#he knew his fate would catch up with him sooner or later

[villanelleskiss]

if you have a problem with abby, you have a problem with me personally

[changbunnies]

Aurora (18+)

♡ Pairing: Prince!Felix x Duke's Daughter!Reader

♡ Genre: light angst, fluff, arranged marriage au, royalty au, historical au, one sided pining to eventual mutual pining, slow burn-ish ??, eventual smut

♡ Word Count: 21.8k

♡ Summary: Y/N, a duke’s daughter in the southern territories of Miroh, is promised to crown prince Felix in the north in the hopes that the dueling territories will reach peace. Yet, despite how much she initially loathes the idea of being married and away from her family, she can’t help but fall in love with the prince she was promised to.

♡ Warnings: outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, felix is nothing but sweet but it takes the reader time to trust him, attempted cheating (not from reader or felix, you'll see), 1 mention of having children, kind of possesive felix? but not too much, i think that's it but lmk if i missed something!

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): felix calls reader "my love" (yes this needs a warning), so much kissing!! so many "i love you's!!" (a changbunnies smut staple), reader and felix are virgins, nipple play, oral (f + m receiving), handjob, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: you can also read the story on my ao3 where it is divded into chapters here, and if you're interested you can also check out my fic rec and feedback blog @stray-dreams

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

You knew well the day would come where you would be married off to a family looking to expand their power. You knew that you would have to leave behind all things you found familiar and comfortable to live in your husband’s estate.

You knew that your responsibilities as a nobleman’s daughter would catch up with you sooner rather than later. And despite knowing all these things in your mind, your heart had not felt prepared for the reality of your fate in the slightest. 

Your night was spent in a grand ceremony of music and laughter as two families, one yours and the other your now husband’s, as well as commoners from all over the bustling town you would now call home, celebrated your new union. You were now Lee Y/N, wife to the northern king’s one and only son, Felix.

And while there was high likelihood that Felix would not sit on the throne for decades, the choice of who would become his wife was still something that had to be decided with the utmost care in the event that an unexpected tragedy befell his father. 

Though you were not a princess, you were the eldest daughter of a grand duke. You were raised in elegance and novelty that most would never have the privilege of living in. You were also graceful, well mannered, and adored by your father’s people in the south, which was something the king valued when seeking out the ideal partner for his only heir. And with your union to the prince now solidified, the country was ever closer to a more unified and prosperous existence. 

The ceremony itself consisted of fake smiles you had long practiced from a young age; a mask of joy and grace to hide your inner tumultuous feelings. When the celebrations had come to a close, and the time came to bid your farewells to your family as they made the long journey back home to the south, you did your best to hold back the tears and see them off with a smile.

You played the role you had been taught by your elders well, giving polite words of parting to the commoners who made it the ceremony and maintaining an elegant air around the royal family that you were now a part of. Felix let out a relieved sigh when the last of the guests departed, turning to you, his now wife, with a gentle smile afterwards.

“Shall we retire for the night as well?” he asks as he holds out his arm, clearly offering it to be linked with yours. You accept the offer easily, deciding that if anyone saw you reject your husband on such an offer it would reflect badly on your family’s manners. The last thing you needed were rumors to circulate about your parents ‘not raising you right.’ 

“I hope you’re not too ill at ease,” he says as you exit the ballroom together, “meeting your betrothed on the same day as your ceremony is quite a shock.” He’s certainly not wrong about that; it was easily the greatest shock of your life. In fact, you spent much of your month-long journey to the northern lands in denial, utterly convinced it must be a falsehood, or some manner of prolonged bad dream you would surely wake from. 

Only on your arrival in the morning, when you had finally seen the royal castle with your own eyes and met your suitor and his family face to face, did your reality smack you squarely in the face. The truth of things could no longer be rejected; you were going to be married this evening whether you wished it so or not. You were left with no choice but to conform in that very moment, to accept your fate for what it is. 

“Yes, it took me no small measure of adjustment, but I am grateful that you and your family have spared no effort in accomodating me.” You offered a kind word– after all, it was no lie that his family were much kinder people than you had expected them to be.

Once you reached the age of maturity, your family received countless marital requests from various suitors, many of whom were vile men beneath a mask of sincerity. You had watched your cousins marry into many such families, and found yourself dreading the day it would happen to you as well. 

While it was undoubtedly unfortunate that you were forced into a marriage, the fact that Felix and his family seemed to hold genuine kindness in their hearts made you quite lucky. However, your luck being better than most did not mean you were happy about any of this.

Sure, the fact that you weren’t wed to a boorish man who felt the need to treat you like an object was a good thing, but that didn’t change that the freedom of choice was stripped away from you. You should feel relief that Felix seems to be a sweet person, or some sort of joy that your new family is seemingly considerate and caring, but you don’t.

What you feel instead is.. Well, you aren’t quite sure what name to put to the feeling, though dread felt the closest. Yes, you felt a looming dread over knowing that this was your life now, and you were never, and will never, be given a choice for something different. 

“If there is anything at all I can do to help you in this transition, I ask that you do not hesitate to tell me.” Felix’s voice, while still much deeper than you had anticipated it to be, was soft and kind as he made the offer.

You could feel a hint of guilt for not appreciating such a thing as much you knew you should– he’s obviously trying his hardest to be kind to you, and despite that you’re just.. Unhappy. There was no other way to put it. 

“I will, thank you,” you reply in your perfectly rehearsed well-mannered tone. You may hate the situation you’re in, but you won’t take it out on him. After all, he likely didn’t have a choice in this matter either, and he’s been nothing but sweet and accommodating to you thus far. As much as the rebellious part of your brain wishes to kick and scream and throw a tantrum, you don’t want to do anything that would hurt or reflect badly on your new husband. 

“This is my– well, our, room,” He says as you approach two large, ornate doors, decorated with a wood carving of the royal family’s emblem standing proudly in the center: two soldiers mirroring each other with swords raised skyward, and a beautiful, intricately drawn phoenix beholden in the center. “We can enter if you wish, but I do not intend to force you to lie with me when you are not yet comfortable being next to me.” 

“Truly? Is such a thing alright?” You nearly exclaim, unable to disguise the surprise in your voice at his statement. Felix smiles in the same sweet manner he has all night as he answers, “Of course! I know it’s.. Customary for newlyweds to lie together right away, but I have no desire to force you into an uncomfortable situation. And well.. I do hope that we’ll share a bed in the future, but I am more than willing to wait until you are ready.” 

You felt truly taken aback as you stared at him. Sad to say, you half expected his tune to change once the two of you were alone. You'd heard many awful tales of men who are sweet and doting in the eye of the public, but change the moment they are behind closed doors, their true natures and selfish desires exposing themselves once there is no one they have to impress or keep up appearances for.

And also sad to say, it wouldn't have surprised you if the crown prince was one of those awful men; men in positions of power love to flaunt and make use of it, flashing their wealth and their status and forcing those beneath them into submission. You were lucky that in your father's lands in the south, you had enough status to prevent those men from harming you explicitly. 

But here you were, in a forgein land, married to a man who was second only to his father, the king. A man who held substantial power over you in every regard now that you were wed, but was giving you the freedom of choice.

And then there was the statement that followed– he wants to lie with you, would likely be pleased if you did so this very night, but is willing to wait until you want to of your own regard. It's possible he is simply a smooth talker, years of diplomatic lessons and high social status turning him into a charasmatic liar, an effortless charmer. 

Was it in his true character to treat women with such consideration, or were you an exception until he got you where he wanted you? Did he sincerely view you are more than an object to be had, or was he going to play the long game, waiting until the moment you lower your guard and become comfortable to strike?

Regardless of the answer, you feel truly thankful in the moment. You've had a whirlwind of emotions today, and not needing to immediately lie with your new husband takes an immense weight of your weary shoulders. You're happy to have the space to decompress alone in your own private space offered to you. 

“The maid’s have prepared a room for you further down the hall. Shall I take you?” he asks, the sweet smile having not at all faded. You hesitate a moment before you nod, not wishing to offend him should you appear too eager or if this part of a game he wishes to play, using your vulnerability as a pawn. “Yes, please.”

“Very well,” he replies as he leads you further past the room that you are supposed to share together. The walk down the hall is rather quick, ending just a few yards away from your starting point. “I hope you don’t mind, I wanted your room to be in proximity to mine in case you have need of me,” he clarifies as you approach the door to what will be your bedroom for the foreseeable future. 

“Truthfully, it’s more than I was expecting. I appreciate it,” you smile your first genuine one of the night, truly relieved to not have to share a bed with a relative stranger right away, and to have the space you need to process what your life will be like from this night onward. Felix unlinks your joined arms and opens the door for you to enter, his apparant kindness unfaltering. 

The moment you step inside your new room, you are in awe. Even for what is likely a small guest room, it’s still much larger than your bedroom back at your family’s modest estate. The furniture is well crafted and beautifully adorned in gentle blue and white shades. In the corner of the room, you see that your belongings from home have been neatly placed, with essentials on top and personal comforts at the bottom.

This surprised you most of all; not only was he kind enough to prepare a separate room for you, but he had all your belongings brought here ahead of time, as if he already knew this would be your answer. 

Behind you, Felix stands in the doorway, having not followed you into the room. He wore an expression of anxious anticipation, waiting to hear what you thought of where you’d be sleeping. He was as patient as he possibly could be, hoping silently that whatever opinion you held would be positive. He truly wanted you to feel safe and comfortable here, so that one day you could grow to have a genuine connection with him. 

When you turned back towards him, your soft smile made the anxiety welling within his breast wash away in an instant. “It’s to your liking?” he asks, and you respond with a nod. “It’s lovely, thank you.”

Truthfully, you felt another tinge of guilt for doubting his pure intentions just moments prior. The way relief instantly washed over his face was a clear indicator that he was truly trying his best to make you comfortable. 

“Ah, I’m relieved to hear that!” Felix holds his hand over his heart, as if it had just been racing in his chest; and to be fair, perhaps it was– he did seem genuinely considerate in all his actions, and he must’ve been nervous up to this point. “Before I go, should I call some maids to help you remove your gown? It looks rather intricate, so..”

Felix’s observation wasn’t wrong; getting your wedding gown on early this afternoon required the help of your mother, sister, and many others, and you didn’t feel you’d be able to remove everything on your own. 

So, you gave your approval to receive the maid’s help, and Felix nods, “I’ll alert them quickly so you can get your rest soon. Knights will also be posted in front of your room at all times starting now, and maids will come to your room routinely, so please notify them if anything is needed urgently.”

He was about to turn to leave but stops, hesitantly meeting your eyes one last time before he departs. “Uhm– good night, I’ll see you tomorrow.” His smile was bashful, and you found his subtle, soft change in demeanor oddly endearing.

While you were still very much uneasy about being in this place, and had your issues with being married, it’d be a lie to say that Felix’s earnest efforts to make you happy and comfortable weren’t helpful, and that maybe with him as your husband, you could be happy someday. 

You groan as you are wrestled from sleep by a quick succession of knocks on your door; not urgent in any way, but loud enough to rouse you out of the pleasant dream you were having. Groggily, you stand from your bed, rubbing your eyes as you step toward the door.

You open it slowly, and come to see Felix standing before you with a tray of various foods in hand. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I brought you breakfast. May I come in?” You nod and step to the side to allow him entry, letting your assigned guards close the door behind him.

“The maids said they couldn’t wake you, so I decided to give it a try at my first available moment,” he explains as he sets the tray down on your bed. “I’m still unsure of your preferences, so I got a little of everything. I hope there’s something here you enjoy.” 

It has been just a few weeks since you officially became a member of the royal family and Felix’s wife, but you still often found yourself being taken aback by just how thoughtful and earnest he was towards you.

He seemed to have even the little things in mind when trying to accommodate you, and you often found yourself unsure on how to react to such kindness. In the end, you settle for a simple thank you as you climb back to your spot in bed to eat under the comfort of the blanket. 

“When you’re finished, I would like to take you on a tour of the castle if you’re not opposed. I believe getting familiar with your surroundings will aid in your adjustment,” he says, watching you carefully for any change in expression. It is true that since your arrival, you’ve spent most of your time holed up in your room, not coming out unless there was need for it. 

And though you were perfectly content to continue to do so, you could understand how it would become a problem, not just for Felix but for yourself as well. You can’t spend the rest of your days hiding away in your guest room, and you won’t adjust to your new life any easier if you don’t at least try to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. 

Besides all that, Felix has been incredibly sweet and patient thus far. You owe it to him to try, at the very least. His face lights up when you give your agreement, an earnest delight painting his face. You weren’t sure why he was so eager to offer you comfort, or why he always seemed so happy when you returned his smiles, but that pleasant quality of his was undeniably helpful in easing the ache in your heart. 

"I still have some things to take care of with my father before we begin, so take your time finishing your breakfast and getting ready. I'll be back later," he continues to smile as he stands, seemingly excited about what the afternoon will hold for you (and he is excited! There is so much to show you, and he hopes you love everything the castle has to offer.)

Your maids enter the room shortly after Felix departs, ready to help you with whatever you may need, and to begin tidying up once you've finished eating. You're not sure how long Felix will be, so you follow his advice to take your time, leisurely eating your breakfast and making small talk with the maids as you do.

You were nervous to speak with them your first few days here, unsure of what sort of dynamic they had with the royal family, but you all warmed up to eachother rather quickly. They were kind, playful but still professional, and the ones around your age were especially excitable when it came to the prospect of gossip and dressing up. 

Even when you weren't interjecting into conversation, you enjoyed listening to them talk about romance, what they think of the working men in town, what dresses they plan to buy with their savings and what they'll do when they have a free night to spend out. You especially liked to listen to them talk about Felix.

Some of them had been here for years, and they knew much about him that you hadn't come to learn yet. It seemed that he'd always been sweet and kind, gentle and shy as a boy, but grew more confident with age and experience. Despite that, according to them, there were still many times where you could catch him becoming pink in the face, shyness blooming over it the way it had when he was still small. 

It made you curious– what did Felix look like when he was shy? You were sure he must be beautiful; you're not blind after all, you can clearly see that the man you married is handsome beyond what words could describe. Being against an arranged marriage is completely seperate from recognizing that the man you were promised to looks like he was sculpted straight from God's own hands.

But it takes more than beauty for you to have feelings for someone, and that's why you liked hearing the tales of his youth, moments that reflected that the Felix you met is the genuine him, no tricks and no falsehoods. And maybe one day, you would see him be shy, and seeing it would spark feelings in your gut that you hadn't felt since the time you were a child with your first crush. 

“Are you ready to begin the tour?” Felix smiles brightly as he holds out his arm for you the same way he had on the night of your marriage. You had just finished taming your hair and tying half of it behind you with a ribbon when he arrived back at your room, free of whatever his duties were and ready to dedicate the rest of his afternoon to you.

When you first stepped out, Felix’s timid stare didn’t go unnoticed by the maids, who insisted on helping you despite being told you were capable of getting ready on your own. 

You chose a simple, muted yellow gown with white trim accents to wear from the clothes you brought with you from home. It was one of your favorite dresses to wear casually as it was light, airy, and easy to walk in. You had no plans to do anything extravagant, but your assigned maids insisted on you wearing at least some jewelry, so you let them place a pearl necklace on you with dainty earrings to match. 

And so, the maids secretly beamed with delight at Felix’s reaction to your appearance (though it wasn’t their added accessories that caught his attention in the first place; it was simply you.) “I’m ready, thank you,” you say as you accept his invitation to link your arms together.

Felix shifts his gaze from you to the maids, giving them instructions to finish tidying your room while the two of you are out. They bow politely, getting straight to work on cleaning as you step out of your room, and you can hear their soft, delighted giggles even as you are led down the hall. 

The tour started about as you expected, with Felix leading you from room to room and stating simple facts such as 'this is where my older sister and her husband sleep’ or ‘this is the hall where your family will stay when they next visit’ and so on.

Typically, daughters move out of their family homes upon being wed, their entire purpose to give their husband’s family a successful lineage and ideal heir, but you suppose a special exception is made when you’re part of the royal family. You wonder how different your life would be if the expectation to leave your family behind wasn’t placed upon you from birth. 

He has a younger sister as well, one who has yet to be wed and who you met only briefly, but you wonder if she’ll be allowed to live in the castle as well when her time comes, if her husband’s family will have guest rooms just as yours will, and if she’ll have the luxury to stay in the place she’s familiar and comfortable for her entire life.

You know his sisters aren’t much different from you, really. Women often don’t have freedom of choice, and you especially doubt the princesses ever get a say in what comes next for them (even if the king and queen are caring people), but at least they still have their home, and their family right there with them. 

You were envious of that; you missed your home and your family so much. Would there ever be a day where you could see the place you grew up in again? How much older would your family be the next time you saw them?

Your younger sister, who was still small and naive– how different would she be? How much taller, how much more mature? It saddened you to think about, and you had to consciously make an effort to not think about it any further, and focus instead on the things Felix was showing to you. 

He skips past the dining hall and ballroom since you’ve already become well acquainted with them from the wedding ceremony, and instead brings you to the royal library as your next stop. It was an understatement to say it was gorgeous, but you could find no words to do it justice.

It was the largest library you’d ever seen, equipped with grand staircases and beautiful handcrafted spandrels carved into the arches. The bookshelves reached up the ceilings and covered every wall, apart from the back section where large ornate windows filtered in sunlight from the gardens outside (which Felix assured you that you’d be seeing soon.) 

“This is incredible, I’ve never seen such an impressive library!” you practically beam, unable to hide your excitement at the impressive collection of books. You’ve always been a fan of literature, spending countless hours losing yourself in fantasy worlds and star-crossed romances.

“I could spend all my days here and still not read everything,” you muse with a smile as you wind your way through various bookshelves, taking note of every title that peaks your interest. 

“With such an extensive collection, there’s bound to be something that suits your tastes,” he says with a smile of his own as he follows you through the winding path of bookcases, “feel free to grab anything you’d like! You are allowed to take from the library as you please.”

Oh, you intend on doing just that. You suppose you should start with just a few for now though; the library isn’t going anywhere after all, and neither are you. 

It takes some time, but you eventually decide on a handful books to bring back to your room first, mostly fantasy romance titles (because how can you resist the call of your favorite genre?) Felix, who had been watching fondly as you made your selections, quickly instructs a nearby maid to bring your selections back to your room before asking if you’re ready for the tour of the castle to resume. 

In much higher spirits than when you began, you happily link your arms with Felix again, eager to see what else the castle has to offer you. There’s not much more for you to see on the inside; you’re briefly shown the knight’s barracks and the maid’s quarters, as well as the informal living space his family prefers to relax together in when they have the time. (It’s still extremely elegant and beautiful for an “informal” space, but you digress– they’re royalty, after all.) 

He leads you to the gardens next, which until now you had only seen briefly from the windows, and wow, is it more stunning when actually in front of you than you ever would have believed. All the flowers and hedges are well maintained and vibrant in color, a cobblestone path laid before you and winding around the garden carefully, lattice fence work protecting the flowers in the back and maintaining the border. 

There’s ponds littered about, the cleanest and bluest you’d ever seen, the fish inside clearly visible even at a distance. In the center lies a beautiful marble fountain, with large, meticulously detailed sculptures of what you assume to be a goddess to adorn the surroundings.

It’s all utterly breathtaking, beyond anything you’d ever seen at home in the south. As you reach the end of the cobblestone path, there lies an iron wrought gazebo with matching seating and a table beneath, right in the center. 

Felix unlinks your arms and steps up first, holding his hand out to you to accept as you proceed carefully up the few steps up to the gazebo. He pulls a chair out for you, smiling when you accept the seat and then takes his own seat directly across from you. There’s still a chill in the air, as spring has only just begun to set in the north, but the sunlight that filters through the iron keeps you sufficiently warm.

“Would you like some tea? You must be tired after all the walking we’ve done,” Felix asks after he’s gotten more comfortable in his seat, the iron cold at first but warming up quickly due to his own body heat.

“That’d be lovely,” you answer sincerely, and he smiles again, looking around quickly for any nearby attendants he can call to assist the two of you. Within minutes you are provided with fresh tea, as well as a handful of biscuit style cookies, and you thank the maids for their quick work as warmly as you can.

“It’s been so long since I last walked the entirety of the castle grounds, I’d forgotten how tiring it is,” Felix sighs after he takes a sip of his tea, seemingly unphased by the high temperature of it. You on the other hand are snacking on the cookies you’d been provided as you wait for the tea to cool, having no desire to scorch your tongue and potentially embarrass yourself in front of your husband. 

“Yes, I can’t imagine doing it daily. The maids certainly have their work cut out for them,” you empathize, truly hoping they feel appreciated for all the work they’ve done for you thus far, and have done for what you imagine to be decades for some of them. You didn’t have much help on your family’s estate back home, as it was much less grand in comparison to the splendor of the castle you now live in. 

The moments that follow are serene; you listen to Felix talk about various things pertaining to the castle as you sip your tea, including stories of how he used to get lost as a child and always needed someone's help to get back to where he needed to be. You laughed once, when he told you about a time he got stuck in a utility closet and cried until he was discovered by a maid, who had to spend several minutes calming him down before carrying him back to his room. 

It was a cute story, and you couldn’t help but giggle from how he dramatically explained the darkness that encompassed him, and how terrified 7 year old Felix was at that moment. You were worried for a moment after that it’d seem like you were laughing at him and not with him, but the way he smiled at you after he heard your laugh told you he was perfectly happy with your reaction. 

It was the first time he heard you laugh since you arrived– genuinely laugh, and he liked it. It made him feel warm, and gave him hope that you were finally starting to feel comfortable around him. He’d never hurt you, and he hoped that as you grew closer to him, you could genuinely love him one day. That’s all he wants really; to love the person he’s married to, and be loved in return. 

He’s seen it happen before; his parents, whose marriage was decided long before he was born but was the truest form of love he’d ever seen, and with his older sister, who was against her marriage at first but came to be truly in love with the man she was promised to. He wanted that to– to love and be loved with all his heart, to have something special and all his own with the woman he was promised to. And he'd work hard, do everything he could to show you that he was someone worthy to give your heart to. 

You stayed in the gardens for some time, simply talking and enjoying the scenery until the sun began to shift behind the trees. The shade brought a deeper chill with it, a slight shiver crawling over your skin each time the wind blew. “Let’s go back inside, there’s still something I want to show you,” Felix suggests upon seeing the way your body tensed from the chill creeping over you. You easily accept the offer, letting him lead you out of the gardens and back to the castle.

Warmth immediately spreads through you when you’re back inside the castle’s walls, body releasing its cold tension as you let Felix guide you to where he wants to go next, your arm linked in his as is coming to be your norm.

You come to a now familiar hall– the one with your bedrooms, and Felix stops in front of the doors to his room, the one you will one day share in the future. “Your room..?” you ask, looking at him inquisitively. 

“I’m not asking you to move in yet, just to see it, if that’s okay with you,” he explains his intentions, ensuring that he means you no harm by inviting you into the private space. Felix has given you no reason to mistrust him at all, and while there is some slight hesitancy due to your own fears, you agree easier than you expected yourself to.

He’s trustworthy, you think; he’s a gentleman through and through, and he’s shown you more than once how considerate and respectful he is, so.. Why not? The royal knights guarding his room open the doors for you at Felix’s signal, and the two of you step inside together, letting the guards close the door behind you to offer you privacy (not that you necessarily need it at the moment.)

His room is similar to yours, with much of the same features, but much larger in scale and with items you imagine are specific to Felix’s own tastes. His furniture holds the same blue and white tones as yours, but with the additions of a lovely yellow, reminiscent of the sun shining in an almost clear sky. 

He has a fireplace, only slightly larger than the one in your room, and you can tell even from a distance that his attached bath is very grand in both appearance and size. The biggest difference from your own room however has to be the piano sitting in the corner of his room, large and spectacular in its handcrafted design.

You cautiously step closer to it, carefully running your hand over the sleekly painted black wood, fingertips tracing over the gold leaf accents. “This is beautiful,” you say, turning back to look at him when you’re done admiring the beauty of what you can only assume is his personal piano, “do you play?”

“I learned as a boy,” he answers with a beaming smile full of pride as he takes a seat in front of the keys, “I haven’t had much time to play recently, but it’s one of my favorite things to do. I always feel the happiest when I’m playing.”

He motions for you to take a seat on the nearby chaise, so you do, sitting comfortably against the soft cushion. “Would you like to hear a song?” he asks, a bit nervous but eager to show you what he can do after years of diligent practice.

“I’d love that,” you reply, his infectious joy causing you to smile as well. You watch as he turns his attention to the keys in front of him, his face changing as he closes his eyes, the smile you had become accustomed to seeing fading as he prepared to focus. 

The song starts soft and slow, and while you didn’t recognize the melody, you found it entrancing and indescribably beautiful and serene. You watched and listened in awe as he continued, his eyes still closed and body swaying along with the melody he was playing. His ability to play without looking at the keys or sheet music amazed you, and attested to the fact that this is indeed something he loves to do. 

You clapped when he finished the song, and his expression immediately returned to the vibrant smile he often held. “That was beautiful Felix! You’re really talented,” you praise him earnestly, truly moved by his talent.

“Oh, no, anyone who has played as long as I have can do that,” he insists despite the light blush crawling on his features from your compliment. 

“You’re being modest,” you say, hoping he recognizes that you truly mean it, and aren’t just saying so to be kind or polite. You’ve seen a fair amount of people play the piano in your time attending balls and banquets, but saw no one as talented and clearly passionate as Prince Felix.

Maybe it was because he wasn’t used to being so openly complimented, or the fact that he had never played in front of anyone but his family, but he found that the praise affected him in a way he couldn’t have anticipated. 

No, it was because it was you specifically complimenting him that made his face flush and heart beat just the tiniest bit faster. Was it strange to hope to hear you compliment him more in the future? Maybe one day you’d compliment his appearance; tell him he was handsome, or beautiful, or cute even. He’d be happy with any of them, as long as they were from you. 

He'll tell you too– how beautiful you are when you smile, your excitement over your books cute, your very presence endearing. He knows it's too soon to call his feelings love, because how do you fall in love with a stranger in only a few weeks time? But he's certain that one day, maybe not too far off from today, it will be love, and the warmth and joy he feels whenever you look at him will expand tenfold, beyond anything he's ever experienced before now. 

Since the first time you’d entered Felix’s room and he’d played the piano for you, it had become routine for you to spend most of your days there with him, listening to him calmly play melodies while you silently read your books. It was nice listening to him play while you were reading; it felt like it added a special ambience, and helped you get even further lost in the tales written on the page. 

Sometimes you’d even notice him watching you read from your peripheral, smiling to himself for just a moment before he turned his attention back to the keys. When his fingers grew tired, you’d start to read aloud, oftentimes at his own request. Felix explained that he liked listening to you read, and you imagined that the feeling was similar to how you felt listening to him play piano.

Relaxing, comfortable, serene; that’s how the two of you felt listening to the other. Honestly, you were embarrassed to do so at first; after all, the book you were reading at the time had to do with with a woman in a magical fantasy land falling in love with an elf, and you would’ve been extremely embarrassed if he laughed at the concept or shamed you for your taste in literature. 

However, you found that he listened to you intently, like the tale you were reading from the pages was of the utmost importance for him to hear. He’d ask follow up questions when you were further in the book than he last heard, often asking what happened next and if the characters had overcome whatever trial they had been facing yet.  

Felix remembered all the details of what you read to him– the setting, the character’s names, what their thoughts and feelings were at the point you’d read them to him. It impressed you, as well made you feel warm and a little fuzzy. It showed how much he genuinely cared, that he listened to you and cared about the things you care about, that he wanted to know what you like beyond a superficial level. 

Whenever night came however, you retreated back to your own room, promising you’d return the next day. Maybe it was silly to not officially move into the bedroom you were meant to share when you had begun to spend most of your days there, but you simply weren’t ready to yet. You’d grown to trust Felix quite a bit, but sleeping next to him still seemed a step too far out of your comfort zone. 

You also worried it’d send him the wrong message– you didn’t want him to think anything would come of you sharing a bed just yet. You just found his presence comforting, and that was all. You knew, since the very day you first came here, that he hoped the two of you would share his room when you were ready, but you didn’t want to unintentionally give him something he thought was more than it was supposed to be. 

It seemed so.. Intimate, much more than you had ever been with someone. You liked him, and you trusted him, that much was true– but enough to share a bed? It was nerve wracking to think about, and while you knew it would happen someday, there was no need to rush it along; especially not when he was giving you the freedom and space to tackle your marriage on your own terms. 

But on nights like tonight, when your heart was heavy and tears pricked the corner of your eyes, you wondered if you should’ve just moved in with Felix already. It was only a matter of time before the warm weather brought rain with it, and alongside the downpour came thunderstorms. You weren’t sure what time of night it was when the crash of thunder woke you from your sleep, but as the grogginess faded and the sound sat with you, your heart ached terribly. 

You didn’t hate thunderstorms– in fact, you didn’t mind them at all, usually finding them quite pleasant to watch and listen to. It was your sister that hated them, who’d crawl into your bed every time one struck, trembling hands rousing you from your deep slumber and clinging to you the moment you awoke and offered her a place next to you. And each time a thunderstorm rolled through, you couldn't help but think about her, sadness encroaching over you without any means to stop it. 

What was the weather like back home, you wondered? Had spring's rain been gentle to her so far or were the storms as prevalant there as they were here? Would your sister suffer through it alone now that you weren’t there to comfort her? Your parents were kind, but you weren’t entirely sure they’d allow her to crawl into bed with them, or to hold her close as she cried the way you always had. 

How much of the remainder of her childhood would you come to miss? In just a few years time, she’ll be a woman the same as you, married into a new family and away from the last of her comforts. You don’t hate where you are now, nor do you hate Felix or the family you now call your own, but you miss the people you grew up with, and your little sister most of all. 

You miss holding her hand, hugging her when she’s scared, wiping away her tears when she’s sad or frightened. You miss guiding her through the lessons you once took, helping her to understand and offering the help you didn’t have then due to being the oldest. You miss giggling together when sharing stories, how cute she looked when happily accepting and showcasing your hand-me-down dresses that were now hers. 

Before you knew it, tears rolled down your cheeks, the ache in your chest unable to be ignored or pushed aside any longer. It was as if all the sadness you’d been harboring surfaced all at once, and the moment one tear fell, another followed, and another, until you were openly sobbing, unable to control or stop it from happening. 

You thought again of Felix, who was just a short trip down the hall from you. Would it be alright to go see him? You promised you’d go to him if you needed something, and well.. You could use some comfort, if you were being honest with yourself.

If you lit some candles and tried to read to distract your mind, all you’d effectively do is blur the pages and stain them with your tears, unable to focus on the words in front of you as your mind swirled and processed all your emotions. Felix, while still relatively new to you and finding his place in your life, is your family now.

Who else can you approach with your melancholy if not him? He’s sweet– he’ll comfort you, he’ll listen to you, he’ll be patient and considerate. In the nearly 2 months since you’d first arrived, he’s always shown you just how gentle of a person he is. And he always seemed genuine when expressing his desire to share his life with you, and be someone you could trust and rely on. 

You take a few deep breaths to steady yourself, wiping the tears from your face as you rise from your bed. Your night guards seem surprised when the doors to your room open and you emerge from them, but ultimately they say nothing, letting you walk down the hall without interruption and closing your doors for you. 

Felix’s guards, who recognize you even in the dim light of the candles on the walls as his wife, acknowledge you with a brief, professional nod when you stop in front of the doors. You hesitate there for a moment, wondering if this is really okay or if you should abandon this idea and turn back to your room.

But his guards, who mistake your hesitance as you waiting for them to open the doors, do so as quietly as they can, motioning for you to go ahead and step inside the room. Well, there’s no going back now that they’ve opened the doors for you, so you quietly step inside, thanking them softly and letting them pull the large doors shut behind you.

The room is dark, the light that would normally pour in from the moon being obscured by the dark rain clouds that hang in the sky. His candles are all responsibly blown out, but your eyes are adjusted to the darkness enough to find your way to his bed regardless. 

You swallow, hand trembling as you reach out to him, shaking him gently and mirroring the actions your sister used to take when she woke you up at night. He groans sleepily, voice deep and gravely as he stirs awake, eyes slowly drawing open, wearily looking for the source of what woke him. Felix sees you standing above him, but it takes his sleep-addled brain a moment to process the sight, half wondering if his weary eyes are playing a trick on him. 

But no, it really is you, looking at him with sad eyes and a quivering bottom lip, and he can feel the tremble in your hand that rests on his shoulder now that he’s fully conscious. He sits up quickly, concern painting his face as he gives you his undivided attention.

“Y/N, what’s the matter? Has something happened?” Your voice wavers as you try to tell him, I’m sad, I’m lonely, I miss everyone from home, but it doesn’t fully come out, the words dying in your throat as tears well in your eyes again. 

He opens his arms to you and you crumble into them, burying your head in his chest as you allow yourself to cry. He sympathetically whispers your name, careful as he wraps his arms around you in a hug, conscious of where he allows his hands to rest.

He doesn’t know what's wrong, what has brought you to such tears, but he’s glad you came to him with them. It would’ve saddened Felix to later learn that you suffered in your room alone when he would’ve gladly done whatever he could for you. 

And then he hears it– the crack of thunder, lightning illuminating the room for a brief moment before you’re sheathed again in darkness. Was that the problem? Were you frightened? You weren’t of course, but he didn’t know that, and he comforted you through your sobbing as if you were.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m here with you,” he told you, his voice a deep whisper, holding you just a bit tighter whenever lightning struck, fully believing the problem was that you were afraid. Despite the misconception, you were comforted all the same. This was exactly what you were hoping for, what you needed to hear.

The storm eventually recedes, as does your sobbing, the room becoming ever so slightly more illuminated as the rain clouds pass onward. He can see your face more clearly now when you look at him again, can see how wet and shiny your cheeks have become from fallen tears, but you also appear calmer, your lip trembling much less and breaths more stable. 

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks softly, carefully, and it is now you become hyper aware of the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, of your head resting against his chest, of the sound of his heartbeat in your ears.

You relax your fingers, which you realize were clutching his sleep shirt quite hard, the fabric having become harshly wrinkled from your grasp. He loosens his arms to let you lift yourself away from him, watching silently as you wipe your face clean. 

You hesitate to meet his gaze– not because you feel embarrassed over your outpouring of your emotions, but conscious of how close you just were, and how natural it felt to have his arms around you. Maybe the fact that it felt so right is a testament of how close you’ve grown in the time you've been here, and how comfortable he makes you feel.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” you mutter quietly now that you’ve found your voice again; you know his duties leave him tired, so there’s a tinge of guilt you feel for interrupting his rest. “Don’t say that, I’m glad you woke me,” he assures you, and he’d reach out and hug you tight again if he knew he could.

You believe him– you know how earnest and sincere Felix is, and that he cares about you; maybe not in the way a husband cares about his wife, but cares nonetheless. You should be honest too, clarify why you were really crying so he doesn’t grow to think you’re genuinely afraid of thunderstorms. 

“I, uh– I’m not afraid of storms, that’s not why I was crying. Well, it was, but not because I was frightened,” you explain, and Felix looks a bit puzzled, but nods anyways, listening carefully to what you tell him. You tell him everything– how your sister was afraid of them, how you spent many dark nights easing her fears, and how your tears were born from how much you miss her, and your family as a whole. 

His heart breaks for you, truly, it does. He assumed you missed your family, he took notice of how close you were to them on the night of your ceremony, but there was no way he could’ve known how deep your pain was. And really, he can’t imagine what it’s like to be in your situation.

What if it was him who had to separate from his parents and siblings to live somewhere new? Would he be able to handle it with as much acceptance and grace as you have? You never complained about anything, even when you were saddened.

You treated everyone around you kindly, never spoke ill of anyone or about your circumstances, and that’s when he realizes you have much more inner strength than he’d known. There’s a small prick of guilt he feels for taking you away from your family, but even if it wasn’t him that you married, it still would’ve happened to you someday.

He wishes he knew what he could say or do to comfort you the best; there was nothing that could completely take the ache away, of that he was sure, but if he could make it better somehow then he’d do whatever he could. You can see the gears turning in his brain, can see him struggle with finding the words to say, unsure if what he’d done for you thus far was good enough. 

And there’s a new dilemma brewing in your mind– what do you do now that you’re calm? Do you just.. leave? Go back to your solitude and spend the rest of the night alone? If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t entirely want to go back to your room.

Maybe it was time for you to finally move in with Felix, and share the room, share the bed, as you were meant to. It’s a strange feeling you don’t entirely recognize and know what to do with; you just know that you want to stay here, with him, and feel his arms around you again. 

Maybe it’s simply because he’s all you have here; which isn’t entirely true, but it is how you feel. Do you have a family here? Yes, the royal family is your family now too. Do you have friends here? Yes, you’ve grown quite close to your maids and other staff you interact with.

But are you comfortable enough to be vulnerable in front of them, or to share your feelings of loneliness and homesickness? No, and in that regard, Felix is all you have. 

Felix is your companion in this lonely place, the person who makes your days brighter and bearable through the melancholy, the one who ebbs away your sadness and replaces it with warmth. And you spend all your days with him, next to him, talking to him, sharing everything, including silence.

Would it be so bad to allow yourself this comfort? To finally take a step forward and move into the room you were meant to share? There’s a part of you that’s scared to take that step, afraid to confront what your desire to be close to him means, unsure how to unravel and make sense of the complexities of your thoughts.

But there is an undeniable truth– Felix is your husband, and that would likely never change. So even if you don’t love him, wasn’t it okay to be close to him regardless? He makes you smile, he makes you laugh with his stories and jokes, he plays the piano for you and listens to you so intently, he makes you feel warm and fuzzy; and he told you he wants you to be here.

Maybe he doesn’t love you yet, but he’s expressed that he wants to, that he hopes the two of you will look at each other fondly and live happily. And maybe you don’t love him yet, but that doesn’t mean that the day you do is far off.

You look at him, take in the compassion and concern he holds for you, allow the feeling of warmth to seep into your pores; you may not be in love with him, but you do still have love for him. Isn’t that enough? 

“Felix, if it’s alright.. Can I–” you pause a moment, shy apprehension prickling your skin, but you collect yourself enough to continue, “I want to stay. Here, with you.” You can see even in the low light how his eyes widen, though it’s hard to decipher whether or not his surprise is pleasant, but you hope it is given how he’s expressed his hopes for the future.

“A-Are you sure?” he asks, not at all against the idea, just surprised by your admission. “I don’t want to be alone again, at least not tonight,” you explain, hoping he understands, “And I don’t have to move in completely if you’re not ready for me to, but.. I spend all my days here with you anyways, so.. I want to, if that’s okay.”

Felix’s heart is racing, his face growing pinker by the second, and he feels lucky you’re making this confession in the darkness, where you can’t easily tell how obvious his blush is. “Of course you can stay,” he says, shifting more to the side to allow you the space you need to get comfortable under his thick blanket.

He’s stiff when he first lies down next to you, unsure of whether or not it was okay to touch you, whether or not you’d even like it if something as simple as his arm being pressed against yours, if it was alright with you. He already knew he was undeniably attracted to you, but he’d never do something if you were uncomfortable, or touch you without explicit permission, even if the touch was meant to be comforting as opposed to romantic.

But you reach out to him first, softly ask him to hug you again, and he’s more than happy to oblige your request. You can hear the rapid beat of his heart as you move in close, and you wonder if he’s nervous; you are too, to be fair.

You’ve never lied this close to a man before, or let one hold you in his arms the way you let Felix, never shared a bed with anyone but family. But you want this, and despite the nerves that come with doing something so new to you, you’re happy, comfortable. 

Felix’s heart begins to slow the longer you lie together, as does yours, and the exhaustion that comes with crying, as well as being woken in the middle of the night, takes hold over you. You fall asleep first, though Felix is not far behind you, the soft sound of your even breaths akin to a lullaby in his fatigued state.

You’re warm, comfortable, safe; you may not have all the things that were once familiar to you, but you have Felix, a person who radiates kindness and compassion, a person who despite everything, makes you happy. 

There’s part of you that wonders if sharing a room with Felix was a decision made too hastily; not because he did anything wrong, but because it came with unforeseen challenges. What was the challenge? Dressing, undressing, bathing to name a few.

He was always respectful, kept his back turned to you whilst you were changing or kept himself away from the attached bath if you were in it. And you likewise never peeked towards him when the opposite occurred. 

You certainly didn’t regret your decision– after all, you spent all your days with Felix, so it only made sense to spend your nights with him too now that you felt comfortable enough. But there was a certain timidness that came with undressing in the presence of a man, even if said man wasn’t looking and had his gaze fixed to the wall until you were finished. You wondered though, wouldn’t there come a day where he was allowed to look? 

The thought of Felix someday looking at your exposed, bare skin made an unfamiliar feeling well in your gut– one that was entirely foreign to you, but not at all unpleasant. Butterflies, perhaps? You’d read about the sensation in your novels, the characters often expressing how seeing the one they love made their stomach react in ways strange and new.

And as explained in the countless romances you read, your heart would race when he held your gaze after you emerged from the bath, your face would flush whenever his touch lingered for longer than what you would consider typical of a friendly relationship. 

It was no exaggeration to say that sharing a room with Felix brought you even closer than before. Once you got past your initial shyness, the weeks that followed were some of the most pleasant you’d had.

You settled into a nice routine, sharing breakfast before he had to depart to attend to his royal duties. You spent the rest of your morning and early afternoon perusing the library shelves for your next read or sitting out in the gardens, sometimes reading in the warm light of the sun, sometimes simply enjoying the scenery around you. 

You’d reunite at dinner time, sometimes sharing that time with family in the dining hall and other times eating in the privacy and comfort of your room. Felix would often insist that you bathe first, ever a gentleman to you, but on days he seemed particularly worn out and exhausted you would do your best to convince him he needed one more than you, encouraged him to relax and let the hot water soothe away any aches. 

No matter the order of the bath, your nights would end the same; you’d spend the last few hours of your day listening to Felix play the piano as you read, oftentimes reading your literature aloud once he grew tired and joined you where you sat, whether that be the chaise facing the piano, the sofa across from the fireplace, or simply the bed.

On the nights he was extra tired, his eyes would grow heavy and close as you read to him, and when you gently told him he was falling asleep, he’d mumble that he was still listening, urging you to continue.

It was endearing, and there was a certain joy you felt in lulling him to sleep with your softly spoken words, knowing that even as the comfort seeped into his bones and urged him to rest, all he wanted was to listen to you. You liked to think it even helped him, hoping that you brought him as much solace as he brought you, hoping that you alleviated and dispelled any troubles simply by being there for him the way he was for you. 

Tonight was another such day; the changing of the season brought with it longer, warmer days, and often the sun wouldn’t begin to sink until you were already well into your nightly routine. The moon had just begun to emerge when Felix settled down on the sofa next to you, making sure he lit the candles before he sat as darkness began to settle in.

It was a bit of a challenge at times to read in the dim, wavering light of the candles, but you’d grown used to it in your time as a novel enjoyer, and you welcomed the cozy atmosphere the candlelight brought. He listened to you intently at first, but the more you spoke the words from the pages, with your steady, soft and even pace, the more sleep called to him, and it became a struggle for his eyes to remain open.

His head rested against the back of the sofa, the cushion acting as a pillow for his weary body. Your softly spoken words, along with the low light the candles brought to the room, were enough to call him to sleep much faster than he’d otherwise expect. You pause when you notice his eyes have completely closed, not sure if he’s still listening with his eyes shut, or is indeed asleep as you suspect.

But when he makes no reaction to your pause, you are certain sleep has taken him, and you smile as you quietly close your book. You set it down on the nearby table, wondering if you should try and wake him, request him to move to the bed, or if it’d be better to bring over a blanket and let him be. 

You look at him, quietly taking in the sight of his sleeping form. Felix is beautiful, even whilst sleeping, and you wonder if he knows that. His eyelashes are long, his freckles a unique and expansive constellation, his parted lips and honeyed skin almost entracing to look at, begging to be admired by all who look.

And admire him you did, in quiet moments like this. Moments where everything was serene, in the space belonging only to the two of you, a space where you are the only ones who exist. 

Carefully, you reach out to him, gently tapping on his shoulder until he stirs. “Felix,” you call softly, and he barely opens his eyes, letting out a small, groggy ‘hmm?’ in response.

“You fell asleep,” you tell him quietly, voice almost a whisper, “let’s go to bed.” He hums his agreement, which due to his deep, sleepy voice sounds more like a grumble. You rise from the sofa first, offering a hand for stability if he needs it. 

He falls to the bed with a grunt, barely managing to pull the blankets up over his shoulders, and you can’t help but giggle at the display. You work your way around the room before you join him, blowing out the candles until the room’s only illumination comes from the moonlight peaking through the window curtains.

You’re not quite as tired as Felix, but you settle into bed regardless, knowing that once you’re under the blankets and comfortably next to him, sleep won’t be all that far behind. Felix has been working extra hard lately, preparing for an upcoming ball to celebrate the summer solstice.

Apparently they hold it annually, as well as one for the winter solstice, but you had arrived at winter’s end, after that celebration had already concluded. It keeps the spirits of the commoners high, gives them an event to look forward to, as well as a chance to mingle with those from other, father towns who come in to join the celebration of the season. 

That’s not its only purpose however; it also gives the royal family a chance to meet with other officials and people of high standing beyond that of just letters, and ensure that they continue to have a prosperous, mutually beneficial relationship. Dukes, barons, soldiers who have returned from war-torn fields– it’s important for the king, and by extension Felix, to know where they stand with all of them. 

Of course, you were no stranger to lessons in diplomacy, but you’re sure there is much more Felix has to keep in mind than simply being diplomatic. There’s a lot that goes into the politics of the kingdom, and you can’t imagine the weight that falls on his shoulders, knowing that one day he’ll inherit the responsibility of deciding the future of everyone within his territory.

It’s also possible that someday, your knowledge from growing up in the south will be a vital asset to him, and that he’ll seek your input on how to govern the farthest reaches of the kingdom. You sigh a little, moving in closer to Felix.

It’s best not to stress yourself out with thoughts about governing the kingdom, or about the upcoming ball; it’ll be your first ball as a married couple in the public eye, and there’s a separate set of nerves that come along with that. You wonder how much like a couple you should act; should you stay glued to his side, act lovey-dovey for the duration of the night, or would that be unseemly for royalty to do? 

It’s possible there’s no need for you to appear in love– after all, it’s no secret that arranged marriages can be loveless. But still, you think it’d be beneficial for the people to see you genuinely care for Felix– it could set a positive example, and show that the north and south have no need to fight against each other.

You think if you just act natural, and don’t put too much thought and effort into “proving” you love Felix, then the people will see your honest feelings come through.  And besides, you told yourself you wouldn't worry about such things now that you were in bed, so your only priority should be going to sleep. 

Felix’s arm rests around your waist, which is normal for you now. After the first night, when he hugged you until you fell asleep, it felt nice to wake up with his arm still there, holding you close. He apologized the next morning when you woke up, worried that he may have made you uncomfortable, though he didn’t have control of where his arm lied once he’d fallen deeply into sleep.

You assured him though that it was perfectly fine– in fact, it was comfortable, and you enjoyed the closeness after feeling so lonely. It became a natural part of how you slept, his arm always around you, sometimes loosely, and other times strongly keeping you close.

Now was one such time you were held loosely, his arm limp with sleep but you didn’t mind; it gives you the ability to easily adjust your position turning so that his hand was against your back and your head could rest close to his chest. Your movement rouses him slightly, and he instinctively holds you tighter.

You whisper an apology for unintentionally waking him with your movement, not entirely sure that he’s even alert enough to truly hear you, but you say it regardless. You guess he does hear you, because he mumbles a response, though it’s not entirely decipherable. “..ove you.”

“Hmm?” you hum in question, glancing up to look at him, but it’s no use– he’s back to sleep within seconds, as if he was never awoken at all.

Oh well, it likely wasn’t anything important, probably just dreamy ramblings of a tired mind, or an acceptance of your apology. Maybe tomorrow you can ask him if he dreamt anything pleasant, or if you appeared to him in your dreams the same way he had begun to in yours. 

You were well into the solstice ball, sighing as you stood off to the side of all the dancing, feeling exhausted from everything you were experiencing. You thought your wedding was tiring, but this was somehow even worse; when you got married to Felix, only locals to the town were welcome inside the castle to witness it and celebrate, otherwise chaos could ensue.

But with the solstice ball, any and everyone was welcome, and with that came a myriad of people for you to meet and communicate with. Most who attended were eager to see the prince’s wife, curious about what sort of woman he’d married, and you couldn’t help but be anxious about what opinion they’d hold of you after seeing you in the flesh.

Honestly, you wanted to make a good impression; you’d be saddened if you were unliked by those who would one day be your people alongside Felix. Your father was someone who governed with compassion, and the royal family were much the same, and you hoped they could see you held the same values. 

Still, it was tiring to portray your best self for hours without end, and you took the opportunity for a break at the first moment you could. You stayed at Felix’s side for the first hour of the evening before going your separate ways, him mingling with various men of high status while you traveled the ballroom floor, introducing yourself to as many people as you could.

There were still many people for you to meet and talk with, but hopefully they’d understand your need to take a moment for yourself. You sipped on some water, your throat thankful for the soothing liquid, having become quite parched from all the talking you’d done.

You also looked yourself over briefly in one of the ballroom’s mirrors, making sure everything about your appearance was still neatly in place. You had went out to town with Felix to get a new dress, and it arrived mere days before the ball, just in time. 

You expressed that you were worried about your appearance, the dresses you’d brought from home being expensive and beautiful, sure, but still falling short when compared to the lavish gowns his sisters and mother wore.

Felix, who didn’t entirely realize he was speaking his thoughts aloud, said you’d look beautiful in anything, and both of your faces went red, before he coughed awkwardly and quickly changed the subject, saying that they could simply buy you a new dress if you’d needed it. 

You did also consider borrowing a gown from his older sister, but he insisted that was nonsense when they were more than capable of buying something specifically for you, and so you’d agreed to go out to town with him, going to a seamstress well-respected and trusted by the royal family.

It was your first outing since your arrival, not because anything necessarily stopped you from leaving if you wanted to, but simply because it required the coordination and cooperation of the royal guard accompanying you, and really, you had no need to leave until then. 

After the seamstress’ daughter took your measurements, and you answered various questions pertaining to color and style, as well as looking over and feeling various samples of fabric, you were free to leave, with the promise that once your dress was ready, her daughter would bring it to the castle, along with an alteration kit if any adjustments were needed. Before returning to the castle, Felix brought you to a jeweler, and you also passed a bookstore, where you couldn’t help but notice your favorite novel was on display.

Felix asked about it when you noticed your subtle pause to look, asked if you wanted to go inside and look around, or buy the copy of your favorite novel that was on display, but you told him there was no need. After all, you still had your very well-loved copy at home (which, while beginning to fall apart, was still perfectly readable and sentimental to you), and countless books in the library you still had interest in before feeling the need to purchase any new ones. 

All that to say, your night on the town was well spent, and you were thankful how well your gown and jewelry came together, and you truly felt good about your appearance tonight. Your maids also dutifully perfected your hair and makeup, and even hours into the night, you found no imperfection with either.

Felix also went red in the face when he first saw your completed look, much to the delight of your maids, who had to suppress their gleeful giggles; it seemed they loved when Felix looked at you with awe. You allow an attending maid to take your water from your hands when you are finished with it, thanking them with sincere politeness.

You give yourself another moment to collect yourself before returning to the main ballroom floor, careful not to bump into those dancing as you make your way through the crowd of people. You hoped to locate Felix, and see whether or not he’s still caught up in whatever political talk he was having when you last brushed past him. 

Instead, you hear a familiar voice questioningly call your name, and you pause, stopping to look around for the source. It couldn’t be.. could it? “Christopher!” you gasp, met with the sight of a boy, now man, you hadn't seen in nearly 3 years, “What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t you know? My station is just a few towns over,” he explains with a smile. Honestly, you were completely shocked. Your fathers were close friends, and though Chris was a few years older than you, you’d spent a lot of time together due to the close relationship of your fathers, both personal and professional. 

While your father is a duke, Chris’ was a very well-respected knight, who earned the title of baron due to his unwavering loyalty and dedication to serving your father, having sworn his fealty to him many years ago, before you were even born. Chris had similar ambitions as his father, and dedicated himself to training from a young age, always expressing that one day he’d serve the royal family. Coincidentally, he was also your first, and only, childhood crush. 

And truly, you didn’t know that he lived in a relatively short proximity to the town you now called home. Upon meeting the requirements to join the royal guard, he was sent north to receive further orders, and you’d lost contact with him not long afterwards, with the only news you’d learned being that he married a year after moving from the town you both grew up in– an arranged marriage, same as you. 

His wife, as far as you were aware, was a local girl whose family offered a significant dowry to be married to such a well-respected and honorable family. You wondered more than once if he was happy, and if your father ever considered Chris as a potential husband to you, but in recent times you stopped lingering on such thoughts completely. Your situation was set in stone, and you didn’t bother entertaining thoughts on what-if’s and could-be’s now that you too were married. 

“I didn’t! But it’s nice to see you again, I didn’t expect to see a familiar face,” you tell him sincerely; disregarding the childhood feelings you once held for him, it truly is nice to see a friend from home again.

“I was surprised when I heard you were the one Prince Felix married, and so I had to take this chance to see you again, and see the truth of it for myself.” You giggle a little, imagine what Chris must’ve looked like when he learned his childhood friend had married someone so important. 

“I was surprised too, believe me. I never anticipated marrying into the royal family,” you say, smiling as you speak. Though there were hardships that came with being relocated and away from family, now that you were growing accustomed to your life here, you actually found it pleasant. And you really enjoyed Felix’s presence; while you were initially upset about your marriage, you had truly begun to view it as a good thing in the recent weeks. 

“Did your wife come too? It’d be lovely to meet her,” you ask as a follow up, hoping she was somewhere nearby. “Mm, she’s here somewhere,” he replies, much more dismissive about the topic than you’d expect him to be.

It makes you want to ask if his relationship with her is bad, but perhaps that’s not appropriate to ask given the circumstances. “Would you like to dance?” he asks, quickly shifting focus, and you hesitate, a slight frown forming on your face. 

Normally, you wouldn’t be opposed to sharing a dance with a friend, but the circumstances surrounding your lives have changed substantially since you were last in contact. You’re both married, and even if it meant nothing beyond friendship for either of you, there was an image that needed to be upheld at all times, especially in the eyes of the public.

And you couldn’t help but think about what his wife, or Felix, would think if they saw you dancing with each other. Felix knew Chris by name alone from times you talked about home, but there was no way for him to know what he looked like. And in turn, you don’t know if Chris’ wife knows who you even are, if you’d be crossing a boundary in your respective relationships without even knowing it.

Further still, the thought of Felix seeing you in the arms of another and being upset, or even jealous, is enough to deter you from making that decision. You’re trying to form something real with Felix despite the circumstances that brought you together, and you won’t do anything to hinder that.

You want him to know that you respect your marriage, and that you won’t put his feelings in jeopardy by entertaining the advances of other men. Not that you think Chris means anything by his request, but still– better to be safe about these things than sorry. 

It’s strange though; you already knew you like Felix quite a lot, and care about his feelings, but there’s something beyond that, that makes you want to abide by the sanctity of your marriage. Technically speaking, you only have to be a devoted wife in public. It’s no secret that those in arranged marriages have concubines and secret affairs. If you truly wanted to, you could do the same, but you have no wish to do so. 

Is it loyalty? Love? All you really understand is that you never want to do anything to break Felix’s heart. You also don’t know if he even has enough romantic interest in you to be jealous in the first place, but either way, that’s not an emotion you want to cause him to feel. Some may be happy to see their betrothed jealous, but you’re not that kind of woman; instead, you’d feel rather guilty and apologetic. 

You glance across the crowd, spotting Felix still mingling with his father and other men of high status, completely unaware of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Hopefully, you can return to his side soon, once you're done catching up with Chris. “I’m afraid I can’t,” you finally say, hoping he understands your need to politely turn him down.

“What a shame,” he sighs a bit, his hand reaching out to you and settling on your arm, near your shoulder, “You look beautiful tonight. I would’ve loved to share a dance with you, as adults.” 

“O-Oh, thank you,” you mutter, taken aback by the words that left him. The Chris you knew was never so forward, nor did he ever openly compliment you. If you’re being honest, you’re not entirely sure how to respond; this was a situation your younger self would have dreamed of, but now you just feel.. odd.

“I’ve always thought you were beautiful, even when we were kids. I never imagined this is where life would take us, but.. If it’s your public image that worries you, maybe I could seek you out later, and we could have some alone time?” he continues seamlessly, as if this is a sentence he’s practiced in his head over and over again. 

Again, this is something your younger self would’ve been ecstatic about, even prayed for, but now you just feel.. uncomfortable. You don’t feel flattered by his compliment, nor do you like the implication of his statement, and you recoil away from the hand that lingers uncomfortably on your arm.

“We can't do that,” you say firmly, doing your utmost to make it clear you have no desire to partake in a scandalous relationship with him. You liked him once, but you were a kid then, and what you feel now for Felix is much more grounded in reality than the puppy love you had for Chris. 

“Why not?” he asks, looking at you with eyes that would’ve once made you melt. And there is genuine hurt there, which you do feel sorry about, but you simply don’t return the sentiment he seems to have. “We're both married. Shouldn't you be loyal to your wife?” you counter; even if your marriage to Felix isn’t born of “real” love, you have no interest in infidelity, nor do you want to be the reason Chris is unfaithful in his marriage.

“I don't love her, I never have. And though I moved of my own volition, I always wondered what would’ve happened if I stayed behind, and expressed my desires to make you mine. But what of you? Do you love your husband?” His words, his question, make you swallow, unsure how best to respond. You liked him once, that much is true, but you like Felix more. What you have with him.. You value it, deeply. 

It’s easy for a 14 year old to say they’re in love with their crush when they’ve never experienced what real, adult love feels like. There are times, even now, when you’re unsure of what the beating of your heart truly means, but there is one thing that you know for certain– you love Felix, much, much more sincerely than you ever loved Christopher. The difference between loving him, and being in love with him, make little difference in this case. 

Though, the more you’ve thought about it, the more you’ve come to think that maybe you are really, actually in love with him. You wouldn’t desire him if you didn’t, wouldn’t be up at night wondering what it would feel like to kiss him, or what kind of father he’d be to the children you’d one day have. You wouldn’t feel a void in your chest at the thought of no longer being by his side, even deeper than the one you’d felt upon moving away from home. 

And if there is anything your time reading romance novels has taught you, it’s that love is more than temporary butterflies and racing of the heart. Love is more than excitement, than desire, than the heat of his touch on your body; love, real love, is the comfort you feel in his presence. The safety, the hours spent together talking or relaxing, even in the comfortable silence you share during a meal– that is love.  

When you can’t imagine your life without him in it, when even the mundane sounds fun as long as it’s with him, when you still feel warm and fuzzy in his presence even after the butterflies have passed, that is love. Now that you’ve come to know what life is like when Felix is next to you, holding you, sleeping with you, sharing his voice and his talents with you, you never want to know what the absence of him would feel like.

All of that is to say, you think you’ve had your answer all along; you don’t just love Felix. You’re in love with Felix. 

“If I must tell you.. I do. I love Felix, truly. He’s a wonderful man,” you answer honestly, and Chris holds a deep frown. It must feel unfair– that’s how you felt about your circumstances at first. There’s no way for you to know how long he had feelings for you, but you were able to move on, while he clearly hadn’t. And truthfully, you feel sorry for him; none of this is his fault, but still.. You can’t change how you feel. 

“Surely you don’t mean that,” Chris says, a bit desperate, and again, your heart twists. You do mean it, unfortunately for him. And you have no intention of letting him think he has a chance to change your mind, when quite frankly, he doesn’t. Unbeknownst to you, Felix would glance your way whenever he was able to, always wanting to make sure you were handling yourself well.

It was your first solstice ball after all, and he imagined it could be overwhelming and tiring for you to mingle with so many people you had never met before. He just wanted to keep an eye on you, make sure you weren’t getting burnt out from the countless interactions with others. And that’s when he sees it– a man he doesn’t know, his hand lingering on your arm, and you, looking up at him with a troubled expression on your face. 

The look of discomfort you hold as the man continues to speak, hand still on you despite how you recoil.. He can’t help but clench his fists, a foreign sort of distaste bubbling within his veins. He can see your expression change as you speak– still uncomfortable, but not quite distressed. Sad, maybe? Perhaps this guy was being forward with you, and you were trying your best to look sympathetic as you gently turn him down. 

“If you’ll excuse me, there’s something I must attend to,” Felix says politely as he bows towards his father and his peers, not lingering to answer questions, though he really should if he doesn’t want to appear rude. He approaches you with haste, though still careful to not appear in too much of a hurry or frantic– he doesn’t want those around him to suspect something is amiss.

The man’s hand is thankfully no longer on you, he realizes as he comes closer– it’d be terribly unbecoming of someone of his status to cause a scene. “There you are, my love! I was looking everywhere for you,” Felix says with a smile as he approaches you, wrapping you in his arms as if the other man doesn’t exist at all.

Your face reddens, heart picking up; my love, he called you my love! You’re aware this is likely only happening because he spotted you and was able to perceive how you felt, but still, your heart reacts to the words nonetheless. 

“Who’s this?” Felix asks as he turns his attention to the man in front of you, his hand resting on your waist in a motion that you’d easily be able to interpret as defensive, possessive.

“O-Oh, uhm– this is Christopher. Do you remember what I told you, about how we grew up together due to our fathers being good friends? We ran into each other, and were just catching up,” you explain, and Chris, not wanting to make a fool of himself, easily goes along with your words. 

“Oh, how lovely. It's a pleasure to meet an old friend of yours,” Felix smiles jovially, extending a hand out to Chris. He accepts it, and the two politely shake hands, with Chris feeling a degree of shame and embarrassment. This definitely isn’t his finest hour; but maybe now that you’ve firmly rejected him, he can try to find happiness in his own life, love in his own marriage. 

“My deepest apologies for interrupting your reunion, but I thought it was time my wife and I shared a dance,” he says to Chris before looking back at you with a smile, and it’s so utterly charming that you practically feel your legs turn to jelly, “Shall we, my love?”

God, your face must look so red right now. But after the few seconds it takes to finish processing, you gladly accept, offering a timid smile. Felix bows politely to Chris before he leads you away by the waist, your heart still racing as you follow his lead. Away from the crowd of people, he stops and turns to you, the natural charisma he held melting away the moment your eyes meet.

“Are you alright? I’m– I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all, I just..” You smile softly, and shake your head; I liked it, I want to hear you call me ‘my love’ again, I want you to keep wrapping your arms around me and holding me by the waist you want to say, but don't. Instead you carefully lean up, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you Felix.” 

His face grows red, his hand reaching up to his face, fingertips lingering over the spot you kissed him. He smiles cutely, shy and sweet, heart pounding even from something so small. He’s infatuated with you, after all, and any affection from you is enough to make his body react.

“Why don't we really go have that dance?” you ask with a smile, holding your hand out for him to take. You shared a dance when you first married of course, as is customary, but this one would be different; as opposed to a dance between newlyweds with no love between them, now you could say you were dancing with the only man you’d ever sincerely loved.

“Of course, my love,” he replies as he takes your hand in his, leading you to the center of the ballroom floor, both of you bashfully smiling and giddy with affection for the other. You do your best to ignore the stares of others around you, most of them just eager to see the display of love from the newest royal couple in front of them, and keep your focus entirely on Felix.

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger on his lips before he shifts his attention back to your eyes, his cheeks dusted a pretty shade of pink contrasted against his freckles. You really want him to kiss you, if you’re being honest, but you don’t think it’d be entirely wise to share your first kiss with the eyes of the entire ballroom on you.

Maybe, if either of you can conjure your bravery later on, you can kiss in the privacy of your shared room, free to indulge in the feeling of each other for as long as you wish too. Though, perhaps you should stop thinking such thoughts for the moment, lest Felix realizes you’re blushing way too hard. For now, you'll just enjoy the moment you're sharing with him, knowing now, with all your heart, that your love for him is true.

The remainder of your night continued without incident, sharing a few more dances with Felix before you separated again to continue mingling. You saw Christopher again briefly, where he apologized for his behavior and then brought you over to meet his wife.

She really seemed like a sweet girl, and you hoped that Chris would be more open to the idea of loving her now that there were no “what-ifs” keeping him held back. She also seemed quite genuinely infatuated with him, which you couldn’t blame her for– Chris was strikingly handsome, and you might have still held similar feelings for him if it wasn’t for Felix. 

When the ball came to a close, you were eager to get back to your room and get your aching feet out of the heels you’d worn to match your gown, as well as get the heavy, dangly earrings off your ears. You insist that Felix bathe first, as it will take you quite some time to remove all your accessories, get your hair down from the way it was styled, and out of your intricate gown (not as intricate as your wedding gown, of course, but still enough that you wouldn’t be able to remove it swiftly.) 

He didn’t take all that long in the bath, spending just enough time to wash up and effectively dry off, entering your room after he’s changed into his sleep clothes. He respectfully keeps his eyes away from you until he’s sat comfortably away from where you are at the vanity, your dress off and left only in your undergarments. You were brushing out your hair, making sure it was completely tamed and smoothed down to make washing easier before you enter the bath. 

You take a quick glance at Felix before you enter the attached bath, his back turned to you as he nervously fiddles with his thumbs. You soak in the tub for some time, letting the hot water soothe you until it turns cooler, now comfortably warm as you take time washing your hair and body.

Normally you wouldn’t take such a long time in the bath, but it was just so relaxing after the long day you’ve had, and you indulged in the comfort it offered you before you got out to dry off and slip on fresh clothes. 

You half expected for Felix to be in bed already, but when you step out you see that he was waiting up for you, sitting atop the blankets of your bed, back against the headboard. “Sorry I took so long, you didn’t have to wait for me,” you say as you step to your designated side of the bed, mirroring his position against the headboard.

“Well, I didn’t want to go straight to bed without having some down time with you,” he explains a bit timidly, and you smile, finding him endlessly sweet. 

The light in the room is low, the only candles lit now being the ones closest to your bed. He sits up straighter, turning to you with a nervous disposition, and you watch him curiously, wondering what’s on his mind to make him look at you in such a way. “Listen, before we go to bed, I, uh– I actually have something for you,” Felix says, meeting your gaze timidly. 

“Really? What is it?” you ask, having not expected to receive anything so suddenly. Well, sudden to you, but Felix had actually been planning this for quite some time. He steadies his nerves and turns to his nightstand, opening the drawer and digging through it until he finds what he needs– a book.

You recognize it instantly when it’s in front of you; it’s a new, almost pristine copy of the book you told him was your favorite, the one you insisted you didn’t need when you stopped to look at it the day you were out together. “When did you get this?” you ask in surprise, carefully taking it in your hands and ghosting your fingers over the cover.

“The same night you saw it, I asked a guard to discreetly purchase it for you,” he explains with a soft, sheepish smile, hoping you’re pleased. “There’s something else,” he says, and you glance up at him in even further surprise. Gently, he takes the book from your hands, opening it to a specific page. 

“I.. before giving it to you, I wanted to read it, understand for myself why it's your favorite. So.. I did, and there’s a part that really resonates with me, and.. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to read it to you,” he explains, and your heart stirs, thumping wildly in your chest.

How is he so considerate and perfect? You almost can’t believe it, and you don't even know how he found the time to read it without you knowing, but you can ask him about it later. For now, you're much more interested in the fact that he not only read your favorite novel, but wants to share a part he loved with you, a part that spoke to him, and wants you to listen to him read it in his beautiful, deep voice. 

He swallows, takes a breath, hands trembling a bit as he holds the book open and looks down at the page in front of him. You watch him with full attention, somehow feeling just as nervous; you don’t know what he intends to read, and as you yourself have read this story countless times, it’s hard to imagine which specific part he’d like the most– there were just so many possibilities and moments you loved to try and guess. But then he starts, and immediately, you feel your heart positively melt. 

"Taeryn stares at her, his fingertips ghosting her skin, his eyes transfixed in her stare, her gaze swallowing him whole. And he knows, as his fingers brush her hair softly out of her face, as her cheeks burn and breath hitches with his gentle touch, that he loves her. 

He loves her as naturally as he breathes air; to love her is effortless, as easy as it is to simply be. He loves her for as many reasons as there are stars in the sky– countless, never ending. She engulfs him, enraptures him, a moth unable to resist her bright, beckoning flame. 

And he knows, from the way every synapse in his brain fires when their lips meet, how his blood burns in his veins simply from her touch, that there is no greater feeling beyond this. To be lost in her is God's greatest gift, and he will thank Him for the rest of his days, because what else could compare to the pure bliss of loving with all that you are, and being loved in return?”

The words that you already found so beautiful sound even more so coming from him, and you can’t help but suck in a breath as you listen to him speak the words written on the page, as if he’s mirroring the character, feeling the very same emotion.

He closes the book slowly, and your heart races when his eyes meet yours again. What should you say? It was beautiful? Thank you? That doesn’t feel like nearly enough to describe how you feel or how much you appreciate this gesture. 

Felix carefully sets the book to the side, his palms beginning to clam up as he looks at you. He planned this for a specific reason, but now that he’s met with the most critical moment of all, his mouth feels dry, and his chest tightens as his heart accelerates.

He wants to tell you he loves you, and maybe he’s been reading the signs all wrong, but he thinks you love him too, he hopes you do. Maybe your affection for him doesn’t go past platonic, which he would learn to accept with time, but it would truly break his heart if you didn’t feel the same.

So he hopes, he prays, with all his heart, that when he tells you how he feels, you’ll reciprocate. You can tell what he wants to say, even with your lack of romantic experience, it’s obvious; no one commits to a gesture so thoughtful and romantic without the intent to become something greater. Given your time reading romance, that’s something you feel confident enough to say– Felix loves you. And you love him too. 

So you meet him halfway, inching ever so slightly closer to him, looking him in the eyes as you do. His eyes dart from your eyes to your lips and then back again, his breath beginning to go uneven. Felix looks at you, eyes full of love, awe, and wonder, and not wasting another breath, he kisses you, his hands reaching to your face, holding it in his hands. It’s chaste and careful, your eyes remaining closed for several seconds after he’s pulled away, your body buzzing with elation. 

“I– I didn’t get to tell you earlier, but you looked so beautiful today and I–” he swallows, nervous to continue, but pushing through it the best he could, “I wanted to tell you, wanted to kiss you, and I.. love you.” It feels as if a million butterflies are in your stomach, light and erratic in their movement, their excitement unable to be contained.

“I love you too,” you admit, breathy and soft, inching a bit closer, and he does the same, until your bodies are only centimeters apart. “Is it okay to– ..I want to kiss you again,” he asks, desperately awaiting your approval. You grant him it easily, and his lips are on you again within seconds. 

One of his hands remains on your face, cupping it gently, while the other moves to your waist, arm wrapping around carefully, keeping you close. The foreign feelings you’d never experienced that were in all the literature you read– you feel them now, intense and overwhelming, your senses knowing nothing other than Felix.

What is it that novels usually compare it to? Sparks flying? This was beyond simple sparks– it was like fireworks, bright, beautiful, bursting in your blood and filling you with warmth. 

The kisses you share are slow, measured and careful, and you never separate for long, your lips always finding each other again within seconds. Felix is breathless when he finally pulls away for longer than a few seconds, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes looking straight into yours, countless emotions swimming in them.

“I want.. can I be honest?” he asks and you swallow, whispering a soft ‘yes’ that you hope doesn't sound too nervous. “I.. want you, really, really badly but.. truth be told, I'm nervous,” he expresses sincerely, his cheeks growing a deep shade of pink, traveling all the way up to the tips of his ears.

Your face, already flushed from kissing, grows impossibly hotter from his admission. He wants you.. Like wants you, wants you? You want him too, having spent multiple sleepless nights wondering what it would be like to have each other, body and soul. 

“It's alright, I am too,” you tell him honestly. “Are you?” he can't help but ask; not because he doubts you, but rather wanting the affirmation that he isn't the only one with a heart racing out of control. You nod, seeking out his hand and intertwining your fingers. “I am. But I want you too.”

God, he almost feels light headed; he can't believe the moment he's secretly dreamed of countless times is actually happening. His face is hot, his blood burns, his heart thumps loudly in his chest, and you want him, you want him, you want him.

He takes a breath, does his best to steel his nerves before he speaks again, “We'll go slow, so please tell me if it becomes too much.” You nod, giving his hand a squeeze, meant to convey that you understand and will do as he requested if you begin to feel overwhelmed.

“I love you,” Felix whispers against your lips before he captures them in another kiss, needier this time, more urgent and impassioned. You can't help but let out a noise of surprise at first, but you easily melt into the kiss, eyes closing as you meet his passion with fervor of your own. 

His kisses are slow, just as before, but they feel more purposeful, sensual, and when you feel his tongue against your lips, begging to be let in, you easily oblige the request, opening your mouth for him and allowing his tongue to run across yours. Your stomach flips, the feeling of his tongue curiously exploring and rubbing around yours making you dizzy; you never knew kissing could feel this good.

It's so intimate to share your breath with someone, and you feel your body react in ways entirely new, but pleasant. You spend several minutes just like this; kissing over and over, letting his tongue draw circles around yours, only pulling away when one of you desperately needs a breath. 

“Can I touch you?” Felix asks once he's pulled away again, and the question, along with the deep, breathy baritone of his voice, makes a shiver run down your spine as butterflies once again flutter in your stomach. “Yes,” you breathe, perhaps sounding a bit more eager than you would've wished, but really, you shouldn't feel embarrassed when he wants you just as bad as you want him. 

Again, his lips are on you, but this time he allows his hands to carefully roam your body, gentle and slow in their exploration. Even though he's simply touching you over your clothes, you react to his touch as if bare, whimpering into his mouth when he palms your breasts with both hands and gently squeezes. 

It's easy for his thumbs to find your hardened nipples through the fabric of your nightgown, and again you let a soft sound of pleasure pass your lips. Felix pulls away to look at you, flushed, breathless, and so, so pretty; he's never felt more blessed in his entire life than he does right now.

He watches you bite your lip when his thumbs pass over your nipples again, doing your best to suppress what you perceive to be an embarrassing noise. “Is it alright if I take this off you?” he asks, stilling the movement of his hands as he waits for your answer.

“O-Only if you take your clothes off too,” you answer shyly, and he smiles timidly, finding your request more than fair. “Of course, my love. Whatever you want.” Felix stands from the bed, slowly pulling his sleep shirt up and over his head, likely feeling that you'll be more comfortable if he's the one who's exposed first.

And God, you can't believe the physique he'd been hiding underneath all this time; his lean body much more toned than you could've even imagined. He feels shy under your attentive gaze, but he continues nonetheless, taking the waistband of his pants into his fingers and pulling them down his legs.

His erection, of course, doesn't go unnoticed by you, and you can't help but stare at the obvious tent it creates in his underwear. You've never seen one before, and you're infinitely curious what his looks like, but there's no need to rush to find out; you have all night together. 

Swallowing down the shyness your stare makes him feel, he returns to the bed, sitting directly in front of you. You start to lift up your gown, but he stops you, replacing your hands with his own– after all, he asked if he could be the one to take it off you. You allow him to lift it up to your shoulders before you help him take it all the way off, paying no mind to where on the floor it lands once it has been tossed aside. 

The shy part of you makes you want to cover your breasts and avoid his gaze, but the other part can't help but indulge in the mesmerized twinkle held in Felix’s eyes. “So beautiful,” you hear him say under his breath, his hands now making contact with your skin without a barrier. You look down, taking in the sight of his hands holding and squeezing your breasts. 

Your body shudders when his thumbs once again rub over you nipples, and he loves watching the way your face changes, how your brows furrow and you bite your lip. He loves the way you gasp when he takes your nipples between his fingers, how your eyes close and head falls back when he carefully rubs and pinches them. 

He kisses you when you lift your head again, but he doesn't linger there for nearly as long as before; instead, he begins to trail kisses down your jaw, to your neck. The kisses make you shiver, and you tilt your head to the side, allowing him easier access to your heated skin. He carefully guides you back as he kisses all over your skin, so that you fall back against the bed, head not quite making it to the pillows, but you don’t particularly care.

He takes his time, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your neck, his slow descent to your collarbone and the top of your chest nearly driving you crazy with want. Your breath hitches when he kisses one of your nipples before letting his tongue come out to lick it, lips closing gently around it.

He gives your other nipple equal attention once he's satisfied with his stimulation of the first one he devoted his attention to, and then slowly trails kisses down your body, below your ribs and over your stomach. You feel almost delirious with anticipation, and you half wonder if he's only going slow to drive you crazy (he isn't, of course, but you're becoming much too needy to recognize that.)

Felix caresses your legs, placing kisses over your thighs, as well as just over your panties. There's an obvious wet spot, which you can't help but feel embarrassed by once you've seen that he's noticed. You can't help it– this is easily the most aroused you've been in your entire life.

“Want me to take them off?” he asks, and you nod eagerly, covering your face in embarrassment when he chuckles at you. “You're so cute when you're shy,” he says, and you let out a whine; why does he have to say it with such a sinfully attractive voice?

Your reactions boost his confidence, helping to alleviate some of the nerves he'd felt when you first began. And you really are so, so cute right now; it simultaneously further endears him to you and makes his cock throb. 

“I'm going to take them off now,” he warns since you aren't looking at him, and he wants you to be completely aware of what actions he takes. You peek through your fingers, nervously anticipating what his reaction to your exposed sex will be. He slowly pulls your underwear down your legs, and you take a deep breath before you part your legs for him to see you fully. 

Fuck, you're perfect. There is nothing in the world that could've prepared him for the sight of your glistening heat. He swallows and licks his lips, looking back at you before taking any further action. “Do you need to stop?” he asks, not wanting to push you too far if you aren't ready for this. Truthfully, you are overwhelmed– but in the best way possible, and you definitely don't want to stop here. 

“No, want more,” you admit, trying your best not to stutter or mumble so he hears you clearly. “Tell me if you change your mind?” he says, more like a question than a statement, and you nod, assuring him you will if you feel the need to. He lowers himself so his head is between your legs, and the sight of him there alone is positively dizzying. 

You hear him comment under his breath about how wet you are as his fingers rub through your folds, which does no favors for your racing heart. He then carefully spreads you apart with two fingers, and again, you see him swallow and lick his lips. Fuck, he has to taste you, needs to find out if you're just as sweet as he imagines you to be. 

Everything is so new to both of you, and Felix doesn’t entirely know what he’s doing, but instinct drives him forward. You gasp and shudder when his tongue makes contact with your dripping heat, slowly but greedily licking up all you offer him. When his tongue finds your clit (a pleasant accident on Felix’s part given his unfamiliarity with the female body), the pleasured noise that involuntarily escapes you tells him he should focus his attention there. 

“Feels good?” he asks before he licks again; he’s sure he knows the answer, but he still wants to hear you say it anyways. You nod quickly, another embarrassingly loud moan leaving your lips when his tongue swirls around your most sensitive spot. You’ve pleasured yourself before, in private moments with your own fingers, but nothing, absolutely nothing, compares to how Felix’s tongue feels. 

His lips wrap around your clit, as if kissing it, his tongue alternating between long, flat licks, quick flicks, and swirling around it, and you’re positively seeing stars, eyes rolling back as your head falls back against the mattress. You cover your mouth with your hand, your other hand desperately clutching at the sheets beneath you, legs trembling and thighs unconsciously closing around Felix’s head. 

You feel it, the familiar heat pooling deep in your stomach, your muffled moans quickly turning to desperate whines and whimpers as he drives you closer and closer to sweet release. You can tell however, that your orgasm will be much more intense than any you had ever given yourself, and it scares and excites you in equal measure. But fuck, even muffled, your noises sound so unbelievably sweet in his hears, and he wants to hear them louder, clearer. 

“Take your hand away, my love, I want to hear you,” he separates from your heat long enough to tell you, and you whine, this time in embarrassment, as you lift your head up to look at him. A mistake, in hindsight– the sight you’re met with being more erotic than your heart can handle. His mouth and chin glisten with your arousal, the sweat lingering on his brow making his hair stick to his forehead in a way that makes your heart want to give out– he’s just so.. alluring.

“But the guards,” you try, and he shakes his head, not at all deterred by the fact that they stand outside your bedroom doors. “Don’t care,” he says simply, and you can tell he’s completely serious. There aren’t many things Felix is selfish about in his life, but this, you– he’ll be as selfish as he pleases. “They’re just for me, right? So I don’t care if they hear them, because you’re mine, and they know that too. So please, let me hear you.” 

Oh, wow. How can you deny him after hearing that? With a shy nod, you agree to not cover your mouth anymore, and he smiles, pleased with your response, and quickly gets back to work between your legs. It’s insane how quickly your release builds back up, as if there was never a pause to begin with, and a curse leaves you between your loud, whiny moans and whimpers.

Felix has never heard you curse before, but he has to admit he likes how it sounds coming from you, and knowing he has caused you to become debauched enough to do so without being conscious of it. Before you know it, you’re seeing white, releasing all over his face as your body jolts and trembles, back arching from the bed as he continues to stimulate you through it.

You eventually whine and push his head away from you, becoming overstimulated from all the attention his tongue continued to give you after your orgasm. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before he moves up your body, connecting his lips with yours again, and the taste of yourself lingering on him and his tongue makes your head spin. 

Your hands reach for his underwear, trying to pull down the fabric and spring his cock free; it’s a much more forward and desperate act than you ever imagined yourself doing, but you’re so hungry for him that you can no longer think about being demure. You just want him, more than you’ve ever wanted anything in all your years on this earth. Felix takes the hint, not that it’s even subtle enough to be a ‘hint,’ and makes quick work of taking off his underwear. 

The sight of his cock leaves you speechless, breathless; do they all look so simultaneously hot and pretty, or is it just because it belongs to Felix? “Can I..?” you ask, not entirely sure what you’re asking to do– you just know you want to make him feel as good as he made you feel. God, yes, please, Felix thinks, but he just nods with a slightly shy smile, shifting his weight off you and laying on his side next to you. 

You lay on your side as well, pressing a kiss to his lips as your hand reaches for his cock, fingers curiously running along his length, feeling every vein and ridge. Felix releases a shuddery breath against your mouth, your fingers feeling so different from his own, small and soft, but so, so good. Your touch is intoxicating, and his body jolts when you rub your thumb over the tip, spreading his pre-cum all over it. 

A soft groan escapes him when you enclose your fingers around his length, fingers not quite able to wrap completely around and meet your thumb, but it’s more than enough to have Felix feeling good when you start slowly moving your fist up to the tip and then back down. Eventually, as your fingers spread more and more of his pre-cum, his length becomes slick, and it becomes easier for you to pick up your pace, swallowing all the low groans he emits with your mouth.

But you can’t help but think– it felt so good when Felix used his tongue on you, so wouldn’t the same be true for him? Isn’t it worth trying? He opens his eyes when you take your hand away, watching curiously and with bated breath as you gently push him back by the shoulder, having him lay flat on his back as you move to lie comfortably against his legs, his cock a mere inches away from your face. 

He lifts himself up to watch you, supporting his weight with his forearms, breath quickening as you take him in your hand again, sticking your tongue out to curiously lick the tip. The taste of his pre-cum is unlike anything you’ve ever had, and while you don’t think there is anything you could compare it to, it’s not unpleasant. You look up at Felix through your lashes, and God, the sight of you, so pretty and perfect, with his cock in your hand and tongue licking away at him, is enough to drive him crazy. 

Would he fit inside your mouth? How good would it make him feel? Driven by curiosity and desire, you open your mouth, your tongue caressing the underside of his cock as you start to sink your head down on him, and the shaky, breathy groan he lets out in response makes your heart skip a beat and core throb. You keep your eyes on him, watching as his head falls back, his adam’s apple bob up and down, the way his stomach contracts the more you pleasure him. 

The sounds that escape him encourage you to keep trying your best to take more of him in your mouth, retreating just a bit when you’ve taken enough of him to cause yourself to gag. Felix has to make a conscious effort to not buck his hips up and drive himself further down your throat, lest he hurt you or make you gag again, but fuck, it feels unlike anything he’s ever felt before. He knows for a fact he’s going to cum if he lets you keep going much longer, and so, with a shaky breath, he asks you to stop.

You pull off of him the moment he asks, looking at him curiously; you knew he was feeling good, so why did he want you to stop? He sits up completely, capturing your lips in a kiss lest you worry about how well you did for him; you were perfect, you’ll always be perfect, and even if he’s at times too shy to convey that with words, he’ll make sure you know with his actions.

“I want to be inside you,” he tells you, lips still close enough to yours to easily kiss you again, to feel your breath against your skin, “do you want that too? Do you want me?” 

God, yes, you want him so fucking bad. Are you nervous? Of course you are, you’ve never been so intimate with someone before, but there’s no one in this world you would rather give yourself to than Felix. You want to be connected to him, physically, mentally, in all ways conceivable. He’s the one for you, the love of your life, the most perfect man you’d ever known, so there’s not a single doubt in your mind, or your heart, that he’s the one you want to do this with, and that you want to do it now.

“Yes,” you kiss him, “I want you,” another kiss, “so bad,” and another. He’s elated to hear you say it, his relief and joy going beyond words. He would’ve waited for you, of course he would’ve, but he can’t deny how much he craves being inside you, making love to you, pouring all his love and affection into you.

He loves you so, so much, and it’s reflected even in his most carnal of desires. It’s more than sex, it’s more than simply wanting to feel good; to be with you intimately is the greatest display of love you could ever share.

He lies you down carefully, making sure your head actually makes it to the pillows this time, and he situates himself between your legs, hands rubbing over your hips and thighs as he leaves another lingering kiss to your reddened lips. His hand comes between your legs, and he finds your hole with his fingers, wanting to make sure he knew where to aim his cock. You’re still so wet and warm, and the fact that he’s this close to being inside you feels like a blissful dream. 

Taking his cock in his hand and lining it up, he looks at you, wanting to make sure one last time that you want him to keep going. “Are you ready?” he asks and you nod, completely, 100% positive you want him inside you.

“Yes, I'm ready, please put it in,” you practically beg, and that’s all Felix needs to hear to continue. He starts to push in slowly, watching your face carefully for any discomfort or pain, stopping when he hears you let out a small hiss. 

“Are you okay? Do you need to stop?” Felix asks, using all of his self control to make sure he takes good care of you, and makes your first times as comfortable as possible. “I-I’m okay, just keep going slow,” you tell him and he nods, seeking out one of your hands and intertwining your fingers.

“Squeeze if you need to, okay? I won’t do anything to hurt you, my love, tell me to stop and I will.” You smile, already knowing he’d do his utmost best to make you feel safe, loved, and comfortable. It stings a bit, but it doesn’t necessarily hurt– and Felix’s soothing words, touch, and kisses do wonders in lessening the discomfort you initially felt.

Felix clenches his teeth once he’s fully sheathed inside your heat, your warm, wet walls tightly enveloping him making him almost overwhelmed from how good it feels. He thought your mouth was amazing, but this– God, it’s better than anything he could’ve ever imagined. 

You can see how much effort he’s pouring into staying still until you're ready for him to move– clenched jaw, furrowed brows, sweat dripping from his brow from concentration. Contrary to what he expected, he’s the one squeezing your hand, trying desperately to ground himself and not lose control of his body, to succumb to his senses. He’s breathing heavily, forehead once again pressing against yours, but you don’t mind in the slightest. 

You love how close he is, how full of him you feel, how the sting and discomfort slowly dissolves away, leaving nothing but the desire to feel him move inside you. “You can move, I’m ready,” you whisper, and carefully, slowly, he pulls out to the tip before pressing back in one gentle, fluid motion.

“It’s okay? Doesn’t hurt?” he asks and you shake your head, timidly smiling at him. “Feels good, keep going,” you tell him, and he easily obliges, wanting nothing more than to lose himself in the feeling of you.

He can’t help but groan, even with the slow pace he’s setting he just feels so good, and the way you look up at him doesn’t do him any favors. Your pretty eyes, your flushed face, the way your hair has messily fallen around you, the way you clench with every sound that tumbles from his lips, letting him know how much you like hearing him– everything, literally everything about you, about this moment, is a blessing to him. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, causing him to push in deeper, and his eyes roll back, head falling forward into your shoulder as another groan leaves him. He gradually starts to pick up his pace, always making sure you’re comfortable and enjoying it before he goes faster, experimenting with angles to find what feels best for you, because everything is already good for him. 

He knows he’s found the right angle when you let out a loud gasp, followed by a moan when he thrusts again, and again, your hand tightly squeezing his, though he knows it’s purely because of the pleasure, and not at all because he’s hurting you or you need him to stop. You curse under your breath again, your nails starting to dig into the flesh under his knuckles, your other hand clutching once again at the sheets beneath you. 

“Feels good? Tell me, tell me it feels good,” Felix practically begs in your ear, his deep voice growing higher in pitch as he drives himself closer to release, his groans turning into desperate sounding whines. “So good, fuck, love you so much, feels so good,” you babble, and Felix whines louder, hips stuttering as he continues fucking into you.

He intended for this moment to be sweet and sensual until the end, but he really didn’t anticipate how your walls around his cock would drain him of his composure. You don’t seem to mind in the slightest however– in fact, you seem to be enjoying the moment just as much as him, your legs starting to tremble as your second orgasm looms closer and your moans and whines grow in volume.

He crashes his lips into yours, your kisses turning much less romantic than before, having devolved into a messy, desperate display of tongue and teeth. It’s a different sort of display of passion, but it is passion all the same, and you couldn’t ask for anything better than this; Felix is perfect in everything he does, and this is no exception. 

You can feel his cock twitching and throbbing, and you know he must be close; so you keep your legs tightly wrapped around him, making sure that when his cum shoots inside you, it’ll be as deep as it can get. Feeling close yourself, and wanting to cum with him, you bring your free hand to your clit, rubbing it in the quick circles you know feels best for you. Within seconds, you’re cumming around his cock, and the way you squeeze and clench around him is enough to send him straight into his, his cum shooting out in long spurts, filling you to the brim. 

You’re both breathless, hearts racing and bodies hot, and after collecting his breath, Felix kisses you again, not messy or desperate as just moment priors, but full of love, truly the happiest he has ever been. He doesn’t pull out of you until he feels himself start to soften, and he mutters for you to wait there for a moment and stay still as he rushes to the attached bathroom for a tissue to clean you up.

You wince a little, a bit tender and sensitive from all the attention you received, but Felix is gentle and careful, as he is with everything when it comes to you. When he’s done, you make your way under the blankets, shifting over to your side of the bed, waiting for him to blow out the candles and settle in next to you.

Should you both get dressed? Maybe, but neither of you particularly want to– there’s something special and intimate in staying just as you are now, bare in each other's arms. He holds you close, as he always does, kissing the top of your head, and smiling when you look up at him from where your head lies against his chest.

“I love you so much,” he tells you and you smile too, pecking him on the lips and hugging him tight. “I love you too,” you whisper as you close your eyes, exhaustion quickly settling over you. You never imagined how happy you would one day become the day you became Felix’s wife, and now you know that it was actually a blessing in disguise, something you didn’t know you needed. 

From the moment he first saw you, Felix knew you were the one, instantly enamored with you. He hoped with all his heart his marriage was one he could be happy in, that his wife would be someone he could truly love, and you answered his prayers from the very moment you entered his life. He doesn’t want to say it was love at first sight, but somehow, he just knew– you were perfect, the one he was destined to be with and love with all his heart, his soulmate. 

It sounds like a cliche he’d find in one of your romance novels, but it’s genuinely how he feels. No one in this world would ever compare to you, and he’d forever be grateful to his parents, your parents, and even God himself, for putting you on this earth at the same time as him, and allowing you to be his wife.

He wishes he had words stronger than “I love you,” or that he knew how to articulate himself in a way that would explain the depths of how he feels, but he supposes those simple words will have to do. He loves you, and there has never been anything he's been more certain of than that. 

[malisorn]

★ || 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝

Pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Summary | You always have a way of getting what you want and if you want to marry the prince, you will ๋࣭ ⭑ Inspired by “Mastermind - Taylor Swift”

Warnings & Suggestions | Fluff, very low-key Soft Dark Reader, Reader being a literal mastermind, No Physical Description of Reader

Red Keep is a place full of power-hungry men and determined women. To survive in a place like this, you need to outsmart the fools, yet you can't outdo the wise, you can't be too bright or too dull either. Everyone has their parts to play as each other's pawn. You do too, but the difference is you knew your pawn and the game you play.

Your parents have told you before that your purpose here is to marry a man from a noble house, gain an alliance and live a life raising heirs. But those words didn't please your ears, you won't wait for them to sell you off to a drunkard who would father dozens of bastards. For the least, you would like to wed someone you want and you knew you have a choice the night you saw him for the first time, you knew he was meant to be yours and nothing was gonna stop you.

A Targaryen man from the blood of the dragon, the son of the King, the prince of the realm. The Targaryens often marry within their own family, although his mother is a Hightower. His brother and sister were already married with a set of twin. While he is still a man free of betrothal, soon enough, his queen mother and grandfather would find him a match, a match that would only end with you and him.

After countless nights, you have come up with a plan. You begin with weeks of observing him and caught up to his routine. He wakes up early, practices swordplay every morning and noon. In the evening, he can be found in the library reading a book about the olden days or morals of life. Often times, you saw him on Vhagar as they flew around, breathing dragonfire. You looked up to the wide sky and the mighty beast. Sooner or later, you will be mounting that dragon. On a day where he was not seen in a training yard, he would accompanied his queen mother and sister, those who he seems to be close with the most. After writing down all this information, you try to figure out all about him and every possibility. Now, you know what you must do to ensure a seat beside him.

You started with appearing everywhere he was. He visited the Sept? You were also there praying to the maiden. He read in the library? You were already there, picking one of his favorite book. He goes to spend time with his sister? There you are linked in arms with Helaena as you two walk through the garden. And to lit the fuse, your hand suddenly brushed his as you walked pass him every single time, as if it's all accidental, you didn't even pay a mind to look back, only walk away. After multiple times, brief glances started to exchange, polite smiles spread across your face when you catch his gaze, yet no conversation was ever occurred, not until-

“My Lady” he called out. Finally, you think to yourself with a sly smile before turning to him with a naively confused face. “My Prince” You stood calm and flashed him a smile. All the groundwork you have laid leads you here, to this moment, just as you have planned.

Ever since then, you two have been seen together more than often. A walk through the garden side by side, a match of cyvasse in the library that somehow ends with your victory, and a quiet evening as you two paced on a beach. “I am thankful that the gods have brought us together, My Lady” he said. You're welcome. “Same as I, my prince, fate is truly a mysterious work of art.” You smirk before switching back to a naive one. You cannot be too obvious. He can't know but only if he did. Fate really is a powerful thing, but it is useless without the work of one or another. You wouldn't be standing here with him if all you did was pray and hope for the best. You have to plan and take actions. With that, you get closer to him inch by inch every day. It takes time and you are more than welcome to provide. He grew to trust you, softened only for you, and a bond of a lifetime was formed.

Now, the two of you are holding each other's arms at a grand wedding decorated in shade of white and silver, flowers and silks laid down to perfection, standing in front of the Septon as you exchange your vows to your other half in front of your gods and your kins.

“With this kiss I pledge my love”

“And I, take you for my lord and husband"

"And I, take you for my lady and wife"

The Septon pronounces you as one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. A husband and a wife, a long lifetime of love and devotion.

After the wedding, you couldn't help but feel a little guilty. You have always been this way since your childhood. You like having a little fun with your head and finding ways to get what you want while also being entertained in a way. You like to be loved but don't like to show others of how much you've done to get them. So is it wrong to trick him into loving you? You were not quite sure. To be fair, you didn't force him! You just set everything up from meeting him, talking to him and then it just presents its way, right? You didn't poison or bewitch him into loving you, didn't even harm anyone through your plan of becoming his wife, so why is it that you feel responsible for it all? You think about it for a while and decide that it must be said.

On a peaceful night when you and your husband lay on your shared bed. You confessed your “little schemes” to him, expecting a confusing reaction or shocking response, but instead, he simply smirks, the very same way you did when he first talked to you, “I knew”. Oh, “You knew!? You never- You never showed me that you did!”. After all these times, he has always knew. A wide smile spread across your face, he knew and he let you do it all. Why wouldn't he? It led him to you and now he's yours.

masterlist for more

images' credits ๋࣭ ⭑

Catching Butterflies - Emile Eisman Semenowsky

Astrology Signs Mosaic - Museum of Islamic Civilization, UAE

Maria Cristina of Bourbon - Vicente López

[d3adbr3inc3lls]

I'm sorry if you've written something similar, but can you write an Amethio x Reader ff where his ceruledge and the mcs pokemon (gardevior if you need a specific one!) really like each other? bonus if amethio and the reader aren't fond of each other.

Amethio x Reader | Fic and Headcannons

Summary: You're part of the RVT and your Gardevior has been napping a lot more than she usually does.

You are part of the RVT, he is part of the Explorers. It was only natural that you two have a rivalry.

Everything about him annoys you, how was he so calm whilst he tries to steal something that belonged to Liko?

How and why is he so calm, it's Iike nothing bothers him, Nothing makes him tick.

How is he even this strong for a trainer who is your age? Does he even have a life outside training?

Probably not.

Either way, things could've gotten worse, and becuase the universe is against you, they did.

You never really noticed it at first, but your Gardevior, despite being feircly loyal, wasn't always at your side when you were at home -you never thought much of it, you let her roam around your home however she pleases- but then you start to notice it. Somstimes she is late for lunch, sometimes she'd take her sweet, sweet, time walking downstairs after you call her.

It never really bothered you, she could've been taking a nap, but the more it happened, the more suspicous it felt. You knew that some pokémon love to go outside and roam around, but she's too domesticated go out alone, unless she was starting her rebel phase.

It was all fun in games, you didn't mind her being a bit late, but sooner or later, you got an unpleasant awnser to her constant napping.

. . .

The sun hits your face at the perfect angle to annoy you and make sure you couldn't do anything about it. Your Gardevior is suffering the same fate, she shakes her head and lets out a soft cry before she begins to drag you to a nearby cafe.

You know that she's spoiled, but you can't bring yourself to do anything about it apart from feeding into it. Sometimes you're greatful that she's the only pokemon you have, taking care of 10 spoiled little kids would drain your money like there's no tomorrow, and it's a future you're not willing to face just yet.

You haven't even taken your eyes off of her for more than a minute as you pay for the pastries, and you find out that your Gardevoir has wandered off somewhere.

Calling out her name in confusion, you look around, knowing that she'd be nearby.

. . .

You couldn't help but groan in frustration as you saw the familiar black and pale blue/silver haired boy, walking with his Ceruledge and your Gardevoir.

You could see his eye twitch, giving way to some annoyance before being covered up by the constant neutral expresion he wears.

He says your name in his usual, formal, tone, glaring at you like you had just killed his mother infront of him.

"Amethio," You reply back, mimicking his tone as your eyes wander to your Gardevoir who looks up at you with a horrified expression before she walks over to you with her head down in shame.

You couldn't blame her for catching feelings, but it doesn't mean that you weren't allowed to dislike them.

. . . Headcannons . . .

I can imagine that the two of you would still have a rocky relationship, but you had to stop going at eachother's throats for the sake of your 'mons.

Over time, you and Amethio might have gotten closer, enough to develop a friendship, but it's fragile, and any wrong action would easily break it.

And due to you being a part of the RVT, and him being a part of the Explorers, you two are waiting for one to betray the other, giving both of you an excuse to never see eachother.

It'd be devastating for your 'mons, but it's a good excuse.

A/N: Finished this last week, I currently have exams... wish me luck chat... but I have one on Monday, and then I'm free for a while. Hopefully I'll start writing more,,,

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XXIII. “desperation”

parts: previous / next

plot: you receive a suspicious phone call. Bruce meets with your boss, and runs into a psychiatrist from Arkham.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, panic attack, gaslighting

words: 3.2k

Bruce awoke the next day to Alfred opening his blinds, accosting him with the sun. "The university president called. You have a meeting in an hour." He had to make sure he wasn't still dreaming, but the only word that found him was: "Why?"

Alfred flicked on the overhead light, which always drove the boy mad—he needed a force to jolt him into quicker action than his usual sloth speed in the A.M.. "Something about the university's journalism department. It's 11:02, you're set to meet her no later than noon." As he left the room to allow Bruce to ready himself, he called out some details. "Dr. Janay Vry, she said you'd met at graduation." If Alfred had lingered in the room a moment longer he would've seen his eyes widen, and Bruce jump out of bed to rush to his closet. Not even stopping to grab the toast the butler had made for him, no sooner than Alfred had readied a single scrambled egg for himself, Bruce had climbed into his vehicle and started off for GU.

The route given to him at graduation allowed him to take a back road to campus; there were very few in Gotham that weren't filled with pedestrians during the light of day, but he tempted the law by speeding and having increased his window tint beyond the legal limit. The route would lead him to an employee parking garage on the Northeastern side of campus. If he took the stairs to floor five, shot across a hallway to the right, then another hallway to the left, he could find himself at the admin office. He assumed her office would remain in the same location, and he was correct. After peeking to see if she was in the vicinity, he stepped inside and a screeching alarm sounded. It only ceased when he'd fully stepped out of the room, out of the doorframe, and into the hallway.

Dr. Vry showed up not thirty seconds later, but with enough time between for Bruce to catch his breath, rapid blinks reorienting him to the present setting. He didn't think he'd ever clawed his way anywhere as fast as he just had. "Mr. Wayne, you're early." She held a black card to the placard beneath her name on the door. A small Ding! sounded and she walked in with Bruce in tow.

The chair was the same, and the cobwebs remained. His thighs stretched against the wood and the webs swayed gently from the air conditioning. Even though it was overcast and dreary, it was still a sweltering August. His stomach grumbled, and he daydreamed fondly about the Mulligatawny in the fridge back home. Thankfully, she wasted no time getting to the point. "Mr. Wayne. I wanted to talk with you about your aversion to speaking with our journalists here."

Damn. He should've brainstormed answers on the drive. He was too consumed with hearing potentially devastating news of a local journalist's murder that he hadn't thought of a single thing relevant to what she might ask otherwise. "My apologies, I've been unexpectedly busy the past few weeks with the election coming up." Where are you? What does she know? Does she know anything?

"If you were busy with the election, wouldn't you want to speak with the candidates?" God this was frustrating. He needed to figure out what had happened with you yet here she was, refusing to divulge information as the only other person in Gotham who knew you existed. He cleared his throat to cover another stomach grumble and tried to stave off an interrogation.

"They should be coming to the next meeting."

Dr. Vry wasted no time interrogating him anyway. "Ms. Langley was our journalist last week, and she said you refused to speak with her."

"Doctor," Bruce was quite pleased when she interrupted him because he had no idea how he would've finished the sentence.

"You didn't mingle longer than a minute or so with Mr. March, either."

Who gave her the play-by-play? Bridgit? Did they train their journalism students to be hawkeyed? "As I said, I was unexpectedly busy." Be pleasant. He wrung his hands together under the desk, not entirely sure she didn't have super vision which allowed her retinas to pierce through mahogany.

She sighed, which made her peppered gray bangs flutter. Her lipstick was feathered around her lip line, a visceral reminder of the sour note you'd both left on the night you disappeared. Could one be tracked by lip print alone? "Did Ms. Langley do something inappropriate, Mr. Wayne?"

"No." He grit his teeth, then hoped she wouldn't notice. "She was pleasant." He hated how well he could lie. It was never comfortable, but he was able to grin and grit his way through any turn in conversation with unsuspecting ease.

"She said you asked for our former employee by name. Ms. Y/L/N." FINALLY! He tried not to visibly sink into the seat with relief. His ears had a pavlovian response to your name, interrupted by echoes of the word 'former'. As much as he wanted to follow that thread, he hoped she might extend it on her own grounds.

"I was under the impression it would be the same journalist every week." He paused, and she didn't take the space. "It appears I was too assumptive."

It was like he hadn't spoken at all. "Ms. Langley said you told Mr. March you were set to be interviewed by Ms. Y/L/N."

He paused, the both of them making uneasy, penetrating eye contact. "I was." So where were you? Home? Dead?

"Peculiar." She looked down and sighed. "I fired her under the pretense she refused to interview you. Yet you say you had one set."

Bruce wanted to sink into the floor making such a faux paus. He also stifled a jump and high-five because now he knew with confidence you were at the very least, alive. The dueling emotions threatened to spin out his vision. "I must have misheard, or misread something."

"She didn't seem keen on talking to you whatsoever. She refused to write about you in our column." She shrugged and sighed again, sinking dramatically into her thick leather seat. Bruce didn't care that you weren't going to write about him, even though you'd apparently denied the prospect so thoroughly it had led to unemployment. He no longer had to lug lifelong guilt at not having done anything to save you, because you didn't need saving. His body was light and tingly, and it was only when he felt the weight lifted that he realized how heavy it had been weighing him down.

"I didn't know the column included me." He didn't much care to humor Dr. Vry any longer, his brain going into autopilot now that his most pressing concerns were assuaged.

"You do not need to perform humbly here."

He stifled an eyeroll. "I assumed she was there to report on the meeting's content."

Dr. Vry laughed. It startled him. "It's as if you rehearsed it together."

"I do not understand."

"Must I remind you that you are Bruce Wayne?" She mimed handing him a piece of paper he could only imagine was intended to be a birth certificate. "Bruce Wayne taking on an active role in the community is the news. What do people want to read more than that?" She threw her hands in the air and leaned back again, the leather squeaking.

He began to speak when Dr. Vry questioned him more deeply. "What happened with the interview last spring?"

The one-sided rapport she'd developed seemed to be fraying at the edges. Keep responses benign. "It didn't work out."

"Will it ever, Mr. Wayne? Or should I pull the plug on the department before we get into more debt?" Her voice was raising and getting shrill. He was close to walking out—the only thing tethering him was the weight of his family name.

"I was unaware of the financial strain the university was under." Good. Basic. It was the first time in his life he hoped someone would ask him for money. A check was easy to write, easy to talk about, easy to segue from to a quick exit. His mask was threatening to slip.

"One exclusive interview, the first of its kind will sell. The credibility it would lend this university... priceless."

Bruce watched on as Dr. Vry became teary and fidgeted in her seat. She wrung her hands together palm-up, which exposed a hammered-silver ring with the tiniest of owls etched into the metal. Seeing the same symbol that had been on the knife handle, the same symbol that had been on her pin, it rung hollowly and deeply in his chest. One was gold, one silver, one etched into a knife. This couldn't be coincidence. His brow furrowed and he leaned inward. "Is that an owl?"

She stared at him, not once glancing down to the ring. "What could you mean?"

He pointed at the ring and leaned so forward in his chair he had to palm the wood to catch himself. "Your ring. Is that an owl design?" He hoped she was more of a fool at spotting his mounting anxiety than you were. It was beginning to take every crumb of energy from last night's dinner to regulate his breathing.

She followed his finger down to hers. "I have no idea of what you mean."

Bruce saw it clearly, like peering at the bottom of a sparkling, transparent lake. Defiance snuck into his tone. "What would you call that symbol, then?"

"What symbol?" She spun the ring around her finger, befuddled. His anxiety was melting into desperation. "There's a symbol etched into it." His stare bore into her, and he wished he could grab the ring off her finger and show her. She gazed down at it, moving it back and forth between her thumb and forefinger, fully exposing the owl icon. It even glinted off the light. She shrugged. "This is the wedding band my husband got me thirty years ago. I'd know if something had been 'etched' into it."

Bruce sank back into the chair, realizing he'd leaned until only an inch of ass remained on the seat. He let his face fall into frustration, and he didn't conceal his shaking head. What had been defiance drowned itself under his shame. His faculties were indeed failing him. It was so clear. So vivid. It made his chest ache and his soul bristle.

"Would you rather her or Ms. Langley?"

His eyes flicked to hers again, which stared at him expectantly. He paused so long she reiterated herself with further clarification. "Would you rather speak with Ms. Langley or Ms. Y/L/N?"

He blinked. He spoke slightly above a mumble. "I don't think it's appropriate for me to make your employment decisions."

"Very well then." She stood up and walked around Bruce to the doorway, and called out for Bridgit. She came careening around the corner like a dog whistled to at a park. It was peculiar, but he didn't have the capacity to follow that lead any longer. He didn't know what his capacity was currently, and how quickly it would be stolen from him entirely.

Dr. Vry and Bridgit stood at the inside of the doorway. "Have a good day, Mr. Wayne."

Silently he removed himself from the room. Dr. Vry was swift to shut the door, and Bruce lingered just long enough to catch a phrase. "We don't have all the time in the world and seeing as he wouldn't even speak to you,"

"Mr. Wayne! Fancy seeing you here."

A shorter, slim man with dark, ruffled hair spoke from across the hall. As he drew closer his light blue eyes shone behind sterile rectangular glasses. He wore a deep gray suit and tie with a plush sweater vest atop the usual white button-up. He vaguely recognized the man, but not enough for name recall. Bruce grinned. "Turns out getting more involved in Gotham means meetings with the president." Keep up the playboy facade. He stuck out his hand and the man took it, firmly.

"Dr. Jonathan Crane. I'm sure this will not be the last time our paths will cross, especially with your new venture to save the city."

He wanted to dig his own grave. "Ah, yes. You work at Arkham, correct?" Information was coming to him now, loose memories of seeing his name in court records, and seeing him coming out of the GCPD offices every now and then. As a psychiatrist he floated between the jail and the courts, but his home base was Arkham Asylum. There he would counsel, treat, and refer the patients to whatever outside services they needed. But what did it matter? He'd forget him soon anyway. Imagine him in some other form. Maybe in a few year's time everyone's heads would morph into an owl's.

"Correct. But today my services also require a meeting with Dr. Vry." He emphasized the salutation which Bruce could only fathom was due to his own educational background. His nerves were shot from the life-ruining confirmation of him hallucinating, and he quickly bid the man adieu. He went back down the hallways and stairways, and stepped out into the employee parking lot. It was empty, as it was when he arrived.

Suddenly a trembling, tingly feeling arose in his chest, bursting out to his fingers and down his legs; when his knee rendered unsteady he began to panic, his heart thundering profoundly in his chest. He struggled to breathe, to gulp breaths, but he couldn't find air. Tears erupted from their ducts and streamed down his face automatically, and he fell to his knees heaving toward the cement. He feared he might never stand up.

You awoke to the blaring sound of your ringtone assaulting your ear. DR. VRY lit up in pulsing green text. You cleared your throat and dove for the water at your side table to take a sip before picking up on the last ring. "Hey, Dr. Vry." It was the first time you'd spoken in days other than to call for Walter, which rarely happened as he never left your side. Your fingers shook a bit thinking on how this could be the start of immediate unemployment. You'd been telling yourself since you'd come home to expect the worst, and you'd begun to feel relieved at the prospect of being fired instead of having to quit. This would be good, splendid even; it would open up your horizons and give you a guilt-free escape. You'd break the news to your parents when they got back—but only after a few hours when they'd napped, showered, eaten, and had settled in for the evening. You hadn't thought seriously of how you'd break the news of the reasoning, but you knew that whatever you said you couldn't say the whole truth. There wasn't a single fantasy in where they did not have a very specific, and specifically annoying response to knowing Bruce Wayne was the reason you were fired, and that really, the only reason you'd been fired in the first place was being a stickler about wanting to engage with the man as little as possible. They'd think it petty, and immature, but they didn't know the whole story; they didn't know what it felt like to truly see Bruce Wayne, they only saw him gussied up to public satisfaction. They didn't know that he was Batman, they didn't know the dire straits you were put in every minute you rotted in Gotham—

"Y/N." Dr. Vry sounded impatient, exasperated even.

Oh. "What?"

"As I was saying, the board... and I... have decided against firing you. You may remain in your position until renewal applications open in the end of Spring. You shall take your post immediately." The words rushed out of her mouth. You briefly imagined her being held at gunpoint to re-hire you, and your immediate assumption was that the billionaire had something to do with it. Was he meddling again, after explicitly promising the opposite? The thoughts couldn't linger long, as all the color swiftly left your face and you fell back on the bed, dizzy. You felt it in your heart of hearts that you could not go back to Gotham, and little would work to convince you otherwise. Oh god. Telling the biggest Bruce Wayne fangirl in the city you weren't going to be her puppet wasn't going to be pretty. "Dr. Vry, I can't,"

"Ah ah." You visualized her wagging her finger. It was the same tone she used in class when someone who had spoken up too often raised their hand yet again. "The stipulations of your duties has changed. You no longer need to interview him once per week, but biweekly." The silence that followed her was thick. Before remembering she couldn't see you, you shook your head, your heartbeat quickening. "I'm sorry, but I can't, I really can't," She chimed in as quickly as she ever had. "Once per month. Only once."

She had you in a pickle. Before your resolve could loosen and you gave in, you declared yourself. "I'm not coming back."

Dr. Vry didn't speak for almost a full minute. She was absent from the line so long you had to check the screen to see if the call had dropped. "Hello?" Another minute passed and your finger hovered above END CALL.

"What would bring you back?"

"I don't think anything could." You huffed into the phone, letting it out. "The city is not mine. I don't enjoy it, I graduated, and I would like to be home."

"So nothing can convince you? Not even an increase in base pay?"

"I'm sorry,"

"A better apartment, perhaps?"

"Give it to someone who needs it. Thank you, but I am not going back to Gotham." You pulled the phone back from your ear and tapped the screen to wake it. A split second before you successfully ended the call, Dr. Vry spoke yearnfully. "One interview. Next week. Then you can be finished."

She was beginning to truly frustrate you. "Let Bridgit do it. I'm sure anyone else would jump at the opportunity."

"I'll be very clear. The department has until the end of this month before we're cut. If a student of this program was able to secure the first interview with Bruce Wayne, the combination of sales from the Gazette and credibility it lends the department at GU... it's our last chance."

"There are no journalism graduates?"

"He'll only speak with you.”

[teecupangel]

Sooooo.... I just read your Fic Idea on ao3, about Desmond being Rashid daughter and i am a little curious how different it would be, if we genderbend Desmond into his original one. Would Al Mualim still be a dotting father or would he treat Desmond like Altair?

Unfortunately, the fic idea was deleted in AO3 as part of the Tumblr Ask AO3 Purge but here’s the Tumblr post about the idea of Desmond being reborn as Al Mualim's daughter with @fanworldbuildingfun.

Hhhhmmm, if Desmond was reborn as Al Mualim’s son?

He would probably start by treating him like every other Assassin. While I cannot remember where I read it (if it’s even official or not), there was this one idea where there was a rumor going on in Masyaf that Altaïr was Al Mualim’s biological son.

Taking that into account, we can twist Al Mualim’s personality a bit to not… acknowledge any child he might bear, especially a son. So, Desmond would be reborn as an orphan, a child of the Brotherhood, taking on the moniker of Ibn-La'Ahad. Of course, there will be rumors of who his father would be (Umar taking a hit as well considering how he looked a lot like Altaïr) but there will be the whispers…

While the Flowers never said who Desmond’s mother was, many Assassins could connect the dots. There was one Flower who didn’t go out to lounge in Paradise’s courtyard months leading to Desmond’s supposed birth.

And everyone knows she’s the master’s favorite.

They never say it out loud, of course.

Especially not in front of Al Mualim or even Desmond.

Al Mualim never acknowledged it and treated Desmond the same way as he treated every other Assassin in Masyaf.

He grows up…

Unable to save Umar from his fate…

Only able to comfort Altaïr in his time in need…

He starts training with Altaïr…

And his skills becomes harder and harder to hide.

Before long, it was clear that the only boy who can catch up to him is Altaïr.

By the time they were initiated, everyone in Masyaf had seen his skill.

His potential.

And the coldness he possessed whenever talking to Al Mualim.

Al Mualim lets him act as he wished.

Something that many would have been surprised, had the whispers that Desmond was Al Mualim’s son not been growing louder the more people saw Desmond’s skills.

Before long, they build this… idea.

That Desmond knew he was Al Mualim’s son.

And his coldness stems from the distance Al Mualim had kept while he was growing up.

Only one person knows Desmond’s coldness only hides his hatred for Al Mualim.

Altaïr.

He doesn’t know the entire story.

All he knows is that he needed to make preparations for both him and Desmond.

Because it was inevitable.

One of these days.

Desmond was going to commit patricide.

(Am I saying that Al Mualim wouldn’t be a doting father to a son? Yeah, pretty much. Altaïr was pretty much his son, more or less, and he acted more like a master/mentor than a father to him. Being treated that way would only annoy Desmond. Is he really planning to kill Al Mualim? No. He’s waiting for Altaïr to kill Al Mualim like in the canon timeline while Altaïr is next to him thinking “yeah, Desmond’s gonna kill Al Mualim sooner or later so I gotta prepare for that”)

[dazzling-raven]

This got way out of hand. 'Oh, I should write a little drabble to go along with the drawing I'm working on! Ittl be fun!' 6,000 words later and here we are. It was fun, I don't have regrets, but oh my gosh. Massive thank you to Inky Clawz on wofa for being my beta reader/editor. If anyone actually reads through the whole thing thank you for reading about my little guys ^^

It all started with a letter. A single letter. It was a pale yellow in color. Small, and unassuming. It didn’t even have a wax seal. “It’s from your mother. She understands if you don’t open it, but in my opinion it would be best if you did.” The messenger had said, then backed away. At first Chip had been confused as to how she had even found his address, but then he remembered that he and his husband ran what could probably be considered two of the most popular shops in the SkyWing kingdom. Dragons came from all over to try Chip’s wonderfully unique pastries or get cleverly crafted tattoos done by his husband’s talons. Some just came to look at them and talk. It wasn’t every day you saw a SeaWing in the Sky Kingdom, much less an ivory white and orange one. His husband was no different- he was an ‘illusive’ NightWing, and a good looking one at that. If they weren’t head turners already, jaws would drop to the ground once dragons caught sight of their wedding bands. Word of mouth travels faster than any advertisement could, after all. 

Chip found himself avoiding the letter for days- he had even considered tearing the letter into little shreds on more than one occasion. However, his husband, Voyant, had noticed that Chip had been acting off as of late. Because of course he did. He had known ever since meeting him that fateful day that NightWing powers were all a lie, but he might as well have been a mind reader with how quickly he was able to catch on to Chip’s emotions. After tucking their adorable little dragonet into bed (and reading ‘The Ten Little Scavengers’ to him for the tenth time) he had trotted into the living room where a fire was already waiting for him. His heart melted at the sight of his husband, who had been curled upon their rug. He had been sketching out a new design, his black, forked tongue poked out between his fangs in concentration. 

His black scales gleamed in the firelight, and if you angled your head just right you could see a faint purple shine dance across them. His pearl white underbelly rose and fell with each breath, and the dual crescent shaped silver scales behind his eyes glimmered softly. “See something you like?” His husband asked with a coy smile, stretching out slightly and resting the pencil on the floor. 

“Just admiring a work of art.” Chip replied smoothly, walking over to him with a grin. He bent down and gently bonked his husband’s head with his own, then curled into his side. Voyant’s tail immediately intertwined with his, and Chip felt his husband drape his wing over his smaller form. The two sat there for a while, and for a moment Chip let himself go. He felt so comfortable and safe in his husband’s embrace, and he never wanted this moment to end. He listened to his husband talk about his day, but he felt his gaze wandering back to the piece of paper sitting on their countertop. Still unopened. 

“Is it about the letter?” Voyant asked abruptly, having followed Chip’s stare. The SeaWing immediately felt like trash for not giving his husband his full attention, but he nodded. 

“Yeah. M’sorry about not saying anything sooner, but…” he hesitated, his claws fiddling with the red bandanna still tied around his husband’s neck. 

“It’s been hard? Scary, even? Not knowing what’s inside?” Bingo. Voyant always knew how to word things better than he ever could have. The SeaWing nodded, almost wishing he could curl up into a ball and disappear. He didn’t though, instead focusing on his husband’s slow, even breaths as he steadied his nerves. 

“I know, it’s silly. We fought in countless battles, rescued Solaris from the talons of Scarlet herself, and I got my legs *burnt by lava* and I can’t even handle a few words written on a scroll.” Chip growled, clenching his talons in anger. 

“I don’t think so. We both know what she did and how she treated you. Sometimes words can hurt more than the sharpest of swords or the hottest fires. It’s ultimately your choice, but running away from the ink on that paper and not knowing what she wrote could eat away at you later down the line.” The NightWing said, taking Chip’s talons in his own and rubbed them to get them to relax. 

Chip felt the rage seep away from his scales as he took in Voyant’s words. Then he smiled. “Wow, I never knew you were a wordsmith. Hey, which ghost in the room possessed my husband this time? I'd like him back, please! We’re trying to have a serious and emotional conversation here!” Chip said, grinning as his husband’s face went from serious, to confused, and finally mock offense as the SeaWing looked around the room, smiling like an idiot. 

“Well Ex-CUSE me, your majesty. If you don’t want my help I'll just pack my things and take our son for a nice vacation. I think the SandWing kingdom is looking for some new visitors. I’ve heard that they fancy poetry that you simply don’t appreciate.” The NightWing said in a faux snobby voice, standing up in a semi graceful movement and walking a few paces away.

“Wait, I- pfft- I’m sorry-” Chip said, his quick apology interrupted by gasps of laughter as he stumbled to his feet like a drunken idiot. 

“Nope! You’ve officially missed your chance, Mr. Seastar. Come back next year when the almighty and powerful Voyant is back in town. Then, and only then, you may even THINK kissing his talons and winning back his heart.” The NightWing said, smiling as he lifted a paw into the air and pretended to admire the imaginary jewelry on his claws. 

“Mr. Voyant, please! Just one more chance? I promise I’ll make it up to you!” Chip pleaded with a grin, finally steadying himself as he giggled to himself. 

Voyant paused as if considering Chip’s plea, then nodded. “All right, SeaWing. What’s in it for me?” 

“This,” Chip said, closing the gap between them. He held a talon to Voyant’s face, and guided him in for a kiss. It was clunky and awkward with how the both of them were giggling, but that’s what made it special. “That work for you, Voyant the great and powerful?” He smirked, relishing in his husband’s surprise. 

Voyant snorted and rolled his eyes, but nodded all the same. “Fine, I could get used to this.” He said definitively. “Consider yourself forgiven,” Chip grinned, giving him a quick kiss as a little bonus for putting up with his tomfoolery. 

The two of them quieted their giggles and sobered up after a bit, sitting right there on their polished wooden floor. They lingered in the comfortable silence for a while, before Chip decided to break it. “I’m going to read it. Do you think you could… stay with me?” He asked, looking at his husband with hope.  

“Of course. Let’s go back to the rug.” The NightWing said, standing up and trotting over to their previous spot. Chip nodded, grabbing the letter and following after him. He easily snuggled into his husband’s side, resuming the position they had been in previously. Chip paused as he looked at the scroll in his talons, but unraveled it as his husband gently nudged him with his head. 

“My dearest dragonet

Dear Seastar, 

I apologize that this letter has only been spurred on by recent events. As your mother, I should have done more to try and reach out to you sooner to rekindle our decaying relationship. I would also like to take this moment to apologize for everything I have ever done to wrong you. As a parent, It should have been my duty to protect and guide you through life. Instead, you ended up taking care of me. I snapped, and you were banished with me by my own fault. It wasn’t right. I have no idea where you are in life. Are you happy? Are you sad? Are you married? Do I have grandchildren? I may never know the answers to those questions, and you have all the rights to keep that knowledge from me. However, as stated above, I am writing to you now to inform you that I don’t have very much time left on this continent. I am fading due to an injury I received near the end of the war. I hadn’t realized how bad it was until it was too late, and I’ve been using my final months to reflect on past events. Funny, how dying makes you think. I would like to talk and apologize to you in person. I’m aware that apologizing to you via scroll isn’t the best way to handle things, but I doubt you’re ready to see my face and I don’t think I could make the journey anyways. If you are willing to visit, I am staying at The Hearthstone Haven in the SandWing Kingdom. It’s in a quaint little village near the coast. I understand if you’d rather stay as far away as possible, however. It is entirely your choice. 

Wishing you all the best in your future years, your mother”

The two of them sat in silence for a moment, digesting what they had just read. Chip hadn’t realized he had been shaking or crying until his talons began to crease the page and his tears dropped onto the paper. Voyant’s eyes widened in surprise and he gently took the note from him. “She makes me so *angry*, Voyant. And the worst part is that I know she’s being completely genuine.” He growled, snuggling further into Voyant’s side and hiding his face in the crook of his husband’s shoulder. He hated when Voyant saw him cry, but he didn’t know what to feel. He was angry. Sad. Regretful. Hopeful. Did he want to even see her again? Yes! …No. It was complicated. Chip was thankful that Voyant let him hide away until he was ready to look at him again. When he was, he took a shuddering breath and gave his husband a gentle nudge. “Can we leave this for another day? It’s late and we both need rest.” 

His husband’s eyes widened a bit, clearly expecting him to say something else, but agreed nonetheless. “Let’s. You look exhausted, and I bet I don’t look much better.” 

Chip snorted, agreeing with that statement. They both stood up and stretched, then walked off to their shared bedroom. Voyant placed the scroll on the simple nightstand that was next to their bed, and they both snuggled up for the third time that night. This time, however, they both managed to drift into dreamland.

-

Chip hummed to himself as he made everyone breakfast. He had purchased salmon for himself and Voyant that morning, and was now cooking it over their fire. It wasn’t very often that he was able to have fish, and he had jumped at the chance when he found a traveling SeaWing merchant that had been selling them. Keeping an eye on Voyant’s fish (he preferred his raw), he trotted back over to their open kitchen. He wandered around their island to get to their water basin, dipping his talons in to wash them. Once he finished, he plodded over to where he had left his son’s breakfast. He picked up the knife from the cutting board and began chopping up grapes, strawberries, cantaloupe, and other various fruits and scraped it into a smooth wooden bowl. Fruit was also fairly uncommon, but he was friends with one of the few SkyWings that sold it in the sky kingdom. He was always willing (and thankfully able) to pay a little extra to give his son the food he preferred, though he usually got his at a cheeky little discount.  

“Daddy!” Speak of the devil and he shall appear. His son bounded over to him, his scales a bright, vibrant gold mixed in with his usual forest green. “OOh, what’s that? OHMYGOSH, is it FRUIT?!” He asked, spotting the colorful food as he jumped onto Chip’s back. 

“Woah! Hey, Morning to you, too, kid! Careful, I’ve got a knife. Hey, why don’t you go wake up your Pappa for me? Sneak attack style, like how I taught you.” Chip said, laughing as he put the knife back onto the cutting board. “Once you’ve done that, I’ve got a special question for you. Ok?” He asked, grinning as he tried to turn around and look at his kid. 

“Ooo, Ok! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” the little RainWing nodded, orange and purple now bursting through his scales like fireworks. He began to breathe calmly, the color sliding from his scales like water as he faded seamlessly into the background. His feet were even the colors of Chip’s scales. “Like this?” He whispered, and Chip grinned and nodded. Gold burst through random patches of air before they disappeared again, and Chip felt a weight lift from his back. The only thing that gave him away was the quiet sounds of giggling. Chip felt a strong sense of pride and adoration as he looked at where he thought his son was, then remembered the now quite done salmon on the fire and quickly rushed to get it on a plate. It wasn’t burnt, but it was definitely quite smokey. Chip sighed in relief, walking over to the low mahogany table and set Voyant’s plate down. He’d forgive him for what was about to happen after he saw what was for breakfast.  

“BOO!” 

“YEOWCH! Ok, message received! I’m up, I’m up! No claws, you little monster. Hey! Ohh, I’m gonna get you for that one!” Chip heard Voyant shout, quickly followed by a streak of gold-yellow as the little RainWing shot out of their bedroom. “You’ve awakened the big, bad Darkstalker! He’s come for you and your soul! He’s going to put you in a stew and gobble you up! ROARGH!” Voyant shouted, grinning as he stampeded over to their son. 

“NO! Go ‘way! Can’t catch me!” Their son yelled gleefully, flapping his little wings to gain momentum as he leapt onto the countertop. 

“Watermelon, no countertops!” Chip chided, smiling as he watched his free morning entertainment.

“No! I have the high ground!” His son retorted, balancing on his hind legs to make himself look taller. “Go back to the darkness from where you came, you evil beast!” he commanded, stumbling slightly as he pointed at his husband with a small, light gray claw. 

“Never! Simple words do not work on the Darkstalker, little boy! Only a true hero can defeat him! ROAR!” Voyant shouted again, grabbing his son by the underarms and bringing him close with a quick movement. “Prepare to be stew!” 

“No! Pappa- Staph-” Watermelon said, shrieking with laughter as he tried to push Voyant’s head away from him to no avail. Voyant made an ‘om nom nom’ kind of noise as he pretended to feast on their son, his shoulders shaking with barely concealed laughter. 

“Ok, you two. Before The Darkstalker gets full on little RainWing, does he perhaps want to see what’s actually for breakfast?” Chip asked, gesturing to the table with his wing.

“Perhaps he does. Alright, little child. Consider yourself spared and the victory yours. I’ve tortured you enough.” Voyant said, laughing as he settled their son down. 

“HA! That’s right! Now go back and give me back my Papa!” Their son ordered, spreading his red wings and puffing out his light gray underbelly with pride. Voyant, a good natured father, rolled his eyes. He followed his son's demands and retreated to his bedroom once more. As he did, Chip snuck around their son’s small frame and grabbed their breakfasts. His husband stayed in their room just long enough for him to be able to set them on the table. “What happened?” He asked, faking being delirious as he looked around the room.

“Pappa! You were possessed by the Darkstalker! You were going to turn me into stew, but me an’ Daddy saved you before you could eat me!” Watermelon cried, running over to the NightWing and doing his best to hug his forearm. 

“Did you now? Well, aren’t you a brave little hero?” He asked, rubbing his son’s back before looking over to Chip with a fond smile.

“Yeah! The bestest ever! I’m gonna save the world one day!” The RainWing proclaimed, grinning proudly. 

“Well, heroes can’t survive on moxie and pride alone, can they? They need nutrition to get themselves through battles. Like Ironheart, remember? He would want you to let go of your Papa’s leg and get big and strong.” Chip said, chuckling as his son’s eyes sparkled at the mention of his favorite NightWing hero. 

“Ohmygosh, yeah! Fruit for breakfast!” His son cheered, releasing Voyant’s leg and scrambling over to the table. He was just barely tall enough to peek his head over the wooden surface, so Voyant went and retrieved the dragonet’s stool for him to sit on. He hopped onto the stool with glee, then dragged the bowl close to him. As the two adults sat down at the head and tail of the table, Watermelon began to do his best to organize the fruit in the bowl before eating it. Chip smiled at this, thankful that his son remembered not to put the sticky fruit on the wood this time. He shouldn’t have been playing with his food at all, but at least this was an improvement. 

He looked at Voyant, who just smiled and rolled his eyes before eating his salmon. Chip, though previously excited for this meal, could only poke and pick at it as his thoughts began to wander back to the letter. Noticing this, Chip’s husband looked concerned and tilted his head. “Letter.” Chip mouthed to him, and Voyant nodded in understanding. Chip hesitated before nodding to his son, who was happily sticking the blueberries onto his claws and eating them off one by one. Voyant gave him an uncertain look, but shrugged as if to say ‘up to you.’ Chip sat for a few moments, eyeing his son as he began to pretend his fruit was a bunch of tiny scavengers that he was going to eat and destroy. “Watermelon” he said, his son’s head snapping towards him with wide eyes. “Do you remember the special question that I wanted to ask you?” 

The dragonet relaxed immediately before an orange purple mix burst through his scales again. “Yeah! I do!” He exclaimed, nodding vigorously. 

“If you had a family member that you had never heard of or seen before, would you still want to meet them? Even if they have no knowledge of you, either?” Chip asked, getting straight to the point. He knew that Watermelon was young, but he was a perceptive little dragonet. He would always surprise Chip and his husband with thoughtful answers or observations when they thought he wasn’t even paying attention. 

Watermelon looked thoughtful, humming briefly and forgetting the fruit on the table. “I think so. I could get to know them and we could be best friends!” He chirped happily, then went quiet. “Is this about Nanna?” He asked, blue and a darkish purple overtaking most of his scales. “I heard you talking about her last night.” He clarified when he and Voyant shared surprised glances. 

“Yes, this is about Nanna. It’s ok that you heard us, I’m sorry if we woke you. Would you still like to see her? You can say no if you really don’t want to.” Chip said after a brief hesitation. 

“I wanna meet her. Even if it won’t be for very long, I still want her to know me.” His dragonet said quietly, suddenly finding the table to be very interesting. 

“All right. We’ll figure something out. Why don’t you finish your breakfast? Then we can go play with Tor once you’re done.” Chip said, smiling as gold overtook the unhappy colors on his son’s scales. 

“YAY! Ok!” His son agreed heartily, gobbling up the remainder of the fruit before dashing into his room. 

“Are you sure about this?” Voyant asked simply, finishing his breakfast. 

“Yes. Even if I don’t really want to see her myself, I want to show her you two and what a family should actually look like. Not whatever the hell my childhood was.” Chip said, finishing his own breakfast. Even if he wasn’t hungry anymore, it was still good food that he didn’t want to waste. 

Voyant sighed, but relented. “Ok. I’ll be with you every step of the way”

- 

The odd little family stood at the entrance of The Hearthstone Haven. It had taken them a while to get here, with Chip leaving his bakery in the trustworthy talons of one of his squadmates and Voyant’s head manager taking over his shop. They didn’t really know how long they were going to stay - weeks? A day? An hour? So they had taken preparations to make sure everything was taken care of back home. Chip had written to his mother to let her know that they indeed were coming to visit, but not for how long. It was a terse letter, but it had gotten his point across. “All right. Let’s do this.” Chip said, using the pushing open the large twin doors. 

The three of them walked the short distance to the receptionist’s desk, coming face to face with a bored looking SandWing.“Hi, we’re here to see Acropora?” Chip said, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

The SandWing’s eyes narrowed as he took the group in, his black, soulless eyes staring each of them down. Chip could feel Voyant step closer to him, and his son stayed firmly behind him. “Seastar?” The SandWing eventually asked, his voice sounding slow and nasally as he worded out each syllable of his name.

“Yes, that’s me.” Chip said, nodding.

“The others?” The SandWing asked, his gaze flickering to the two unannounced dragons. 

“My son, Watermelon, and my husband, Voyant.” Chip said, giving the dragon the most winning smile he could. 

The older dragon only sighed, rolling his eyes. “Down the hall and to the left. Her room will have a nameplate. If you need anything from me, no you don’t.” The SandWing stated firmly, promptly going back to his work. 

‘Squid brain’ Chip thought, frowning at the dragon before realizing what he was doing. “Yes, thank you!” he said, switching to his much more polite customer service voice before ushering his family in the direction the receptionist had vaguely given them.  

“If I ever get like that, please force me into a home and don’t look back. Ever.” Voyant said once they were out of earshot, and Chip let out a surprised laugh. 

“Voyant!” He scolded, smacking him over the head with his wing.

“Yeah, Pappa! Stop being mean!” Their son chimed in, his previously light green scales fading back to forest green and the occasional random bursts of gold. 

“Me? He looked like he was going to stab us with his eyes! And you think I’m being mean?” Voyant squawked, groaning as his son just laughed at him. “All right, fine. You win! You always win.” The Nightwing said, smiling as he scooped his giggling son up and put him on his back. Chip and his son shared twin grins before he noticed his mother’s nameplate on one of the doors. His smile faded as he took in the sight of the simple oak. It wasn’t anything impressive, but he still felt intimidated by it. He hadn’t thought of what he was going to say until now. Would they cry? Would she sweep him into her wings and never let go? Or would he snap at her, ask her why she betrayed the trust of him? Their Ex-Queen? If it weren’t for him, she would have gotten herself and the two guards just trying to do their jobs killed that night. “Do you need us to go in with you?” his husband asked, standing beside him and brushing his wing with Chip’s own. 

Chip jumped a little, having forgotten that they were there, but shook his head. “Knowing you two are out here is enough for me.” He said, smiling as he leaned his head against Voyant’s before taking a deep breath. “Wish me luck?” He asked, claw on the doorknob. 

“Good luck Daddy!” His son chimed, scrambling off his husband’s back to give Chip a hug. Chip hugged him back, and Voyant joined them. 

After a beat or two, Chip backed out of the hug to take another breath. “Stay out here with your Papa, ok? I’ll let you know if you can come in.” His son nodded, stepping back as Chip finally opened the door. He had to blink to get his eyes to adjust to the light of the room, but when he did one of the first things he saw was his mother. She had her back turned to him, so he hadn’t been noticed yet. The room she was staying in was small, but three medium sized dragons could move about comfortably if they kept their wings and tails to themselves. The room was mostly bare aside from the black carpeted floor and the white walls. His mother was standing at a desk facing the window, reading something on a scroll. Some plants hung on the walls in an attempt to bring some energy to the place, and it did help a little. They were bright and vibrant with life. “Mother?” Chip called, stepping through and closing the door behind him. 

His mother jumped in surprise, nearly knocking the scroll off of her desk as she turned around. “By all the whales, does no one know how to knock in this moons-blasted building? Who the- ah.” She said, cutting herself off once she realized who it was. The two of them stood quietly for a moment, neither really sure what to say. For the most part, his mother looked the same as the day he had left her. Same light blue scales. Her underbelly was still the same color of finely ground, pure sand. Her wings were still a quiet shade of gray-blue. Her aquatic markings were slightly darker than the rest of her scales, and her horns were still the color of a cloudy day. The only noticeably different things about her were the blue glasses that rested on her snout, curling elegantly around her horns, and the bandages that were wrapped around her chest, protecting her heart. It wasn’t much, but still something to keep things from getting any worse. “I’m surprised you actually showed up. I know you wrote back, but still. It’s… nice to see you in person.” She said, moving closer before stopping herself. Chip said nothing. 

“You’re right. I should not have done what I did, nor said what I spoke. I am owed nothing from you. I was not in the best of places that day, though that is not an excuse. Then you stepped in and threw everything away for me. I should have died in that throne room, but you defended me. You could have just stood by and let it happen, but you didn’t. Ever since he left us, it was a downward spiral for me. I miss him every day, and he makes me angry for your sake. Then we were in the desert. You were handling everything better than most would have, despite everything. But I couldn’t hold it in anymore. It was all just too much, and I wrongly lashed out at you. For that, Seastar, I am truly sorry.” His mother said, sitting down. Her tail curled around her talons, and they were both quiet as Chip processed what his mother had said. 

“It’s Chip.” He finally said, stepping away from the door and closer to her. 

“What?” She asked, looking incredibly confused.

“What I prefer to be called. I haven’t used the name Seastar since getting put into my squad.” He informed her, smiling a little. He moved to sit down next to her. 

“Oh. Ok, Chip.” She nodded, accepting the change as it came. 

“I don’t forgive you. At least, not yet. You made everything incredibly difficult. I never wanted to fight for Burn. I wanted to fight for Coral and my tribe. But I do have to thank you. I realize that if everything was perfect, I would have never achieved all my accomplishments. I would have never met my husband, or adopted my dragonet. I’m only here because they wanted to know you. If not for them, I would have torn that letter to shreds without opening it. It will take time, but maybe, just maybe, we can at least make things work.” Chip said, watching his mother’s expression change from understanding to surprise and joy as she processed what she had just heard. 

“Husband? Dragonet? Sea- Chip, when did this happen?” She asked, excitedly grabbing his talons before she realized what she was doing. 

Chip grunted in surprise as all of his weight was suddenly shifted onto his bad legs, but he quickly masked the strained expression he had made with a laugh and a smile. His mother quickly apologized to him, setting his talons down again. “A while ago. Would you like to meet them? I think it would be best if they heard everything from you and if we shared our story together.”

“That would be wonderful.” His mother said, her dark blue eyes bright with excitement. 

Chip stood up with a smile, then walked over to the door to let his family in. “Ok, It’s go time.” He said, and Voyant walked in, their son close behind him. “This is Voyant, and this kiddo here is Watermelon.” He said, introducing both dragons in turn. 

“A NightWing! And a good looking one at that. How did you manage to snatch this one up?” His mother asked, a teasing grin on her snout. 

“His charm.” Voyant answered simply, sitting down next to him. 

“Um. Hi Nanna! I’m Watermelon!” His son introduced himself again, his scales a combination of light green and gold as he bounded up to her. 

“Watermelon! Hey, kiddo! You’re so big! How old are you?” His mother asked excitedly, easily matching his enthusiasm. 

“I’m two an’ a half!” He squeaked, grinning proudly.

“Wow, that’s amazing! I know where you got your good looks from, too.” Chip’s mother said, gleefully watching her grandson’s scales quickly turn to a light violet. 

“Oh! Nanna, look what I can do! It’s really cool!” he said enthusiastically, then concentrated as he studied Chip’s mother for a brief moment. Suddenly, light blue scales washed over their son like a waterfall, and a miniature version of Chip’s mother was standing before them. He was an exact copy of her. 

“That’s incredible! A little freaky, but incredible.” Chip’s mother said, sending a stunned glance to Chip and his husband. Both parents just looked proudly at their son.

After a few minutes of watching the two of them interact, Chip finally decided to clear his throat to get their attention. “All right, we can pick this up at a later time. Why don’t I get us something to eat and we’ll talk over dinner?” He asked,and his mother nodded. 

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” His mother said, nodding. “I know the cutest little places to eat, but I was thinking that I could treat the three of you. You came all this way, after all. Is that all right?” She asked, tilting her head. 

Chip perked up in surprise, and after sharing a glance with his husband, nodded. “All right, show us the way”

-

The four of them talked throughout dinner. Then some more. Then they got kicked out by the grouchy restaurant owner who just wanted to close up for the night and head home. Chip and Voyant talked, and both of them decided it would be good for them and his mother to stay and help take care of her. There were high days, and there were low days. But Chip could tell that his mother really was trying, and he genuinely appreciated it. In turn, Chip tried as well. While it would never be the same as it was before, it was something new. Maybe that was for the better.

He could tell, however, that she didn’t have much left in her. They all could, even Watermelon. That’s why they made every day an adventure. Something fun. Even when it rained and no one wanted to go out, there they were. A family of oddballs dancing in the rain and splashing in puddles. Then they would all go back and dry off, curl up together, and read a cozy book. 

“Chip,” His mother said one day, when it was just him and her. When he looked at her, she continued. “I want to thank you. You’ve made the past few months amazing for me. Some part of me was afraid that I would have no one in the end, but here you are. You’ve given me the chance to have a family again. I thought I had lost that forever when we were separated by Burn. I am eternally thankful that you decided to give me a second chance and not give up on me.” 

“I definitely had to sit on your letter for a while. But Voyant and Watermelon convinced me to see you, so you should really be thanking them. But I am glad to be here, and I can tell everyone else is, too. What’s this about?” He asked, tilting his head. 

“The drawer. Open it, and you’ll find your answer.” Chip did as he was told, and his heat sank. But then he kind of chuckled to himself as he continued. 

“I see. Are you sure you want to be set on fire though?” Chip asked with a grin, and his mother nodded. 

“Going out in a blaze of glory. I think the dragons of old had some pretty neat traditions, and that’s how I want to be remembered. Forget being buried, this is way cooler.” Chip’s mother said, matching her son’s smile. 

“Ok, I’ll see what I can do.” 

-

Chip sat on the beach, tears dripping down his snout. His mother had passed away hours prior, and his heart was tearing itself to shreds. He had forgiven her a long time ago, but he had only told her on her deathbed. He watched the ‘boat’ sail away, Voyant’s flames blazing brightly. His mother had wanted a warrior’s burial. She had read in old scrolls that there was once a tradition amongst one of the tribes to send their dragons out to sea and a family member would light the boat on fire. Their soul would rise with the flames, and their body would reunite with the ocean. Obviously Chip was unable to do so, but Voyant had complied at his mother’s request. 

Even though he had known this would happen, it still hurt. Perhaps it would have hurt less if he hadn’t showed up at all, instead choosing to stay home and continue running his business like there was nothing wrong. But Voyant would have been right. The letter would have eaten him up from the inside if he hadn’t even touched it. His son would have never gotten to meet his Nanna. Even though he hated seeing the blue on his son’s scales, he could still see patches of gold in them. He was upset, but enamored by the sight in front of them and comforted by the memories they had made. Voyant was sitting beside him, watching the flames eat away at the odd structure. 

Ultimately, Chip was glad he had opened the letter. 

[platinumrosetail]

Yandere Seth x fem reader.Warning: Seth was devastated after witnessing his wedding to a fem reader. They kill her in front of him. Later that day, Seth ends up being killed anyway. Horus regrets that he could not save his sister and uncle from Osiris. He himself buries their bodies. Some time later, the reincarnated fem reader meets Seth's reincarnation again at college and meets him again years after finishing college. Both without remembering their past lives, they do not know who the other was to them. Afterwards they continue meeting again and in the end they fall in love as in their past life. But the reader, who began to remember her past life, decides to walk away, because she knows that they ended up dying because of her. In addition to possibly repeating that ending if she continues with it, she leaves one night and breaks up with Seth via text. What the fem reader does not know is that Seth began to remember his past life, which leads him to search for her. So much so that when he finds her, he chases her throughout a shopping center. She tries to escape by taking a train, but Seth ends up catching up to her in the end. However, after a few days, Seth would see her die again.

Another scenario taken from Korean kdramas, like a stairway to heaven. Sorry if the protagonist becomes Horus' sister again and ends up dying and abandoning Seth, I have a lot of trauma with protagonists like that. I'll look forward to it.

Ooooh interesting, I’ll try my best! 😁

Warning: noob author, female reader, yandere romantic character, and others.

Character: Seth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your and Seth’s wedding was going great as it has everything you two wanted for it until when you were walking down the isles of the alter. You were killed by flora going straight through your body some even sprouting out of your body and around like it’s trying to encase you and make you disappear.

Seth was devastated to see who was supposed to be his wife minutes later die right in front of his eyes, he immediately knew who it was from what killed you. Seth did all that he could to possibly bring you back but sadly what he did never worked he even tried remaking you from bits of his life force plus the life forces that was still in your body but it ended with him using too much and dying in the end.

Horus ended up having to bury both of you after you both had passed, he made the tomb just for you out of the powers of king of Egypt so that you two could always be together even after death. He knew that it was all his fathers fault that you and Seth had died and made the big decision of taking care of Osiris for both of you, but before he did that he intertwined you and Seth’s fate so that you two could meet and have a better life together than this one without the interference of Osiris and his obsession with Seth.

You had reincarnated into the modern time without any of your past life’s memories so you never knew that you were previously a god. You were a college student when you met a red hair gentleman that also went to your college.

You two crossed each other a few times after that until you graduated from college with the degree you wanted and after that you haven’t seen him since then.

You started getting strange memories after meeting him afterwards, at first you thought it was just silly dreams but the more it happened the more you started to think it was something like memories rather than dreams, you’ve decided to write down your dreams to see if there’s any meaning behind them and such.

Seth; the red haired man you met while you were in college, had the same dream as you but in another perspective, he realized sooner that these were memories especially after seeing you in them as well.

You two met again while at a cafe , apparently getting the same thing and thought that one of the orders was yours. You two finally decided to start staying in contact since you two always seem to run into each other, soon enough you two started dating but that’s were the dreams kept coming in constantly before a repeat of the same dream started happening.

The dream was where you were in the wedding dress and walking down a wedding alter but before you could get to it you’ve kept getting killed by flora that shot up from the ground, there was always the same people along with Seth who was at the end of the alter he always seem to be the most affected by what was happening to you each time you look at the guests at your supposed ‘wedding’.

You started to distance yourself once you got the full picture of what had happened in your previous life, your paranoia had began making scenarios if you kept seeing Seth so you decided to break it off after a month of you two being together over text as you wanted to leave without feeling even more guilty than you already do.

Seth didn’t know what to think when he got your text about breaking up with him but he knew that he needs to go after you so that you don’t get hurt or killed again. Thankfully he made it in time to catch you before you leave, he made a whole scene that you felt pressured to agree to get back with him which caused everyone there to applaud not knowing that they shouldn’t have done that if they knew and believed in the situation you’re in.

Sadly that ended real soon when while eating a salad together, flora began to grow out of you from your mouth before it covered you entirely. You both immediately knew who had done this before you died in Seth’s arms once more.

(A/n: ok i know the ending was weird but i felt walking in nature might’ve been cliche plus i didn’t know what else besides eating sunflower seeds. Anyway hoped y’all liked it! And hope y’all have a wonderful day/evening/night!!)

[vivianquill]

Even when he went home that night, Impulse couldn't stop thinking about the mer he'd found.

It was one thing to find him washed up on the beach just outside, but it was another entirely to try and think about what the next while would look like, taking care of the merdude.

Zedaph was still at the rescue, and would be until either he or Skizz could get back. Impulse didn't want to chance anyone else finding out about the literal merman sitting in one of the recovery pools. They'd have to tell Xisuma eventually, probably sooner than Impulse might like to, but, well.

He didn't know what might happen if the rest of the rescue caught word of this, let alone the internet.

Impulse sighed, running a hand through his hair. Who knew that following Skizz down to the beach that fated dayyears ago would lead to-- well. This.

Either way, he needed to clean up, get some food, and then get some sleep. Zed wasn't a stranger to pulling all-nighters, so it wasn't odd for him to stay at the rescue, but still. Impulse wouldn't quite be able to breathe easy until he could see the mercreature again.

In the morning, Impulse grabbed a green tea for Zedaph on his way back to the rescue, handing it off with a bagel to the man as they 'swapped shifts'.

"Anything change during the night?" Impulse asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Nope. You should probably bring it some food though. Try fish, maybe? I bet it'd take that." Zedaph shrugged, taking a sip of his tea, "I'd use tongs though, wouldn't want those fangs to take a bite out of you."

"I'll be careful, Zed, don't worry." Impulse shook his head, "You should go get some sleep."

"Yep. Gotta finish up first, then it's off to bed with me."

"You better." Impulse called over his shoulder as he stepped out, going to grab a pair of tongs and some food for the merdude.

When he stepped into the recovery room, what Impulse found made him pause. Well-- it was more what he was hearing. The mer was chirping. It wasn't s loud that it could be heard outside of the room, but it certainly filled it, bouncing off the hard surfaces. To Impulse it sounded like a slurred mix of a dying fire alarm on fast forward and a baby dolphin calling for help.

Impulse stepped up to the edge of the pool, setting the pail down as he took in the sight.

The mer was curled up the best he could with all the bandages and the cast on his wrist, warbling. His eyes were glazed over, seemingly staring at nothing. His fins were all pinned tight to his body, like he was trying to hide.

The last thing Impulse wanted to do was startle an injured sea creature with fangs that looked like they could bite someone's finger clean off. So, he grabbed a catch pole from over against the wall, and dipped the end into the water next to the merman, nudging it against his tail.

Impulse was instantly glad that he hadn't stuck his hand into the water.

The mer lunged-- grabbing the pole with a screech and a splash and almost yanking it out of Impulse's hands.

He pulled it from the water a moment later, once the mer let go.

Impulse's jaw just about hit the floor, once he saw the bite marks. This particular brand of pole was made to withstand a bite from a shark. But now it was--

If that had been Impulse's hand, he would have just lost at least a couple fingers.

At least.

He was going to have to show this to Zedaph.

Well then. At least he had gotten the mer's attention, it was practically glaring at him now. Was that-- hissing? It was hard to tell with the distortion from water to air, but the way that tail was coiled--

The mer looked like a snake ready to strike.

Maybe feeding it would help with the situation? Impulse took the tongs and grabbed a fish from his bucket, slowly offering it until the fish touched the surface of the water. The mer's eyes narrowed, watching. It's mouth parted slightly-- was it able to smell it in the water? It wasn't reaching up to grab it.

So, Impulse gave the fish a little shake, before dropping it. And just in time, too.

Again, the mer lunged, snatching up the offending object. Impulse watched as it bit down on the fish, before seeming to realize that it was food.

Impulse let the mer eat for a moment, before dropping another fish into the pool. This was progress, at least. If it was eating, that meant it had a chance.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Even closer behind" - Riddler x Reader

[TW: murder, gore, blood, explicit language, jealousy/possessiveness]

SUMMARY: Some guy won't stop texting you so Ed decides to take things into his hands. For better or worse, your problem is gone, well, permanently.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.4k

A/N: give "Hungry Like The Wolf" - Hidden Citizens, Tim Halperin a listen! Inspired by the weird DMs I've gotten on Reddit

Sender: lukas_d_gr8est@hotmail.com Subject: pls respond i'm sorry pls Message: i'm sorry pls give me a 2nd chance it was stupid to spam you god pls i will do anything for you pls text me back im sorry im so pathetic pls pls pls ill be better pls

Your frustrated groan pulled Ed away from his work.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked nervously. Ed may have appeared quite collected but in his frenzied mind, he was already playing out tragic scenarios in which you leave him. Everyone said that you were "settling" for him, so maybe you have finally believed them?

"A minor inconvenience, really," you answered with a sigh. "There's this guy, Luke, he's a friend of a friend and keeps asking me out." Ed's heart might have literally stopped at those words. He wasn't stupid, maybe naive at times, so he knew that other people would see that alluring perfection you had flowing through your veins - the same unholy particle that made him lose his mind completely and swear unwavering devotion to you. Sooner or later, someone was going to try to steal you from him and Ed was well aware of that. "I told him 'no' like hundreds of times and ended up blocking his number but he's like an actual cockroach! Like today, he spammed me with e-mails that basically boiled down to him having a meltdown over me dating some jerk and never giving the good guy a chance. He made up a whole scenario in which he's the victim and then got upset with me about it! Damn, I wish I had his mother's phone number so I could send her screenshots."

Ed struggled to swallow. His hand was gripping the pen tight enough to begin to shake. At that point he wasn't even angry - all reason had already left him and now his headspace was only filled with weirdly tranquil bloodthirst. At that moment, the entire world was but white noise, some static that distracted him from his goal. All possibilities for the murder were playing out in his head, a high-pitched ringing in his ears was the only sound he could hear. No one else could have you.

"I'm gonna take a nap," you announced suddenly. "You're welcome to join whenever you're finished."

He watched as you lay on his couch and pulled one of his jackets over your shoulders. For a moment he really did consider taking a break but Ed knew that there was a more pressing matter he had to tend to immediately.

For a man of his size, Ed expected Luke to be a little harder to take down and bind. The, theoretically speaking, hardest part of his plan, turned out to be greatly unexciting but maybe it was for the better - he will have more strength for the delicious main course.

"Before we get to the main event, let's play a little game, shall we?" Ed spoke while circling Luke who was taped to a chair. "I'll give you a riddle and you'll solve it. If you get it right, I'll kill you."

"And... if I don't?" the man asked. His voice was shaky, panic already gnawing at his reason. It seemed as if the longer he stared at the masked face, the less sane he became.

"I'll kill you too, only sooner. So, let's get to." Ed clapped his hands and rubbed them in excitement. "I am always near and never far. I am often avoided but always catch up. I will come when you're old and grey or maybe even the very next day. I come in many forms whether it's irony, love, laughter, or hate. I am everyone's final fate."

Luke stared at Ed in confusion, too terrified to even begin deciphering the riddle. His mind was more focused on delaying his upcoming death rather than on the words that had just left Ed's mouth. Aside from overwhelming fear, Luke's mind was completely blank.

"What the fuck, man?!" Luke yelled out desperately. It all seemed like a sick joke, something too demented to be the candid thoughts of a human being.

"Not even close, Luke." Ed shook his head. "Are you trying at all?! You can't be that stupid, come on!"

"Fuck, man, I don't know! Let me go, you psycho!"

"Luke, Luke, Luke... why are you making things hard for yourself? Would it hurt to finally use your brain after all those years?"

"Fuck you!" he yelled spitting out some blood. Ed really landed that hit with the bat.

A tense silence fell for a moment. It was probably that very moment, the calm quietness of the executioner, that made Luke realize his imminent fate. Ed admired the fear and resignation in the man's eyes.

"Fine."

Ed stretched out a long piece of silver tape and began taping around Luke's head, leaving only a small gap for the man's nostrils - if he died of asphyxiation, a little too fast for Ed's liking, the whole sentiment of the ordeal would have been lost.

Luke thrashed, at least as much as he could while being severely restrained. His frantic movements momentarily stopped as he heard the shriek of metal - a blade had either been pulled out or someone was sharpening it very slowly.

Without hesitation or fear, Ed stabbed Luke's abdomen. The man began thrashing again, only worsening his wound.

"You have to pay for what you've done, Luke. Those are the rules."

Blood gushed out of the open wound after Ed had taken the blade out. His hand trembled but not with fear, no - it was excitement, some primal passion for taking lives that fairly quickly pushed out his self-control.

When Ed raised his hand again, preparing for another blow, it was as if the world ceased to exist: it was only him, his blind range and the asshole that dared to try to steal something that belonged to Ed and Ed only.

Spiralling into ferocious, frenzied hunger, Ed began frantically stabbing Luke, his hand driving the blade inside the man's stomach only to pull it out right away. He was too far gone to even begin to realize that his arm was beginning to ache:

"You can't have her. You can never have her! No one can have her! I won't let you steal her away from me. She's mine, mine, mine!"

By the end of his tantrum, Luke's insides were already mush, stabbed into an impressionist's grotesque vision of entrails. There was blood on his clothes as well as little bits and pieces of Luke's organs. Justice was done, all that was left now was peace.

He was about to leave the condo, let life take its course but suddenly he remembered your words - that if you could, you would have sent Luke's mother evidence of her son's antics. Yes, he could do that for you...

Ed reached for the dead man's phone and used the corpse's still warm finger to unlock it. Having taken at least ten photographs, all at different angles to broaden their artistic scope, and then hit 'send'.

The heavy rain was thundering against the windows and so there was no point in Ed going out of his way to enter the apartment as quietly as he could. Nevertheless, he did his best. Peeking into the living room turned study, he saw you laying still on the couch - still asleep, covered with one of his jackets. Your face was so soft, so undisturbed. Exactly the way it should be.

Ed was happy to announce that the vermin was gone and he wasn't going to disturb you any longer. In fact, he was happy enough to be ready to wake you up the moment he came back home but he knew better - you needed some rest.

Carefully, not to wake you up, he removed the jacket you were sleeping under. Ed lay down on the couch with you, wrapping his arms tightly around you as if you were going to walk out the door any second. He listened to your steady, shallow breaths and calm heartbeat. You were there, with him, the only way it should ever be; the only way he'll allow it to be.

He was going to make you feel happy, proud and loved - even if it was the last thing he would do in his life.

[misslovasstuff]

Dangerous

(Dazai x reader)

Has it ever occurred to you that, you barely knew about something’s existence, or you knew but didn’t care much and then, when it is said to be dangerous, it becomes a neccessity that you can’t give up, like you can’t live without it?

I wonder, why is that? Is it because humans are drawn to danger? ...

Dazai was a man capable of many things. As an ex-executive in the infamous Port Mafia, many feared him and many more wanted him dead, including himself. Now he had turned his life around, but a few know there is much more to him than meets the eye.

You’d say that the normal person has flaws, but this man seemed flawless to you. His appearance matched one of a prince of a far away land, where the skies are covered with diamonds and they fall along with the blessed rain. His brown flocks run through your delicate fingers whenever you were tempted to touch and feel. Dazai’s eyes were one of a kind. They always scared you, no matter what. Scared that you would sooner or later surrender, terrified of not giving what they’re asking for. It seemed that your whole body would collapse in his hands if those cursive eyes of his wouldn’t stop staring. 

Gosh, his smile. You could have sworn that you saw sparkles the first time you saw him smile. Although, it is a bit sad. Watching Dazai smile is like watching a dead flower trying to bloom again. However, you couldn’t stop staring at him. 

At first, you were captivated by his good looks. Never had you seen such beauty, or maybe you had, but your heart greatly admired his the most. 

After your first encounter, you two kept meeting. Call it fate, destiny, or just Dazai planning everything beforehand, but you could tell that he was taking an interest in you as well. 

“I think that fate wants us to meet over and over belladonna.”- his gaze on you made you stutter your words. There was no way a woman could keep her calm when Dazai spoke so gently and held your hand softly as he places a kiss in the back of it.

“That must be true. - Your eyes try to avoid his but for some reason it was so difficult to distract yourself. - What is fate thinking bringing us together?”

He chuckles a bit, taking a step near you.

“I guess it just wants to play with us. After all, love is nothing more than a dangerous game.”

Love, he said. Either Dazai’s the type that falls in love easily, or the type that doesn’t love at all.

“You speak about love but you don’t even know my name, Dazai.” - you smirk, leaving the brunette a bit stunned. “I do not need to know a beautiful lady’s name to be completely enchanted by her, especially in this occasion. - He puts his hands in his pockets of his brown coat, taking a step towards you:

“Care to take a walk along the river? Get to know each other better?” - he suggests as he starts walking ahead, like he knew you’d soon follow behind.

“The weather is particularly cold today, - he claims as he squeezes his neck within the nape of the coat, - I think I’m going to die.”

“Temperatures like this are perfectly normal in winter, you’re the one not being normal. - you add. - If you’re that cold, you should go somewhere warmer.”

“Ha, common sense right?” - he smirks as his eyes meet yours for a quick second. He doesn’t make sense sometimes, but his eyes do.

“Do you like the cold?” - you ask, curious. “I like danger, overall I like what gets me moving.” - He answers, slowing his pace a bit.

“Suits your job then, - you say, hesitant. - Thank you for the other day, I really appreciate you saving me.”

“It’s what I do, love. If you ever need my help, don’t hesitate to contact me or the agency.” - Dazai says, leaning closer and closer until your shoulders touch.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”- you blush a little as you feel his warm gaze upon you that made even the coldest of nights hot.

“You’re one of the most beautiful people I have ever laid my eyes upon.” - He says all of a sudden which catches you off guard.

“Thank you, Dazai. You’re not bad yourself.” - you give him a light pat on the shoulder which lights up Dazai’s face.

“I’m glad you feel safe around me, - he adds, reaching for your hand, - you can be yourself with me.”

You both stop your pace and stare into each other for a moment, and then you notice a small snowflake falling on the tip of Dazai’s nose.

“It’s snowing!” - you claim enthusiastically, turning around to see beautiful white snow falling from the dark night sky.

As your face lights up with joy, Dazai watches silently, admiring your genuine and kind way of enjoying every moment, no matter how small it is.

“You like snow uh?” - he asks as he lays out his hand to collect falling snowflakes. “Yes I do, it is literally the most beautiful thing in the world.” “Are we talking about the same world you’re in?”

Ah, this guy.

“It becomes the most beautiful thing when I watch it fall from the reflection of your eyes.” - you say, shifting your attention completely to him.

“But my eyes see nothing but you.” - Dazai claims, smiling and anticipating your every step towards him.

You lean closer to his embrace, reaching out for his hand: “What are you doing to me, Dazai? How are you pulling me like a string?”

“I should be asking you that.” - he says, raising his hand to meet your cheek, caressing it then moving it to the back of your neck.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me. I can’t think right” - you say breathing heavily as your lips are beginning to touch his. “You don’t have to think, love. Not tonight.”

Dazai says as he pushes his lips towards yours and you give in completely, experiencing the best kiss you’ve ever gotten and given.

Snow continues to fall and yet it melts over the heat of you two, letting only a small street light shining upon you.

“You really do like danger. - you say as you break the kiss. - it’s risky what we’re doing, Dazai.”

“I love you. - his forehead touches yours as he confesses. - I feel like you’ve been mine for forever, and I don’t care for anything else.”

...

It was the most dangerous thing he had ever said.

“I love you.”

[christoplack]

Percy Pringle (Paul Bearer) shares a story of how just days before Christmas in 1990, his car was repossessed, and he was on the verge of bankruptcy until a call to Rick Rude changed his fate: "It was four days before Christmas, in Dallas, Texas. World Class Championship Wrestling had closed down a couple of years before, and The USWA was ready to move back to Tennessee to make room for the new Global Wrestling Federation at The Sportatorium. I found myself without a job, and on the verge of bankruptcy. My car had been repossessed, and we didn’t have the money for a Christmas tree, much less presents to put under one. It became painfully hard to look into the eyes of my ten-year old and three-year old sons. I knew in my heart that my wrestling career was over, and it was time to make a drastic change. I called my friend “Ravishing” Rick Rude, who was working for The WWF at the time. I told Rick exactly what was going on in my life, and that I planned on moving back home to Alabama and go back to work in the funeral industry. He was very sympathetic, and asked me not to make any quick decisions. In fact, Rick told me that he would call me back before the end of the day. When we talked again a couple of hours later, he said “Vince wants you to call him at home.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Now, let me know what he has to say.” Rick concluded. I immediately fell back onto the sofa, dropping Vince McMahon’s telephone number to the floor. After about twenty minutes, I finally realized that it wasn’t a dream, and gathered the strength to dial Mr. McMahon’s private home number.“Where have you been all these years?” I remember Vince asking me, and after some small talk he told me that he would certainly like to meet with me after the holidays. The conversation still didn’t solve my Christmas problems, but I did have a sleepless night thinking that I may finally make it to “The Fed”. Early the next morning, my phone rang, and it was Mr. McMahon’s right hand man, Pat Patterson. Pat wanted to know if I could catch an early afternoon flight to New York, because Vince wanted to see me sooner than expected. Of course, my answer was positive, and he provided the flight information I needed. Things were happening so quickly, I could hardly digest them. Darkness was falling over the New York skyline as my American Airlines jet made it’s way into John F. Kennedy Airport. As I walked down the jet way, I spotted a well-dressed gentleman holding a card with my name written across it. I identified myself; he took my bag and told me to follow him to my limousine. “Limousine! Hell, I don’t even own a car.” I thought to myself. I actually felt like I was one of the Beverly Hillbillies as the limo driver took me through New York City and into Connecticut. Finally, we arrived at a majestic five-star hotel in Stamford, where I was whisked away to my penthouse suite. I wasn’t in the room five-minutes before my phone rang, and it was Pat Patterson. “Percy, Vince want to see you at 10 o’clock in the morning.” Pat told me, “I’ll pick you up at 9:45. In the meantime, you can eat, drink, and do anything you want to do. Just sign your name, it’s all courtesy of Titan Sports." To say that I was nervous is an understatement. I was scared to death, as I entered Vince McMahon’s office the next morning. Which, by the way, was my wedding anniversary, December 22, 1990. We talked about everything under the sun. It didn’t take long for Vince to make me feel right at home. As he looked over my resume, he began to laugh. I didn’t have a clue what was going on. “You have a degree in Mortuary Science?” Mr. McMahon questioned me, “This is just too much.” Little did I know that they were looking for a manger for The Undertaker, and Vince wasn’t aware that I had a background in Funeral Service, as well as being a wrestling manager. It was a match made in heaven, and when I left Titan Towers, I had a WWF contract in hand. We made it through the holidays; the WWF contract was a suitable anniversary gift for Dianna and myself. I went on the road in January 1991, as The WWF character known as Paul Bearer, managing The Undertaker."

[eleonoraw]

For: @lawlightweek2022

A match made in Heaven... or Hell

Day 1 (chapter one): Constellations

connections or first meetings

Yagami Light didn't believe in fate and aligned stars… or… things like that. No. To him, that was usually a trait of women who looked at the world through rose-colored and heart-shaped glasses and were irrational and most of the time, too emotional.

For him, the world was mostly black and white, with a few shades of gray. He believed that when a person wants to achieve something, needs to invest a satisfactory amount of effort, mixed with resourcefulness, some talent, and of course some patience. Not to rely on irrational things.

Light also refused to imagine his life as some drama his sister liked to watch. After all, his life was plain and monotonous, to be compared to such things, true, but it was in perfect order. Plus he wasn't interested in any drama, really.

Light was content with things in his life the way they were (even though sometimes he secretly wished he could get away from it all, and to feel his adrenaline rushing through his system even for a moment), but that was too much to think about, let alone expect it to become reality.

His greatest thrill was to achieve the best results in anything he took up or participated in (if that could be even called an excitement, but he didn't know for the better). He was proudly bringing home only the best grades and was always an exemplary student. The contentment of his parents was also his contentment (there wasn't other way in his mind).

A perfect son had to do everything perfectly. It was simple. And he played that role without difficulty (or, he wanted to believe so).

But life… can be a challenge. He learned it later a hard way.

On one seemingly ordinary day, he saw a notebook falling, then found it laying on the ground in the yard of his school, and took it with himself. Out of curiosity, of course.

Hours later, he experienced his biggest existential crisis.

(The facade cracked but he quickly patched it up again. Damage was done, but he refused to see it.)

Even though his life was turned upside down from that day, he still strived to keep the image he was showing to the world, and to himself, unchanged.

His hands were stained with blood. He became what he despised the most.

When he took the man's hand in his, in that simple gesture, deep inside himself, Light felt a strange turmoil.

Although they met a few days ago, this was for the first time that they shook hands, and officially met in front of the others.

"Thank you, Yagami for coming."

"Not at all…" he found himself to reply.

Since their first meeting, the man hasn't left his thoughts. Although Light didn't attach any importance to it, other than that - the man was a detective, he was his greatest enemy, so it was natural that he was thinking about him.

He continued, words that should be spoken: "Ryuga… we both want to catch Kira. We share the same goal."

"Yes. But, please, call me Ryuzaki here." Said world's greatest detective.

The others also introduced themselves to him, "I'm Matsui." Said one.

"I'm Aihara." Said the other.

"And I'm Asahi." Said his father.

"I see… well, would it be all right if I'm Light Asahi then?" He proposed.

"Please do, I will call you Light here."

"Okay."

He have to get rid of him to save himself. That was his main goal.

The black-haired man stepped to the side and continued talking, "now onto business… please take a look onto our current information on Kira. I also want you to examine this video which was sent to the television station, but was never released to the public. Taking any material from this room or taking any notes is forbidden."

"I understand."

"We shall now begin."

Putting on his most perfect masks, Light stepped out. Everyone was falling for it, so why wouldn't this man? Light was sure he would be able to win the man's trust, sooner or latter.

Their game of cat and mouse was going to be dangerous, but he also knew he had no other choice.

He sat in the armchair and relaxed his body as much as he could. He started watching the videos the detective played on the screen for him, and carefully thought out and planned what to say to him when he finish watching them.

[beygrade]

Two’s company

A serlina fanfic for @evallina! This was so much fun to write!

***

As the snow began to fall, Evallina glanced at her watch. With a frown, she looked up again, her gaze drifting to the concert hall behind her. The hall stood tall against the backdrop of a starry sky, its blue walls glowing under the moon’s silvery rays. Her eyes lingered on the entrance gate, searching for familiar faces. People flocked in, in hundreds, in thousands, but she could see no sign of her friends.

Sighing, Evallina closed her eyes and wrapped the jacket around herself tighter. She remained rooted to the spot as the bitter winter breeze struck her. The snowflakes tingled against her skin, and she shivered. She could sense a blizzard coming, but she did not want to leave yet.

“You didn’t have to wait out here,” a familiar voice said a moment later. “You’ll catch a cold.”

Evallina whirled around, her eyes meeting Sergei’s. He raised a hand in greeting, and she returned the gesture, grinning. As he approached her, she took a second to survey him. As usual, he’d spiked his hair up, but unlike usual, he was dressed in a faded sweater and denim jeans. His sharp eyes were alight with an emotion she could not decipher, but she did not have long to dwell on it. As he took her hand, the blood rushed to her face.

“Where’s the rest of the team?” Evallina asked quickly, trying to ignore her racing heart.

Sergei’s brows rose. “They’re watching football. Manchester’s playing.”

“They’re skipping Ming-Ming’s live concert for a league match?”

She tried to keep the incredulity out of her voice but failed. Evallina had never understood the boys’ craze for football. Even Yuriy and Kai, the more levelheaded members of the team, got fired up about it like the fate of the world depended upon which team won.

Sergei looked away. “You know, I never said I invited the others. I only have two tickets. It’s just you and me here.”

Silence set in between them. Evallina looked up at Sergei and her heart skipped another beat. It’s just you and me here. In the several months they’d known each other, not once had she gone places with him alone. On the few occasions when their schedules had aligned, she’d never been able to work up the courage to ask him to go anywhere with her. Owing to this, she’d assumed the rest of the team would be here too. Evallina tore her gaze away from him, trying to quiet her racing thoughts, but it was no use.

“Sorry, I should have clarified what I meant sooner,” Sergei said, as he let go of her hand. “If you’re not comfortable with just the two of us hanging out, I understand.”

“No!” Evallina burst out. “I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. I’d love to go to the concert with you.”

His eyes were so full of surprise it took her aback for a second. Then, the look was gone, replaced by an expression she couldn’t read.

“If I told you this was a date, would you still say the same?”

Evallina’s jaw dropped. Her heart pounded against her chest, and she felt as though someone had doused her in electric sparks. She stared at him for a second, noting the rising colour in his cheeks, her mind replaying his words again. A date. This was a date. She’d spent so long admiring him from the shadows she’d never believed he’d been interested in her too. But looking back on it now, the signs had all been there all along. He’d always believed in her and been there for her; and the sparks had been there in the way he’d smiled at her and in the small gestures. How had she not seen it until now?

Evallina grinned and took his hand again. “Yes. Yes, I would.”

She knew she should say something more, but the ability to speak had deserted her.

“That’s good to know,” Sergei said and smiled back at her. “I’ve looked forward to this for so long.”

He had a faraway look in his eyes. Evallina smiled again, as they walked to the entrance, hand-in-hand. I like you, she wanted to say, but she knew there would be a better time and place for such a conversation. They were in public, surrounded by throngs of people, and running late for one of the most awaited concerts of the year. When it was over, she’d tell him for sure. The thought left jitters in its wake, and she looked up at the snow, feeling like the happiest person in the world.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

And finally we have reached Part 3! I have actually done this little segment at the end of every year, and EVERY YEAR it gets harder and harder to narrow it down. So here is Sunny’s:

Top 5 Writings from 2022

5. Washing Each Other’s Body (Haddotin drabble)

“I love you too.” He whispered.

There was a shaky exhale and a soft press of whiskery lips against his shoulder blade. The simple gesture alighted his every nerve, and stole away his pain. A potent drug that Tintin vowed to seek out more of in the future.

@dimdiamond has done a great job of sucking people into the Haddotin ship, and I was certainly not an exception this year.😂 I’ve done a few drabbles and one-shots for this ship, but this was one of my favorite lines and I have to thank @tra-golden for the request!

4. Guardian of Kings, Chapter 6: Ushmarê (Bagginshield fic)

He did not know it was his to break! He would have done nothing less than wrap it in the softest of comforts, if he knew he had the right.

I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE I FINISHED THIS FIC THIS YEAR!! It should have been much sooner, but I finally got it done. Sadly, this means this is the last year that I have a line to share from this story.🥲 But that just means, we can make room for other stories next year.😁

3.  The Twelve Transformations of Bilbo Baggins, Chapter 2: Baby (Bagginshield fic)

“I never liked the dark.” He admitted. “I could make up so many monsters that had somehow appeared in dark corners. So when I was little, my mum and I used to spend the evening catching lightning bugs and putting them in a jar. We would then place the jar next to my bed before I went to sleep, and the glow would comfort me. However, I’d always wake up the next morning…and they’d be gone! I figured out later in life, my mum would come in and let them out through the window. Much too kind to let them die overnight, but…it’s silly I know…but I always thought they just turned into dreams.”

Thorin hummed appreciatively, and Bilbo thought that may be the end of share time when the dwarf opened his mouth once more.

“We didn’t have fireflies, as my people call them, inside the mountain when I was a pebble. But we had glow worms that would cling to the stalactites in the deep caverns. Their light was more blue than green. Still after Smaug came, and we were spending so many nights camped out under the stars, I would see the fireflies and think…the glow worms sprouted wings and followed after us. Because even they couldn’t stand us not being back in our mountain home.”

Are you guys confused yet? Yeah...this chapter was supposed to post last week, but holidays...surgeries...end of the semester stuff...BUT I hope you guys appreciate this teaser all the same because this chapter will definitely be posted first thing this new year!!

2. As Brothers Do (Durin Family Feels)

“But…” She interrupted him with a sharp look. “I was reminded last night of something else I had lost without even realizing it. Faith. So I’m placing my faith in you Thorin Oakenshield. And with that faith, my entire family. Don’t you dare let me down.”

So this was a prompt @guardianofrivendell posted as part of her birthday celebration in June! This is a “what-if Vili lived” fic, but this particular line from Dis was so powerful and raw when we consider it from a canon standpoint, that I had to throw it into my top 5. 

AND FINALLY!!

1. A Smile for a Cold Spoon (Bagginshield drabble)

Thorin stood there and just stared. Stared at the Cold hobbit who can smile at a silver spoon that reminds him of his dead mother. Stared at the rather fussy being who can remind Thorin of the good qualities in himself. He didn't know what this was. But for the first time in his life, he didn't dread his gifts. He didn't worry about a path of madness that seemed to be the only fate ahead of him. Because here was a being that knew how not to let the emotions he inspires in others take over the emotions he feels himself. 

I polled some of my friends “which of my writings were your favorite” and unanimously, this fic was voted into my top 5. This is CRAZY to me, especially considering I wrote it at the gym in a couple of hours!🤣 In a lot of ways, I really feel like I need to go back and give this thing a major facelift and in a lot of other ways, I like it how it is.🤷‍♀️

If you didn’t get a chance, check out Part 1 and Part 2. Here were my Top 5 Writings from 2021, and below are the “Honorable Mentions” that I struggled with keeping out of my top 5. 

One More Little Adventure, Chapter 6: To Grow with You

“I feel like you have only borne witness to my worst moments, but I make this vow to you, little acorn. Just like the mighty oak that is my epithet, I will be a shield in defense of my love instead of the sword cutting him down. I will shade and shelter him as any husband ought to, and most importantly, I will treasure him as dearly as a hobbit treasures life on this earth. Kanayuthu (thus be it).”

99 Problems But Our Love Ain’t One, Chapter 10: A Lesson Carved in Stone

“What do you mean you can’t help me?” He demanded, trying to hide his aggravation. “You’re the HEAD LIBRARIAN! You’re the only person who could possibly know about Mahal’s Anvil.”

Ori stopped just long enough to fix Fili with a raised eyebrow and a twisted scowl.

“You’re talking about an object that most dwarves don’t even believe exist!” He complained. “Of the maybe five books in here even on that subject, I doubt even one of them goes in detail about the powers or the anvil or how did you phrase it again? How to ‘undo an act made by someone unworthy’? What’s that even supposed to mean?”

The Marali Festival, Chapter 13: Kiss

“Just once, plainly, for me…tell me you love me?” He whispered fearfully, shutting his eyes against the idea of rejection now.

A string of kisses traced his jaw before finding his lips once more. Chaste, questioning, but present. 

“Bilbo Baggins, I love you.”

[sheyshocked]

Baby It’s All Just Chemistry (2/?)

Chapter title: Medic Has the Bloodiest Hands

Summary: Chemist meets the Medic and things go south very quickly.

Fandom: Team Fortress 2

Ship: Scout/Original Female Character (main), Heavy/Medic (minor), RED!Demo/BLU Soldier (minor) - all in later chapters

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, open-heart surgery

A/N:  Me: “I need to look up something about the Cold War, Interpol, and a Berlin Wall for my fic.” My bro: “Eh… and don’t you mind that it takes place in canon where New Zealand sank to the bottom of the ocean, Australians are superheroes with bushy mustaches, and where Tom Jones was killed off twice?” Me: “…I just think it’s neat.”

Previous chapters: 1 |

You can also read it on ao3!

Fate, if there was indeed such a thing, had a strange sense of humor. How else could Chemist explain that not even a week ago, she was waiting on death row, and now? She had a well-paid job, a roof over her head far from the greedy hands of the communist party, and as a bonus from her generous employer, a bunch of guinea pigs to take care of. Sure, most of her new coworkers seemed rather… unusual, but other than that?

It was an odd turn of events, but not an unwelcome one.

Trying to keep up with Spy and his oh-so-long legs was a losing fight. Not nearly as bad as when she walked with Scout, but at least the buck-teethed youth slowed down every now and then to let her catch up with him. Sure, she could have just asked Spy to do the same… but she didn’t want any of those guys to think she was weak right off the bat. They were all trained killers, and from what she had gathered from her talk with Miss Pauling, weren’t half-bad at their job.

Better not to let them think she would make an easy target.

They chatted a lot on their way, both in Czech and in English. It seemed like Spy had a real talent for languages. Any tongue he switched to sounded nearly immaculate if it weren’t for his prominent French accent. It was pretty impressive, to be honest.

She thought her language skills were also nothing to sneeze at – with her Czech, Slovak, English, some German, and Russian (though hell would sooner freeze over before she spoke any of that language). But she was nothing compared to Spy. And it made sense. With his line of work, he must have been to many different countries. Their family trips to Yugoslavia couldn’t compare. But she had left the Iron Curtain behind. She was free to go wherever she wanted once she gets a vacation.

It was a bitter irony now that she could see the world, all she wanted was to go home. She didn’t think she would miss her country all things considered, but she did.

To get rid of all the painful thoughts, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “So… that guy who’s just offered me a drink. Is it even allowed here? I mean, it sounds kinda dangerous, to be drunk on the job.”

Spy gave her a smirk. “Mademoiselle, we’re guns for ‘ire. No one cares what we are doing in our spare time, as long as there isn’t some catastrophic property damage. And you’ll soon find out that Demoman is a very ‘igh functioning drunkard. A sad one, certainly, but gets the job done.”

“Oh, right. Sorry,” she mumbled, feeling kinda silly now. It wasn’t her place to judge anyone here. God knows she had her own problems.

Just to keep the conversation flowing, she asked: “And that lanky fellow, Scout, does he flirt with everything that moves?”

This time, Spy groaned and rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Unfortunately, yes. But don’t worry. The boy is all bark and no bite. Just ignore ‘im and ‘e’ll go away.”

Called it. She knew a lot of guys like that back in her college days. Loud and obnoxious, but overall harmless. As long as it wouldn’t take poisoning his food to make him back off, they would get along just fine.

They went down a long corridor with many doors. Each had a symbol drawn upon them. They were all similar to the one she had on her Mann Co.-issued uniform. Hers depicted a flask with a skull and crossed bones. She rather liked it. It was simple, straight to the point.

Spy led her to the last entrance on the left. It was the only one without a mark. She glanced at the door next to it to get an idea of who was gonna be her neighbor – the symbol there depicted a shoe with wings. That was most likely a reference to Hermes, the messenger of gods. Whoever stayed in that room had to be quick on his feet. Her best tip was the Scout.

Just her luck. She had to bunk right next to the guy who tried to hit on her. Perfect.

Spy was kind enough to open the door for her and she waltzed right in, setting the crate on the ground next to the bed. Finally! She wouldn’t be able to carry it for much longer. She wiped the sweat off her brow and opened the lid with holes to check on the guinea pigs.

As soon as the lid went off, they all started wheeking and running around, thinking they were about to get a treat. Poor guys. The journey here was a long one and the heat nearly unbearable, but thank god, all six of them made it in a good health.

“Ugh, what’s that?” Spy scoffed, a disgusted sneer on his face. What, did he not like animals?

“My guinea pigs! To run experiments on and such.” Technically not a lie. She did get them for work. So what that she wouldn’t use them for their original purpose?

Spy didn’t seem to approve either way. “Just make sure they won’t escape their containment. I would ‘ate to ‘ave vermin running through my closet.”

“There are far worse things you could have there, you know?” she rolled her eyes. It was a little disheartening. She was hoping some of her teammates would share her enthusiasm for small rodents. But then again, looking at Spy’s neat suit, it was no wonder he didn’t. Fancy people rarely appreciated pets.

His loss.

“But don’t worry,” she reassured him. “They will get a proper cage soon. No escape attempts.”

She started rummaging through her large backpack. There should be a few carrots prepared for her little charges. Hm, but where were they now?

She brushed away her gas mask and a case with her reading glasses until her fingers closed around a pack of vegetables. Excellent.

She glanced back at Spy, who was watching her with a keen eye. “Please, is there a sink somewhere? I need to clean these and refill their water bottle.”

“Stay away from the sinks if you can. The tap water in the whole town is full of lead – that’s why we left some bottled water by your bedside.”

That made her perk up. “Lead? But that’s amazing! I haven’t studied severe lead poisoning in… well, ever! Tell me, has anyone tried it yet?”

Spy looked weirded out at first, but that was fine. Most people did. She was used to it by now. Her methods may be unorthodox, but no one could deny they were damn effective.

Just not always the way she intended.

“You might want to ask Soldier. I ‘ave a feeling ‘e didn’t get the memo.”

She grinned. “I will ask him! Thanks.” Her gaze shifted back to her guinea pigs. They were getting impatient now, climbing one another to try and get out of the box. “Oh, but I have to remember to give piggies only the bottled water. Lead might be too much for their little organisms, poor things.”

Well, she should get down to business.

As she was taking care of her pets, humming a soft tune while doing so, Spy was watching her with his piercing gaze. It made her nervous as all hell.

No way I’m gonna unpack my things in front of him, she thought solemnly.

“There, all done,” she turned to face him once again, trying to appear more stoic than she felt. Only then she realized she was fidgeting with her hands like some damn schoolgirl. Drat! So much so for trying to seem tough. “Eh, you said you need to take me to the Medic’s office for a check-up, right? How about we go now?”

Thank god he didn’t comment on her unease, even though he had to see it clear as day. Instead, he accommodated her, saying: “Of course. Follow me.”

He gave her a quick tour through the entire base, showing her all the important places – shooting range, laundry room, Engie’s workshop, rec room as well as the showers. That last one gave her a pause.

It reminded her of her prison experience. No booths, no privacy, nothing. Just a bunch of ugly shower heads sticking from the walls. At least the tiles looked somewhat clean, but that set the bar pretty low.

Bloody hell. Off to a great start.

“I guess you don’t have a women’s bathroom here, right?”

It wouldn’t make much sense, since she had yet to see another woman on the base, but hey. Hope dies last.

“Non.”

…Hope died in the vanguard.

“But that’s quite easy to fix. We can always create a schedule, so you won’t ‘ave to share with the others.”

Well, it was far from ideal, but it was something. Either way, she was glad Spy was so considerate. He could also tell her to suck it up, that she is now a mercenary first and woman second, but something told her he also wasn’t fond of communal showers. Had to be that balaclava of his. The air of secrecy around him.

Did he ever take it off in front of the others?

“Thanks, that sounds great.” She paused for a few seconds, squinting at the door. There was no lock on it. “And they won’t peek or anything while I’m in here?”

Spy honest to god chuckled. “I doubt it. We may be the scum of society, Mademoiselle, but we would never ‘arass a teammate like that. But if someone does? You ‘ave every right to shoot them right between the eyes.”

Finally, they turned around the corner and went to the Medic’s domain. Spy stopped right in front of the door with a big red cross on it and lit himself a cigarette. Then, he turned towards Chemist. “I’ll ‘ave to leave you now, I still ‘ave other business to attend to. It was a pleasure meeting you, Chemist. Au revoir.”

With that, he pressed a button on his watch and disappeared into a thick cloud of smoke. Some of it got stuck in her nose and made her sneeze. Woah, what the hell was that? Her eyes darted around in a desperate attempt to find him, but no luck. Wonderful. A man who could become invisible on a whim had to be a pain in the neck on the battlefield.

But the clock was ticking. She better get this over with and see the Medic.

It would be rude to enter without knocking, she thought, so she first rapped her knuckles on the door. No response. She heard faint music through the wood (it sounded like Beethoven, but she couldn’t be quite sure), so he was definitively in there. Just didn’t hear her. She tried once more, but with the same results. That’s when she threw her politeness aside and simply invited herself in.

Unfortunately, she ran into a tall dark-haired man who looked like he was about to exit the clinic. He nearly dropped the folder of papers he was carrying. “Ah, entschuldigung, Mädchen! I haven’t heard you come in!”

Oh. So their doctor was German. And a handsome one, too. Not that it mattered or anything! It just caught her off guard. She wasn’t expecting so many fellow Europeans on the team. It made her feel a little more at home.

“No, no, I apologize, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have barged in like this when you didn’t hear me knocking the first time. Anyway,” she pushed a hand in between them for him to shake, but she did it so clumsily that she nearly punched him in the stomach. “I’m Chemist, your new coworker. Nice to meet you, sir…”

Amazing, she had to roll her eyes at her own antics and chuckled nervously in an attempt to save her face. As if anything could save after this horrible display. Are you gonna twirl your hair in front of him like some dumb teenager too? Pull your act together!

Thank god the good doctor didn’t make a meal out of it. He even giggled – did she hear that right, did he really giggle? – before shaking her hand. Much like Engie, he had a nice, steady grip.

“Medic, at your service.” He bowed to her, which made her chuckle a little. It was so silly and charming at the same time. No one has ever done this to her before. “Tell me, have you seen Heavy around? I was waiting for him to stop by, but he still hasn’t shown up.”

Her face fell. “The big guy? Sure. He was in the cafeteria.”

“That does sound like him,” the doctor chuckled while fondly rolling his eyes. “He gets so distracted by his sandwiches he forgets all about time. But nevermind. Let me look at you.”

Once she nodded, he started studying her features with rapt attention. He even circled her a few times, raising her arm as if he were testing her joints. Odd, but she let him do whatever he had to do. In the end, he gave her a toothy wolf-like grin.

“You seem to have a perfect bone structure. That’s wunderbar! At least you’ll be able to take quite a few punches before collapsing.”

“Um, thanks…?”

“A mere observation, Fräulein. Don’t worry about it.” A sinister smile found its way onto his face. No matter how handsome he was, it was still creepy as hell. It wasn’t enough to make her reconsider all of her life choices that led her here, but it was still pretty damn close. “You are also just the right size for me to use that Loch Ness monster’s heart I’ve been saving for special occasions. What a lucky day!”

…Okay, this was weird. What was he even talking about? A Loch Ness monster’s heart? Unfortunately, before she could ask what did he mean, he ushered her deeper into the room, showing her an empty chair to sit on. “But first let’s start with your examination, ja? Take a seat, please. I will be right back.”

Too late to run, she obeyed, looking around so she could figure out an escape route, in case something went amiss. Not that she believed it would, it was just better to be prepared. Being hunted down by the police taught her that.

The room was large, probably fit to serve as a surgical theatre in need, and cramped with all sorts of medical equipment. The first thing that caught her attention was the huge examination table standing right innocuously in the middle. There was some sort of an… instrument? hanging above it. It looked like a homemade gun, but not quite. Hm, what purpose could it possibly serve?

She also noticed an old record player, the one she heard playing before she entered the clinic, lots of buckets for some reason, a fridge (for snacks?), and… wait. What was that noise?

First, she heard a soft fluttering of multiple wings, then, cooing. She looked up and noticed a flock of snow-white birds, just hanging around. One with suspiciously dirty feathers flew down and sat on Medic’s shoulder, who immediately started petting him and crooning at him. Such an adorable view. It took her almost embarrassingly long to realize there were living birds inside the infirmary, which should have high hygienic standards.

“You have doves here?”

Medic snapped his head around as if he only now remembered she was waiting there. “Oh, ja. Miss Pauling ordered me to keep them in a cage after the last incident, but they always seem to find a way to break out and free themselves. Isn’t that right, Archimedes?”

He gently ruffled the feathers of the dirty dove sitting on his shoulder, who gave him an agreeable coo in return. Wait. The bird’s name was Archimedes? Aww. Now that she thought about it, she still had to name her guinea pigs.

“They are cute. Can I pet one?”

This seemed to take Medic by surprise, but after giving it some thought, he shrugged, nearly shaking poor Archimedes off. “Hm, I don’t see why not. Just be careful. They have very sharp beaks.”

He picked some basic medical instruments like a stethoscope and that thing for measuring blood pressure (with that horrible long name in English she could never memorize) and walked back towards her with Archimedes ready on his arm. The little bird was watching her with his tiny bead-like eyes. But once she reached for him, he let out a screech and flew away.

“Archimedes, that’s rude! Sorry, Fräulein, he’s a little bit shy around new people. Give him time. In the meantime, we can proceed with your check-up, hm?”

She nodded with a slight pout. She couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed Archimedes didn’t take a liking to her immediately. But then again, Medic was right – pets took a lot of time to warm up to a person. Besides, she had more pressing matters to worry about right now.

The examination was pretty standard – some measuring of weight and height as well as blood pressure. The good doctor listened to her heart, took a sample of her blood (probably more than was needed, but hey, she wasn’t complaining), and asked some simple if a bit uncomfortable questions. The usual stuff.

In the end, he seemed quite pleased with the results, which made her feel oddly proud. Like she just got a good mark from her favorite college professor. Completely normal.

But then it took a sharp turn.

“All right, nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, except for the slight arrhythmia. That means it’s time for the surgery!” he flashed her that grin from ear to ear again. “Strip down to the waist and lie down on the examination table, bitte.”

WHAT?!

It happened so fast, her brain had trouble catching up. Confusion and concern in equal measure flooded her mind. And everything became much worse when she saw the scary-looking bone saw he pulled out from somewhere.

“Wait, hold on!” she choked up, her throat feeling way too constricted to talk normally. “You said everything was fine, so what kind of surgery are you talking about?!”

He arched one eyebrow at her, puzzled. As if she was the one who was acting unreasonably, and not him. “You haven’t read the contract?”

Can’t say she did. Not the entire thing. It’s hard to pay attention when you are on the run from jail. The only condition she read thoroughly was that any relationships between the two teams were strictly forbidden, but that didn’t make much sense to her back then. So she frantically shook her head, which made Medic frown.

The only thing scarier than his smiles was his dissatisfied face.

“One of the requirements for this job is open-heart surgery. In short, I’m gonna replace your heart, so it won’t explode inside your ribcage when I use my übercharge on you. Any questions before we get on with it?”

Oh Lord. She was gonna die here, wasn’t she?

But not without a fight.

There was a scalpel lying on the table right next to her arm. It wouldn’t be her weapon of choice under any circumstances, but right now it was her best shot. Her hand shook so badly when she grabbed it. Without thinking twice, she struck blindly in the general direction of the madman.

A sharp hiss told her she haven’t missed.

She opened her eyes only to see a nasty, bleeding scar on one of Medic’s sharp cheeks. There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. She wasn’t gonna stand around and wait for him to strike back.

Before he could grab her and probably slam her on the table like a disobedient cat, she slipped right underneath his arm (advantage of being this short, she mused) and ran for the door. Thank god it wasn’t that far.

She reached for the handle, pressed it… and got nothing. The door was stuck. Damn it! This was like a prom night all over again. A living nightmare. Did he lock the door when she wasn’t looking?! Cold sweat ran down her forehead as she started pulling it about with all her weight, praying it would open. But it didn’t.

Well, she was positively screwed.

By now, he had enough time to get to her. He didn’t, though. Why? Afraid of what she was about to see, she glanced over her shoulder, the scalpel still in her hand, prepared to go for the throat if necessary, and was taken by surprise when she spotted Medic at the same place where she had left him, one finger stuck in the air as if he wanted to say something and was rudely interrupted.

The sheer bizarreness of the situation made her stop right in her tracks and stare at him owlishly, waiting for what he was about to do. She regretted not having her chemicals here. Even a stupid chlorine would do.

“Fräulein? Don’t try to force the door open, you’ll only make it worse. It gets jammed quite frequently. Now, calm down, it’s only a minor procedure, we all went through with it, even Herr Scout, so stop being such a baby and hop on the table. I won’t ask again.”

“Open-heart surgery, a minor procedure?!” she sputtered. “In what universe?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “In this one. You’ll see. So, what will it be? Do I have to restrain you or will you behave?”

This was so messed up, but something told her that undergoing it tied down to the table would be much worse, so she decided to obey, at least until she gets another opportunity to run. She climbed on the operating table and took off her lab coat, shirt, and after some hesitation, her bra. Heh, and to think Medic seeing her breasts became the least of her problems right now…

The doctor turned his back towards her, maybe to give her some semblance of privacy or, and that was the most likely option, to ready his instruments. There was her chance. She could knock him out and make a run for it.

Unfortunately, before she could grab something heavy, Medic turned towards her with a sadistic smirk on his face. Shit. Too late now.

“Are you at least going to give me anesthesia?”

Medic looked at her as if she grew a second head. Surely he couldn’t mean… “Nein, nein, that would be a waste. You won’t feel a thing anyway.”

Jesus Christ. She felt her heart beating so fast it could break her ribs and march out of her chest on its own. No need for surgery. Any second now, she was going to faint. Maybe that’s what Medic meant when he argued she won’t need any anesthesia. But then he turned the odd gun-like thing hanging above her on. She was immediately flooded with a strange tingling sensation.

“What’s that?”

“This? Oh, that’s just Quick-fix. It instantly heals you, so you won’t bleed out. Feels good, ja?”

“I don’t know. It’s… odd.”

The mad doctor leaned his head down in front of the scarlet fumes and turned his still-bleeding cheek towards it. A few seconds after that, the wound healed itself, not even leaving a scar behind. Chemist choked up on her saliva. What sorcery was this?! Well, not sorcery, everything had to have a scientific explanation, she just couldn’t find one right now.

“Woah! Doctor, what’s in those fumes? It’s not nitrous oxide, is it? I was trying to make something like this all my life and…”

Medic smirked. “Curious little thing, aren’t you? You know what, I might as well tell you if you stop squirming and let me do my job. Do we have a deal?”

“Deal!” With interest piqued, she ceased wiggling around and observed what was happening.

Having her chest split open with a scalpel was far from a pleasant sight, but she had to admit it didn’t hurt. Not even a little bit. Despite chattering and tittering the entire time, Medic worked fast and his hand was steady.

“Where are you from, Chemist? I’m from Stuttgart myself, but I’ve been quite the globetrotter, so I’m wondering if we’ve ever crossed paths before.”

She sincerely doubted it. She has never been to Germany, and even if, Stuttgart was “on the other side of the Berlin Wall”. Off-limits for people like her. “Perhaps. I’ve lived and studied in Prague.”

Medic’s face suddenly lit up. “Ah, Prague. Wonderful city. I spent some time there when I was younger. But then Interpol caught a whiff of my trail and I had to move again.”

“Wait. You’ve been searched for by Interpol?!”

“Ah heh, ja. It’s a little bit embarrassing. Happened shortly after I lost my medical license. Now now, stop hyperventilating, bitte. You’re spoiling my cuts.”

Easy for him to say. He didn’t have a man operating on him without a license. But then again, perhaps she should have been more surprised he had one in the first place. Everything about this was screaming malpractice. Even though she couldn’t deny he showed a lot of skill and precision while baring her organs underneath the skin and bones.

It took a while, but finally, her chest was wide open. At first, she tried to avoid looking at her innards, simply because it was too weird – and that was coming from a person who willingly joined a bunch of deranged mercenaries – but then Medic let out a fascinated whistle. She had to see what was going on. So she glanced down… and yelped.

When did her organs become so dark and shriveled? Her heart looked like an ugly little prune, liver resembled stone. Some other parts she couldn’t even recognize. Gross! How did this happen? And what did it even mean? Was she gonna die at the ripe age of twenty-three?

“Uh… this is not supposed to look like this, is it?” she asked, her voice getting an octave higher with hysteria. The piece of charcoal she called a heart immediately started pumping more blood into her body, preparing her for fight or flight. But what was she hoping to escape? Her own mangled guts?

Medic once again pushed his glasses up his nose, careful not to smudge them with her blood, which was still red and healthy-looking, thank god. Only then it came to her that he wasn’t wearing his gloves. How hygienic. Maybe sepsis would get her sooner than this madness.

“Ooh, fascinating! I’ve never seen so much damage in one body before.” Was that supposed to calm her down?! “I would have to run some tests to be sure what caused it, but given your line of profession… have you ever been poisoned, Chemist?”

That’s when it finally clicked. Oh. She gave him a tight little nod.

“Thought so. That had to be one hell of a toxin. I’m impressed you’re even alive.”

Despite everything, she forced a smug smile. “Thanks. It was my own recipe.”

“I see. Have you always had suicidal tendencies?”

“What? No, it wasn’t… it was an experiment gone wrong. I was testing a new solution and the next thing I remember, I woke up in a hospital. It’s simple as that.”

She never liked to talk about it. Not only because it was embarrassing, but also because no one ever understood. Not even her sister. Or dad. They all thought she was sick in the head. Poor little girl, playing with bad things hoping they would do any good. Bah! But Medic, he got it. She saw it in his eyes. That mad spark. His smile full of teeth.

“Splendid. A woman of science who’s also not afraid of experimentation. Though I would recommend using willing test subjects next time, rather than delving into it yourself. The results are more reliable, then. Much more satisfying, too.”

“Perhaps. But I kinda like it my way.” She was hoping he would leave it at that, and he did. With agreeable harumph, he went back to work.

“I’ll have to replace most of this, but don’t worry – you’ll soon be as good as new. Maybe even better.” His eyes shifted toward the mysterious fridge. So no snacks then. Shame. “Hm, now that I think about it, I don’t have any fresh livers at the moment. I used the last one on Herr Demoman. Ah, doesn’t matter. I’ll send Miss Pauling a request, it’ll just take a while. Come back later this week and we’ll get you all set up before your first real battle, ja?”

“All right. Thanks, doctor.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s my job. And also a hobby.”

He started digging around in her chest, cutting free the sad excuse of organs one by one and replacing them for more healthy-looking counterparts (she couldn’t help but notice he stuck some strange metal device in her new heart. Hopefully it was no self-destructive gizmo or something equally bad). She quickly lost track of time. It was taking soooo long. Even though Medic tried to humor her by talking to her, she still grew bored fairly quickly. She wasn’t used to just lay on her back, doing nothing. Solving equations in her head only helped so much.

She was just about to ask how much longer will it take, when Medic wiped the sweat off his brow and said: “All right, all done for now.”

He flipped the switch on the Quick-fix and… Woah! A gasp was punched straight out of her lungs as her flesh and bones started mending themselves right in front of her eyes. Just like that. It was done faster than it began, and Chemist immediately pawed at her chest, trying to find any proof she was operated on but found none. Not even a slight dent. If it didn’t go against everything she believed in, she would say it was a miracle.

Medic handed her her lab coat, so she quickly covered herself, then sat at the edge of the table and with stars in her eyes breathed out: “Doctor, that was amazing! I really didn’t feel a thing! Now you have to tell me everything about those fumes.”

He laughed before indulging her.

***

She spent another hour or so at the Medic’s office, just chatting about his greatest invention, but then Heavy showed up and she had to go. Maybe it was for the best. No offense, but she didn’t want to spend more time than she necessarily had to with some big scary Russian guy. Not after what happened back home.

Besides, the doctor seemed eager to shoo her away as soon as the other member of the team turned up. Pity. Or not. She still had no idea what to think of him. On one hand, he was extremely intelligent and seemed to know what he was doing. On the other, he was unhinged with no regard for ethics or morals. The duality of a man.

Well, it ended up way better than she expected. Which wasn’t saying much, since she thought she was going to be slaughtered and made into čevabčiči, but that wasn’t the point.

She whistled on her way back to her room. She felt so much lighter now. It better not be because the doctor forgot to put something essential back in, she shuddered at the thought, but she quickly put it behind herself. She was fine. Everything would be just fine.

As soon as the door closed behind her, she leaned against its frame, letting out a big sigh. Finally alone. Now she could look around, take it all in and unpack her things.

The room was small and very plain with only a simple bed, a small table and a wardrobe, a telephone, and the crate currently occupied by guinea pigs. Nothing special, but as a student, she survived worse. She grabbed her backpack and started unpacking.

She had just prepared clothes and her mask for tomorrow’s training when the phone started ringing. Odd. She wasn’t expecting a call. The only people she knew were still trapped in the old continent, so it could be only her boss. She picked it up and was greeted by Miss Pauling’s warm voice: “Chemist, it’s Pauling here. I got you the bag and all the chemicals you requested. I will drop by tomorrow and bring it to you.”

“So soon? Well, thank you, Miss. I was worried I was asking for too much, but it seems like you have it all covered, huh?”

“You bet,” Miss Pauling chuckled. “You’re welcome, by the way. Anyway, how did meeting the team go? I know they can be a bit too much, but you’ll soon get used to it, trust me.”

She chuckled. That was an understatement of the year, but she would take it. “It was fine. They were all very nice, all things considered. It’s just a lot to take in, I guess.”

“I know what you mean. Take your time. You’ll see it gets better.” A pause. Then: “Oh, and one more thing – I’ll have to speak with you in private once I see you. It’s about your sister.”

That made Chemist straighten up, hope filling her voice as she croaked out: “My sister? Have you found her? Is she… is she all right? Please tell me she’s all right.”

She heard a rustle on the other side, followed by a sigh. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you more right now. I promise I’ll explain when we meet again. Until then… goodnight, Chemist. Try to get some sleep. It’s a big day tomorrow.”

Disappointed, Chemist sank on her bed, the telephone still in her hand. Her only luck was that the wire was long enough so she could lie down without having to cut the call. “I see. Well, it was worth a shot. Goodnight, Miss Pauling. And thanks again. For everything.”

The call ended with a sheepish noise coming from the other end. Chemist held the phone receiver to her chest long after the sound of Miss Pauling’s voice was gone. She was the bravest, most badass woman she had ever met. She singlehandedly led her out of jail and smuggled her out of the country. If anyone could save Marie, it was her. She just had to be patient. Do her job, fight tooth and nail and wait. She could do that.

She stole one last long look at the picture now sitting on her bedside table before she went to undress and slip under the covers.

Hopefully, tomorrow would bring good things.

***

Translations and context: Spy: Au revoir – goodbye Medic: Entschuldigung, Mädchen – sorry, girl Medic: That’s wunderbar – That’s wonderful Medic: Fräulein – Miss Medic: Bitte – please

“family trips to Yugoslavia” – Yugoslavia was one of the few countries people from Czechoslovakia could visit (but getting permission to travel there wasn’t easy and usually part of the family had to stay, so those who went wouldn’t be tempted to emigrate). It was much easier to travel to Bulgaria, Hungary, Romania, or East Germany, but Yugoslavia remained one of the most popular. “nitrous oxide” – commonly known as a “laughing gas”, it has anesthetic and pain-reducing effects “Berlin wall” – also called “Wall of Shame” by the western authorities and “Anti-Fascist Protection Rampart” by the eastern ones, was built in 1961 (seven years before this story takes place) to separate West Germany from the East. East Berliners weren’t allowed to cross the border at all and risked being gunned down if they tried to escape “Interpol” – International Criminal Police Organization, founded on 7th September 1923 in Vienna under the name International Criminal Police Commission (ICPC), it got its name in 1956 (so only twelve years before the story of TF2 takes place; Medic would probably use the older name, but for the sake of clarity, I used the “newer” one) “čevabčiči” – common food made from minced meat served in many restaurants during the socialist era (but still popular to this day)