Heal Me XI

Heal me XI

Word count: 2300+

Warnings: mentions of puking, emotional and mental stress, mixed feelings

Honestly, this part was a pure struggle💦 Except of Rhysand's offer that I wanted in this chapter I had nothing..

Also I've got a little carried away🤷

Part X | Part XII

Two weeks had passed since Rhysand, your brother, brought you to his court. You calmed down a bit, partly accepting the situation and giving him the chance he asked you for. Maybe the powder he mixed every morning into your tea, could have something to do with it. Not even honey could beat over the bitterness that remained on the tongue.

Of course, you could refuse the tea, but you were afraid someone would force it down your throat anyway. You felt Rhysand watching you carefully until the teacup was empty and only then the tension in the room eased. And so dutifully pretending you didn't notice anything, you drank it.

Whatever was that powder for, your desire to return home hadn't changed at all. At this point you felt really homesick, trying to hide it in front of others. It was useless to show your weaknesses, your vulnerability. Nobody would help you get out of here anyway.

You were gradually introduced to Rhysand's friends and family. Some of them claimed to know you since you were a newborn, some seemed to be new additions like Feyre, your brother's mate, and her sisters. Everyone was nothing but nice and friendly to you, but you were still uncomfortable around them.

Every time Rhysand had some free time, he spent it with you, showing you the city or taking you for walk in the large garden around the house while telling you stories of past. Morrigan, your cousin, did the same. They tried really hard to make you remember something.

Even now you were sitting with Mor on terrace of some cafe in the city, river running under it, attracting your attention like a magnet.

She told you that before you had been basically best friends, always spending time together and breaking all the rules parents set. However it didn't help to change your feelings or to be more relaxed with her. It was apparent she had a certain expectations and it made you even more uneasy. Just like with Rhysand.

Today she took you out to drink an ice tea, the drink she claimed to be your absolute favourite one. Before.

After the first few sips you swore never touch it again. It was everything except of delicious or tea.

You tried to keep up with her, listening to all the memories that supposed to be yours, but it felt rather as memories of someone else, someone so different it couldn't be you. None of the things you'd been told so far, felt familiar. It just made you tired and your head threatened to explode with pain.

You were trapped in this strange city, with these strangers. You couldn't sleep, eat nor drink, hardly dragging yourself through the days. Large garden around Rhysand's house took some of the stress away, but it wasn't enough. You needed the forest, your cottage, walks in nature, fresh air. You needed even him, although it hurt to even think about him. The first few days you still hoped he would appear and take you back home, but your hope died like plucked flowers in a vase leaving only a bleeding hole in your heart.

Mor finally gave up and took you back to your brother's house. She had that strange expression that reminded you of a mask holding all her emotions back, only her eyes revealed some sort of sadness. You were sure she would go to Rhysand and tell him about your afternoon, about your lack of response or interest. She always did. You couldn't care less. You weren't here by choice, you didn't want this. None of this.

Letting a sigh of relieve out, you went up the stairs and shut the door of your room behind. You needed to be alone, another thing that was very rare to have here. There was always someone with you and even when they left, you still felt eyes hidden in the dark corners following you around. Were you becoming paranoid? Most likely yes. But the unpleasant ticklish feeling on the back of your neck was always present.

You wanted to curl up in a ball and cry your eyes out, but first you had to go to toilet. This city, this house, all of them reeked of magic so strong that you were nonstop on the edge, hardly managing to hide the nausea from them. Another weakness you didn't want them to know about. A few gulps of ice tea you forced in, left your body, but it didn't help. Real relief never came.

Panting you moved to the sink to rinse your mouth. You rather avoided the mirror knowing what you would see. Dark circles under the eyes caused by bloody nightmares that wouldn't let you sleep, sunken cheeks because you couldn't eat and anything you managed to force down, ended up in toilet as soon as you were in your room. You didn't know how long your body could keep going like this, but you knew it wouldn't be long.

You returned to your room and winced in surprise. Rhysand stood in front of the bathroom door with tortured expression, his brows furrowed, jaw tightened, fingers clenched into fists on his sides. His violet-blue eyes searched yours. He seemed to want to say something, but his lips were firmly pressed together.

Great. Now he knew. You tried to avoid his gaze and get to the armchair near the window. But he stopped you. His arms embraced you, pulling you to his chest. You just stood there, unsure what to do. Even if you tried you couldn't fight him off.

"Tell me what should I do," he whispered to your hair. There was so much pain in his voice. Funny.

As far as you knew, he sincerely cared about you. Problem was you couldn't return the sentiment. No smile or amount of shared memories could change it. You weren't the person he remembered anymore. Asking him to let you go back to your cottage was a waste of time, too. You already tried it and he refused.

After a few heartbeats Rhysand recovered, his hands stopped trembling. Instead he moved them to your cheeks, thumbs caressing them gently.

"I talked with Madja, the healer who visited you this morning," he led you to bed and sat down. You did so, too. "She said you are exhausted and need a good night sleep. She left this tonic to help you sleep soundly." He put small bottle on the nightstand. "Two drops before going to bed would do," he smirked, but his eyes stayed sad.

You looked at vial. Another medicine to control you and your feelings. Even though you knew he meant this well, it only added on your anger. You rather stayed silent, decided to never take the mixture.

He seemed to choose next words carefully. "However she couldn't find a cause for your.." His voice died out and eyes wandered back to bathroom door. So he had noticed it even before. Of course. It wasn't surprising at all. He also knew about the nightmares after all. "Until now I didn't want to pressure you. I hoped you could meet our family, get to know them again and the memories would begin to appear on it's own. But it doesn't work, does it."

You shook head. He gave you another sad smile and looking down Rhys started to play with your fingers. Silence filled the room.

"Aury-"

"Don't call me that," you snapped. You were allergic to that name. Whoever that Auriela person was, she was dead. You weren't her.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to offend you.. It's just.. habit.. kind of comfort. I didn't hope that I would ever see you again or talk to you. But I wished every day you were here with me. I wished you were alive. You and our mother." Tears filled his eyes and he blinked to get rid of them. You didn't react.

High Lord cleared his throat. "I.. Let's talk openly. About everything." He swallowed hard. "I'm trying to understand how you feel, what's going on with you, how you lived all this time.. and I'm terribly failing. Please. I want to understand. Whoever you are now, I'm accepting it. I don't want to change you. I just want my sister back. The closeness we had." He watched you with desperate expression.

You frowned, confused. No matter how many times he reminded you that he was your family, for you they were only words. It'd never occurred to you to try to see it from his point of view. Apparently you weren't the only one to suffer in this situation. Thinking that maybe he deserved to get a chance, that you should give him a chance to get closer, you nodded.

His eyes widened for a moment, then he blinked rapidly and ran fingers through his dark hair. "Okay." He cleared his throat again.

"To be honest I thought you wouldn't accept my offer," he muttered, visibly taken aback by your willingness to discuss things with him openly. "I haven't thought the things over-.. Where to start?"

"How about you tell me what's that powder you add to my drink?" You frowned at him, expecting him to deny it.

"Oh, that," he gave you a small smile, squeezing your hands. "We noticed you are still in pain. Azriel said you seem to have headache constantly. He also suffers from it, so no wonder he noticed the subtle signs. And I quite often saw you wincing while moving around," he explained, noting the disbelief on your face. Then he added quietly. "I'm really sorry for what happened when we arrived. It's all my fault."

You were speechless. It was hard to believe it, but all about the headache and the muscle pain was true. It also made you realise how much they paid you attention even if they weren't looking directly at you. "Thank you," you murmured.

Silence stretched.

Rhysand watched you, pondering. "Would you tell me why.. what causes.." his head tilted in the bathroom door's direction.

Did he have to take out that topic again? You inhaled deeply, preparing for the worst kind of conversation. You wished for Tamlin to be with you. He'd never asked these things. He was very observant and intuitive. He noticed your fear of magic and never asked you why or what caused it. Not that you could explain any of that. He silently accepted that part of you and avoided using powers around you. With him, it was so easy. Everything was easy and full of happiness. You blinked quickly to get rid of such thoughts.

"It's because of magic.." you said, taking your hands from Rhysand's and instead you wrapped them around your chest protectively. "I don't like it. It makes me feel sick. Always did. This city, this house, you all stink with magic.."

Rhysand froze on the spot, he seemingly forgot to even breathe. "I had no idea," he whispered. His scent shifted, the air in your room changed, too. The smell of power disappeared, only the subtle citrus scent remained. After weeks you could finally breathe freely and relax a bit. It felt so good that closing your eyes you smiled. Rhysand's eyes tracked that movement. "Is it better now?"

"Much better. Thank you."

"What happened? You used to have no problems with magic before, even used it yourself."

"I don't know," you answered honestly. Walls around your heart cracked a bit, letting him in. "I don't remember what or who I was before. I don't remember any of you."

This time he only nodded, probably expecting it.

He asked you to be honest, so you were. You almost regretted what you were about to tell him. "All this time it feels as if you were telling me about a life of someone else. I couldn't be more different from the person you knew."

Lowering his gaze Rhysand stood up and strolled to the window. Leaning against its frame he looked out to the garden, his back turned to you. You didn't know what he felt at that moment, but you were torn. He was still stranger to you, yet you didn't want to hurt him. After all you weren't a cruel being and maybe, just maybe, you began to feel a certain kind of affection for him that you didn't want to admit.

"So you really don't remember what happened that night," he asked, snapping you out of thoughts.

"That night?"

"The night our mother died. The night you supposedly died, too."

"I-.." Images of streams of blood staining the ground, running down your arms that you saw in your nightmares, popped out. Pressing fingers to your temple you shook your head to push them away. Rhysand watched you out of the corner of his eyes over the shoulder. "I'm not sure."

"Dear sister," he sighed, his voice suddenly cold and distanced. "Do you know what my powers are? What daemati can do?"

You'd never heard about daemati, but the feeling that you should know that, remained and was strong. It sounded like something you should be afraid of. "No, I don't."

"I can look into your pretty head, see any memory I want, change them if I wish so. I can also crush the minds, but that's not what I'm offering you here. I could try to revive your memories. I could take away the fear that some of them make you feel." He slowly turned to you, watching you with wariness. "Would you like me to try that? Do you want to remember your past life?"

You stiffened, cold shiver running down your spine, breath catching in your throat. Could he do that? And more importantly did you want him to do it? You needed time to consider his offer. It wasn't an easy decision.

"It's up to you. You have as much time as you need." And with these words he left, leaving you alone with your confused mind.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮’𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 prt 1.

Barou Shouei x FemReader (slight x Nagi Seishiro in prt 2)

it all started because he bullied your brother, it all started when 12 year old you kicked a ball into his face. Growing up with your eventual sweetheart wasn’t all smooth sailing, life was full of lessons but through the rough and smooth one thing Barou always knew; you were always his girl. Sometimes though even a king needed to lose his throne to realise his true royalties were what built it.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI + virginity loss (both 18+) + angst with eventual comfort + fluff + long fic / Tugs & Texts expansion + established relationship with Barou + smut +

Word count 11.4k

Barou was always king of the field since he started at 6 years old and discovered how good it felt to win, how natural he was at this sport and it was his domain; it was where he belonged. 

This discovery meant Barou dominated the field wherever he went, crushing anyone who crossed his path for the next six years.  

Until one day he happened to crush the wrong person. 

He’d kicked the ball hard towards the goal aiming for it to be a score but some brave kid decided to block the strike. 

He walked over, looming over the boy as he curled into himself holding his face, blood and snot gushing from his as is skin burned bright red. Barou’s hands shoved into his pockets as he half leaned over him. 

“Tsk, what a donkey thinking you’d block that, learnt your lesson?” 

12 year old Barou with his new lingo, new insults to throw at people, left the field and thought nothing of it, just another who got in his way and learned to stay out of it; until the next day he met his karma. 

“You!” 

Barou had been taking part in his strict training routine in the rain, at 12 years old he set his mindset and goals high; creating a routine that he researched and put together through PE, his favourite subject in school.

Red eyes turned to the girly voice that called out angrily in the rain but instead of meeting who was calling him, his face was met with a ball, smacking him clean in the face and actually making him take a few steps back. 

“You asshole! Thinking you can treat people like you do, you hit the wrong boy yesterday Shouei! I’m gonna make your life hell!” 

He never even seen you coming, a mere voice in the rain and suddenly blood gushed from his nose; his hand clamped over it to stop the bleeding. 

Eyes wide he pulled his hand from his face to stare at the fresh blood, even his damn teeth were hurting. 

Barou met your eyes for the first time in his life, shocked to the core a freaking girl had kicked the ball that hard.

“who the hell you supposed to be, the babies girlfriend!?” 

“That was my brother and he’s only 8 you idiot!” 

Barou straightened as he took you in, you looked roughly around his age definitely not as young as the kid yesterday. That fire in your eyes was burning but what Barou was more impressed with was the accuracy and strength of your strike with the ball. You stood in the rain, practically steaming as it hit you because you were so angry. 

Then you spun and disappeared leaving 12 year old Barou with sore teeth, bleeding nose and pounding head. 

Perhaps even his heart thumping more than it should be.  

—0—

You certainly kept your promise; making Barou Shouei’s left hell for the next four years. Although at this point he was convinced it was just habit, no one could hold a grudge for this long surely?

The fact he could see that damn gleam in your eye, those lips twitching in a little smirk when you pushed his buttons, when he squared up to you pressing his forehead to yours and you only pushed back was proof you were enjoying it. 

So he tried to not feed it.

He was the better person, walking away or ignoring you. He did best to avoid you, but found him you always did!

The only one really brave enough to bother him, to get in his space was you. Girls were too scared to approach him in person, deflated by love notes left in his locker; he simply threw them away never even opening them.  Even the guys stayed away from him unless it was his soccer team. 

He became a bit of a loner, seemingly content in his own company or focusing on his football dream. His arrogance and ego grew into something rather ugly, adopting manners of being a king, everyone being a peasant or a donkey.

You’d stood up to Barou from day one, the only reason you survived it was because his patience and morals were incredible; he didn’t believe in hitting girls. Even if you standing up to him wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

However, being sixteen and hormones arriving changed things up.

Where things remained very much the same for you towards him, Barou’s teenage boy mind was starting to mess with his exchanges with you. He’d started to really try to stay away, his gaze noticing things in you he hadn’t before and it disgusted him.

Like how you standing up to him, never backing down and being just as stubborn as he was shifted from annoying to endearing. He argued back less, unable to form insults when eyes dropping down to your shirt that was getting too tight on your chest, your skirt dancing on your thighs, how your waist dipped showing curves.

He was successful for a time, keeping distance from you and avoiding any heads butting. But this week, much to poor Shouei’s dismay, the teacher thought it was a good idea to pair you both together for a project. 

even the whole class fell silent, awkwardly looking between each other. No other teacher was brave enough to pair up you both, but this one seemed to twinkle something mischievous in her eyes over it.

Barou had been unusually quiet with you for the last two weeks and he had been avoiding you like the plague. 

Why? You had no idea. 

You didn’t really care either.

“Get into your pairs and decide what you’re going to do for the arts project.” 

Barou’s eyes darkened as you stood from your seat knowing he wouldn’t move towards you, the rest of the class moved and chatter started throughout the room making sure they had distance from you both. The occasional side glances to see if you’d killed each other yet.

You slid into the high stool next to him with a little too much sass, red eyes glancing down at your school skirt riding up, thigh high socks squeezing the tops of your thighs and he groaned, turning away to glare at the wall and fight the heat crawling up his neck. 

“So Barou,” you sang, he inhaled deeply arms crossing tighter against his chest that was getting bigger every passing month, it was impressive how the guy had shot up like he had. He was so freaking tall and growing more muscle by the week.

“What’cha wanna do with your favourite subject?” 

“Like hell I know. You do it, keep that shit off me.” 

He hated arts and crafts because it was so damn messy, he was already glaring at the paper on the table and the different pencils, charcoals and paints lined up to use. 

“Awh c’mon!” You grabbed the charcoal pencil and started to press it hard on the paper, gathering a nice little patch of black dust before placing it down and pressed your index finger into it. 

Barou actually gritted his teeth at the mess, eyes tearing from the page to look else where whilst you started to draw something with the charcoal. 

You were always good at portraits or forms of the anatomy, he’d seen you work with charcoal a lot and despite its mess the end results were always good. 

He’d give you that.

“So, I’m surprised you haven’t kicked off being paired with me.” 

“You’re good at the subject, you’ll get us a pass. I’m not foolish enough to not take the best in here, means I don’t have to touch this shitty stuff either.” 

Your silence and lack of work on the paper made him turn to look at you, only to see you looking at him suspiciously. 

“The fuck you starin’ at?!”

“Where’s Barou?”

He scoffed and looked away realising he’d just somewhat complimented you to your face. You laughed and scratched your cheek with your finger forgetting about the charcoal coating the pad. 

“I’ll get us passes useless Barou! Don’t you worry!” 

You returned your attention back to the paper and Barou’s eyes moved to you when you weren’t looking. Red gaze watching your face, your tongue sticking out a bit as you concentrated with a small smile on your lips. Eyes beaming with joy at you setting your skills on something you enjoyed. 

Damn it you’d grown up so much, he wasn’t the only one who’d shot up. You started to lose that baby fat on your cheeks, your hair had got longer and you always smelled so damn good. Your shirts were always ironed and perfectly white, he’d notice the material hugging you more as your breasts had started to grow, the shape of you changing as you both hit 16. 

His eyes moved to your face again, noticing a few strands of hair had fallen from your successful attempt of a messy bun to stop it getting in the way whilst drawing. 

He then noticed the black smudge on your cheek and he glared at it, his hand twitching already to remove it. 

How had you got that on your face so damn quickly! 

“Ta-da!!!” 

You held the page up, a dust of black cloud flying off causing Barou to shoot from his seat quickly. 

“Watch it you slob!” 

You looked over your shoulder with a dry expression, 

“You’re such a princess Barou,” 

“Piss off.” 

You blew him a kiss and looked back at you work, your photographic memory paying off as you grinned at it.

“Hmm, just needs a title, how about….” You pondered for a second before lighting up and grabbing a pencil, scribbling down before sliding it to him. 

‘The King’s Strike.’

Barou stared at the page, you slid in front of him. The perfect striking pose, shirtless with just shorts, his long socks, shin pads and soccer boots. Muscles drawn perfectly, the twist of the body and shadowed with the charcoal. The ball moving towards the goal, every detail was there.

Then his hair.

It was him. Striking a goal. 

“It was you at the game last week,” you said boredly, “-s’yours if you want it.” 

“You were there?” He looked at you finally and you shrugged, looking off across the class. 

“Since last year,” 

“Every game?” 

“Uh -yeah. The girls like watching you lot, I find it boring but seeing you prance around like a show pony is midly entertaining.”

Shit why did he suddenly feel so hot? He didn’t even give a shit that you’d insulted him, he was so focused on the fact you’d been watching him and he never knew.

His hands got clammy, his heart accelerating in his chest like it did after he scored at the same time he felt fucking nervous. The bell ringing broke his gaze on the drawing, you jumped down from your stool and turned to leave. 

Barou had other ideas, grabbing your wrist before you got too far you spun back and looked at his grip on you to him. Frowning you opened your mouth to say something but Barou dragged you down with him to grab his bag. 

“You scrub you can’t just leave like that, you’re gonna get that shit everywhere! You’re fucking filthy!”

Pulling out a pack of cleaning wipes you stared at him like he’d grown three heads, before snorting a laugh, then it went full blown. 

“You carry those in your school bag?! Hahahahaha!” 

“Shut it you slob.”

Heat crawled up his neck but he battled it down, his hand lifted your wrist to clean your fingers with the wipe. What the hell was he doing?

“It’s even under your fucking nail -ugh this is disgusting.” He was grumbling to himself and you froze staring at him, he was surprisingly gentle actually, you thought he was finished until he grabbed your cheeks, pushing them together causing your lips to perk and pulled you closer to him. Your breath hitched in your throat as the closeness.

Reaching up with a new wipe to clean the smudge on your cheek. 

“I gotta game Saturday,” he grumbled, voice deep and gruff, refusing to look at you longer than a glance. You were worried he could feel your heart thumping in your chest, or how hot your cheeks felt under his fingers. 

“You comin?” 

You nodded dumbly your eyes taking in his features being this close. Completely forgetting if you even had any plans this weekend, you felt blank at the moment, heat stirring in your chest and you actually rubbed your thighs together.

When did this guy get so damn handsome? His eyes were so… red, his hair looked so soft, he’d grown substantially and he absolutely towered over you now. 

“Front row on our teams side,” 

His eyes flicking to your mouth before locking with your eyes. 

“-got it, girl?” 

Barou released your cheeks and grabbed his bag, throwing it over his shoulder and leaving the room; you stood dumbfounded at what the hell just happened. 

You looked to the table, he’d taken the drawing. 

Unknown to you, the old lady art teacher was chuckling in her seat, fingers pressed together and her glasses glinting watching you both. 

“I knew it.”  

—0—

You’d attended his game, sitting where he told you to and you watched how each game turned him more into an asshole on the field. He was cruel, selfish and egotistical yet you couldn’t stop watching him. 

You’d made a mess more often in arts because he couldn’t stop himself from cleaning you up, accidentally spilling things on your hands and making art class extra messy. Even when you weren’t paired together he’d storm across the room when everyone left.

You’d make sure your tie looked off when you seen him and he’d straighten it because it drove him mad. It amused you endlessly, weirdly liking it each time he got closer to you. 

It all started from Art classes, graduating closer to you, using the excuse he knew you’d make a mess. It started simple, minor until it progressed into pairing with you for projects. Glowering down at whoever was next to you and getting them to move. They were scared whilst your eyes twinkled in amusement up at him, until he glared at you for staring at him.

Where it began it arts to spread to each class he shared with you, seating next to you or keeping you as a study partner. You didn’t find yourself questioning it, a light tease every now and then which he found himself not biting to.

The day he caught you walking home in the rain without an umbrella he let you stand under his, belittling you the entire walk home for being a dumbass and forgetting it.

Your heart racing when you seen his shoulder wet, hanging out from the umbrella to keep you dry. So you made him a bento as a thank you, he was skeptical at first, looking at it with disgust and you didn’t think he’d eat it, until he handed it back clean and empty the next day.

That one walk turned into him waiting at the gate no matter the weather, he’d listen to you ramble on about absolute bullshit wondering why he tolerated you above everyone else; perhaps your amazing bento boxes he had daily now were the reason.  

The morning he caught you running on the weekend during the summer; those shorts riding fair too far up your thighs and ass leaving nothing to the imagination. He couldn’t shift the image of your sweat glistening skin, chest heaving as you sucked air back in, your sports bra pushing everything up and playing on his teenage mind.

He started running with you, leaving his headphones in whilst you had yours in. Every weekend morning he’d be waking you up at stupid times to run and you kept up with him. You’d both stop at a shop to buy a drink on the wall home to cool down. 

“My feet are buzzing!”

“Get better trainers then you idiot,” 

“I did! They haven’t arrived yet.” 

“Then why are you fucking running if they’re hurting?” 

You pouted and prodded his bicep,

“-and miss our morning dates, getting all hot, sweaty and out of breath with you? Pft!” 

Barou handed you a cold bottle of water, pressing the cold bottle to your forehead whilst gulping down his. You side glanced watching his Adam’s apple bob with each swallow. 

His shirt was off, tucked into his waist band of his shorts and sweat dripping down his body. The temperature was already getting unbearable this early in the morning. Ditching his empty bottle he started to walk forwards, glancing over his shoulder at your slower pace and fiddling with the bottle. 

“Don’t say a damn word,” He sighed in annoyance and stopped, crouching to his knee he glared over his shoulder. “-up.” 

His hands gripped your thighs tightly, wrapping them around his sides and feeling you press your body flush against his back, arms wrapping lazily around his neck and resting your head on top of his.

People started gossiping, started suggesting that Barou had his eyes on you, the mutterings and the rumour of being Barou’s girl started circulating around. 

It was all talk, nothing had actually happened between you both but you’d noticed the change in him as much as you had yourself, it was slow but each week over the last year progressed into something. From enemies to practically seeing each other daily, to him eating your bento boxes and being at each game. 

Then a day came after you both turned 17 and attended a certain game that changed it all, sat at the front on his teams side like you always had done for the past year since he first told you to. 

This time you weren’t alone, some guy was sat next to you and you were polite enough to speak with him when he tried to talk with you. He was funny, polite and kept you company. You laughed with him, probably flirted a little bit because you were a natural flirt, what? It was fun! 

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the red eyed king on the field. Anger boiled in Barou each time his focused slipped to you and by the end of his match he was seething despite winning the scores, his usual fans screamed and wailed for him but it did nothing to distract him of that image with you and that guy.

Barou ignored his team cheering, stomping over he removed his jersey from his last game, sweat and muscles grabbing eyes and girls squealed at the view. 

Before you knew it a sweaty ass jersey had collided with your head, scrambling to remove it only hearing Barou’s pissed off voice.

“Oi, you fucking donkey get lost, she’s taken.” 

Stunned and embarrassed by the show in front of crowds you were left gawking as Barou made his way off the field with his team behind him.

The next day had you stomping up to Barou whilst training, he was warming up by himself as usual taking up his strict daily work out routine. 

Jesus even in that baggy hoody he was wearing he looked massive, his back looked huge as you stomped up to him, inwardly feeling your confidence shaken as you drew closer suddenly feeling smaller with each step. 

“Oi! King douche!” 

Barou grunted and looked over his shoulder at you with a bored expression, eyes giving you a once over before half turning to you; the only one he’d paused his warm up for even if it was only a few moments.

You marched to him, gripping his hoody at the front and pulling him down to your height. 

“What the hell was that about yesterday huh?” 

Barou glanced down at your hand gripping his hoody before meeting you again, eyes bored he cocked at eyebrow. He could have easily pulled back but he remained half bent to your height. 

“Mind telling me who exactly I’m taken by? Cause I seemed to have forgotten that happening.” 

“By me,” 

You sputtered at his bluntness your grip loosened on him and you leaned back. 

“What? You- I- what are you talking about? That’s a two way conversation Barou! You never asked me an-“ 

“Date me then,” 

“Will you stop being so blunt! At least act like you’re actually interested!” 

“Date me, I can tolerate you.” 

You deadpanned at his lazy bluntness and released your grip on him, stepping back you went to leave. 

Barou heard your grumbling about him, his eye twitched at you walking away from him. 

“Always so fucking stubborn.” He sighed, his hand grabbing your wrist he spun you back, other hand threading through your hair into a grip and pulling you to him.

His mouth pressed to yours in a movement too smooth for someone as belligerent as Barou to pull off, but he made up for it with how roughly he kissed.

You could taste the mint on his tongue, his lips were so damn soft, he was uncoordinated and rough, teeth biting your bottom lip too hard and his tongue running over it as if it was apologising. Greedy, messy, impatient and rough yet some kind of softness under it all —exactly what you’d expect from him.

His hand at the back of your head kept you from leaving as he pulled back, his lips shining from spit and your lip gloss. He pressed his forehead against you, eyes peering into you as he towered over you. 

“Got it, girl?” 

“Barou, was that your first kiss?” 

The heel of his hand pressed to your forehead replacing his and he pushed you backwards. 

“Get lost I have training to do.”

It totally was, you snickered and turned to leave, failing to see Barou’s thumb swipe his bottom lip, tongue following savouring the taste of you and your lip balm. A smirk twitching on his mouth as he looked over his shoulder to see you walking away with a little bounce in your step. 

 —0—

Baron always thought the act of kissing was pretty disgusting, the germs and how unclean it was to swap spit, eighteen years of that thought it was all thrown out the window when he realise the taste of your lip balm was addicting. That subtle hint of cherry lingered more than your usual strawberry flavoured one and he groaned into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip. 

The little moan that left you made his hips roll up into yours, that bulge in his shorts running painfully tight against you, his hands gripping your hips with the intent to bruise. 

You’d come over to his house surprising him in his room when he returned from a shower, the little running shorts you had on were far too short, the loose fitting white sports top and red sports bra underneath left little to the imagination also. The towel thrown over his shoulder, stood in his gym shorts and listening to the giggles of his little sisters signally they were the ones who let you in. 

The distance between you lasted seconds after his door slammed shut, he only half turned around to see you’d strode up behind him, throwing your arms around his neck and jumping up knowing he’d catch you. 

It hadn’t taken him long to walk to his bed blindly, hands gripping your thighs and you kissing him like you hadn’t seen him only yesterday. He turned, fell to his bed and let you straddle him as he sat up, you’d been kissing since, rolling your hips against his.

“So birthday boy, you’re finally eighteen,” 

Barou sneered, rolling his eyes as you lowered your lips to his jaw line, rolling your hips against the bulge in his shorts causing an airy moan to leave him.

“You’re little over a month older, stop acting so superior.” 

You laughed against his neck, straightening yourself and leaning back, his hands sliding up to your lower back to aid your angle, you hands linking behind his neck. 

“Speaking of which, did you know our star signs are the best match?” 

“Don’t start with this shit again, its bullshit-“ 

You laughed, eyes gleaming and his softened watching your pure amusement above him, skin still glistening with sweat from your run here, lips plump from kissing him so hard. 

And his poor heart kicked in his ribs, a sudden burst of emotion swelling up his chest and it spread like heat. 

“I was thinking of what to get you for your birthday-“ you wiggled off him, his grip on you a little reluctant to let you go but your hand pressing against his hard cock made his jaw clench, “-you locked the door right?” 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

It was finally happening huh? It wasn’t often Barou felt himself caught off guard, or any confidence shaken because he was pretty grounded, but his nerves jumped not showing it in his expression and yours didn’t falter either. 

You’d both decided to wait until you were eighteen, given you’d turned that age a little over a month ago he didn’t think you’d be so literal in the agreement when he turned it.

When you dropped to your knees between his, hands gliding up to the waist band of his shorts that were doing very little to hide his dick, you tugged and he didn’t move for a second, red eyes looking down at your pouting face, his hair still down from his shower as it draped over his broad shoulders. 

His hand cupped your chin locking gazes with you. 

“Ain’t no pressure or rush, shouldn’t be doin’ it just cause its my birthday,”

“Your dicks literally flexing under my hand-“ 

“That ain’t the point!” He seethed, other hand gripping your wrist pulling it from his cock and you pouted at him, actually fucking pouted and he sucked his teeth, his self restrain faltering for a second at your pouty ass face.

“You even know what you’re fucking doin?” 

“Kinda, but it gets me off trying it for the first time so, think of it as a joint birthday present!”

You’d watched Barou’s jaw tightened, red eyes sliding off to look at his door in concern knowing his little sisters were running around due to his parents being out, his attention quickly brought back to you when you tugged at his waist band again. 

“I put frozen on for them and bought a bag of sweets -we have two hours.”

You heard Barou click his tongue and he stood, tilting his head down to watch as you leaned back onto your ass, knees still on the floor and looked up at him all doe eyed. His black hair falling to the side he tilted and his thumbs ran under the band of his shorts, pulling it down low enough so his little trimmed snail trail appeared before the head of his dick rested over the band. 

You groaned and licked your lips, reaching up to skim your fingers along his hips. 

“B please,” his jaw clenched, nervous for reasons he didn’t quite understand but he hid it well, his cock flexing at your tongue licking your swollen lips, eyes glazing with something he hadn’t seen before and your whiny little beg. 

“Take it easy-“ one of his thumbs pushed his shorts, releasing his cock with a heavy slap to his stomach, a sticky line of pre linking to his dick and your eyes widened, a smug smirk gracing his face and his ego soared at your shocked expression. Confidence taking over his concern at you faltering, his other hand went for your pony tail, twisting it around his hand and pushing your face to the hilt of his cock, “-I ain’t small so don’t get carried away.” 

His confidence faltered when yours overtook his in strides, tongue pressing to the gap between his shaft and balls, licking a thick, slow line up to the head of his dick before swirling your tongue around it. Barou watched the pre melt on your tongue, you moaned and he fucking melted. 

You laughed when he let out some choked noise at the feel of your tongue swirl around the head of his dick, before kissing the underside of it looking at him like you were in love. 

“Taste good B-“ you hummed against it rising a hand to wrap around his dick not even managing to touch your fingers because of his sheer girth, you pumped up and his body jolted forward the hand tightened around your hair, “-can I suck now?” 

“F-Fuck,” you took that as your go ahead and wasted no time in wrapping your lips around his cock sinking down enough so you were comfortable at your limit, his dick flexed in your warm mouth and when you moaned around his cock Barou was finished, both hands held either side of your face and you gripped him tighter refusing to budge.

“G-Get off, fuck- Hold on,-“ your name left his mouth in a such a whiny tone you looked up to check this was actually Barou, only smirking around his cock at his expression. Eyes blow and wide, mouth agap and he was damn drooling. 

Your eye contact with him, his thick cock in your mouth, hand wrapped around him and that little smirk would stick with Barou until his dying day he was sure of it, he came so quickly he didn’t even have to warn you, your expression changing to shock as thick ropes of cum spilled into your mouth so hard it shot to the back of your throat. 

Hips jolting, six pack flexing as he released his first orgasm with you, lasting less than five minutes in your mouth for the first time. 

You didn’t stop, spit and cum creating a sloppy mess down your chin, hollowing your cheeks and tongue rubbed against the head of his dick you bobbed on his cock; his voice broke as he tried to growl out your name, hand gripping painfully now on your hair trying to pull you off.

Looking back up at him you almost laughed, his eyes borderline cross eyed, drool now spilling to his chin and his hips bucking with each stroke of your tongue. You were overstimulating him and you knew it, you were clenching around nothing and you could feel yourself soaked through your running shorts. Spit and cum dribbled down your neck into your cleavage, knowing Barou would have a fit about it when he managed to uncross his eyes. 

His body recoiled and he sat back on the bed, panting like he’d just finished a soccer match and sweating as much. You rose your hand to wipe your mouth on the back of it, eyes glazed and looking at Barou like he was prey, red eyes drinking in the mess you made but unable to ignore you licking your lips. 

“Maybe the film I picked was too long-“ 

You shouldn’t have doubted Barou’s ability to recover, you shouldn’t have been snarky. He growled and your face faltered for a second, all amusement or taunting left you, blinded with being too cocky and confident with your actions to think that you’d had ever beaten Barou Shouei. 

“You’re dead-“ 

You stood up quickly, a little wobbly from numb knees on Barou’s bedroom carpet and turned to leave, hoping to seek safety in his little sisters downstairs, he was quicker, a thick, strong arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him with a half screaming leaving you.

“Shut the fuck up-“ his mouth pressed to your ear, his deep warning made bumps rise over your skin, his hand clamped over your mouth stifling your noise and holding you in place whilst the hand around your waist dipped into your shorts. Barou wasted no time in roughly sliding a finger clumsily down your clit right to your hole, your hips jolting forward and your cry was muffled under his hand. “-you’re soaking.”

He growled into your ear, deep voice making you clench around nothing but Barou felt your pussy pulse against the pad of his finger resting at your entrance, he rolled it gathering slick to glide it back to your clit and the pace he set was cruel. You didn’t know if it was lack of experience or because he was trying to be mean, but he was rough with your clit, rolling circles around it with one finger your hips stuttering and legs threatening to give out from under you as you struggled to stand. 

You were begging him but his hand blocked any clarity from your words, your hands finding grip on his forearm across your chest trying to pull it from your mouth. It made you realise how strong Barou was, he was solid, unmoving and had you against him with no match on his strength. His finger suddenly dipped down to your hole and pushed in to the knuckle, your eyes widened and you screamed under his palm, his lips pressed to your temple, tears blurred your vision from the over stimulation and the need to cum.

“Not so cocky now are you?” You weren’t expecting him to roll his hips into your lower back, hard cock gliding along your spine above your ass, “You’re cryin’ from a finger, how you gonna take this?” 

“Mock me again and I’ll put you in your place, nod if you understand and I’ll let you cum.” 

Tears had spilled down your cheeks at this point, weaving between his fingers mixing with your drool under it and guilt hit him, his ego too large to back down resulting in him kissing your cheeks, kissing the tears away and giving you a shhh to try and sooth you. When you finally nodded he sighed and pulled his finger from your pussy, pad rolling back to your clit where he ran soothing circles around it. A relieved sigh left you under his hand, soft moans vibrating against his skin and his only sign before you came was your hips starting to roll desperately. 

“Nod if you’re gonna cum,” you did and he hummed against you, picking up his pace, “-cum f’me then.”

Barou groaned against you as your body stuttered against him, your hands gripping his thighs behind you to support yourself and he caught you when you went slack in his arms, pulling his hand from your mouth he hooked it around your waist to hold you up. The other from your pussy he rose it to his mouth cleaning his fingers off. 

“Shit, you taste good.” 

The slamming on his door made you both jump and his grip on you tightened in response.

“Big brother! Mummy and Daddy are home, so stop smooching your girlfriend!!” 

“Fuck-“

“Don’t swear big brother!”

“Get lost brat!” 

You heard some kind of grumble under her breath as one of his sisters stomped off back down the stairs, seeing Barou flustered was rare and watching him grab clothes to put on, hard dick bouncing with each stride made you cackle. Earning a glare over his shoulders as he pulled a top on. 

“Fuck you find so funny?”

You shrugged and adjusted your shorts before pulling your pony tail back to to tidy up. 

“You’re still hard-“

“Yeah? No shit,” 

Barou sneered under his breath as he sat on the bed to pull his socks on, dressing to go out on a run to match your attire because apparently that’ll hide the suspicion of both your flustered faces. You walked over and leaned down, tucking his hair behind his ear. 

“I like your hair down, never seen it like this before. You’re real handsome you know that?” 

He blushed, Barou Shouei fucking blushed, you didn’t mock or tease him on it, your soft eyes looking directly at his and they had a teary glaze over them. He blinked at you in surprise before rolling his eyes and returning back to his socks.

“Know its my birthday but stop with the crap. Coulda just got me some damn cleaning stuff, I don’t need all the compliments n’shit.” 

His voice was low, trying to sound harsh but he just couldn’t, he just wanted to try and deflect that damn look on your face because it looked like some girl looking at the love of her life in corny romance show. His nerves kicked under his skin, his heart racing and he felt the heat in his cheeks but when he watched your eyes glisten and he hated it. 

He’d known you since he was 12, he’s bullied you, called you all sorts of names. Hell he’s seen other girls get nasty to you but you’ve never cried, you’ve never had those pretty eyes glisten with tears. 

He stood, rare concern suddenly fleeting over him and he cupped your face, thumbs wiping over your cheeks as the tears spilled down them, for a second he thought it was him -maybe he was too rough with you, too forceful and let his ego drive him. 

“M’sorry its so fucking stupid,” 

Barou Shouei was a deep thinker, his mind raced more than he let off and it started to, to the point a fleeting thought of you breaking up with him actually surfaced by his building paranoia. Even if it didn’t make fucking sense that you would, it still annoyingly crossed his mind. 

“What’s stupid?” 

“I think I’m in love with you, B.” 

Shouei stopped breathing, he froze, eyes widening as they locked with your glassy ones and you laughed through crying. 

“Happy Birthday, Barou!” You mumbled through silly tears, trying so hard to deflect it with your shitty humour but watching you laugh through tears almost made a smile form on his own mouth. 

“The hell you damn cryin’bout it you idiot?” 

You opened your mouth to respond but his covered yours before you could start blabbering something out to him, the kiss was slow and messy but it was his own way of responding to your confession. He could taste himself on your tongue, mixed with that cherry lip balm and he groaned into you.

“You’re my girl,” he spoke against your mouth before planting a kiss to your forehead and pushing you towards the door.  

—0—

Blue lock was a shock. 

It wasn’t easy to suddenly have Barou gone from your life when you were so used to having him around for the last seven years, but perhaps it was a good thing. Soccer was his priority and you knew that from day one, you never thought you were above it and quite frankly you didn’t care. Some of your girlfriends didn’t get it, perhaps they were more needy, wanting to enjoy their youths with boys and having that American dream. Driving in cars late and night, recreating the titanic scene with the steam window and hand prints. 

You used the opportunity to do the same as Barou and that was focus on yourself, you concentrated on your studies you perused what you wanted and you taught yourself not to rely on him. 

You sent him a text every Friday about your week, you sent him texts when you were horny, you sent photos, videos but there was never a delivered messaged, never a response. You tried to keep positive, you tried to not let his lack of existence bother you. 

But it was hard, some nights you teared up and called yourself selfish, sometimes you scolded him for not even trying to contact you. What kept you going was coffee and that his future was about to take off with the dreams he had. 

He simply had to do it and you knew he’d be recognised, he’d be successful. 

The day he called without much to say was the day you knew something was up with him. 

“Well, I’ll let you go king~ keep devouring, keep pushing yourself and keep learning Barou. You’re gonna eat them alive and when you’re back, you can eat me alive again~! Turns out that unholy mouth of yours really does show me heaven~!”

You laughed as you hung up and sure enough after he earned his phone back that day, after he asked for a photo of just you -nothing sexual, nothing crude, just a simple photo of you in a summer dress you knew he was missing you. 

He never told you he loved you back but you never felt unloved by him. 

He’d text you occasionally, sounding blunt and trying to come across like texting was taxing on his time, even though he was the one who often messaged first. Waking up at an ungodly hour to say good morning and texting before you even ate with a goodnight. 

When the two weeks off from Blue Lock arrived and Barou appeared at your new apartment, moving out of your family home and the visit was anything but tame. You’d still not had sex before he left and he was about to change it, hearing some of the guys talking in the lockers, seeing your messages and photos, missing you in general made for a messy and truthfully painful first experience. 

“Gotta let me in,” his third finger entered you, twisting before spreading them and you bucked up into him, panting as you gripped the pillows behind you, “-think I’m gonna fit if you're this tight around my fingers? Open up girl,”

His tongue pressed against your clit and your eyes rolled back, pussy spread out from his fingers exposing your hardened bundle of nerves to him. 

“M’cumming Barou!” 

He hummed against your clit, red eyes peering up at you from your pussy as his tongue swirled on you, watching your chest heaving, body stuttering as you came down from another high. 

Barou withdrew his fingers, wrapping it around his cock and he pumped a few times, spreading slick across the head of his dick before pressing it to your entrance. 

“You got the birth control, right?” 

You nodded dumbly, still panting from orgasm and almost too fucked out to process that he’d pressed his thick head to your already swollen hole, until he started to push forward and you tensed at the stretch. Barou clicked his tongue, eyes focused on wanting to watch his dick sink into you for the first time, it flexed at the thought of being the one to spread you open. 

But your struggle made something conflicting lurch in his chest. 

“I-I know you wanna watch b, I need your help though —it’s too big.”

He groaned at your pleading tone, damn well melting for you and sourly reminding him just how easily he’d put you first compared to anyone else in his life, including himself.

Barou shifted, one arm resting above your head to hover over you, the other moved down to press a thumb to your clit and your hips bucked at the sensitivity. 

“Look at me,” 

You did as he asked, teary eyes meeting his and you hiked your knees higher up his sides, one leg curling around his back, sitting next to your hand gripping his ass, the other holding his wrist to tug it off your clit, lacing his fingers through yours and placing it near your head. 

Pushing his hips forward until his thick head pushed through and you moaned, Barou inhaled sharply, restraining himself from just burying himself into the hilt. You were so damn warm and it was sucking him in, that moan was only spurring him to test his self control. 

“S’it, let her suck me in, she wants it, so let me damn well give it and stop being a fuckin’ tease.” 

He felt you relax and he took the opportunity, bullying the rest of his way in and pressing into you balls deep. Burying his face into your neck as his hips stuttered, airy moan breathed onto your skin. Your teeth met his shoulder, biting down on him muffling your pained whimper at the burn. 

He stilled himself, fighting himself to not cum as you clamped around him letting you adjust before he gave a test thrust, one turning into two before he set a pace that had your cunt squelching under him in no time. Your hips rolling to meet his and he realised watching your face, your expressions and doe eyes all fucked out was a better first image to have of you like this for the first time. 

Barou watched as your head tilted back, a noise he’d never heard leave you as you moaned in a way that was borderline unholy, it sent a pulse to his cock, flexing it inside you and spurred him to thrust harder. 

“Make that noise again-“ he felt you tighten around him, still keeping your head tilted and your body tensed, “that’s it huh? Right here?” 

You nodded and babbled at him, slurring words to encourage him not to stop, the slapping of his wet balls hitting your ass, cunt swallowing him sloppily as he hit that spot over and over until you came around him for the first time, your hands blinding reaching for him in support as you literally convulsed, eyes rolling back and toes curling. 

“Atta girl,” he groaned into your neck as your body fell slack, breathing heavy under him and his pace turned feral. Chasing his own end and using you under him to catch it, the only reason he lasted this long was because you’d sucked the life from him before this.

You always got so wet with his cock in your mouth, he loved how much you loved it, wrapping your arms around his thighs, sliding his thick cock down your throat like a pro. He’d cum so hard he ended up pushing you off him because you wouldn’t stop, finding it funny he was jolting under you from overstimulation, making a noise he’d never heard leave him before; some beggy whine that made you moan on his cock. 

He didn’t like mess, but hell he loved seeing his cock buried in your mouth with his cum drooling out. 

“B-Barou I’m gonna cum again! Don’t stop! There, there, fuck harder please! Cum in me, fill me up!” 

He groaned at your babbling, tears spilling down your cheeks, your breath hitching when he gave you a harder thrust that had you looking at him a little worried. 

“Who you think you’re barking orders at huh?”  He was panty, breathy as he spoke but his voice still so deep, little bite behind it as he felt himself about to cum. 

“You want me to fill you up? Best hold it in, don’t fucking waste it.”  You nodded dumbly, desperately at him. 

“Hah- I won’t, I’m cumming, I’m gonna -I love you, fuck you’re so b-big,” 

He smiled at you, heart hammering in his ribs; you were all his.

—0—

‘Rising star Barou Shouei and potential love interest sighted again!’ 

Barou’s career took off at 19, three years a now. Both at twenty two years old and you knew better than to be easily swayed by headliners. You ignored posts flying around the internet but this was the third time in a month a photo was posted with the same girl and this one was hard to ignore when she had her arm gripped around his bicep.

He hardly looked amused, if anything he looked annoyed but that wasn’t exactly a rare expression for him to present when dealing with anyone, even you at times you were sure of it.

You chewed the inside of your cheek between biting your nails, anxiety suddenly flooding you about how exactly you should handle this, you didn’t know his team mates to question them or ask if you should be worried, quite frankly you’d never met anyone in this new team of his. 

He wouldn’t do this.. it’s just not Barou. Cheating just isn’t his thing, he values himself too highly for it.

You ignored the notification bars at the top of your phone, pinging from different girl friends who were sending different emojis to express anger, guessing they’d forwarded the recent post to you to see. 

But when Barou’s caller ID came in, covering your entire screen you let out a yelp and flung the phone across to the sofa from where you were sat, holding your breath as it rang and exhaling heavily when it stopped. Placing your hand on your heart feeling it thumping against your ribs. 

Shit. 

Shit why did you do that? 

It rang again but you had frozen in your place, your brain telling you to answer him but your body just wouldn’t move, the only relief was when it stopped ringing. 

The pinging of texts began and you picked the phone back up, watching as Barou started to message. 

B > Answer your damn phone, 

B > Oi! Woman you wanted me to call at seven. 

You thumbs clumsily flew across the screen, your bubble showing as typing and it took Barou less than five seconds to hit the call button again.

“H-Hey B, sorry I-uh,”

“The fuck you sound like that?”

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re doing summit you shouldn’t be, you not been using that damn toy again have you? Told you not to use it unless I’m-“ 

“N-No! I wasn’t doing that, Jesus Christ Barou what if someone heard you!?” 

“Why? You with someone?” 

“No. Aren’t you?” 

Your hand slapped across your mouth when the words left you in a snarky tone, your annoyance getting the better of you before you could stop it, a heavy sigh left him breaking the tension, his gruff voice quieter than usual. 

“Ignore that bullshit online, she’s the new physio for the team, just clingy as hell.” 

“So, she just gets her hands all over you when I’m not there?” 

“Well yeah, she’s does treatment and sports massage, it’s no big deal. Stop with the crybaby shit, it ain’t like you.” 

Oblivious freaking idiot. Your phone tucked between your shoulder and head, because your hands wrung an invisible neck in front of you like Homer with Bart. 

“Yeah, sorry, it’s just me being a brat huh? M’gonna go Barou, I’m tired. speak to you in a few days when you’re not so busy with your team or new physio.” 

The line going dead was far from a pleasant feeling, heart dropping to his stomach he stared at the home screen of his phone, that pretty photo of you in a sundress he’d changed back in blue lock three years ago. Barou being shocked was rare, you were both twenty two now and you’d never acted like this in ten years. It felt different, his guy was screaming at him leaving it to sit heavy in his stomach. 

You’d never gone to bed without saying goodnight, you’d never got angry to the point where you’d literally shut him off and he needed more fingers to count the amount of times he had said something shitty. You usually fired back, that stubbornness you had and that he found always so endearing.

Opening up the chat of you both he stared at your name, but you never came back online. 

It didn’t stop him sending a text goodnight though.  

When he woke to no routine good morning text, despite you having read his goodnight text at 5am it gave a sour start to his day. He didn’t do anything wrong, you were throwing a damn tantrum over nothing so he opted to give you space.

“Heh, trouble in paradise aye?” 

Barou only side glared at snuffy, ignoring his attempt of conversation as the striker sat in front of the obnoxiously large tv playing whatever film took his fancy this evening whilst stretching himself out. 

“Showed in your training today,” 

“If you’re just here to talk shit then fuck off, I ain’t in the mood.” 

Taking a seat on the sofa behind Barou, he hummed and watched the tv. 

“Didn’t wanna say back along but kinda figured this would happen, girls are a distraction y’know?” 

“Didn’t see you looking troubled in the hot tub photos of ya with them girls, go preach to Aiku, my girl ain’t your concern.” 

“Wrong-“ Snuffy twirled the remote to the tv around in his hand, starting to flick through the channels, “-anything that runs a risk to my team playin’ is my concern. ‘Sides whilst we’re on the topic, you not thought about other girls? Instead of being with the same one? Haven’t you been with her for like, forever?” 

“Sixteen and no.” 

“Or not thought about how feels with you being away more than with her? Long distance is such a drag, you’re both missing out on life.” 

The statement didn’t trigger Barou to think about himself, he was living his goals in life and thriving, coming back to you was a reward, a comfort he’d always known so he wasn’t trouble by any of it. But he’d never once stopped to think about you and your life at home, waiting for him to come back whilst he was off travelling the world. You never complained, you never seemed sad and always supported him, but was it all a front? Was he stopping you from living as freely as he was? He hated the thought of someone else making you happy, someone else taking his position and being around you more than he was -someone else fucking you and seeing that dumb, love struck look you gave him. 

He’d never even told you he loved you back, he never felt he needed to because you just got him in ways no one else did.. but if he couldn’t even give you that, how could he give you the type of relationship you deserved? 

You deserved everything and more. 

“I guess we’re all different, I know I sure as hell couldn’t do it. one of the guys overheard your conversation about the new physio, the media has been in a frenzy about it so putting two and two together isn’t difficult. But fix it, it’s affecting your play and you’re headlining at the moment, don’t let this ruin your high.”  

—0—

You never called him back and he hated it. 

He really fucking hated it. 

But instead of biting the bullet and making the move himself Barou festered and festered. His focus on football made the days go quickly but the evenings were agonisingly slow and his red eyes drifted to his phone in hopes to see your name more than he’d like to admit. 

Despite his stubbornness in making the move, because Barou Shouei would never chase anyone, he was starting to wonder if this was for the best. Perhaps you’d both been together too long it just became a habit, something he was so used to that he never thought about anything else or anyone else. 

Did that mean he was holding you back? Were you being selfless and he selfish? 

His move to Italy wasn’t exactly a great distance to be at when things like this happened, you were both so far apart that it was difficult to just reach out, Barou didn’t think long distance was much of an issue until something went wrong. 

“Hey Barou, it’s time for your physio!” 

The man sucked his teeth, not particularly in the mood to deal with this girl who’d been causing havoc in his relationship. 

Oliver came out groaning, swinging his shoulders and arms like tension had been released. 

“She’s so good, honestly babe those hands are magic.” 

She giggled at him and waved him off trying to act modest and Barou sent a harsh glare towards both. 

“I’ll skip tonight, hands ain’t going anywhere near me after touching that slime ball, fuck knows what’s over your hands.” 

She rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. 

“I bought all new hand sanitizers and wipes Shouei so get your butt in there!” 

Oliver elbowed him and gave a wink, suggestive and mocking, something that made Barou’s fist curl into a ball. 

“You’d be shit in a threesome,” 

“Get fucked fuckboy.” 

“Eh, that’s suggestive-“ Oliver recoiled with false disgust, “-you really would be shit, didn’t know you swung both ways. I ain’t into that man, only bottom I’m ever being is under a pretty girl.” 

“Will you shut up? You’re disgusting.” 

“You’re such grump! When was the last time you got laid or you still arguing with miss perfect? She’s wasted on you y’know, man she’s wife material, imagine the attention she gets when you ain’t there.”

Barou’s fist swung so quickly it gave zero time for Aiku to get away, just managing to miss the worst of the punch it still grazed his cheek. What he wasn’t expecting was Barou’s knee to end up in his stomach, the man urged from the impact shocked that Shouei actually managed to land a hit on him. Then slightly impressed by the fact it took more than half the team to hold him back, even then he made their feet move. 

“Shouei, that’s enough!” 

Perhaps Aiku had pushed a little more than he should have, but he kinda found it hard to ignore when he’d heard about trouble in paradise with you both, he hoped his taunt would spur Barou into contacting you… that it would stop his tantrum, get his head out his ass and get his head back in the game. 

Cause even Aiku had seen the worth in you and Barou losing that would be foolish.

He just didn’t realise how much worse it had made it instead.

—0—

On day four in lack of communication with your boyfriend left you feeling heavy and guilty. Finding yourself sat at home staring at a letter that had arrived this morning, you graduated your degree yesterday, passing your courses and got a placement to be a paramedic. 

You should be celebrating, you should be happy. Maybe out with friends, others who graduated and family. Your Mother, Father and Brother had attended the graduation and you were hoping Barou would have been there, you weren’t expecting him to be nor blamed him because he was in Italy following his own career dreams. 

You never stopped him, you never expected him to detour from his focus and knew it required the majority of his time. 

A small, selfish part of you was wishing he could have just paused just once to share it with you, a small part of you told yourself how amazing it would have been if him not contacting you was because he was flying back to secretly turn up at the graduation. Instead due to your stubbornness in not calling him back, you hadn’t even received a phone call or text or say congratulations.. was this your fault? Had you been a little too sensitive and dramatic about it? Were you being paranoid for no reason? You’d never been threatened by girls with him before, so why was this bothering you so?

Your gaze returned to your phone sat in your hands, silent and cold, the screen black from being untouched and you knew if you unlocked the phone it would show Barou’s contact details. 

Because you’d been hovering over the call button for the last thirty minutes after opening the incredible offer letter in front of you. 

It was frustrating that he didn’t seem to understand why you were annoyed and hurt, which was ridiculous because he didn’t even actually do anything wrong besides dismiss how you felt. It didn’t help either that only yesterday another photo was posted of him and the teams new physio yet again named as his potential girlfriend. 

Funny how you never seen photos of her with the other boys in the team. 

Nice to see that he wasn’t even trying to solve it. 

You didn’t realise you were crying until little drops fell onto your black screen, your vision clouding as they filled your eyes finally springing free. 

Sometimes you just needed a good cry right? Maybe it would be a good idea to get it out now before you called him, it would make it less likely you’d cry on the phone right? 

The thought of letting go for a minute was enough to let the tears erupt to a sob, one of those ugly cries you needed to get out your system and you started to feel better after another thirty minutes of crying. 

You wiped your tears beforing shoving your hair into a messy bun, sudden courage in you springing forth now the silliness was out of the way. A face of determination as you wiped against at your face before slapping your cheeks. 

“C’mon girl, you’re being silly. It’s now or never!” 

You grabbed your phone and didn’t give yourself a second of hesitation in clicking the call button. 

It felt like it rang forty times, feeling ever so dramatic and like time had slowed because it only took three rings for Barou to answer. 

Okay.

Good start, he answered super fast. 

“Heeeeeey! Shouei’s phone!” 

Your jaw dropped at the girls voice, your breath hitched in your throat and you were pretty sure your eyes almost fell out their sockets like something from Tom and Jerry. 

Your voice failed you, the movement and voices turning into nothing but muffled noises because your heart was thumping so loudly in your chest your ribs were vibrating. 

Fuck why were you sweating all of a sudden? Why did you feel so hot? 

Christ almighty were you about to be sick? 

A deeper voice calling your name eventually brought you back, you had no idea how many times Barou had said it only that by the time you registered it was him saying it you noticed concern lacing into it, because when Barou was concerned he sounded kinda pissed off like he wasn’t quite able to handle the uncertainty of something, like when his control and confidence slipped he faltered.

“Uh, I’m sorry didnt mean to- uh, I didn’t mean to bother you? I’m sorry I just, I’m sorry, we can talk later I -“ 

You babbled, you stumbled and you over apologised for something you didn’t even need to apologise for.

Fuck it should be him! 

The fuck were you saying sorry for?! 

His voice was calm, stern and trying to keep the situation from escalating he called your name in a way that brought tears to your eyes. 

Fuck good was all that crying for if you were getting so easily overwhelmed like this?! 

“Oi, you trust me right?” 

Your hand clasped over your mouth before you could say anything, along with hiding the sob behind it but Barou heard. 

You heard a door closing on his end, you heard him moving somewhere. 

Did you trust him? You were overwhelmed, far too emotional at the moment and confused to even answer that, you faltered because it was all too much. 

You wanted to say yes you trusted him, you wanted to speak, to talk to him about the offer letter because it would be a good thing to discuss, it was good timing. 

But your sob broke through the silence again. 

“Hey, don’t do that shit-“ he was quiet, his voice still carrying his usual deepness but there was something added into it you’d never heard from him, almost soothing, caring and it made you sob harder because it reminded you when you told him you loved him and silly cried over it, stupid emotions! Why couldn’t they just let you be strong for five minutes?!

“-we need to talk, huh.” 

“Yeah,” 

Your heart plummeted into your stomach, its fight to stay in your chest lost as the acid crept into it, churning in your stomach as your gut was telling you where this was going, your heart unable to fight or resist any longer. 

“It ain’t gonna work like this, you deserve better-“ 

How fucking dare he. 

Rage wasn’t something you felt often, it wasn’t in your personality to get angry like this, feeling it burn under your skin and desperate to act out physically. In fact the last time you remember feeling like this was when you kicked the ball into 12 year old Barou’s face for degrading your younger brother. 

It suddenly became easier to hold yourself together a little better, focusing on feeling more angry than upset, them moving together in some aid to feed your fiery side. 

“-if that’s what you want, Shouei.” 

You were sure the lingering echo of tears and upset still clung to your tone, regardless of how strong you sounded on your side your lip was wobbling and your eyes were blurring with tears. 

“I dunno what I want.” 

“If it’s got to that point, then that’s the answer for us both.” 

His silence was disturbing and it was only giving you room to allow another crying session to break through the very thin self restraint holding it back. 

So you took control. 

“Take care Shouei, all the best to you and her.” 

“Oi, I ain’t with her, it ain’t like that I told you to ignore that shit in the med-“ 

Call ended. 

Red eyes stayed down at his phone cutting off back to his background of you, hanging up on him before he was even able to finish his sentence, the regret already firing through his stomach as the heaviness of guilt made even his strong shoulders hunch. 

Fuck, what the fuck did he just do? 

Barou flicked to your name in his call log, thumb not even hesitating over your name as he went to call you back. 

Sorry this number is not available, please call back later. 

Never one for caring about social media until this moment he went to yours, still having accessing to it he scanned through going to click the message button, stopping himself when he realised why you deserved better, deserved someone who would give you the time you should have. 

seeing your photos of your graduation yesterday and being so wrapped up on his own shit he hadn’t even reached out; he didn’t even remember it. Isagi commented on it, of course he fucking did but Aikueven acknowledged your achievement in the comments, he didn’t know you even knew Aiku.

He locked his phone, throwing it onto his bed and pinching the bridge of his nose to try take away the sting flaring through it, his throat running dry as his vision suddenly blurred. 

He cleared his throat, fighting away any progress on that happening he never even cried as a baby!

Perhaps this was for the best, even if it felt wrong. 

The feeling would pass with time. 

Right? 

—0—

You removed Barou on socials, blocking his number and ways to contact until you felt ready to face the music, coming off socials as well to avoid actually seeing anymore posts. 

You needed to learn to be selfish now and focus on yourself, start a life without Barou and maybe learn some new things about yourself, pushing yourself out your comfort zone would be the first place to start… after devouring tubs of ice cream and sobbing over titanic on repeat. 

Jack could have damn well fit on that door!

You could already hear the lyrics at the back of your mind, ready to messily sing along to Near, far, wherever you are believe that the heart does go on, once more, you open the door, and ou're here in my heart and my heart will go on and on. 

Oh it was gonna happen, you were gonna be a mess.

You sat numbly looking at the letter in front of you through blurry tears looking like a blotch of white on your coffee table. You had options to be placed abroad for two year’s experience, you didn’t think your option of Italy would actually get offered, your second choice was England.

You’d got the highest marks and worked your ass off to improve your chances to get your offer, but the idiot Shouei wouldn’t ever know anything about that would he. 

Now all you had to do was decide a box to tick. 

You were calling Barou to tell him you could accept Italy, that for the first time in your lives you could be together longer than a few weeks at a time, maybe finally move in together. 

Once again your life was moving towards him, because of him and it needed to stop. 

England might be a refreshing option. 

You’re pretty sure Isagi had friends there on another soccer team, Nagi was it? 

©pharix/lonelystarrs 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.

---

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // MASTERLIST

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

AO3 Link

Current Word Count: 37.2k

Status: Ongoing

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

ONE

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THREE

FOUR

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SIX

---

an unfinished tale [teaser]

Pairing: Wonwoo x fem!reader

Synopsis: In an age absent of DMs and dating apps, a year you're not supposed to exist in, you defy all odds and manage to fall in love with the neighbor down the hall from your uncle's dorm. Part of you wishes he feels the same, part of you hopes he doesn't - for the sake of your heart and his.

Genre: Fluff, crack, smidgen of angst, first/last loves, time travel!au, 90s!au, college!au, uncle/roommate!chan, chan has a twin brother who is reader's dad LMAO, fairy godmother!seokmin; featuring friends!seungkwan, vernon, and jihoon too 💙

Warnings: PG-13 - profanity in this, they make out (?)

teaser wc: ~1.4k

A/N: One last run before I close this chapter of my writing blog . . .? Pouring all my feels into this one and learning how to be patient with writing and myself 💙 Who would've thunk it would be a Wonwoo series lol - I had the hardest time writing for him early on . . . Pls send an ask if you want to stick around for this one - probably a very long ride lol! Thanks for reading always, even if you never comment 🫶🏻

Adapted from this idea (sorry vernon 😅🙃) and revamp of wish you were here. Inspired by Wendy's Better Judgement.

start date: mid to end of march/early april

"You have to tell me!" Chan begs as you turn and make your way to the other side of the room - not that it was very far. The course from his desk to the bunk beds were less then twelve steps. "You're doing a huge disservice to my bloodline!"

"If I tell you, it's going to disrupt the time and space continuum, and you're whole future is going to be out of wack - I'm doing you a favor," you protest. It's followed by a small snort as you grab onto the ladder and position yourself to hoist up your body. What you thought was a quiet mutter to yourself than him, you add, "As if you'd have a bloodline."

Uncle Chan? Married? Bold of him to assume he could whisk away Sunnie.

His footsteps behind you suddenly come to a halt and the room grows quiet - only the sound of Vernon and his drums next door rattling away revibrate through the thin walls.

"I-I don't?" Chan asks pitifully.

"Fuck," you say under your breath. You make note to to filter that mouth of yours in the near future, especially around Chan and when it comes to his future. You loved your uncle and he was cool - ish, in the present. You didn't realize what a pain in the ass he actually was in his youth. Maybe that's why your father was so put off by him because you too are annoyed.

Making your way down again, you turn to find him pouting, gaze glued to the mysterious purple stain in once cream colored carpet - he claimed it was from when Vernon spilled the EZ Squirt purple ketchup, but something about the shade of it didn't have you convinced. You note how Chan blinks rapidly to will away his tears, an occasional sniffle cutting in.

"Look," you clamp your hands down on his shoulder, but he only hangs his head lower. "I'm sorry."

"I'm a loner hermit in the year 2000," he mumbles.

"Y-you're not!" you argue.

"I'm not?" Chan looks back up at you hopefully.

It's quite unfortunate you inherited the Lee trait of not being able to hold a poker face. The lie is evident in the distress in your eyes and slightest clench of your jaw.

"Seungkwan was right," he wails, slipping past you and flopping onto the bottom bunk, "I'm going to be living in Seungeung's basement and taking care of his kid!"

"You're not a loser, okay?" you exclaim, you rack your mind for some fibs, "Y-you're a music producer? a rapper? and you dance! Kind of."

"I'm dying alone!"

"I mean," you turn to look at his collapsed body, sprawled on the worn plaid comforter, "Y-you're not lonely? That kid Seungkwan is teasing you about is me."

Chan whines even louder, "That doesn't make it any better!"

You roll your eyes, shoulders slumping forward in defeat. Just as you were about to chastise him for self-pitying, there's a knock at the door - three firm, rhythmic beats. In sync, you and Chan lift your heads towards the door. It stops and a half-sheet of blue-lined notebook paper slips through the bottom crack of the door. You'd half expect to hear the footsteps of the perpetrator clambering down the halls, but their steps move at an easy pace and padded.

Chan gets up and follows you as you walk over to the note, carefully unfolding it. Black ink bleeds through - you're able to make out some letters from behind. The corners of the 'r' are darkened, the middle of the 't' sits like a target waiting to be shot at.

rooftop? after curfew :) - ww

As Chan gasps scandalously, your cheeks immediately heat up and you crumple the note into a ball in your fist in hopes that you're uncle didn't read it in full. Wonwoo's handwriting is messy and connected -something between chicken scratch and cursive. It's hardly legible most days. Nonetheless, the hope is weak, knowing the message was short and Chan was breathing down your neck as well.

"After curfew!?" Chan repeats, exaggerated, his existential crisis moments earlier forgotten. "What are you all going to do after curfew?"

You can hardly care for his judgement right now though - all you can hear is the blood rushing through your ears and the jumbled thoughts. Shoving the crumpled note into your pocket, you take off, swinging open the door and eyes darting up and down the hallway, looking for him.

It's almost as if Wonwoo didn't want to go unseen - as if he was waiting for you to come out. He's by the door of his dorm room, one hand rest on the stainless steel handle as his gaze are trained on you. When your eyes lock, the corners of his lips curl up the slightest bit - if you didn't already know him so well, you wouldn't have known he was smiling either. His lips were stretched thin, but pressing together firmly as he tries to hide his nerve and excitement. You curse yourself for letting it affect you so much too, your heart fluttering at the sight.

His composure breaks, the toothless smile, turning into a grin as he breaks eye contact with you and turns his attention to his door, shoving the key into the lock. With a flick of his wrist it opens with a click that echoes down the hall. Wonwoo's eyes flicker once more in your direction before he enters and shuts you out of his world again, and it makes you scoff.

He amuses you, frankly - puzzles you, even.

You wonder how someone like him, seemingly so subtle and so calm, could root himself into your life in the short time you've been here, and paint it with loud colors and cause more turbulence than the waves of the oceans during a full moon.

Bonus because I'm excited 😭:

It was quick, lips wavering and barely brushing against your own before he retreats.

"Oh," is all you're able to say, albeit, it's barely above a whisper. Unconsciously, your fingers fly to your lips, pressing gently at the ghost of his touch.

"Sorry," he mutters.

"Um," you clear your throat, shaking your head, "Y-you don't have to be - you shouldn't."

"I-I . . . I just . . . that was my first time," he confesses.

"I could do better," he declares, a little more confidently. It quickly dissipates however. Wonwoo nervously adds, "Only i-if you want to, of course-"

"Y-your first kiss?" you clarify, asking a little louder - you're taken aback. Wonwoo wasn't ugly and he was a senior - you expected him to collect several first kisses by this point, not be giving away his own.

You crane your neck more to get a better look at him, though it's hard without the lights on in Seungkwan's room. The crescent moon offers a little help, slipping through the opaque curtains and casting a sliver of white across his darkened features, though it reflects off the lens of his glasses, blinding you each time you try to look in his direction.

"You should then," you interject hastily without much thought before he gets any other ideas. Unconsciously, you find yourself leaning in, shifting your seat on the bed closer to him.

He looks up at you this time, lips fallen agape though no words escape.

Only now are you realizing your words sounded weird - desperate almost, and you didn't like it. This is not a proper way to court your crush! Let alone in the 90s! You didn't want to give him the wrong idea.

Letting out a soft sigh, you shift back, pulling your lips in between your teeth in embarrassment. You repeat his last words to you - or at least you try.

"Only if you want -"

Within seconds, His hand reach up to caress your cheek, the other coming to hold your waist as he leans in. His lips are pressed against yours again, but firmer this time. There's certainty in his kiss, a sense of reassurance that this was right.

The first thing to fade are your nerves - gone with the hesitancy, gone with the pounding of your heart, gone with the intricate dance you had perfect when it came to him. You're quick to fall into rhythm with him, his touch brings you relief - comfort even.

The second thing to fade are your surroundings. Seungkwan's room melts away, the muffled beat that Vernon played for the crowd below grows quiet. Only the quiet gasps and twee chortles between kisses fill the room.

"Chan is going to murder me," Wonwoo mutters breathlessly as he rests his forehead against yours. As if to tell him otherwise, you tilt your head up and peck his lips once more, eliciting another chuckle from him.

He feels right in this moment and nothing else mattered.

It's 1993, but for once, time doesn't matter.

---

finally catching up after the end of semester

Word count: 2000+

Warnings: mentions of blood

Part XXV | Part XXVII

You woke up with a sudden feeling of cold. You groped the hem of blanket and wrapped it tighter around your body, settling into its warmth. Morning light was still too dim and the room was quite dark, so you turned on the other side. Thinking it was before the sunrise, you closed your eyes contentedly once more.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, the sound so strong that the windows rattled. You jolted awake. Squinting at a small clock on the vanity table in the corner of the room, you found out it was actually almost lunch time. You sat up, feeling slightly disoriented. You'd never slept for so long. As you were putting your thoughts together, you looked down on the empty space on the bed where Tamlin was supposed to be.

You were so used to waking up surrounded by smell of rain that at first you didn't notice he was gone. You ran hand over the already cold sheets and then listened, waiting for any small sound that would give away where he was right now. However, your cottage was quiet, too quiet. With pounding heart you jumped from the bed and ran down the stairs. Kitchen was empty as well as the sitting area. You were all alone. You felt panic creeping on you and flung the front door open.

The gust of strong wind blew strands of loosen hair to your face and wrapped skirt of your nightgown around you legs. You swore, sweeping hair from your eyes. It wasn't raining yet, but the forest was quite dark, heavy clouds flowing above tree crowns. On barefoot you ran to the shed behind the cottage where you dried herbs and stored the vegetable. He wasn't even there.

Lightning lit up the dark forest for a moment, followed by deafening thunder within few seconds. Storm was getting closer.

"Tamlin!" you shouted into the silence of upcoming storm, but the echo bouncing off the trees was the only answer. "Tamlin!"

Memories of the last night flashed across your mind. He was so broken as he confessed his wrongs to you. The look he gave you when he asked you to go sleep together. And just before you fell asleep, he whispered that he liked you. Could it be his last words? His goodbye? Why would he do that now? After months spent with him he was still full of surprises, the train of his thoughts hardly giving you any sense at times.

Anxiety gripped your heart and you dashed into forest, calling his name as you ran. You ignored the downpour that had just started, sticking the wet, cold nightgown and hair to your skin. You didn't even care about thunder shaking trees and ground. You just needed to find him. Your bare feet were covered in mud and blood from small cuts when you finally heard it. You halted turning around, looking for its source.

"Tamlin!" you tried to shout over the roar of the rain.

"Y/N!"

In the distance behind the curtain of rain drops you glimpsed a movement. You didn't wait and ran that way. As the moving shape got closer you recognised his strong shoulders and damp blond hair.

Tamlin ran to you and without stopping swept you into his arms, lifting you from the ground. Meeting his muscular hard body in such a speed was like meeting a wave of tsunami and all bones rattled in your body with the impact, but you never felt happier. You clung to him, suffocating him with your arms around his neck. You sobbed into his shoulder.

"You scared me," he breathed into crook of your neck. He was worried, but also angry for some reason. "Look at you! You're soaked and so freezing cold. What did you think running into this downpour only in thin nightgown?! And during a storm."

"And barefoot!" He added when he noticed your legs. He was furious, but you couldn't care less. He was here, he didn't leave you and only that mattered.

"You are here," you sobbed into his shoulder.

"Of course I am. Where else I would go," Tamlin said much calmer this time. "Let's go home. You will freeze to death."

Only then you realized how cold you were, your teeth chattering. High Lord held you closer, adjusting you in his arms and dashed running. You got quite far from home, yet it took mere minutes and you were back, seated in armchair with blanket around your shoulders. Tamlin added a couple of logs to the hot coals that remained from the morning.

Soon enough the fire crackled in the hearth and room warmed up, but you kept shaking.

"Stand up for me, would you," he murmured.

Without thinking you did as he asked. He crouched down in front of you and started taking off your nightgown.

"What are you doing," you squealed in alarm, stepping out of his reach.

"Obviously, I'm helping you out of this drenched, cold clothes," he raised a brow. Then he blinked and his eyes fell to your chest. Pink tinted his cheeks. "I'm sorry, I didn't.. I wanted-.." He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"I'll wait there," he nodded his chin to stairs. "Tell me when you are done."

You breathed a sigh of relieve. You waited until he disappeared from sight and immediately threw off cold nightgown. Without examining clothes he brought you, you quickly dressed up and once again slipped under the blanket.

The sweater he brought you was enough big to be a dress, reaching all the way down to you knees. When you sniffed it, you smelled his scent, still very strong. It had to belong to him. You could say it was a warm sweater, however, your teeth wouldn't stop chattering.

Tamlin returned with washbasin in his hands, puffs of steam rising from it. He changed into dry clothes, too, and combed his wet hair into a messy bun on nape of his neck.

"Put your feet in. We need to wash that dirt," he said lowly as he put it down.

You hissed when your feet dipped into the warm water, brittle toes curling. Kneeling in front of you, Tamlin started to gently wash the dirt off of your feet.

"Will you tell me why in rain you ran into forest, dressed only in your nightgown and without shoes?" he asked, his touch healing small scratches and wounds.

You shifted uncomfortably, realizing how foolishly and recklessly you behaved.

"I was looking for you," you grunted under your breath. Emerald eyes moved to your face, searching.

"Why? Something happened?"

"I thought you left," you admitted even more quietly, picking up an invisible dirt from the blanket.

He searched your face once more and then barked with laugher. You frowned at him.

"I'm sorry. It isn't funny, I know. I just.." he panted.

"Why would I leave you now," he spoke softly, when he calmed down. "I just felt the storm coming and because it'll keep pouring for few days, I went hunting. I left you a note." He pointed to the dining table. "I waited quite long, hoping you would wake up, but I wanted to be done before the hell starts, so I had to leave without telling you."

"I-..I didn't notice," you looked back and really, a piece of paper was on the table. "I'm sorry." You blushed.

Tamlin just hummed lowly and dried your feet. Washbasin immediately disappeared, replaced by warm slippers.

"I wanted to ask you this sooner, but.." he moved to the kitchen, preparing mugs for tea. "What happened with your fear of magic? I noticed you don't flinch anymore. It seems you don't even notice it. I saw you doing a small magic, too."

You welcomed the change of topic. "Well, you know that Rhys cured my memory loss. After that.. I don't know.. Suddenly I wasn't so scared. I didn't mind the smell anymore. It just.. puff.. disappeared like that. I guess it's because something else bothered me more."

The rattling of porcelain and rustling stopped for a moment.

"If you need to talk about those things, I'm here," he spoke lowly, his deep voice much softer than ever.

"I know. I really missed this," you sighed.

"You can talk to me about anything that bothers you as well," you offered after a while, when Tamlin handed you steaming mug of tea. He gave you a tight lipped smile. "I mean it. I know I've never asked you about anything before, but.. I'm here to help you."

"You are already helping me." He seated into the other armchair. It hurt a bit that he brushed off your offer so easily, but if he didn't want your help, you wouldn't insist.

For a while you sat in silence, sound of rain and crackling of fire the only sounds in the room. You sipped the tea while watching dancing flames, and thought about the reasons he could have to not believe you with his secrets. The warmth slowly spread to your still cold limbs.

He watched you out of the corner of eye. Suddenly, he stood up, leaving his mug on coffee table between armchairs.

"Can I?"

Before you realized what was happening, he slipped into your armchair and seated you on his lap. You gasped in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"This way it's better," he shrugged and pulling you closer he rested his head on top of yours. His body relaxed. "You need to warm up otherwise you'll catch a cold."

You chuckled nervously. Your heart was beating almost painfully fast, blush spread on your face.

Tamlin's chest also echoed with equally fast and strong thuds. One of his hands started to rub on your arm in a soothing rhythm. His neck bobbed with swallow.

"Last night.. Do you remember what I told you?"

You nodded. How could you forget it when those four words followed you even into your dreams.

I like you too.

Four beautiful words that ignited a spark of hope and this morning thinking that those words were the last ones you heard from him, even managed to scare you.

"Good," his voice trembled slightly.

"I meant it. It took me a long time, and you had to leave, to realize that," he whispered into silent room. "When I thought I won't see you ever again, it hurt. It was excruciating pain. We were just friends, yet it hurt more than when woman I was going to marry, left me for someone else."

A small drop landed on your cheek. You wanted to look up at him, but Tamlin stopped you tightening his embrace.

"Having you this close is all I need to feel better," his voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and continued. "I understand if you don't feel the same way. I'm not going to push my feelings upon you. But.. allow me at least stay close to you. That's all I'll ever ask you for."

"Tamlin." You felt your own tears rolling down your cheeks. "How many times do I need to repeat it until you believe me? I had to escape from my overprotective brother, jump with Lucien from high balcony into darkness and let wild beast to almost bite my head off to get here and be with you again. I don't want to live without you."

Tamlin finally let you look at him. His eyes were full of tears, but a small, happy smile twisted the corners of his mouth. Tips of his fingers gently brushed over your face from forehead to your jaw and continued down to your neck and collar bone where your pendant was rested. His shiny gaze moved from your eyes to your lips and back up.

You breathed out shakily in expectation of your first kiss. You wanted him to kiss you, but instead he just squeezed you in another tight hug. You snorted and melted into his chest, listening to his heartbeats. And that's how you spent the most of that day, holding each other and for the first time since you came back, you two openly talked about different things.

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Over the Garden Wall - Chapter Four

Chapter Four - As the Poets Say

A.N.: Heyyyyy so this chapter is mostly to move forward the timeline so you'll recognize a lot of the scenes and dialogue from the show. I wanted to change some of it but, to be honest, I cannot do a better job than the writers.

Yes, the title is a reference to Song of Achilles

Benedict Bridgerton Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Warnings: none? I think?

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

As always, 18+ Minors DNI!

Y/N started to get herself ready the next morning, knowing that it was a bit earlier than normal. She was filled with a nervous excitement after the night before. She continued taking deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. 

The door opened and Marietta walked in, hiding something behind her back.

“Good morning, Princess,” she said as she walked over. With a dramatic curtsy, Marietta presented the princess with a folded pamphlet. She looked at it curiously for a moment, then turned her head to read the print.

“Oh!” Y/N gasped. “How did you get this?” she wondered as she took that morning’s copy of Lady Whistledown. 

“I am a lady’s maid, Your Royal Highness,” Marietta responded with a twinkle in her eye. She ushered Y/N over to the vanity to start on her hair as the princess started to read the society paper. “Read it aloud, I have yet to look at it.”

Y/N nodded and cleared her throat. “‘While this author finds Miss Edwina Sharma to be an exceptional young lady, it is about time I used these pages of record for something else: a shift.’” Y/N caught Marietta’s eyes in the mirror, they shared the same look of intrigue. “‘Is the entire practice of naming a diamond not, well, rather ridiculous?’ Oh, this is magnificent,” the princess chuckled. “‘Should a woman not be valued for so much more than her dancing or comportment? Should we not value a woman instead for her candor, her character, her true accomplishments?’ Whoever this woman is, she has a beautiful mind.” Her eyes widened as she started to read the next sentence. “‘Perhaps, if The Queen abandoned this absurdity that is The Diamond, we would all see that a woman can be so much more. That she can, truly, sparkle from within.’”

Y/N set down the paper and looked at Marietta. “Oh, Her Majesty will not like this,” Marietta commented.

“No, not at all,” Y/N agreed, though she could not hide the huff of a laugh in her voice. 

That was how it went for a couple of days—Marietta would come in to Y/N's room with the latest Whistledown and they would read it together. It drew them closer as friends. Y/N had always seen Marietta as someone who she was close to, but never a friend. There was a disparity of power between them. The princess tried not to use her standing as much as possible, she wanted them to be equals. 

Marietta sat on the armchair as Y/N paced, reading the latest copy. “‘Dearest reader. It has been said that competition is an opportunity for us to rise and stand ready before our greatest of challenges. Well, if what this author hears this morning is true, then a great challenge concerning this season’s diamond has been set forth indeed. Any suitor wishing to gain an audience with Miss Edwina Sharma must first tame the rather prickly spinster of a beast otherwise known as her sister—’ Oh, that is terrible,” Y/N commented. “Are we quite sure this Whistledown is a good person? I cannot decide if the way she casts aspersions at the members of the ton is entertaining or rather cruel?”

“Perhaps, both?” Marietta wondered. “From what I have heard, she speaks nothing but the truth.”

“I wonder what she’d say about me,” Y/N wondered.

Marietta’s eyes widened for only a moment. “If you know what is good for you, we shall never find out. Now, keep reading.”

Y/N clicked her tongue, but did as requested. “‘Of course, the only competition that compels my attention is the game of courtship. So, best of luck to this year’s players.’ I must say, I am quite excited to see how this season turns out. I have never found myself so invested.”

Marietta gave her a small, sad smile. 

Y/N threw herself down on her bed. “Dearest Reader. With the matches of the season well underway, it could be said that all is quiet in the ton. This author, however, has come across a scandal…of royal proportions.” 

Marietta sighed. “I am now invested.”

Y/N sat up, a glimmer in her eye. “How do you know that I am not Lady Whistledown?”

“You are not,” Marietta responded. 

The princess rolled her eyes and flung herself back down on the bed. “Imagine how Mother would react.”

Marietta hardly suppressed her shudder. “I should not like to think of such things.”

----------

Yet another piece of charcoal snapped in between Benedict’s fingers. He groaned and set it down in the case that laid open beside him. He smudged his hands on the paper, trying his best to get everything just right.

“Honestly, Benedict,” Eloise sighed. She sat by the window, the new copy of Whistledown in her hand. Penelope sat beside her, working on her needlepoint. “Must you make such noises?”

Benedict rolled his eyes and grabbed another piece of charcoal. He couldn’t get her lips just right. He realized that he hadn’t paid enough attention to them. Of course, that might have been for the best seeing as if he took one look he was bound to never stop looking until he knew what they tasted like. 

“Benedict!” Eloise shouted.

“What, sister?” he hissed. 

“I do not know what is plaguing you these days, but it seems as though it should require a copious amount of time alone and not in this room where we are forced to listen to your varying frustrations,” she snapped. “What is it you are drawing anyway?” She stood from her chair and walked around the couch. Benedict immediately hid his sketchbook. “A secret?” she wondered. “No matter.”

Eloise reached across Benedict for the sketchbook. He held it above his head as he all but tumbled over the back of the couch. 

“Good God, Benedict!” Eloise exclaimed. “Is it really that terrible?” She darted after him as he ran around the room, almost knocking over the tea tray that sat atop the piano. 

Benedict neared the fireplace, his back to it. He held the sketchbook to his chest and put his finger out. “Stay there, Eloise.”

Eloise crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. “You should know that this does little to deter me, brother. I am simply even more intrigued.”

Benedict had a secret smile on his face as she spoke. That only made Eloise narrow her eyes further.

“What is the meaning of this?” Violet said from the doorway.

“Nothing, Mama.”

“Nothing, Mother.”

“Right,” Violet said with suspicion. She plastered her smile on her face. “Oh, hello, Penelope. I trust that my children have not been causing you too much distress.”

Penelope gave Violet a nervous chuckle. “No, of course not.”

Gregory and Hyacinth ran in at that moment, making Violet sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose and turned away to the tea tray. Benedict ran over and poured his mother a cup. She gave him a grateful smile. 

“Colin!” Penelope gasped, they all turned to see him standing in the doorway, fresh off his travels. The Bridgertons all ran to embrace their brother while Penelope sat back with a smile on her face. 

“I did not expect you to return so soon, dearest,” Violet smiled. 

Anthony made his way into the drawing room, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his brother. “Colin! You are returned. Even better. Family, I should like you all to ready yourselves for the races today. We will be attending, united as one.” As quickly as he had come, he was gone.

“Eloise!” Benedict shouted, seeing her attempting to slowly pick up the sketchbook where he had left it upon Colin’s entrance. She had already opened it, her eyes gazing at the drawing. Benedict snatched it from her hands, but she just looked at him with surveying eyes.

“Is everything alright, Eloise?” Violet asked, watching her two children hesitantly.

“Of course, Mama,” Eloise said. “I am just shocked that Benedict seems to have a bit of talent.”

His shoulders relaxed and he gave her a small smile. He made his way out of the room before anyone else asked him what, exactly, he had been drawing. 

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Y/N stood in the green drawing room, her face partially hidden behind the curtain as she watched the gardens. Her mother was outside with Lady Danbury, Miss Edwina, and Miss Kate Sharma. It was not abnormal, by any means, the Diamond of the season often sought the Queen’s counsel. Though, this year, Y/N found herself even more interested.

Marietta walked in and closed the door behind her. She walked over to the princess and stood on the opposite side of the window. 

“She is showing them the zebras,” Marietta commented.

Y/N chuckled. “I do not see the point of them,” she said. “It is not as though one can ride them. Mother has always been a fan of the outlandish and extravagant.” 

“Her Majesty’s lady’s maid seems to think that your mother intends to use Miss Edwina to lure out Lady Whistledown.”

Y/N turned to her with a gasp. “I did not realize their rivalry was anything other than well-mannered fun. Do you truly mean that Mother wishes to punish Lady Whistledown?” Marietta nodded in assent causing the princess to huff. “It is not as though members of the ton do not say such things in quiet corners or with harsh whispers. Why should it be so different when someone has the gall to say it to their faces? Or…at least…well, you know, in print.”

“Your Mother does not enjoy being defied, Princess,” Marietta said. “You know this better than anyone.”

“Too right,” Y/N sighed. “Still…” She turned away from the window and sat down on one of the chairs. She had a tendency to sit in a rather unladylike fashion when there was no one else around, something her mother absolutely detested. “I should think Mother would appreciate the battle of wits. She would have done…in the past.” 

“Things change, Your Royal Highness.”

Y/N heaved a sigh and nodded. “Believe me, Marietta, that I know all too well.”

----------

Benedict sat back in the gardens as he watched his brothers practice a round of fencing. Anthony was, for all intents and purposes, enraged. He spewed vitriol with each swing of his blade. Kate—the sister, as he put it—was constantly standing in his way. Anthony wished to court Miss Edwina. Not for purposes of love, oh no, that would be a great ask, but for the sole reason that she checked every item on his list while adding some of her own. 

Even Benedict had to admit that she was a rather solid match and would, as Anthony had claimed, make a wonderful Viscountess. 

“Less talking, more fencing,” Anthony commented. Though, he really had been the only one doing the talking. “Brother,” he called out, alerting Benedict. He got to his feet and readied himself as Anthony took the first swing. 

It was a dance of sorts, the only dance that Benedict truly enjoyed. He, however, was unable to keep his wits about him. With all the talk of love and marriage, his mind constantly wondered. 

“Brother,” Anthony sighed, setting his blade down. “We should not get any practice done with your head in the clouds.”

Benedict cleared his throat and nodded. He readied himself once again but took the first swing himself. Anthony and Colin continued their banter. Benedict chimed in whenever it suited him which was rare considering he could hardly focus on more than two things at a time and he refused to let thoughts of Y/N slip through his grasp.

That is how he found himself on the ground with Anthony standing over him. Benedict sighed and reached out a hand. Anthony helped him to his feet and then, strangely, hugged him. Benedict looked on, rather confused. 

“Thank you, gentlemen, for the bracing exertion,” Anthony commented as he patted Colin on the back. “Now it is time for me to secure my final victory for the day. Wish me luck.” He stalked off, leaving Benedict and Colin to watch one somewhere between confused and exasperated. 

Benedict took his glove off and poured himself a glass of lemonade.

“Anthony is right,” Colin said as he approached his brother. “Your mind does seem to wander.” Benedict simply sighed. “Is something troubling you, brother? You know that you can tell me.”

Benedict looked at Colin with a slight smile on his face. He looked around, his shoulders deflating. “I have…” he trailed off, not sure if he should say anything or what he would say in that case anyway. 

“Are you in love with Miss Edwina?” Colin chuckled. “Or worse…Is it the sister?”

“No, of course not,” Benedict scoffed, though a chuckle left his lips as well. “Not either of them.”

“But you are…” Colin surmised. “In love, I mean.” Benedict gave a sad smile. “Eloise mentioned that you have been disappearing and you have been less than present recently. She believes you are hiding something.”

“Eloise should learn to mind her business,” Benedict commented with an airy tone.

“You and I both know that is impossible,” Colin said. “We are Bridgertons, it is one of our family’s defining traits, is it not?” Benedict gave a slight shrug. “I assume that since you have been less than forward about your feelings this…woman…is not someone you should be courting.”

“Well spotted, brother,” Benedict said with a tight voice.

“Is it the modiste?” he wondered. “I thought that had ended last season.”

Benedict rolled his eyes. “No, Colin, Genevieve and I were compatible but never in love.”

“Then who is she?” Colin asked rapidly. “I wish to know of the woman that has caused my brother to act so strangely.”

Benedict sighed again. “Her name is Y/N. I met her just…in the middle of the street one night. We spent time together, just talking. She paints. For a few nights after, when I returned, she would be there as well. But I have not seen her for over a week. I thought I saw her at The Queen’s Ball. But, I believe I was imagining things.”

“You do not know who this woman is or where she came from?” Colin asked, surprised. “Do you even know her last name?”

Benedict thought for a moment. He opened and closed his mouth. “N-No, actually. I do not.”

Colin huffed a laugh. “You must be quite taken then.”

“I am,” he responded. “I really am.”

“When will you see her again?” Colin wondered.

“I do not know,” Benedict whined. “I have been out to the same spot every night and she has not been there. I…I will continue to go until I…well, until I cannot anymore. I cannot just let this go, Colin. It is…consuming me. She consumes me. My every waking thought. My every dream. Every sketch, every painting.” Colin’s eyes were wide as he listened to his brother’s words. “This must remain between us,” he pressed.

Colin simply nodded. “I understand.”

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Benedict stepped into Mondrich’s new club to find it rather empty. Will greeted him at the door with a jovial smile. 

“I must say, I am impressed,” Benedict said as he followed Will through the club. Despite its rather scant audience, it felt comfortable. Will led him over to the bar and poured a drink for the two of them. 

“I heard a rumor that you are an artist,” Will said.

Benedict seemed to stammer for a moment. “I…dabble.”

“Then, you must meet Mr. Cruikshank,” Will send, pointing toward a man leaning against the mantle of the fireplace. “He’s a talented illustrator with many connections amongst artists and patrons.”

Benedict couldn’t stop the warm smile on his face. It was admirable to see someone succeed by means of their own hard labor rather than handouts like so many of the people that he knew. Even Benedict admitted that he was one of those people. 

After they shared a drink, toasting to the success of the club, Benedict found this Mr. Cruikshank and was immediately swept up into a conversation about art. So much time had passed, in fact, that he had not even had a moment to think about how he hadn’t been thinking about Y/N. By the time he realized that, he checked his watch. He wondered if she would be there. He desperately wanted to tell her all that he had learned. 

Of course, he tuned back into the conversation, unable to truly leave it. 

“I saw that Gerard painting,” Benedict said, leaning forward, his eyes wide with awe. “It was a marvel.”

“A vision, in fact,” Mr. Cruikshank agreed. 

Benedict sat back, his head shaking, trying to clear away the hundreds of thoughts passing his mind. “So you’re telling me that he, along with Leighton and Turner, all studied at the same academy?”

Mr. Cruikshank affirmed his suspicion with a nod and told him that there was a vacancy at that same academy. Benedict had no idea if he was good enough, but thought he should apply, at the very least. He was enraptured in the conversation, about to move it forward, when the doors banged open. 

Anthony strode in and pointed at Benedict. “Brother. I need you.”

Benedict looked at him as if he had grown two heads. “I am in the midst of a conversation.”

“Outside. Straight away.” With that, Anthony turned on his heel and rushed out of the building. With a small sigh of apology to Mr. Cruikshank, Benedict followed his brother out. “I need you to teach me how to read that out loud,” Anthony said, handing Benedict a book of poetry. Oh, his brother truly had gone mad.

“Byron?” he asked with a look of disgust. 

The next moment made Benedict wonder what he had done to truly deserve such treatment as Anthony tried to recite the already nonsensical words. 

“How does one make that sound good?” Anthony wondered.

“I am afraid that is not possible,” Benedict said, handing the book back. “That is the opposite of good. It is nonsense.”

“I thought this sort of thing was supposed to be your pleasure,” Anthony said. 

Benedict rolled his eyes and shook his head. Byron? How could anyone ever believe that he sought pleasure in the works of Byron? Anthony, seeing his brother’s distaste, sighed and started to depart. Benedict wracked his brain, trying to think of what exactly to say. His mind raced, as it found itself to do these days. Before he could stop himself, he was blurting out at his brother. 

“What is it, truly, to admire a woman?” he said. Anthony turned to him, eyes wide. But Benedict could not stop. He thought about Y/N waiting for him under the warm lamp light. About how her trembling hands fit perfectly into his. “To look at her and feel inspiration.” The countless paintings that littered his room. The unfinished sketches that he could not get just right. “To delight in her beauty.” The way her eyes gleamed when she smiled at him. “So much so that all your defenses crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her.” He thought of the pained look on her face when she told him they could not be together. He was all that was standing in the way, wasn’t he? She was not a Lady. It did not matter to be respectable when he could not breathe when she was not around. “To honor her being…with your deeds and words.” He looked up to see Anthony staring at him in shock. “That is what the true poet describes.”

----------

After that, Benedict could not stop himself. He said his goodbyes to Will and Mr. Cruikshank, promising to be in touch in regards to the academy, and rushed out of the building. The air felt more fresh than it ever had for some reason. 

Talk of art. Talk of love. 

It was all he needed. 

He assured himself that if Y/N was not there, he would not be heartbroken. He had hope, somewhere in his heart, that she would come back to him someday. He knew that she felt the same way. She had all but said as much. 

Since The Queen’s Ball, when he thought he caught a glimpse of her, it was as though she followed him like a ghost. His thoughts had constantly wandered to her. 

He had inspiration now. Should she not be there, he was certain that he would be able to replicate her likeness. 

The breath in his lungs threatened to stop as he neared the lamp post. She was sitting there on the bench. On their bench. She wrung her hands and tapped her foot. Finally, she looked up after hearing his footsteps. 

The smile on her face was intoxicating and contagious. 

“Benedict,” she said. 

“You’re here,” was all he could say in reply. 

She watched him carefully as he sat down beside her, his eyes never leaving her face. He was determined to commit it to memory. “I am so sorry that I have not been here,” she revealed. 

“It is alright,” he responded. He heard her words, of course, but he was so taken by her beauty that they mattered very little. It was alright, in the end. 

“I hope I have not kept you waiting all these nights,” she replied hesitantly. It was a subtle way of asking if he had waited for her. If he had spent his nights pacing beneath the lamp post, waiting for her return. 

“I knew you would come back.”

Her face broke into a grin again. Shyly, she looked away and nodded. “I really wanted to but there were…well, circumstances outside of my control.” He was silent, so she turned to him again. He was still looking at her, watching, and surveying. “What?” she wondered in a quiet voice.

He just smiled. “I’ve missed you.” To anyone else, he would be rather ashamed to admit that, but not to her. It was the truth. Her face softened and he wanted nothing more than to just let her consume him. “I fear you’ve begun to haunt me,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Haunt you?” she responded, a laugh on her lips.

“I was at The Queen’s Ball and I…I thought I saw you. A mirage, I suppose. Wishful thinking.” He turned to see her wide eyes. “It…was you.”

She took a sharp intake of breath and looked off into the distance. “Yes,” she responded. It was so quiet that Benedict hardly heard it.

“What…What were you doing there? Do you work there? At Buckingham House?”

She paused for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. I am a lady’s maid.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod. “I now see how that can be…difficult.”

Y/N chuckled. “I do not attend to The Queen. But one of her daughters.”

“I hope she treats you well. I hope they all do.”

“I am allowed to keep to myself mostly,” she responded honestly. “It is usually just the two of us.” Her heart was pounding. She didn’t want to lie to Benedict, but she had already gotten this far hiding her identity. “I do wish I had more opportunity to see you, though.”

His grin took up half of his face and he blushed wildly. “I wish we could see each other more as well. Every day, in fact.”

“Every day sounds lovely.”

“I will take whatever you can give me, Y/N.”

Her breath hitched in her throat and she nodded. Simply, she would give him everything if she could, but she knew she could not. “All I can give you is this.”

“Then I shall take it,” he responded. Her hands were trembling and he reached over. He did not take her hand, however. “Is this…alright?” Instead of responding, she placed her hand in his. He took it with a smile, keeping it safe between his palms. “I am going to the countryside with my family for a few days,” he said. “If I could get out of it, I would. But…Well, my brother is courting Miss Edwina Sharma and would like to show her our family home.”

“I am sure it will be enjoyable,” she said. “Getting out of the city.”

“But I will not see you,” he replied. “Therefore, I will no doubt be a distracted mess.” 

Y/N chuckled. “I am sure I will think of you often.”

His lips quirked and he nodded. He looked down to their connected hands, his thumb rubbing over her gloves. “Would you write me?” he wondered. 

She hesitated. She had never thought of that as an option. “I will try,” she responded. Because, truly, she would. Truly, she wanted to. She was sure that Marietta would help her in any way possible. 

His smile was worth it. She would burn the world to see his smile. 

Consequences be damned.

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A.N: not you lying! They are both so pathetically in love and I love it but...you know...if you've been here before, you know I'm kinda mean sometimes....oops

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Love always,

Alma xx

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