly accepted his offer in a kiss and hugs.

🦇🍒🦇

"Are you sure you're not just saying that cause your high, Pauly?" Chrysta asked, her chin perched on top of his head, blowing away a few strands of his crazy hair tickling her nose.

"Mnm, nope. S'all true, Dime-Piece. Knew you had be mine the minute I saw you." Paul responded, sighing content as can be as he inhaled the scent of weed and cherry perfume intoxicating his lungs. A dopey grin spreading across his face when he felt her soft lips press against his forehead.

---

And finally, Marko... Who was the toughest one to crack when it came to him actually saying the three words. Marko isn't one to get very lovey dovey unless it's very special, rare moments shared between him and one of his significant others. I mean, why waste time on words when he could express or share his love in so many other, better ways?

And much like David, Chrysta never really tried to get him to say it, and it didn't bother her. She knew if her boys loved her or not, and she knew Marko loved her, even if he didn't say it as kuch as she did. She could say it enough for the both of them, LOL.

He didn't actually say it to her for a long time- it was actually very far into their relationship- after the birth of three out of four of the girls (Annie, Jenny, and Tiff.) When he and her were trying to have a baby... But things weren't going as planned.

Marko and her were even supposed to have a baby before she and Paul were going to have one... So you can imagine the salt in the wound when things turned out how they did. It stung a lot.

It had gotten to a point the curly haired vampire was almost nervous that having a kid of his own was going be impossible- or very little chance of happening...

Until one night Chrysta had almost casually slipped in how they should be expecting a new member of the coven really soon.

It took a few seconds of denial as he bolted upright to look at her and ask 'Are you serious?' About twenty times, before he immediately scooped her up into his arms, holding her as tight as he possibly could as though he was terrified it was all dream, while repeatedly saying "I love you" muffled into her shoulder as she excitedly laughed in her lovers embrace.

Now it seems a day doesn't go by she doesn't hear the words from Marko. ❤️❤️❤️

[mykneeshurt]

Hey I saw you are taking requests, so I wanted to ask how task force 141 would deal with a female or gn reader whos just a crazy psychopath, and is always covered in blood after a mission, but has a soft spot for the team. Love ur writings btw 🚬💋

Nah low key love this character, may have to use them again. I like writing dark stuff. Kept it GN but again please tell me if something needs changing. It’s short cause I had to reign myself in from turning this smutty lmao I have a problem.

Don’t fear the Reaper, a popular saying about the inevitability of death. However, you were feared amongst many. You’d been within 141 for a while now and earnt your call sign ‘Reaper’, due to your extremely violent tendencies. There was nothing you loved more than watching the life drain from a persons eyes. The warmth of their blood on your skin. In fact you revelled in it.

On base those who didn’t know you gave you a wide berth. They felt uneasy. And honestly? You loved it. You loved making people feel uneasy, on edge. You kept to yourself mostly, preferring to observe and listen to your surroundings.

In the field you were first one in, last one out. Much to your Lieutenants annoyance. ‘Gonna get yourself killed’ he’d make a point of saying. Every time. ‘Can’t kill what’s already dead Lt’ you’d reply offering a wink. He knew you were damn good at your job, a fine solider. The best he’d ever worked with. ‘That you admitting you’d miss me?’ You teased. ‘Maybe’ he said duly. Smiling, you push him playfully ‘I knew there was a heart in there. I’d miss you too.’

After one particular messy mission, which went tits up, of course, you finally managed to get back to exfil. Jumping onto the helicopter you were covered in blood, dark drips of crimson covered your face, your hair slicked back with blood. ‘Creepin Jesus Reaper. You takin baths in their blood now?’ Soap asked, you two were close, but he was low key scared of you. Though he’d never admit that. Ruffling his hair you smiled down at him ‘killin’s messy work Johnny. I ain as clean as you.’

Sitting in the helo you lit a cigarette, the orange glow of the lighter illuminated your blood stained face. ‘Giving Ghost a run for his money lookin like that’ Gaz laughed. Smiling you inhaled the cigarette, the nicotine filling your lungs. Nothing like a cigarette after a mission, well, apart from driving a knife into tender flesh that is. ‘Nothing like some friendly competition’ Ghost chuckled. ‘Nah sir, I think I’m winning this one. Sure they’re scared when they see you, but they never see me. People are more scared of what they can’t see, fear of the unknown yanno? I am the unknown.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘They got you there Lt’ Gaz snorted. You loved your team, the banter, the camaraderie, you were close knit, could answer each others questions with only a look. They were your boys.

Price was always happy when you returned ‘so, dodged death again then I see?’ It was a running joke between you all, you rarely showed emotion, often jokes you heart was colder than Ghosts. But Price cared about you and you cherished that. They had tried to rein you in the first few months you were with them, but to no avail.

It’s like something switched inside you, from a calm and reserved person, to … well, a rabid animal. You were quicker than lightening with your knives, more often than not choosing your blades over guns. Blades were more personal, you could look them in the eye as their life faded. You thrived off the power you felt from this. The first time they saw you in action they had to consciously try to remember the mission.

‘Fuckin hell, remind me never to get on your bad side’ Soap had said. You cupped his face ‘as if I could ever hurt you Johnny. My little Scottish flapjack.’ He smiled at the pet name. ‘You’re my boys, I’d do anything to protect you.’

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly 4. The Bull and the Bush

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w., r.b x n.w.

warnings: Heavy drug use, era-normalized!misogyny, everyone is a dick

A/N: Happy Halloween!!

MASTERLIST🎸

Previous Chapter 🎸

NANCY : Eddie was... not what we expected.

ROBIN : Eddie Munson looked like he’d been through some shit.

I’m not talking about the fact that he was covered in tattoos and never got a haircut. It was more that he just always looked sad and tired and kinda strung out.

NANCY: He looked a bit out of place with the rest of us.

ROBIN: He did not fit in one bit. I mean to be fair, we were a bit of a hodgepodge anyway but Eddie took the cake. 

He was pure metal, the kind of guy who should’ve been in like Iron Maiden, not a synth band! So, we were kinda confused as to why Starcourt thought it would be a good idea to bring him on board.

And then we heard him play.

NANCY: Eddie was the best guitar player we ever had and the best songwriter up until that point, too. Don’t tell Jonathan or Steve I said that, though.

ROBIN: Yeah, he was better than Steve and I would say that to Steve’s face. In fact, I did say that to Steve’s face when we first heard Eddie play.

He was not happy about that. Actually, he wasn’t happy at all when Eddie first joined.

NANCY: It didn’t take very long for us to figure out that he was only there to fulfill a contract. I mean, it wasn’t like he was the most enthusiastic to be there but he wasn’t rude or hard to work with, he just treated it like any other job. He would be polite, but not overly friendly, do his thing in the booth, and then go sit and read until we needed him again.

Steve’s ego was still a bit tender after what had happened between him and me. I think seeing Starcourt bringing in this amazingly talented guitar player did him in a little. He was always used to being the best at what he did and suddenly that was no longer true. On top of that, Eddie just didn’t care and that made it worse in Steve’s eyes. They would butt heads all the time while we were recording our self-titled album. Things were a bit tense at the beginning, but we sounded better with Eddie there, much to Steve’s chagrin.

ROBIN: If you ask me, they hated how similar they were and that’s why they didn’t get along or maybe Steve was jealous of how little Eddie had to try to be good. Either way, those few first months after Eddie joined were almost as intense as the weeks following Jancygate. Don’t get me wrong, we always sounded great but there was no cohesion. We were trying to record our first full-length album but nothing ever came out sounding right, it was driving everyone crazy.

NANCY: When you’re first starting out in the industry, you don’t really have much of a say. You do what you’re told, you go to the meetings you're scheduled, and you add whatever member they throw at you. So, when Starcourt set up a lunch meeting with one of their producers about adding someone else to the band, we had no choice but to go.

May 26, 1983: The Bull and Bush

“Tell me again who this meeting is with?” You ask Murray from across the suspiciously long table.

When he had called you earlier in the week to set up lunch, he had been uncharacteristically cryptic about who the lunch was with and only told you it was with, “A few folks over at Starcourt,” he parroted again between bites of a bread roll. You stare him down silently over the rim of your martini glass and he gives, a little.

“I think I found you a way out of all these duets and possibly a chance to write music.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Yes, that all seemed great but with Starcourt things were rarely what they seemed.

“By the looks of this table for 10, I’m starting to think that maybe you’re trying to recruit me to the company softball team, Murray.”

“Not today, sweetheart, but don’t worry, the Comets will get you eventually.”

Your second drink is interrupted by a tall, imposing man approaching the table. He has thick eyebrows that naturally knit together and a thicker mustache that rests straight along his mouth. You vaguely recognized him as an exec from the record label but his casual flowered button-down and white linen trousers make you doubt your memory.

“This is Hopper. Jim Hopper,” Murray says to you in a sweeping introduction, “he manages some bands at Starcourt.”

You can feel your face twist in confusion before you quickly temper your features and rise to introduce yourself.

Hopper takes your small hand in his comically large one and shakes it hard before sitting down next to Murray.

You watch as your new lunch companion flags down a server to order a double scotch, your mind buzzing to put the pieces together. What the hell was going on?

Hopper and Murray turn to you in tandem, reminding you of parents on sitcom TV.

Murray starts keeping his voice low, “The label thinks that you make the most money when you’re singing with others and causing some buzz. Since you made it very clear that duets are no longer an option for you, we came up with another solution.”

“I manage a band,” Hopper says then, “they’re talented but they’re newer and still trying to figure out their image and sound. We think you would be a good addition.”

This last part comes slowly, as your lunch companions try to gauge your reaction. “You want me to join a band?” You repeat, stunned. “Why?”

“As I said, they need help establishing a brand, a reputation, and that’s something that you have plenty of—“ Murray snorts “— plus, they need a solid songwriter and Murray tells me that’s you.”

Your eyes volley between the two men in front of you, trying to figure out what the catch is. There’s always a catch.

It’s like they can sense what you’re thinking because they lock eyes, and Murray sighs, “And it just so happens that they have a very handsome male lead singer and maybe part of the deal would include a bit of a front-facing, romantic narrative that would entice the public to buy your albums and go to your shows.”

“You want me to pretend to be in a relationship with some guy in a band so people buy our music? That’s your great plan?

“I’ve proved myself, Murray. I’ve done everything that’s been asked of me. I sang your stupid duets and recorded that vapid EP. Are you just going to string me along forever, asking me to do stupider and stupider stunts?”

You stand and swing your arm back to grab the purse hanging from your chair. The two men mirror your movement and suddenly it feels like you’re in a stand-off.

“It’s not stupid,” Hopper says, matter-of-factly, “and we do believe in your talent, but it’s not just about talent anymore, it’s about image and it’s about what sells. Scandal sells. Look, you’re a talented kid, everyone knows that. But, talent isn’t what sells anymore. People want something to gossip about and you’ve already given them that.

“This is not some hair-brain scheme Murray and I cooked up in the fucking restroom between lines. This is years of marketing research and scouting to get the perfect combination of talent. You should consider yourself lucky that Starcourt— that Brenner, personally— picked you out of thousands to execute his little pet experiment.

“They’re going to talk about you anyway, why not have a little control over what they say? It beats them calling you a slut, doesn’t it?” 

You glare at Hopper as he’s towering over you.

“Listen kiddo,” purrs Murray, sliding into a different approach, “we’re not asking you to marry the guy. Just, have lunch with them and maybe we get you featured on their first LP, do them a favor like The Letterman’s did for you when you were just getting started, huh?

“Plus, the guy’s handsome, like total frontman full-package, so, who knows, maybe he’s your type and you won’t have to pretend!”

Murray guffaws at this like it’s the funniest joke in the world.

“Fine,” you say, your mouth pitching down in a scowl, before haughtily dropping back into your chair. They follow suit.

“One lunch, but you—“ your finger waves at Murray “—are gonna get me on the list for a cottage at the Mormont and you—“ you pivot to point at Hopper “—are getting me a French 75.”

“Please,” you add after a beat.

The two men exchange a look and Hopper rolls his eyes and stands.

“Was gonna get me another scotch anyway,” he grumbles before ambling over to the bar.

While Hopper is at the bar, Murray fills you in with as many details as possible: the band’s name (“The Downsides”), the lead singer’s name (“Steve Something”), and the rest of the band members’ names (“Johnny, Natalie, Robin, Ed... maybe?...and Argyle, no wait, that’s not a name”).

As if on cue, just as Hopper approaches the table from one side, a motley bunch of individuals, that you know have to be The Downsides, file into the restaurant. Hopper waves at them and they walk over, in a single line, all following their big-haired leader.

“These misfit toys are the band?” you snark to no one in particular and Murray shoots you a warning glare before waving at them with feigned enthusiasm.

Hopper reaches the table before they do and hands you your drink while announcing your name to the band. 

You smile in a practiced, charming way.

“Hi, you must be Steve,” you say rising to greet the tall, slender man with a mane of wild hair. Admittedly, he is much more hard-edged than you had imagined, decked out in leather and hardware with thick, silver rings adorning his fingers. Maybe this is what Hopper meant when he said the band needed help with their image--this guy was far too metal to ever break it into the mainstream.

He burst into laughs and then bumps his fist into the shoulder of the guy standing next to him, another long-haired man whose eyes were rimmed red.  

“Did you hear that, she thought I was Harrington! Buckley, come here, she thought I was Harrington!”

Your face flushes in embarrassment and you wince. So, that was not Steve.

“Hi, I’m Nancy Wheeler,” a voice says softly at your side. You turn and find yourself facing a pretty, doe-eyed girl probably around your age. The gentleness in her voice lets you know that she had witnessed your embarrassment at the hands of Not!Steve and she was trying to smooth things over, and make a good impression.

After Nancy, you shake hands with the bouncy, sometimes-bass-sometimes-brass-sometimes-synth player Robin Buckley and the shy-bordering-on-morose guitarist Jonathan Byers. The spaced-out drummer with the long locks is Argyle and Not!Steve’s name is actually Eddie Munson, which you learn only from Robin and Nancy as he doesn't bother to introduce himself. He looks vaguely familiar, but then again, everyone at Starcourt does. 

He catches you staring at him and shoots you a mocking wink. You want to scowl back, maybe even flip him off but you are too aware of how that moment, snapped by a paparazzi and sold to a gossip rag, could impact your already- precarious public image. So, instead, you raise a glass in response.

“Where the hell is Harrington?” Hopper barks at the group once they had settled. “He needed to park the car,” explains Jonathan.

“Park? Why would he need to do that?” You ask, “this place has a valet.”

An awkward silence blanketed the group as they all looked at you and then exchanged amongst themselves. You were under the impression you had just said something wrong and you weren’t sure what. 

Before you have the chance to smooth things over, the group is interrupted.

“Sorry, I’m late everyone, parking here is terrible.”

Oh, so that’s what Murray meant by ‘full frontman package’.

Steve Harrington was tall and leanly muscular with a face as sharp and bright as a jewel and hair graceful and tousled.

His eyes land on yours and your shoulders straighten with a jolt.

“Hi,” he breathes, “I’m Steve. Uh, Harrington.” 

“Hi,” you all but sigh back, an unfamiliar warmth moving up your cheeks. 

***

ROBIN: Steve “Loverboy” Harrington. He used to fall in love like three times a week back in the day. Everyone at the table could tell he was immediately smitten with her though. I mean who could blame him? She was like distractingly gorgeous. I’m pretty sure I spilled soup in my lap from staring at her. More than once. Steve spent most of the lunch making eyes at her and the crazy part was, I think she was into him! Honestly, I thought he was getting ready to propose. Until Hopper told us all why he’d really brought us there. 

***

“What? No way, Hops, we’re not adding another person to the band. Plus, we already have a lead singer—me.” Steve’s whole demeanor changed once Hopper started talking shop—he had gone from smiling flirtatiously at you from across the table to huffing like a petulant child. 

“It’s just a feature on one song, kid. If it goes well then we’ll revisit and if it doesn’t well, we better hope the rest of the album is pure gold because Brenner really wants this to go well,” Hopper tries to assuage. 

“This is never gonna work,” Steve spits out, “she doesn’t match our sound at all. Or our vibe—we have, like, substance.” 

The table goes standstill quiet upon hearing this. The only noise you hear is what you think is Robin kicking Steve under the table. 

 Steve turns to you after a beat and says, “No offense,” with a dismissive shrug. 

***

NANCY: Steve has always had a habit of putting his foot in his mouth at the worst times. He didn’t mean to come off as an ass, I don’t think, it was probably his way of lashing out against all the change that was happening without our input. First Eddie, now this, he probably felt so out of control he—I think we all did. He still shouldn’t have said it though. 

ROBIN: Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

***

All eyes land on you, awaiting the imminent explosion. 

It never comes. 

Instead, you school your features into a neutrally pleasant expression—you never know where there’ll be a camera after all—and respond sweetly, “None taken. You’re right to not want me on your track. After all, I've only had like, 6 Top 10 Singles in the last year which is nothing compared to your…wait how many have you had, again?” 

Steve’s face falls as Murray chortles from the other end of the table. 

***

NANCY: It wasn’t the nicest way to put it but it wasn’t like she had been unprovoked. Steve needed a reality check. 

ROBIN: I mean, she had a point. She was doing us a favor by recording the track with us. Dingus just needed to get over himself. 

The rest of the lunch was super awkward, in case you were wondering. She was still nice to the rest of us, but she barely acknowledged Steve, or Eddie for the matter. 

If you would’ve told me then what would eventually become of those three—ha!—I would’ve said you were insane. 

NEXT CHAPTER🎤🎧🎸

Taglist: @rexorangecouny

[sitp-recs]

The Chocolate Cosmos has earned its place on the list of rare flowers of the world as it has been extinct in the wild for years. The Chocolate Cosmos is a rich reddish-brown in colour and gives off a rich chocolate fragrance when it blooms, hence its name. This red flower is native to Mexico, however they no longer exist in the wild. It does not produce any seeds and needs to be grown with the help of tissue culture or root division. Technically, only clones of the original flower survive today.

Happy Valentines Day! Did I go overboard with this long-ass list? Maybe so 🤣 a special thanks to everyone who participated on the V Day poll I did a while ago; rarepair romance was the most voted option so here we are! I let myself go wild with ships and tropes, the idea was to celebrate some peak romance and I hope this list reflects the nuanced complexities of love in its many forms. There are different kinds of love here: soft and tender, devastating and all-consuming, transgressive, comforting, damning, but in all cases poignant and true. This got a bit too long but I had lots of fun putting it together. I hope everyone will be able to find nice new ships and hidden gems. Happy readings!

Triads

Aim For My Heart by @tackytigerfic (M, 3.4k) - Harry/Draco/Ron

Harry's in love, Ron's in control, and Draco just wants a nice lunch.

Sanctuary by Lokifan (E, 3.8k) - Harry/Draco/Bill

When Harry goes to them, he isn’t running away from the bleak, lonely parts of life any more. He’s running towards something better.

Flood by holyfant (E, 4.7k) - Harry/Ron/Hermione

Hermione's idea, of course, this getaway. Away from prying eyes, no one else to focus on, see how they got on then with this new thing between them.

Love to Give by @kittycargo (E, 9.5k) - Harry/Draco/Neville

Neville and Harry are in a relationship when Draco moves back from Italy and needs a place to stay. Neville never knew how much love he had to give.

A Case of You by @ruinsplume (E, 10k) - Albus/James/Scorpius

James has been good: ever since Albus got together with Scorpius Malfoy, James has stayed far away from his brother.

Stopper & Reeve by @vdoshu (E, 10k) - Harry/Teddy/Draco

Teddy gets his very first knot stuck in his fleshlight. And somehow that’s not the worst part of his day.

Better Than by marguerite_26 (E, 11k) - Harry/Ginny/Draco

Ginny offers Harry something a little different for their anniversary.

Those that move by hippocrates460 (E, 17k) - Ron/Krum/Hermione

Based on the prompt "Hermione wants to make Ron's dream come true, a date and night together with Viktor Krum.

A Life Worth Remembering by @writcraft (E, 23k) - Harry/Draco/Snape

Severus Snape wakes in St Mungo’s, to discover that a potions accident has wiped the last forty years from his body and mind.

just call this what it is by queens_crown (M, 27k) - Harry/Draco/Theo

Upon returning to Hogwarts after the war, Harry can't sleep. He's not the only one.

Tiny Home by @wolfpants (E, 30k) - Harry/Draco/Ron

The last two people Draco expects to find chopping wood on his property are Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter. But there they are.

Licurici by @lou-isfake (E, 133k) - Harry/Draco/Charlie

Charlie wanted Harry, but he’d never planned on having him. He’d never planned on Draco Malfoy, either.

Bonus: Sardines by @shiftylinguini (E, 4k) - Albus/Scorpius + Teddy/James

It’s bad enough his cock is hard from listening to the impromptu midnight pornography of his brother getting off; Albus is not going to add seeing it to the list of reasons why he lost his mind, and presumably his eyesight, on the eve of his grandmother's seventieth.

MLM

Mischief Managed by @maesterchill (E, 1.7k) - Harry/Sirius

Nothing has been said, nothing solemnly sworn, but they both know what's going to happen.

Flare Up by Lokifan (E, 1.8k) - Draco/Ron

Draco is still afraid of fire sometimes. Ron helps.

Between the Houses by @thesleepiesthufflepuff (E, 2k) - Dean/Charlie

He paused on the doormat, taking out the ring that he’d stowed away several hours ago.

Coming Up for Air by @lqtraintracks (M, 2k) - Harry/Teddy

I could have died of it, your tenderness toward me. Instead I decided to live.

The Left and Leaving by @wolfpants (E, 3k) - Bill/Charlie

Deep in the woods, he finds him in the treehouse.

Slip Free of My Grasp by @lqtraintracks (E, 3.5k) - Harry/Sirius

I don't want to be bad for him. I want to do bad things and still be, somehow, inexplicably, good.

Surface Texture by @the-starryknight (E, 5.3k) - Harry/Teddy

I've drawn a hundred portraits, but none quite like Harry's. In the early hours of the morning, I lay him bare in charcoal and paper.

Pigment by @wynnefic (T, 5.7k) - Harry/Sirius

Sirius makes a promise to Harry during the war. Three years later, he keeps his word.

On the Same Side by rillalicious (M, 7.5k) - Teddy/Charlie

Teddy is heading to Romania to protest a proposed anti-dragon law. He finds an interesting ally there.

To Me You Are the Sea by marguerite_26 (E, 8.5k) - Harry/Scorpius

Scorpius dreaded attending Harry Potter's fiftieth birthday party for more reasons than he cared to admit.

Following The Wrong God Home by scoradh (M, 9k) - Harry/Ron

Ron isn't gay. But, feeling like he's losing his best friend, he sometimes wishes that he was.

Putting Charlie Right by mindabbles (E, 9k) - Teddy/Charlie

Teddy is very, very good at his job, and he’d be able to prove that fact if Charlie wasn’t bent on distracting him.

Settle by mindabbles (E, 9.3k) - Teddy/James

James has never wanted to settle down – or maybe he’s never wanted to settle.

Hopelessly Devoted To You by @writcraft (E, 10k) - Harry/George

Harry and George watch a lot of musicals and accidentally fall in love.

like the lost lyrics of a song suddenly remembered by @lqtraintracks (E, 11k) - Teddy/Bill, Teddy/James

Teddy Lupin, aging rockstar, is making a comeback after his life and career were nearly ruined by an illegal potions habit.

A Soft Spot for Lost Causes by Helenish (E, 13k) - Draco/Ron

"Remember at school? Weasel? You’re so poor and dirty?" Ron said encouragingly "You hated me." “I did," Draco said.

Sun Kissed by @static-abyss (M, 13k) - Harry/Ron

Harry notices the freckles the first time they meet, the light dusting across Ron's face as he stands there in his maroon knitted jumper with the yellow R in the centre.

Prelude and Fugue by shes_gone (E, 16k) - Harry/Ron

It took over an hour, from the time Harry arrived at work, for him to realise just how different today actually was.

Winter of '79 by @writcraft (E, 17.5k) - James/Sirius

Post-punk Britain is in the grip of another brutal winter, Thatcher is in power and Muggle gay bars keep getting raided for no reason at all.

Dreaming Skies by @sweet-s0rr0w and @tackytigerfic (E, 20k) - Draco/Ron

Draco's life is going nowhere, so when Charlie Weasley offers him a job out on his reserve, Draco doesn't think twice before booking a Portkey.

Brighter Than the Sun by @goldentruth813 (E, 24k) - Draco/James

James Sirius Potter is gorgeous. He's also half Draco's age. Getting emotionally involved with him would be a complete and utter disaster.

There’s Something About A Malfoy by mindabbles (E, 27k) - Harry/Scorpius, Draco/Charlie

Charlie has no room in his drawers for anyone else's skivvies, Harry wallows in moral agony for a bit, Draco wants to rebuild his life, and Scorpius just wants Harry to stop being an idiot.

The NottPott Chronicles by @amarillis39 and @missmrah (E, 33k) - Harry/Theo

A series of moments from Theo and Harry’s lives as they learn to navigate their relationship, deal with their demons or just simply revel in each other’s company.

The Beating of This Fragile Heart by @writcraft (E, 33k) - Harry/Snape

After the war, the last thing Severus Snape needs is the memory of a fleeting wartime kiss and a very persistent Harry Potter thwarting his plans to live a peaceful and solitary life.

Rapture by mia_ugly (2015, E, 48k) - Harry/Snape

Snape sees the man, for the first time, on his twenty-fifth birthday.

Is This It by MildredMost (E, 52k) - Draco/Ron

Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy get trapped in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement during an attack drill.

Possibly, Maybe by Curlee_Cue (E, 72k) - Harry/Scorpius

“A hand carefully brushed Scorpius’ hair out of his eyes and turned his head to face his rescuer. And of course, who else would it be, but Harry Potter? Once just an abstract legend, now his very own personal saviour.”

WLW

Breaking wild roses (stings like love’s pain) by @teacup-tai (E, 1.3k) - Pansy/Hermione

I feel like a scream is stuck inside my chest, creeping up in the deep dark hollow of my throat. It’s a mix of pain and agony.

All Roads Lead To by pauraque (T, 2.5k) - Cho/Luna

After leaving Hogwarts, Cho isn't sure if there's a place for her anymore in the fight against Voldemort. Luna comes to convince her that there is.

Her Life in Dreams and Wakefulness by rillalicious (M, 4.2k) - Gabrielle/Luna

The first time she has the dream, Gabrielle is sixteen years old.

Independent Love Song by @writcraft (E, 6.2k) - Ginny/Millicent

Millicent Bulstrode is a tailor and Ginny is losing her mind over a woman in a tweed blazer and burgundy brogues.

Rogue Waves by @lqtraintracks (E, 6.5k) - Ginny/Pansy

A story of living with the trauma, fucking who you want, and maybe finding a little solace.

my heart beats slow by @candybarrnerd (T, 7k) - Ginny/Luna

Luna's been there for her through thick and thin. It's been the two of them as long as she can remember.

Single and Snacking in Phoenix, AZ by @violetclarity (E, 25k) - Ginny/Pansy, Harry/Luna

When she told her friends she was bringing a date to Harry and Luna’s wedding, Ginny had only wanted them to stop bothering her about her love life.

Passion, Patents, and Pen Pals at the Ministry by @violetclarity and yrfrndfrnkly (T, 32k) - Pansy/Hermione

After an extremely ill-timed lovers'-tiff-turned-food-fight at the Ministry leaves her less one boyfriend and suspended without pay for six months, Hermione pleads for some position–anything–to fill her days until her suspension is up.

Play Me Like A Love Song by @writcraft (E, 68k) - McGonagall/Grubbly-Plank

Minerva McGonagall doesn’t believe in love at first sight, which is why her instant attraction to drag king Wilhelmina ("Will") Grubbly-Plank is so unexpected.

Bonus: Mothering Sunday by pauraque (T, 3.6k) - Astoria & Narcissa

Narcissa always wanted a little girl of her own, and Astoria never really had a proper Mum. Together they build something that neither of them ever knew was possible.

HET

And Again by @fw00shy (M, 1.4k) - Teddy/Astoria

The graduate school boys who came up from uni; well, she may be near forty, but they never aged a day.

heart by @onbeinganangel (E, 1.6k) - Draco/Astoria

After their reluctant betrothal and consequent marriage, letting Astoria take over the Malfoy business and estate was a no-brainer.

Lightning Strikes Twice by torino10154 (E, 3.5k) - Ron/Pansy

Ron never sleeps with the same woman twice. Until he meets Pansy, that is.

Coda: Temperantia by @skeptiquewrites (E, 4.6k) - Pansy/Theo

Post-War, Pansy Parkinson is a disgrace to both the traditional and progressive Wizarding worlds and she can't blame them for leaving her behind.

The Secret Incantation by pauraque (E, 5k) - Hermione/Sirius

This is what she wants. This is what he needs.

Bare Naked by cupiscent (E, 7.7k) - Draco/Ginny

Aurors-in-training get paid shit and Ginny wants her independence.

testosterone (sounds like a spell) by pauraque (E, 7.7k) - Justin/Hannah

Justin never returned to Hogwarts after the Death Eaters came. He's found that the Muggle world offers other kinds of transfiguration — a body alchemy far more powerful than any magic spell.

Spring Street by rillalicious (T, 25k) - Harry/Pansy

Harry's been undercover for eight years, on a case that's going nowhere fast. Then Pansy Parkinson is kidnapped, and everything changes.

Straightaway Dangerous by @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 125k) - Draco/Hermione, Harry/Luna

During the final battle, an unexpected insult sends Fenrir Greyback on a rampage, changing 39 people into werewolves. He should've known better than to make Hermione one of that number.

Bonus: Rest Your Head Close to My Heart by pauraque (E, 3.5k) - Harry & Hermione

It's almost time to wean her last child, and Hermione is thinking about what she's losing. Meanwhile, Harry is thinking about what he never had.

[athousandbyeol]

"it’s because they take care of each other and they are a source of comfort to each other. especially when they’re feeling nervous, you’ll see that they’re the clingiest." - this what you said is so true remember the bungee jumping where they kept confessing their love for each other I cried

"but it’s very rarely flashy or exaggerated. and 97% of what people think is fan service is really just how their friendship is." - you literally just took the words out of my mouth and of am not wrong they even mention this in one of those abaab interview that what others/fans think is a cute lovely moment between them is actually normal for them just their genuine deep loving friendship showing

i will never get tired of saying how very PROUD i am of them after everything they've been through together their every growth ups and downs with their relationship with each other their career and their success i love them with my whole heart and i've never been in love this much i am in love with them being in love with each other be it whatever kind its pure its genuine its beautiful its heartbreaking its celestial its destiny its a match made in heaven and i will never shut up about this its some soulmate/twinflame shit right there

sorry for the rant i just wanted to share it

op, these words are spoken by @laowen actually. as the president of forcebook society here on tumblr, she's very spot-on :) //i'm sorry if you thought it was me ㅠㅠ i'm not that good at expressing my feelings. i'm just a mess in this forcebook discourse hahaha

but yes. yes to everything. forcebook's interaction is organic and homey. although i do believe some gestures are spiced to taste (because let's face it, they're in the entertainment industry. of course there's in need of some ✨️pizzazz✨️), those touches, every word, the loving stare, comes from the heart and are sincere. i believe what they have even before they're in the industry plays an important role in their sturdy relationship. because whatever it is, forcebook are friends before everything. they've known each other half of their lives. what more can we ever say about them? love and trust are an understatement. they're so much more.

i dearly hold onto that notion because friends— good friends— don't come by all the time. but the universe somehow aligned these two souls to reunite again. and they've become inseparable, it seems. somehow, they're soul partners that would laugh at each other, record all those embarrassing moments, but will stand up for each other whenever things get messy. forcebook aren't meant for people who crave grand gestures. what they do every day is normal to them and i think it's what most foxmochis adore about their relationship. the normalcy. the quietness. the tender assurance. whatever forcebook have; it's beautiful. it's behind the scenes. it's sincere. it's home.

also, i personally think, if shippers that go beyond the comfortable context of 'liking two individuals', and start having weird ideas about them, they will definitely nitpick everything forcebook do as 'romantic'. everyone is open to ship or support their favourite artists. but there must be boundaries set. after all, we're all humans. p'book and p'force are humans. i hope these people won't hyperfixate whatever's inappropriate about forcebook's beautiful relationship and expect more than what they're willing to share with us.

yes, i can't deny, they're quite sugary together. people might have ideas. but i humbly hope, for as long as forcebook don't categorise or say anything about their relationship, we don't assume instances that could make them less comfortable with us. it takes so much guts for p'book to open up, and more trust for p'force to shed tears in front of the fans. i can't imagine if they start feeling icky once these 'so-called fans' go overboard. forcebook are each other's safe zones, and we are their family and friends, so, we should treasure this trust between us. don't break it.

the bungee-jump episode really got me shed happy tears. i questioned, just how much they love each other? it's crazy to imagine they're so emotionally dependent on each other— especially during hard/stressful times. that already speaks a lot about their relationship. they're just... they're just so soulmate-coded, don't you think?

op, it's ok. i totally understand. forcebook's genuine relationship is so fresh and heartwarming. of course, we can't get enough of these chaotic and idiotic besties! they spread so much joy and sincerity to everyone. it's so precious. they're so precious and loved. you can love them and cherish them and support them all you want. the door is always open. some of my friends here, mj (@/laowen, @forcebookish, @ellasaru12 and others) are very cool and they love forcebook too so, welcome aboard! <3

to more happier and glorious days with forcebook, op! ✨️

[ghostofaboy]

Kinktober 2023 - October 15th

Day 15: Boot Worship, Spanking/Flogging/Whipping/Caning, Lactation/Breastfeeding

Pero Tovar x William Garin

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 805

Warnings: Spanking, impact play

@absurdthirst Kinktober List | Ghost of a Boy Masterlist

The moment Pero was in the room, he heard the door slam shut behind him. Spinning around, he came face to face with William stood, hands on hips. His eyes scanned Pero’s face while his own twisted into a frustrated scowl.

“You’ve been distracted all day.” William said finally, dropping his hands and walking over to the fireplace. “You were… you almost cost us this job. The way you spoke to the lord.” William sighed. “Tell me what is wrong.”

“The job is done.” Pero grumbled back, looking around the plush accommodation their employer had given them for the night. “Why does it matter?”

A large sitting area, complete with a fireplace, with two large beds on the far wall. Pero chuckled to himself as he watched William stoke the fire. Only one of those beds would be used tonight. It was rare for them to get this level of privacy, but whenever they did, they made sure to take full advantage. 

“I don’t know what’s been running through your head, mi amor.” William shook his head, bringing Pero’s attention back to him. “But I think you need to let it out. For both our sakes.”

“I’m fine.” Pero scowled.

“No.” William frowned. “It’s been far too long since we last did this. So long that I’d forgotten how much you need it. But it’s time. Take your clothes off, darling.”

Pero froze, realizing what Wiliam was referring to and what he planned to do. A shiver ran through his body and his cock twitched. His love was right, it had been too long since they had done this. Perhaps this would calm his mind.

Pulling off his clothes as quickly as he was able, Pero watched as William took a vial of oil from his pack before seating himself in one of the chairs facing the fire. Once he was naked, Pero already began to feel better. His cock was hardening, something that didn’t go unnoticed by William, who licked his lips as he gazed at it before waving Pero over.

Pero knew what William expected of him as he walked over and positioned himself over William’s knee. It took a few moments for them both to get comfortable, but as soon as William placed his open palm on Pero’s buttocks, Pero stilled. 

“How many?” William’s voice sounded warm as he gently stroked over the curve of his ass. 

Pero thought for a moment, considering how on edge he had been of late. “Five.”

“Five?” William removed his hand. “Are you sure?”

“Five.” Pero confirmed. “To start.”

The first slap was light, bouncing off Pero’s ass with only a slight sting and Pero was about to fire a scathing remark at William about being soft with him when the second blow came. This one was harder, with more intent and force behind it and Pero instinctually stiffened. His skin tingled, radiating out from when William’s hand was still resting through his entire body. Pero’s cock was fully hard now, trapped between his stomach and William’s lap. 

Another slap came with the same intensity as the second, the cracking sound filling the room for a moment and Pero grunted in pain. The pain made him feel lighter, as though the fog was lifting from his mind. William stroked over his ass again, soothing the skin briefly before bringing his hand down for the fourth time. 

This one pulled a grunt from Pero, the tingling settling into a dull, hot ache. His cock throbbed as the final blow came. Letting his shoulders sag down, Pero let out a long sigh. That had been good but not enough. He needed more. The fog clouding his thoughts had lifted but only slightly.

“Enough?” William was stroking his ass again, sending spikes of pleasure and pain through the tender skin.

“More.” Pero moaned, not recognizing his own voice. “Please, mi armor? Make me spill myself on the floor.” 

“We have to ride tomorrow, darling.” William chuckled. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll survive. Please, mi armor?” Pero pleaded. “More.”

“Very well.” William sighed, giving Pero’s ass a gentle squeeze. Shifting his legs to move Pero’s cock free from its place trapped between them, letting it fall free ready for when Pero reached his peak.

As the spanking continued, William switched between tender slaps and hard smacks, occasionally pausing to rub his fingers over Pero’s hole. With each crack, Pero’s body relaxed and his head lighter. No doubt his ass would be purple in the morning, but Pero didn’t care as he emptied his balls onto the floor. Dropping his head down as he panted, Pero was only vaguely aware of William beginning to move him, tenderly lifting him over to the bed to begin William’s favorite part of this. Something that usually involved William’s mouth and a lot more moaning. 

[doumadono]

Emergency request!

I was wondering if you could write a qpr fic with Bakugou. It's rare for me to see any qpr related fics so Ive been going around asking for them. I find huge comfort in unlabled love.

A/N: I appreciate your request, and I understand the importance of portraying a QPR accurately. However, I must admit that I'm not entirely familiar with QPRs, and this is my first attempt at writing about it. I'm willing to give it a try, but I can't guarantee that it will meet your expectations

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

One cool evening, as the sun dipped below the city skyline, you and Bakugou decided to escape from the chaos of the city for a quiet night in the outskirts, at a cozy cabin nestled in a dense forest. This retreat was your secret sanctuary, away from the prying eyes and the constant struggles of the hero world.

The two of you had been friends for years, and your connection had grown stronger and deeper with each passing day. You'd both learned to rely on each other in ways that words couldn't define.

The cabin was warm and inviting, the fire crackling in the fireplace casting dancing shadows on the walls. You sat on a plush couch, wrapped in a soft, knitted blanket. Bakugo was in the kitchen, preparing a homemade meal for both of you.

He emerged from the kitchen with two steaming bowls of hearty stew, a crooked grin on his face. "Eat up, doll," he said, setting the bowls on the coffee table. "It's supposed to be comforting."

You thanked him, and as you savored the delicious, soul-warming meal, you couldn't help but feel the warmth of your relationship with Bakugo enveloping you. He sat down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. "Ya know," he began, his voice softer than usual, "I've always felt something different with you. It's not the usual fucking crap, that's for sure. But whatever it is, it's just important. It's us."

You smiled at his words. "I feel the same way, Katsuki. We don't need labels to define what we have. It's genuine and deep, and that's all that matters."

Bakugo nodded, his crimson eyes meeting yours, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "Exactly," he stated, his voice filled with genuine love. "We've got something special, and I'm not letting any-fucking-one mess with it."

The evening continued with the two of you talking, and simply enjoying each other's company. It wasn't just about the words you exchanged - it was the depth of those conversations. The two of you shared stories, dreams, and fears in a way that went beyond the ordinary. You were each other's confidants, and you felt safe sharing your innermost thoughts, knowing they would be met with understanding and empathy.

"You know, I never thought I'd find someone who understands me like you do. It's like we're two sides of the same coin." He reached over to take your hand, his grip reassuring as he brought your palm to his lips, placing a tiny kiss to its top.

"What we share is so magical. Special and one-of-a-kind," you gently touched his cheek, caressing it with your thumb.

"I've got your back, always."

"And I've got yours, Katsuki."

Bakugo was always fiercely protective of you, but in this moment, he was also incredibly gentle. He held you close, his arms wrapped securely around you, offering you the comfort and warmth you had longed for. From time to time he was planting a soft kiss to your cheek or temple, sometimes he rubbed his nose against yours.

Some time later, Bakugo leaned in, his lips barely brushing yours. "You mean so much to me," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. With those words, he closed the gap, and your lips met in a gentle, slow kiss. It was a kiss filled with affection, a silent declaration of the love that flowed between you. Bakugo's lips were rough against yours, yet his touch was tender.

The kiss deepened, but not in a passionate or hurried way. It was a slow exploration of each other's emotions, a gentle dance of affection that conveyed the depth of your unique connection. His hand cradled your cheek, his thumb caressing it softly while his tongue danced in the unison with yours.

Pulling away slightly, Bakugo rested his forehead against yours. "I'm glad we found each other," he murmured, his eyes filled with warmth.

As the evening turned into night, and the cabin grew quiet, you both settled into a comfortable silence, content in the presence of each other. The fire in the fireplace had dwindled to embers, casting a soft glow on your faces.

With a heartfelt sigh, Bakugo whispered, "This, right here, is all I need. You."

You turned to him, your eyes meeting his. "You're all I need too, Katsuki."

In that moment, you both knew that words couldn't fully capture the depth of your unlabelled love. Labels didn't matter when you had each other, a connection that was unique and boundless. It was a love filled with comfort, understanding, friendship, and an unspoken promise to always be there for each other, no matter what challenges the hero world or life itself threw your way.

As you closed your eyes, wrapped in Bakugo's embrace, you knew that this relationship was a rare and beautiful treasure that you wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

[resolutepath]

👫 for mortefi and jiyan and/or asta and topaz!

MORTEFI & JIYAN.

◇ MORTEFI TRIES TO CONTACT JIYAN AT A FAIRLY REGULAR INTERVALS. There's something to be said when someone like Mortefi actively seeks regular communication, but when it comes to Jiyan he likes to check in. It might just be an odd how's that thing I worked on call, or it could be more of a personal check. In some ways this is a I'm alive, I'm okay call, in others its a how is your health call. Rarely does it address the route concern however.

◇ THERE IS VERY LITTLE JIYAN CAN ASK THAT MORTEFI WON'T DO. Mortefi does feel a strong sense of gratitude towards Jiyan so naturally he's far more amiable towards Jiyan's requests. He's never outright stated that there are fewer limits to what the other can request but well, it does become more apparent over time. Jiyan also skips the queue, the only people he does not get to skip ahead of are the kids Mortefi is making toys for. The tender grump draws the line there.

◇ MORTEFI WILL LEAVE THE LAB FOR JIYAN WITHOUT FUSS. He may offer a comment that is more lip service than anything, but actually he enjoys going for a tea and getting a chance to catch up. Both of them move at such fast paces that even in the space of days so much can change for them. Those small pockets where they get to slow down and talk, they mean a lot to him.

◇ MORTEFI WILL OFTEN ASK JIYAN TO TEST HIS NEW CREATIONS. There is simply not many that he trusts to give honest, objective feedback. He does not need his ego pandered to, he knows he's good at what he does. What he does need is an itemised list of the advantages it brings and the drawbacks of the device. He knows Jiyan will give him then if he does ask.

ASTA & TOPAZ.

◇ ASTA TEXTS TOPAZ OFTEN BUT INFREQUENTLY. In fact, I would say that Topaz is one of the few Asta retains a version of regular contact with outside of the space station simply because their friendship means that much to her. She'll go weeks without texting Topaz, then blow up her phone with multi-messages every day for a week. She's also a 4am texter (sorry Topaz) when she just finished a project or an 11pm texter when she's just found a deal that she's considering spending on.

◇ ASTA HASN'T GIVEN UP ON THE HOLIDAY. It may be something that neither of them can do right now, because they are extraordinarily busy, but one day Asta hopes that they will get that holiday. She has whole notes on her phone of potential destinations, logistics planning the whole thing, hotels she's spotted that might appeal to them both and activities they could participate in. Booking it will take her seconds, but it's securing a date that's a problem.

◇ TOPAZ IS ONE OF THE FEW PEOPLE WHO HAS BEEN INVITED TO MEET THE FAMILY. We know from Topaz's voiceline she knows Asta's mother, but I like to think that Asta has actively brought Topaz to family dinners under the guise of "business potential" but actually just seeking a buffer between her and the usual arguments about her profession with the family. She loves them all dearly but having to justify why she wants to study the stars every time she goes home? It's gotten old, and Topaz can talk money with them.

◇ ASTA LOVES HEARING ALL THE GOSSIP TOPAZ BRINGS HER. Not only because it gives her both insight into Topaz's day to day and her colleagues at The IPC, but also because it gives her a broader idea of what is going on in the universe overall. The space station is exciting and excellent but it is also quite isolating too, with Herta's environment never giving need to go anywhere. Topaz reminds her there's a world beyond the station.

[notafunkiller]

Regarding Annabelle being present, it was not surprising given that Cannes is a significant international event which naturally attracts a lot of attention. Personally, I found their behavior together to be quite odd. The supposedly "small and tender touches" seemed more forced on his part, and it was clear she didn’t initiate anything, waiting instead to see what he would do. This is peculiar because if they were truly a couple, one would expect her to radiate pride and love, perhaps even hug him.

The kiss between them seemed more like a greeting one would give their parents. While I'm not suggesting they should have made out, there was a noticeable lack of intimacy. He turned away from her almost immediately after, appearing to merely play a role. In contrast, he was seen being more affectionate with others, like Maria. He didn’t seem to focus on Annabelle, which is unusual since most would be glad to have their partner’s support.

A recent Daily Mail article talked about them, and if there had been visible love radiating from both of them, it would be understandable. However, there wasn't even a hint of it. My brother commented that they looked more like colleagues than a couple. As for the supposed air kiss and wink during his walk into the screening, I watched it multiple times and saw nothing, nor did my friends.

The 'red carpet' picture was particularly embarrassing. If they were a genuine couple, one would expect him to wear a massive smile, especially after receiving such an achievement and standing ovation, and being with ”his beloved girlfriend”. This behaviour is inconsistent, especially since he was affectionate with the cast throughout the evening, indicating it’s not about being shy or nervous.

I find it frustrating and sad that his fans focused so much on this, overshadowing his significant achievement that evening. He deserved all the attention for his success. I would have understood if he had kept her close and shown affection, but from my perspective, there was nothing.

One thing is certain: those who are obsessed with them now will likely dislike his future genuine partner. When he does find someone he truly loves and brings her to such events, I believe they will complain about his display of affection, even if it's not excessive.

As always, this is not hate, just my personal opinion!

Their behaviour together is odd. She initiates most of the times and in the rare cases he does something too, he makes it worde bc it looks awkward, distant and icky. Like when they were walking together and he was basically running. It's worse than being 10 meters away.

The supposedly "small and tender touches" seemed more forced on his part, and it was clear she didn’t initiate anything, waiting instead to see what he would do. This is peculiar because if they were truly a couple, one would expect her to radiate pride and love, perhaps even hug him.

Well, like I said: real partners do not make your achievements and events about you.

And we saw him at this event reaching with such joy in his eyes to hug people. He is a hugger. It doesn't have anything to do with privacy. And their snall touches were awkwarddd. If that was a real relationship (even a casual one as deuxmoi said with him bot wanting it serious despite her tries), it'd be 100 times worse, especially bc you could see them in their previous relstionships. So 😬

The kiss between them seemed more like a greeting one would give their parents. While I'm not suggesting they should have made out, there was a noticeable lack of intimacy. He turned away from her almost immediately after, appearing to merely play a role. In contrast, he was seen being more affectionate with others, like Maria. He didn’t seem to focus on Annabelle, which is unusual since most would be glad to have their partner’s support.

Yeah. Totally agree!

A recent Daily Mail article talked about them, and if there had been visible love radiating from both of them, it would be understandable. However, there wasn't even a hint of it. My brother commented that they looked more like colleagues than a couple. As for the supposed air kiss and wink during his walk into the screening, I watched it multiple times and saw nothing, nor did my friends.

My friend who didn't know them said he's acting quite awkwardly towards his costar, and when I told her AW is actually his girlfriend, she went: nooo. No way.

And rhe article? It's a dailymail article... and we know how dailymail is 😂. I expected them to make it about AW, which is honestly funny since she doesn't have a film competing there, and he didn't even pose with her properly.

The 'red carpet' picture was particularly embarrassing. If they were a genuine couple, one would expect him to wear a massive smile, especially after receiving such an achievement and standing ovation, and being with ”his beloved girlfriend”. This behaviour is inconsistent, especially since he was affectionate with the cast throughout the evening, indicating it’s not about being shy or nervous.

The 2 photos I saw from the red carpet with them were sooo bad. She was caught off guard and he was 🧍‍♀️. He did not even pose with her 😭.

Like you said he is nervous and shy and that is why he reaches, for example, in photos for others, but it was not about that now.... in this case. He is an affectionate nervous person. The way he hugged Maria, you'd expect a person to hug his s/o too.

I mean, look at this: not a lot of pda, and after years of being together you still the spark and the affection. This is what I mean by connection:

I find it frustrating and sad that his fans focused so much on this, overshadowing his significant achievement that evening. He deserved all the attention for his success. I would have understood if he had kept her close and shown affection, but from my perspective, there was nothing.

Yeah, it was nothing and they praise crumbs, which makes me sad. (The bar is in hell for this relationship, but when it was high in his previous relationships, they said it's fake). Like I said in a previous post, he also winked at the Collider journalist today for asking an amazing question or at people when he said A Different Man is coming out on September 20th, but I did not see anyone freak out about him winking today... Or the way he put his hand on a woman's back at the MET gala vs how he put it on AW's. The difference in their reactions is huge. And it's really how fans cry over those "gestures" only when they float their boat.

This was supposed to be about him, about a huge, risky career choice he's made years ago and now he finally filmed and protes it at one of the most prestigious film festivals in the whole world. He makes independent films in parallel to Hollywood films, just like Florence Pugh. It's absolutely amazing!

And people who say he should quit Marvel: the money he gets "allows" him to play in films like this (or ADM or Fresh or Monday) and to produce.

(Plus, he really loves Bucky's complexity, he always comes back to find him in a different stage, and the role brought him where he is today & it didn't and doesn't stop him from taking other risky, bold, fun roles + I Tonya ofc. And Bucky is really similar to him...)

One thing is certain: those who are obsessed with them now will likely dislike his future genuine partner. When he does find someone he truly loves and brings her to such events, I believe they will complain about his display of affection, even if it's not excessive.

I saw many hated Margarita for being at the Civil War premiere. She was there just to support him, and he was reaching out to her, to kiss her with other people present. So he is a shy-affectionate person, and definitely a hugger.

As always, this is not hate, just my personal opinion!

You don't even need to mention thisss! Of course it is not meant to be hateful 🌸