Word Count: 3200+

Word count: 3200+

Warnings: a bit of violence

Part XVII | Part XIX

You jolted awake, heaving, skin sticky with a cold sweat. Your trembling fingers found the pendant safely hidden under your clothes. It was dream, another nightmare, you thought at first as your sight focused on the light colored chiffon curtains around the bed.

You tried to calm down, inhaling deeply. But it didn't work, panic gripped on your trembling heart that beat too fast. Why it was harder than usual? Your throat was closing, you couldn't breathe. Why hadn't you forgot it as soon as you opened your eyes?

"Y/N!" A males voice cried out. Before you were able to comprehend what's happening, mattress dipped and strong arms wrapped around you. "Thank the Mother."

You finally breathed in. You had to repeat it several times to be able to speak out.

"Rhys," you whispered, your voice hoarse. Your brother was with you. You were safe. The panic began to dissipate. Tears rolled down your cheeks and you weren't the only one crying. Rhysand sobbed, his grip growing stronger.

You stayed like this until both of you calmed down. You didn't speak, just held each other.

"I'm so sorry," Rhysand whispered as he pulled away to look down at you. "I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have revived those memories."

No dreams, but memories. That's why it didn't disappear after you woke up. You closed your eye and immediately opened them because the horrors started to play out behind your eyelids again.

For the first time in your life you saw Rhys struggling to find words. He was opening and closing his mouth like a fish. You finally looked at him properly.

Rhysand looked terrible. Red eyes with dark circles under, dishevelled hair, wrinkled clothes that remembered better times. He was a mess, much messier than after all-day training in the camp.

For Cauldron's sake, you were so confused. You pressed palms to your face. The horrible headache was back, too.

"Y/N, are you okay? Tell me what should I do? Do you need something?" Rhysand was immediately cradling you.

"I have just this insane headache," you rasped.

"Do you want that powder from Madja?"

You nodded without thinking twice. Small bottle and glass of water appeared on the nightstand. Rhys added a spoonful of powder to the glass, mixed it and handed the glass to you. You gratefully drank it. It worked almost immediately. You sighed with relieve.

"You okay?" You asked Rhys. "You look.. tired at best."

"You were unconscious for last five days. I couldn't leave you alone. It's all my fault.."

"Five days?" you choked on water. "It doesn't matter. Anyway. Don't you dare to blame yourself. I was the one who asked you to do that."

"It was so.." Rhysand fisted on his hair. "If those bastards weren't already dead, I would.." He was so angry that air around him crackled with power.

But you didn't have a chance to talk with him more as a roar came somewhere from the hallway. "Where is she?"

Both of you turned to the door at the same moment, eyes wide. Rhysand was about to stand and go to see what was going on down there when the door flew open and hit the wall hard.

On the threshold stood Azriel. His eyes dark, face full of rage, body ready to strike. The shadows wildly swirled around him, wings stretched behind his shoulders. He was so scary, looking like the embodiment of death itself. If you didn't know him, you would be so panic-stricken, unable to even blink. His hazel eyes scanned over you still in the bed.

In a blink of eye he had Rhysand pinned to the wall, his feet in the air. "What did you do to her?!" he growled, baring teeth at him. Blue siphons on his leathers shone dangerously.

Your brother struggled against his grip, his lips turning blue, but he didn't use any magic to protect himself. Azriel was so blinded with the rage he would kill him and Rhys would allow it. You had to stop him somehow.

You leapt from bed and tried to pull his muscular arm away from Rhys' throat. "Az, calm down," you whined, but you didn't make him move for even an inch. "Azriel!"

Rhysand's eyes began rolling back, now whole his face was bluish.

"Azriel! Let him go!" You were pulling on his arm even more furiously now, your nails digging into his flesh. You drew blood. Only then his gaze moved to you and his arm fell back.

Rhysand fell to the ground gasping for air and coughing. You knelt beside him, rubbing on his back. "Rhys, are you okay?" He just nodded still panting and coughing.

"Are you crazy?" you turned to Azriel. "You could kill him."

"That's exactly what I wanted to do," he retorted, glaring down at his High Lord angrily. "He promised to not push you further. You weren't ready for that and he fucking knew it."

"I asked him to do that!" You shouted back.

At that moment Feyre appeared in the door. She was dirty from a paint, apparently somebody ran to her studio in the city to alert her after Azriel arrived.

"Rhys," she cried out when she saw him panting on the ground and ran to him.

You both helped him stood up and get to the door. Feyre gave you a worried look. A silent question. You just shook your head and smile and so she took your brother to their room, leaving you alone with Shadowsinger.

Azriel glared after him, promise of death in his eyes.

"Don't even think about that," you warned him. "It was my decision. I went to him. If you need to vent your anger on someone, here I am."

He grumbled something you didn't understand and stayed silent with hands crossed on his board chest, hazel eyes watching you.

You gazed back at him.

"How do you feel?" he asked much calmer.

You raised a brow at him.

"What?"

"You were about to kill Rhys. Don't I deserve the same?"

His mouth opened and closed, no words coming out. "It's different."

"How?"

"Simply different."

You angrily glared at him until the spymaster did unthinkable thing. He backed and disappeared in his shadows without another word.

Exhausted you sat down and pulled knees to your chest. As it became your habit, you took the pendant out and played with it. Now you knew. You regained the last bit of your memory. You had everything as you'd planned. You were trying to avoid thinking about the horrors of the last night your mother was alive and rather tried to focus on finding a way how to get to Spring Court.

That night you couldn't sleep. You aimlessly wandered through the house until you found yourself in front of Rhys' and Feyre's bedroom. You were about to knock on the door, but you changed your mind at the last second and decided to go to the garden.

The door behind you opened quietly and Feyre came out. "Oh, it's you," she smiled tiredly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

She just waved a hand. "I was about to get some tea. Will you join me?"

You nodded and a few moments later both of you were seated in the sitting room with steaming cup of tea in hand.

"How is Rhys?"

"Oh," Feyre smiled. "You don't need to worry about him. They're fighting quite often. He's fine, sleeping like a baby at the moment. By the morning he won't have a single bruise."

You shook your head. "It's my fault. Azriel burst out like that because of what I asked Rhys to do."

"You did nothing wrong. Anyway, it was up to you to decide that. Azriel can't be angry for that."

You sipped your tea while Feyre watched you, face tense with worry. "Are you okay?"

You tried to smile, but it turned into grimace. "I will be."

Feyre sighed. "I guess you can't sleep. Rhys showed me what happened there. It was.. well.. more than terrible. If you would like to talk about it.." she offered gently.

You thanked her and this time you managed to smile properly. "It's enough that you are here."

She nodded. You finished your tea mostly in silence, just occasionally doing some small talk. That's how you found out there would be Starfall in a week.

Starfall, the biggest and most beautiful celebration in Night Court. How could you forget about that? An idea began to form in your head.

"Who will come?" you asked subtly.

"As usual. It will be us, my sisters, some friends and people from the city," Feyre smiled, already imagining the party.

"Friends?"

"Yes, Winter Court's High Lord with his wife and few generals. Helion will come and a few friends from Summer Court. Lucien should be here, too." Feyre was counting on fingers, roaming through the list in her head, but you stopped listening.

You already heard what you needed. Lucien would be here. Such a big party was a good occasion to disappear without being noticed for hour or two. It should give you enough time to speak with Tamlin, if things went in your favor.

Thinking about all possible alternatives you even forgot about the horrors of your past and spent that week mostly peacefully.

Evening of Starfall

You stood in your room in front of the tall mirror, admiring yourself. Mor convinced you to go shopping dresses with her and this was what you ended up with. The dress she'd chosen for you for this event was beautiful. It was very simple long dress made of dark blue almost black velvet, the hem of skirt was decorated with shiny little stones that in narrowing chains rose up to your waist. It reminded a night sky full of shooting stars. Indeed, very fitting for today's evening.

She also insisted on helping with your make-up and hair. Since she left a few minutes ago, you had been standing in front of the mirror looking at your reflection. It wasn't like it didn't suit you. To be honest, it suited you a lot, you felt almost beautiful, but this wasn't you. It was too much.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a knock on the door. "Are you ready?" Rhysand's voice shouted from behind the door.

"Yes," you answered. Door opened and Rhys strolled in.

As soon as he found you, his eyes widened. He froze on the spot, in silence gazing at you.

"What?" You raised a brow at him. "Is it too much?"

He slowly shook his head looking for his voice. "No, it's perfect. You're beautiful. I've never thought I will get a chance to see my baby sister like this. Tonight you'll be the most beautiful among the stars."

You frowned at him, blushing fiercely. "You are such an ass."

"I'm just honest," he grinned. "I can't wait to see Azriel's expression when he sees you."

You rather said nothing to that. Ever since he revived your memories, he kept making small remarks about Azriel and you. No need to say that the very next day after Azriel almost killed him, they were again brothers, talking as if nothing had happened.

"Let's go. I can't wait to show my Starshine to my friends," he teased you.

Party was held as always in the House of Wind. This was your first time visiting here since you came back, but you had to say that although Rhys had changed the furniture and decorations, the house itself hadn't changed that much. You still could easily navigate through narrow halls and numbers of rooms here.

Rhys' family was gathered in a big private sitting room. As soon as the two of you walked in all eyes turned on you.

Mor had already seen you, so she wasn't so surprised and sent you just a cheeky grin. Cassian's sonorous voice was the loudest one. He left his mate at the bar and hurrying to you he lifted you up, spinning with you.

"Our lil' sis finally joined the gang," he laughed as he put you down. "Look at you! You're so pretty, dove."

Laughing you pushed him away when he tried to kiss your cheek. Your face felt even hotter than after Rhysand complimented you. "Stop that, you big bear. You'll destroy Mor's hard work."

"You look amazing," Feyre hugged you. Even Amren nodded approvingly. Next to her stood male you'd never seen before, but it wasn't hard to guess he was from different court and had a thing for her. He smiled politely at you, which you returned.

Elain stood with her sister at bar. She frowned at you and turned away. As long as she didn't make another scene, you didn't mind. Nesta, on the other hand, winked at you and smiled, sipping from her glass. It was surprising.

Balcony doors opened and Azriel walked in with a glass of whisky in hand. "What's -" When his eyes met yours he forgot what he was about say, gaping at you. Hand that held the glass dropped and its content spilled onto the floor, splattering his shoes and pants.

Rhysand and Cassian boomed with laughter, others turned around and hiding their amusement pretended to be occupied.

You spared him an embarrassing situation and walked away to Mor. You hadn't talked with him since he attacked Rhysand and honestly, you were still a bit bitter about that.

As the evening progressed, the party was in full swing. Rhys and Feyre disappeared, certainly having their private party on one of the smaller balconies. Cassian with Nesta also disappeared together. They visibly needed an alone time. The rest went down to have fun with the other guests.

You were alone on the higher balcony, pretending to observe the crowd below you. True was you were looking for a certain redhead. Feyre said Lucien would come, but you hadn't spotted him yet.

"Drink?" A deep voice spoke to your right. Shadowsinger waited just a few inches from you with two glasses of wine in hands, offering you one. You hadn't heard him to come.

You gave him a tight smile. "I don't drink."

"Oh," his cheeks tinted with pink. Both glasses disappeared. "You are stunning tonight." You ignored that comment. He leaned against railing, looking down. "Are you still angry with me?"

"Little bit," you answered honestly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Well, at that moment I guess I did, but..I was angry. And so worried for you. Rhysand sent me on some damn mission that took weeks to accomplish. I couldn't see you for so long and the first thing I heard after returning home was that you aren't well, that you're unconscious because he returned you the last bits of your memories. He promised me to wait."

You placed your hand on his big scarred one. "As I already told you. It was my fault. I asked him to do so."

"Now I know. But back then.. I think I would react the same way even if I knew," he admitted."

"The three of you grew into brutes," you rolled your eyes.

He laughed, the sound so rare that you couldn't resist and had to look at him. He was handsome in the tailored suit. Even more than usually. Despite all hardships and wars that he survived, he still seemed young and innocent, just as you remembered him. Your heart stuttered, breathing became labored.

He had to hear that because he stopped laughing and looked down at you. Suddenly he seemed to be too close. The crowd below you gasped and went silent, all eyes turned to the sky. You did the same.

The show had began. Hundreds of spirits travelled above you. A warm wing wrapped around your shoulders, big hand landed on your waist. You turned to Azriel, his shiny eyes already on you. Now he was even closer than before. You could feel his warm breath full of freshness and woody smell of whisky on your face, strands of his hair tickling your forehead.

It threw you centuries back, when the two of you stood on the exactly same spot in the exactly same position. You were just a young female, still teenager, crazily in love with the handsome young male, best friend of your older brother, who loved you deeply. Your knees buckled just like they did back then, breath caught in your throat. His full lips brushed over yours. A moan made its way through your parted lips. You felt so lightheaded and drawn to him.

But..

This was wrong. You weren't that young female anymore. You didn't feel the same way anymore. Your heart changed. You were here on a mission. You blinked the haziness of your mind away.

"I'm sorry," you breathed out and ran away, leaving confused Azriel behind. He didn't try to chase after you nor he stopped you.

You ran until you got two floors lower and only then you stopped in one of the alcoves in the hallway to catch your breath. You forbade yourself to think about what just happened on the balcony.

You were upset. You needed to find Lucien quickly, before the party would be over and you miss the best chance. You walked down the hall and turn the corner just in time to see hair as bright as a fire disappear in one of the doors.

You stalked closer and carefully peeked in. You were lucky, it was Lucien. He stood with his back to the doors, pouring some alcohol to the glass. He was alone. You slipped in and closed the doors behind you.

Startled he turned to you. "It's you? You should have said something. You move around like a ghost. One day somebody gets a heart attack because of you." He turned his attention back to the drink. He seemed to be in a bad mood.

"I was looking for you."

"Really?" He took quite big gulp of liquor grimacing. "So congratulations. You found me."

"Are you okay?"

"Nothing I couldn't solve myself," he snapped. "What do you want from me?"

"I need you to take me to Spring Court." His brows raised, both russet and gold eye snapped back to you.

"You what?"

"You heard me."

Lucien laughed. "Sure. And next time I meet Rhysand, he will chop me into small pieces and feed me to some beasts. Thanks, no."

"He doesn't have to know you helped me."

Lucien tsked, but he listened. "All I want from you is that you take me to Tamlin. That's all. After that you can return to the party and pretend you haven't seen me at all."

"Why?"

"You said it yourself. Tamlin needs help and I can help him. Do I need any other reason?"

He looked you over from head to toe with narrowed eyes, thinking. A muscle pulsed on his tightened jaw. "Okay. How do you imagine we get out of here?"

It surprised you. You thought he would be harder to convince to do something so crazy and dangerous.

And so you presented him your plan. It was very simple: find unused balcony far away from prying eyes and winnow. You already had an idea which rooms with balconies would be safe for your escape.

Lucien agreed and obediently followed you through halls. You were already so close to the one of the empty rooms when a deep voice came from behind you.

"Where do you think you are going?"

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot

Over the Garden Wall - Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten - Tricked by the Past

A.N.: ...I did warn you all that this fic would be heavy, right? I'm pretty sure I did.

Title is from Spectre by Radiohead

Benedict Bridgerton Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Warnings: depression; forced medicating; not eating; anxiety; fit; panic attack; kind of a physical fight?

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 4.0k

As always, 18+ Minors DNI!

Benedict rode home with a smile on his face. He could not stifle it no matter how hard he tried. He knew there would be questions the second he stepped foot back into Bridgerton House, but he knew he could side step them if need be. 

He expected to be accosted the moment he entered, but that was not the case. There was a rather somber feeling in the house. Something felt wrong. 

He stepped into the drawing room to see his family pacing around, his mother talking to Mrs. Wilson about flowers.

“What has happened?” he wondered from the doorway.

Violet’s eyes widened. “Benedict, where have you been?” 

“Out,” he said with a shrug. “All is well. With me, at least. What has happened here?”

“Oh,” Violet said, placing her head on her forehead. “Miss Kate Sharma has had a terrible accident. She was out riding and fell from her horse. Thankfully, Anthony was there. He might have just saved her life.”

Benedict’s eyes widened as he looked around the sullen room. Eloise was slumped on the chair. That was when he remembered what had happened at the ball the night before. He had pushed it out of his mind the second that Marietta had arrived with the letter. Eloise seemed rather dejected. 

“Will she be alright?” he asked.

“The doctors think so,” Violet said with a nod. She walked over to Benedict and spoke softly. “Would you please check on your brother? He seems…quite shaken by the turn of events.”

“Yes, of course,” Benedict nodded.

“And after, we will be having a discussion about what exactly that was last night.”

Benedict’s lips tightened and he nodded. Finding his way out of the drawing room, he knew that Anthony would be in only one place. The study. Benedict never went in there unless he had to. The image of their father’s portrait looming over them was always a bit too much for him. 

He cleared his throat and knocked on the door. There was a choked, “Enter,” so Benedict pushed open the door. Anthony sat in the chair behind the desk, his fingers pressed to his temples. “You’ve returned,” he said quietly.

“I heard,” Benedict said, walking in. He shut the door behind him and made his way in, avoiding the burning gaze of their father’s portrait. “How…are you?” he wondered. Benedict plopped down in the chair opposite the desk and watched Anthony as he scrambled for what to say. 

“I am fine, Brother,” Anthony said with a sigh. “It is Miss Sharma with whom my worries lie.”

Benedict nodded. “Mother says that she will recover.”

“Yes,” Anthony breathed. He cleared his throat. “She…I hope she will.”

“Brother…” Benedict said, leaning forward. “I know we have not spoken much this season, but I see that something is troubling you. It has been since well before the wedding. You…love her…don’t you?”

Anthony pursed his lips and turned his head. He had not yet even looked at Benedict, almost like his emotions were so raw that he knew one look would be the end of him. He took a shuddering breath. “Where were you last night?” Anthony wondered.

“Brother, we are talking about you right now,” Benedict said.

Anthony sighed heavily and finally looked in his brother’s eyes. What Benedict saw there was an anguish he had not seen since their father’s death. It stopped Benedict’s heart for a moment. “I do not know what else to say,” Anthony replied with a shrug. “I do not know what to do.” His bottom lip trembled and he looked away again. 

“Be there for her,” Benedict said as though it was the easiest thing in the world. “If you truly love her then…the opinions of others should not matter.” Anthony looked at his brother, seeing something else in his eyes. “If people oppose it, then they simply do not understand what it is like to love someone so deeply that you will never shy away from them. That you will never let anything or anyone come between you.”

“That is how you feel about your woman, then…” Anthony said. “I see it in your eyes.”

Benedict nodded. “That and more.”

Anthony sighed and leaned forward. “I know that there are…expectations, Brother. But that does not mean we, as a family, will stand in the way of you marrying anyone you wish. Mother wishes love matches for us all.”

“So you will finally admit that you love her, then? Miss Sharma.”

Anthony sighed. “If you will admit that you love this woman.”

“I have never said anything to the contrary,” Benedict responded. “And while I do appreciate your support and understand your position, I must say that my…situation…is a bit more complicated than you might believe.”

“She is not with child, is she?” he asked, panicked.

“No! No,” Benedict said quickly. He cleared his throat. “No.”

“Good,” Anthony replied with a relieved sigh. “That would be another matter altogether, one I do not believe I have the temperament to handle currently.”

“Do not worry, I am handling it all on my own. I have to.”

Anthony’s brow furrowed. “I have never known you to keep such secrets, Benedict. You are usually more open and honest. Brutally so, in fact.”

“I hope that one day, after we marry…I will be able to tell you. She will tell you herself if she so wishes.”

“So you are engaged?” Anthony asked, his eyebrows flicking up.

“Not in so many words,” Benedict responded. “But in all things less concrete, yes…I have promised myself to her and her to me. Though, there are a few…” he trailed off with a laugh. “Obstacles to surpass.”

Anthony nodded and sat back. He was silent for a moment before he spoke in a quiet voice. “Is it worth it?” He turned to see Benedict’s questioning gaze. “Loving someone so deeply that you are terrified of losing them. Is it worth throwing caution to the wind?”

“Yes,” Benedict responded with ease. “Every day makes it worth it.”

Anthony gave him a tight smile. “Mother was worried when you did not return home,” he said. “We were all quite…confused.”

“I am sure,” Benedict said. “Though, as I said, there is not much I can tell you. All I can say is that…she is fine. I am fine. We are happy. As happy as we can be whilst still not married.”

“I hope to meet her one day soon,” Anthony said.

The smile that broke out on Benedict’s face made one grow on Anthony’s. “You will love her. The whole family will. She is an amazing artist. A brilliant mind.”

“An artist,” Anthony hummed. “I must say, I never expected you to fall in love with an artist.” His words were sarcastic, of course, making Benedict chuckle. “Is there anything I can do to rectify your situation?” he wondered. “I need to…do something. To get my mind off of everything.”

“No,” Benedict responded honestly. “As I said, it is complicated.”

“More complicated than being left at the altar by the sister of the woman you are in love with?” Anthony said.

Benedict laughed. “Was that a joke, Anthony? God, will wonders never cease.” Benedict’s laugh forced one out of Anthony. They sat there for a few minutes, heads in their hands, trying to quell their laughter. 

“Yes, though,” Benedict said, finally answering his brother’s question. “It is more complicated.”

“Good God.”

----------

Y/N sat in her room at Kew Palace, as she did almost every day. Still, she was only ever allowed to leave for meals or, on the off chance that her father requested her, she was allowed in the observatory.

It seemed that nothing had changed since Benedict left. Everything went back to normal. 

Her father would ask her about “Farmer Ben” during meals, but she rarely had any updates. They were few and far between because, according to Benedict, his family was going through something. Or, at least, Anthony was. Y/N did not fault any of them for that. In fact, she admired Benedict for standing by his brother through everything. Hearing the news of Miss Sharma’s accident did frighten Y/N. It surprised her that Anthony’s reaction was so strong. Benedict said that Anthony was actually in love with her and not Miss Edwina. 

That was a piece of gossip she knew better than to share with her father. 

Besides that, their correspondences focused solely on proclamations of love and plans for the future. She had promised him that she would speak to her mother as soon as she was able. The Queen seemed rather busy. Or rather reluctant. Y/N really did not know which it was, nor did she care to discover the true answer lest it hurt her heart. 

“Your mother should be visiting tomorrow,” The King said. That pulled the princess out of her haze. She smiled widely at her father. “We shall speak to her.”

Y/N's smile never faltered. “Thank you, Father. Oh, I must write to Benedict.”

“Of course, my dear.”

Her chair was pulled out for her and she ran out of the dining hall and through the halls of Kew Palace. She had finally been given some parchment and quills at the behest of her father, so she knew they would be waiting there. She was actually happy to find that her bedroom was blissfully empty. She ran to her desk and immediately started to pen the letter.

My love, 

Father has informed me that Mother is to join us at Kew Palace tomorrow. He is hopeful that he can convince her. It is all he talks about at meals these days. In between talks of the planets and the stars, it is always Farmer Ben. 

I fear you shall never get rid of that name now that he has branded you with it. 

His Royal Highness, Farmer Ben does have quite a nice ring to it. 

Have you thought about that? It just crossed my mind. When we marry, you will technically be a prince. That shall be quite fun to tell your siblings. 

I cannot stop dreaming of it. Our wedding. I had never been one to dream of such things before. As a child, perhaps I did imagine myself walking down an aisle toward some faceless man, but after everything, that dream vanished.

I fear it has returned tenfold. 

Although, I think I would rather enjoy a quieter wedding, that will not be possible seeing as how royalty is. I fear it shall be grand and opulent and gilded and obnoxious yet no less wonderful. For now when I picture myself walking down the aisle, I see you at the end of it. 

That is enough to keep me happy for years to come.

I will send word as soon as I speak to Mother. Please, keep me in your thoughts. I have doubts that she will be amenable. I do have hope still.

I love you so much. 

Yours,

Y/N

She sealed the letter with a ruby colored wax, actually meaning it this time, and ran out of her room. She was determined to send the letter out with the nightly post. She knew she had little time seeing how correspondence left right after dinner. She had to make it in time.

Y/N skirted down the halls with the letter in her hands. She jerked to a stop when Mrs. Willoughby rounded the corner. 

“Your Royal Highness,” she said with a curtsy that contained little feeling other than contempt. 

“Mrs. Willoughby,” the princess responded, tasting blood in her mouth. She tried to move around the woman in the middle of the hallway, but the space was tight. It was filled with paintings and stools and suits of armor. 

Mrs. Willoughby narrowed her eyes. “What is that in your hands, Your Royal Highness?”

“Nothing,” Y/N said, quickly putting the letter behind her back. 

“Your Royal Highness, I hope you are aware that Her Majesty, The Queen has forbidden you from sending and receiving letters.”

“I am aware,” Y/N responded. “It is simply a note for my father.”

“Then you will not mind if I read it.”

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. Not only was this the longest conversation she had ever had with Mrs. Willoughby, she was also surprised at the woman’s tone. No one, outside of her mother, had ever spoken to her in such a way. 

“I do not believe that will be necessary,” Y/N said. She felt her hands start to shake and tried with everything that she could to force it back. This was not the time. It was the worst time, in fact. 

“I must insist,” Mrs. Willoughby said. Her hand reached out and Y/N jerked back. “Your Royal Highness—”

“Exactly,” the princess hissed. “I am Princess Y/N. You will not tell me what to do.” She took a shuddering breath, the force behind her words lost in the sinking feeling of her chest. She stumbled back, hitting the wall, rattling the picture frame.

“Your Royal Highness,” Mrs. Willoughby said in a harsh voice. Her eyes were narrowed, her lips pursed. Y/N thought she looked like a bird. She reached behind the princess again to grab the letter.

“No!” Y/N shouted. She turned on her heel and started to run, but her vision was growing spotty and blurred. The lights started to streak and turn. She stumbled to the side when she felt a hand on her. “Stop!” Y/N shouted.

“Your Royal Highness!” Mrs. Willoughby shouted back. “You will give me this letter!”

“I w-will n-not!” she responded. Y.N took a deep breath, trying to move away. “No, no, no,” she whimpered. “Please…” Mrs. Willoughby grabbed the letter and Y/N lashed out. Before she could even stop herself, she was swiping her hand in the air, not really knowing what she was doing until she connected with skin. The fear inside her increased tenfold as she looked at Mrs. Willoughby, seeing scratch marks on her face.

The woman stumbled back, grabbing her face. Y/N noticed that she had somehow still gotten the letter. She made her way for it, but tripped over the edge of the rug, tumbling to the ground. 

“G-Give…” she said, trying to take a breath. The breath rattled in her chest. She could almost hear it. She turned over, trying to pull herself to the wall, but her shaking limbs made it almost impossible. 

Then she tasted the bitter liquid. 

Y/N had no idea how it had happened. She knew that time stopped making sense the moment her hands started to shake. Hours could pass in a matter of seconds and she would not know. 

The world started to turn, her head started to throb. Through her blurred vision, she saw Mrs. Willoughby opening the letter.

“Stop,” she tried to say. She was not really sure if her lips had even moved. Her eyes weren't open anymore, she knew that. At least, she thought she did. Right before she succumbed to the darkness, she thought she felt someone grabbing her, but she couldn’t be sure. 

She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. 

----------

“This is most improper, Mr. Bridgerton,” Marietta said as she stepped into the back entrance of the house. Benedict stood in the middle of the small courtyard surrounded by discarded pails of water and broken farming equipment. “My mother will think poorly of me.”

“I apologize, Marietta, it simply could not wait.” 

He had been filled with anxiety all day. Well, he had been for the past few days in fact. Ever since the letters stopped. He still had Marietta’s address from the letter and decided to take a carriage out there. It was a bit outside of London. 

“Is it the princess?” she wondered. “I thought…from your letter…that all was well?” she said it with hope in her voice. Hope that was almost completely clouded by worry.

“It was,” Benedict said, his jaw tight. “It was. I saw her that night and I met The King.” Marietta’s eyes widened. “He seems rather open to our relationship, in fact. However…We have been writing back and forth since I came back to London. We are trying to figure out a way to convince her mother—”

“Her Majesty—” Marietta corrected. 

“Her mother,” Benedict countered. “We are trying to find a way to convince her to allow us to marry. The King has said that he will help. The last thing I heard was that they were figuring out exactly what to say but that there had not yet been any plans for The Queen to visit.”

“How long ago was this?” Marietta wondered.

“Three days,” Benedict said. “It is not abnormal for there to be a day or so in between letters. I understand if she is not feeling alright. But…Marietta, I am worried.”

Marietta took a shaky breath and nodded. “I understand,” she said. “Although she is plagued by these fits, they rarely last longer than a day. The majority of that time is just spent recovering.” She turned back to the door behind her, wondering if her mother was listening to the conversation, then turned back to Benedict. She took a step forward and ushered him to the other side of the courtyard. He followed with ease. “I have not since found a job, Mr. Bridgerton. I have no access to other servants in the royal households.”

“What about Reynolds?” Benedict wondered. “Was he not the one to write you that letter?”

“If letters from you are not coming through then surely letters from me will not either,” she said. She crossed her arms and sighed. 

“Do you think something is wrong with her?” he asked in a quiet voice. Marietta looked up to see the pure dread in his eyes. Dread that she, herself, felt. 

“I…” Marietta started, then stopped. She did not know exactly what to say. She did not know the truth or if she should tell Benedict her fears or keep them to herself. “Her Majesty is intent on keeping Y/N a secret. You now know…everything. That puts you in danger.”

“I do not care,” Benedict said. “I love her, I would do anything for her.”

“Even risk hanging?” Marietta asked. “Beheading even, if Her Majesty sees this as treason.”

“I would risk anything.”

“Benedict,” she said. He looked at her, wide eyed, surprised at her use of his first name. He knew that this was serious. “I know that you two love each other. Believe me, I have heard nothing other than talk of you for months. But this is putting you and your family at risk. This puts Y/N at risk. Do you think isolation in Kew is the worst place for her? Her Majesty has threatened to send her to Bedlam in the past.”

“I will not let that happen,” he said through clenched teeth. “I will not.”

“You may not have a choice,” she said. “I wish this for you both. Truly, I do. The princess deserves nothing but happiness. Happiness that she has only ever found in you. But I cannot sit by and be silent while her life hangs in the balance.”

“You care for her more than I would think from a lady’s maid,” Benedict said.

“Well, you have not known many lady’s maids, then. But, yes, Y/N and I are very close. Despite our disparity, we are friends, I think. Were friends.”

“Then as her friend, what do you suggest I do?” he asked pleadingly. “I do not want anything to happen to her nor my family. But I refuse to let her disappear.”

Marietta took a shuddering breath. “I will see what I can find out. Carefully. I will write to you if I hear anything. But…Mr. Bridgerton…You cannot go to The Queen.” He looked surprised. “I see it in your eyes, that same defiance that the princess has when she stands up to her mother. Her Majesty is her mother, you are simply her subject.” 

Benedict took a deep breath and nodded. “Alright. I cannot promise that I will not do anything though. I cannot sit still and wait.”

“I know,” Marietta said with a nod. “I understand.”

He gave her one last tight smile and went on his way. After he closed the gate to the courtyard behind him, Marietta ran her hands over her face. She looked up at the sun shining bright in the sky and glared at it. 

----------

Everything in that room was limp and lifeless. There were no paintings on the stained white walls. The door was old, the paint chipped. The handle and hinges were rusted. The window looked out over a green field, nowhere to run for miles. 

The bed was small, metal, and it creaked with every movement. There was one singular wooden chair. 

That was all. 

Y/N stared at the patterns the light created on the white walls, her mind not completely there anymore. There was a cup of water next to her, but it had been left untouched for days. At least, she thought it had been days. The sun rose and set. Yet, she was still there.

Time meant nothing anymore. 

Her eyes fluttered shut as she tried to keep her breathing focused. But there was nothing for it. No one came to visit her. No one wrote. No one called on her. She didn’t even know where she was.

At first, she had tried to figure out where the field was. It seemed familiar, but her mind was too addled from the medication Mrs. Willoughby continued to give her. Gone was the useless Balm of Gilead. It had been replaced by something much more sinister. Something that she used to scream and fight against. Something that had only ever been used as a last resort. 

She knew that it was probably around sunset, because the light that shone in from the window was orange. It plastered itself on the white wall beside Y/N's rickety bed. She would crawl on the ground and pull herself against the wall beneath the window, using whatever strength she had left. 

If she positioned her hands just right, images would appear on the wall. Her father had done that when she was younger. Shadow puppets, he called them. Though, his stories were much nicer than the ones Y/N's brain supplied at that moment. 

A rabbit hopped along, enjoying its life, until a wolf came and swallowed it whole. The wolf spat the rabbit out, not liking its taste. The wolf toyed with the rabbit. The wolf let the rabbit run as fast as its little legs could take it, but the wolf ran faster. The rabbit’s head start meant nothing. Then the wolf would grasp the rabbit by its ears and tug it back to the starting line. 

The game continued over and over again until the wolf had enough. Then the wolf, hungry after its day of play, would eat the rabbit once again, suffering through the taste. 

She stayed that way until the sun disappeared. Then the room was shrouded in blue. Y/N liked blue. It reminded her of the sky, it reminded her of the vests that Benedict sometimes wore, it reminded her of his eyes. She missed his eyes. She missed everything about him. 

Just as her thoughts turned fully to Benedict, the door opened. 

Mrs. Willoughby came in with a tray of food. She set it down on the chair and walked over to Y/N who was still seated on the floor. The princess did not fight anymore. Instead, she tilted her head back and stuck her tongue out in an exaggerated motion. She did not shy away from the bitter taste of the medication. 

Mrs. Willoughby was silent. She seemed content with this situation. Of course, she was. The door closed before Y/N could even have another thought. 

It was useless to bring her food because after she had taken the medicine she had perhaps thirty seconds to make it to the bed before the darkness took her. 

More often than not, she did not move. She allowed the darkness to take her right on the floor, right under that window, the room still shrouded in blue.

--------------------

A.N.: so like..I'm sorry?? I love angst!!

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist

Love always,

Alma xx

Taglist: @imdoingbetternow @dd122004dd @soulmates8 @aureolinb @poppyalice2001 @thatgirljas13 @sunnygrey99 @frogsandhomicidalducks @dreadity @psychomanias @muxshwriting @erinroney @theregencywriter @wobbly-fluggers @moonwayne @esposadomd @marvelspogue @avengersgirllorianna @bwormie @noirrose21-blog @themadhattersqueen @ziarah @esposadomd @thicficbich1 @luvaerina @smileofthesun27 @mythical-mushrooms13 @siimiasoi @wannapizzamymindposts @everavenclaw @kno-way-home @unfortunatekiwitrash @melsunshine @butterfly-skinnylegend @yunloyal @fanfiction-she-wrote

Word count: 2100+

Warnings: mentions of killing - blood, wounds, pain, fear - I tried to be decent and as non descriptive as possible, but..👀

Second chapter this week because every voice matters and counts 😉

Anyway, this one is probably horrible 😅

Part XVI | Part XVIII

You were determined. Right that night after Lucien's visit, you looked up Rhys' office again. Inside you felt cold and empty, somehow disconnected as you knocked on the door. The answer came immediately. Being it other day you would laugh because it seemed as if Rhys lived in his office. When you needed you always found him there. But today wasn't the day.

You peeked in finding him seated behind his desk covered with different documents. At first he didn't pay you any attention, too busy with whatever he was reading. He was frowning at the paper in his hand, the other one played with the pen. You knew what this gesture meant. Something worried him. Or pissed him off. When he was younger he unconsciously played with different objects all the time. The habit almost disappeared as he grew older.

"May I?" Hearing your voice he jerked up and finally looked up from the papers. He blinked as if he didn't hear you come in.

"Y/N? Yeah.. Yeah, sure," Rhys stood up, offering you a seat. He checked the time "Something happened? It's quite late."

Yes, you wanted to shout at him, but you wouldn't do so. A lot of things had happened, the conversation between him and Lucien that you overheard, was one of them. But you already made up your mind. You wouldn't mention Tamlin. He would refuse you as he refused Lucien. Your brother was too stubborn. You came to ask him for the last favour, for the last piece of puzzle. It was strange and hard to explain, but you knew you needed it. At last you were ready.

Your face had to give you away because his jaw tightened and he crossed hands on the chest. His piercing gaze scanned you, his shoulders tensed. Words weren't necessary, he understood.

"It.. it won't be easy," Rhysand spoke slowly. "I won't be able to take out one memory at a time. They are too tangled up. I'll have to break the barrier. The process can be quite unpleasant, maybe even painful and the memories will all come at once. It might be very traumatic experience."

He was trying to warn you, prepare you for inevitable. Of course he was worried for your wellbeing and how it could hurt you, yet he was impatient, too. Since you came he kept asking about that particular night, never really pressuring you about it. However Rhysand eagerly waited for this moment.

Straightening your back you stuck out your chin. Your gaze didn't falter. "I know." You were ready. You'd spent all afternoon preparing for the worst.

Rhysand curled his lip, thinking. "Fine," he spoke after a moment. "But there is one thing I want from you."

"What is it?"

"I want to see it. All. From the start to the end. Everything you remember, not just some glimpses."

You frowned. "Why?"

He pushed off of the desk that he was leaning against and turning away from you headed to the window where lights of the city on the other bank of Sidra shone. He was silent. Minutes passed. You waited.

"I-.. I need to know what he caused."

You swallowed watching his back. You shivered with cold even though the room was warm. "He?"

Rhysand slowly turned back to you, looking straight in your eyes. "Tamlin." His voice wasn't more than a whisper, but it was so harsh, so full of rage you winced as if he slapped you.

"What does he have to do with it?" Your voice was hoarse. Lump grew in your throat and breathing once again became laboured.

"He was the one who told his father where you would be."

"Why would he do that? And how could he know anyway?"

"At that time we were still friends. He knew it because I told him. It'd never occurred to me that something like that could happen."

You held your breath, still shivering. Rhysand watched your trembling hands with hardened expression. You clenched them into fists pressing them to your lap to hide the tremors. "And what will you do after you find out?"

He considered it. "I'll hate him even more," he said at last. "Our father made him pay enough already."

"You won't hurt him?" Rhysand just shook his head. "Can you promise it?"

"I can, but.. I know you care about him even though I'm against it. And I don't get it. Honestly. However I wouldn't hurt you that way. For me you are much more than a promise."

You pressed your lips together. You believed him, you really did. But if you managed to get back to Spring Court, there was no doubt Rhysand would be angry. Very angry. Then anything could happen and you didn't want to risk it. And so thinking about the future, you asked him to make a promise. He didn't hesitate for even a second and did what you asked him for.

You felt a prickling sensation on your right shoulder. Rhysand rolled up his right sleeve. With awe you watched as a tattoo of small rose appeared on his forearm and you knew that its twin was on your shoulder.

Now you could start.

It was just as Rhysand warned you. He couldn't untangle the threads no matter how hard he tried and to get them out he had to destroy the barrier. As soon as it was down the confused images that chased you in the nightmares came alive.

You were camping with your mother and a few other females and children on the rocky bank of the river in Illyrian mountains. It was peaceful time and you had a lot of fun sitting with them around the campfire, listening to the stories. After eating some more marshmallows you all retired to own tents for the night.

Several hours later you were woken up by screams and smell of smoke and something metallic. Bed next to you was empty. You crept through the tent on all fours and peeked out.

The ground was smeared with blood, some of the tents were burning, females protecting their children, were trying to hide or run away, but all of them were met with the same fate. Small group of males slaughtered them on the spot or hurt them enough, so they couldn't move, and dragged them to the center of the camp. Blood dripped from their swords, wild grins on their faces. They spared no one.

You were terrified, but you knew the second you would make any noise, even the smallest, they would notice you. Your muscles locked on the spot and only thing you could do, was watching the horror around.

Movement at the edge of the campsite caught your attention. A blond hair male appeared. Your eyes widened. You knew him. It was the young male from Spring Court who you saw with your brother once. His clothes were clean, without a single drop of blood. He was unarmed and looked around in horror. Your eyes met for a moment. His mouth moved as if he was telling you to stay hidden.

Then he grabbed one of the girls and.. in a flash of light her features changed. Now she looked exactly like you. Your heart painfully throbbed in your chest. What did he just do?

Another male with sword came into view, getting close to him. The male was older, his clothes and light colored hair were stained with blood, but that was all you could say about him. You didn't see his face.

The male laughed. "Great job, son! We were looking for this little bitch."

He grabbed the girl. "Now return home," he ordered to young male.

Tamlin didn't move, his eyes jumping between the male and the girl. He didn't dare to even look your direction. "But.."

"I told you to leave!" male snapped, authority of high lord in his voice. Tamlin gritted his teeth as his body bent and then he winnowed away.

You watched as male dragged the girl to the group gathered in the center of camp where you all sat around campfire only several hours earlier.

Then they took one person after another and cut their throats in front of your mother. She didn't cry, refusing to give them what they sought. Soon enough your mother and the girl were the only ones alive.

Females and children who survived cried in pain. The male tossed girl to them. A female reached for girl, tugging her to her chest to protect her. It was your mother. Her wings were broken, blood seeping from deep wound on her side. She was pale, but baring her teeth she said something. You didn't hear her through all the cries and crackling of the fire. All males boomed with laughter.

One of the males reached for the girl. Your mother fought him, but he was stronger. He punched her to the face and for a moment her grip on the girl weakened. Male snatched the girl, dragging her to the pile of bodies. Other two males gripped your mother's arms when she tried to get to her.

This time it wasn't fast death that waited for the girl. First, the oldest of them cut the membranes of her wings. Girl screamed in pain, but the male who dragged her there, held her in place. Then slowly they cut off her wings making it as painful as possible. At some point girls shrieks stopped as she fainted. At last they cut her head off, tossing it to your mother's knees.

Your mother screamed at the top of her lungs and cried this time. When the oldest of the males moved toward your mother you couldn't watch it anymore. You curled to ball, your body was shaking uncontrollably and not only with sobs. Closing eyes you pressed hands to your ears, but you still heard your mother's screams until they fell silent.

You didn't know how long you lay there. Maybe you even fainted for a moment. A strong hand grabbed your elbow, dragging you to your feet. It was one of the younger males.

"Look what I found," he grinned. Others were confused.

"Didn't we already take care of her?"

"I could swear I put her head into that box," the other said.

"How is it possible there are two of them?"

You wanted to fight the male who held you. However his grip was so strong you already felt the forming bruises.

Around you stood only the young males, the older one was nowhere to be seen. You managed to slap one with your wing.

"Bitch!" he shouted in anger.

A sharp pain shot through your body. You cried out. One of your wing landed in the dirt, droplets of blood rolled down your arm, clothes on your back became soaked, sticking to your body. Blood dripped on the ground, mixing with the others. Another wave of pain shot through your body as the other wing followed the first one.

You fell to your knees without feeling the impact or the sharp stones cutting into your flesh. It was the most agonizing pain you'd ever felt. Everything blurred before your eyes. Voices around you kept fading and coming back like echo, but you didn't understand a single word. Your world turned upside down.

You had to faint because you didn't remember much of what followed. At one moment you felt hands around your shoulders and under knees, blurred face of older male and night sky above you.

You awoke for a while in a room that looked more like a cell. It was dark and reeked with dirt, blood and magic. So much magic.

You were lying on your stomach, your back was burning. The older male was bending over you, doing something with your wounds. It hurt so much.

Your mind kept switching between unconsciousness and awareness. The buzzing in your head was driving you crazy. You heard muffled voices, but didn't understand what they spoke of. World was spinning with you too fast and you were nauseous. You remembered puking once, but that was all.

And then it suddenly stopped. Fresh air filled your lungs, stretching them delightfully. You opened your eyes, looking around.

Soft green light was penetrating through the windows. You were lying in a soft bed. You felt strangely empty and little confused. But there was no pain and that was the only thing that mattered. Who would care in that situation about not remembering anything, about not knowing where you were and how you got there. It didn't hurt anymore. And that mattered the most.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @yunloyal @nebarious @isabiss @st0rmyt @lilah-asteria @ubigaia @paleidiot

He’d Never Admit it -Prt 2

Gojo had a funny way of dealing with feelings, unfortunately it might be a little too late for the sorcerer when he finally realises what they are.

♡ part one ♡ part two ♡

Gojo Satoru x FemReader (Senior High School)

Word count: 5.5k (oops)

Warnings: BullyGojo . Gojo bring a dense menace . Crack . Smut . 18+ MDNI. Dirty Talk . Angst . Cliffhanger. No comfort (this chapter) . Jealous Gojo .

Seven days had passed since the incident on making a mess on dipshits desk, a nickname that Gojo had given the guy who was talking to you more and more as the days went.

It was annoying him, spurring him into feeling agitated -an emotion that was foreign to the six eyes.

He watched as your attention towards dipshit had started to focus more, you were smiling and chatting with him so easily.

So for the last five days Gojo took a slightly new approach to getting your attention.

He was going to cause the problem and then fix it, show you he was charming n’all that stuff that get girls attention, y’know the hero vibe!

Genius right?

Pftttt…

You were currently on path to walking past the strongest sorcerer as he stood acting like he was listening to the girl talking to him in the hallway. When you past he stuck his foot out making sure to catch yours, your books against your chest splayed out across the floor as your hands went to stop your face from hitting the ground.

But Gojo caught you, he never caught you, blinking at the hard floor his hand was gripping your shirt from the back, bunching the material in his hands as he grinned down at you like a Cheshire Cat.

“You’re so clumsy~ can’t have that pretty face all smashed in can we~!” he sang, thinking his smooth little plan had gone his way.

It really seemed it had. Until you squealed.

The buttons popped from your shirt, breasts straining against the material from Gojo gripping it at the back, your whole weight put into the flimsy material. Your arms flew to cover your chest as your tits practically burst from it, buttons popping as they echoed from their bounce down the halls.

Your knees tucked under you and your glared over your shoulder at Gojo, his smirk had dropped clean from his face.

Well, that didn’t go to plan.

“I didn’t-“ Gojo tried, his face not even hinting any amusement as he stared down at you.

“You’re such an asshole!!!!”

“It’s not my fault! Y’ storing cursed energy in those tiddies or something? You lost five buttons! They’re not even massive!”

He instantly regretted the words that left his mouth, he knew he was blabbering nervously but it came out a lot witter than he actually felt. But he couldn’t let anyone else see he was getting jittering could he?

Humour is his defence and deflection tactic after all.

The blush formed across your face as you tried your best to ignore the students who had stopped to watch the scene unfold.

Gojo blinked, eyes drifting to your breast squashed up and exposed from the torn shirt, your arms doing their best to cover you up.

They do be looking good like that though. He thought.

Ah man, he was getting hard again, seriously why did you always affect him like this? You looked so flustered… one of the cupboards wasn’t far from here maybe he could drag yo-

“Look at them tits! Wonder how big they are!”

“Man, a perfect handful maybe a little more!”

Your head snapped around to the boys gossiping who instantly shut up.

“Yeah? How big are your dicks huh? A thumbs length at most, maybe a little more.” You spat sarcastically.

“8.5 inches, 9 on a good day.” Satoru announced whilst he shrugged before bending closer to you and lifting you to him slightly, like you weighed nothing.

“-and it’s always a good day with you.” He whispered the last part winking at you.

“NO ONE ASKED YOU GOJO!” You seethed.

The boys sputtered, girls giggling in the background at them as the attention was briefly taken from you.

Which soon returned when a jacket was thrown over you and Gojo’s hand.

Ah, we meet again, sir dipshit. Gojo thought as his eyes narrowed on a blazer being placed over you.

“C’mon, you have your blazer in your locker right?” Dipshit suggested, smiling at you with some Prince Charming fucking look.

You nodded and stood with his help.

“Nice one, Romeo.” Dipshit mumbled whilst looking over his shoulder at Satoru.

That was day one of Gojo being left stood dumbfounded as to why his tactic didn’t work.

0 to Gojo and 1 to dipshit.

Day two came and he bought you a box of your favourite Mochi as an apology .. without having to actually verbally say sorry.

But Satoru ate the whole box on the walk here.

Gojo frowned as he looked down at the box, seeing one left sitting innocently as if to mock him.

You said to yourself she won’t notice if you have just one and here I am.

0 to Gojo 1 to his sweet tooth and lack of self restraint.

The third day went better, as some one opened their locker a little too harshly and Gojo had got there in time to stop it slamming into the side of your head. His hand flat pressed against the locker door and he grinned at you, you rolled your eyes and shut your own, turning away from him. He looked over his shoulder and glared at the boy who laughed nervously.

“Watch it will you?”

Gojo’s mood changed as he pouted looking at you disappearing into the hall way, his long legs caught up with you quickly and he grabbed your shoulder…

“Hey! I just saved that pretty face again, you’re not gonn-“

He didn’t realise you were drinking some water, tugging your shoulder back had caused the bottle to leave your lips whilst still tilted, pouring it down your shirt which instantly became see through.

Gojo eyed the bottle of water -was it bubbling? It looked like it was boiling in your hand. Blue eyes turning to you answered his assumption.

“Heh, you’re mad at me.”

Your eye twitched, but his eyes kept flickering down to that pretty lacy bra you were wearing under your white shirt, which was now sticking to you like second skin on your chest.

“Fuming.”

Gojo took a step backwards and held his hands up innocently. The bottle soon colliding with his head knocking his glasses half off his face.

“Take your jacket off Satoru!”

Your hands started gripping said item, causing him to laugh at you fumbling with his clothing. He kept his hands up in a surrender but it didn’t stop his cockiness.

“You’re not usually this keen to get my clothes off~! Heh look at you go!”

He was happy to see you walking away with his blazer around you, absolutely swallowing you cause y’know, he’s a big boy and he grinned smugly.

1 for Gojo.

Later that day you’d found him after your last class, handing back his blazer that he couldn’t help notice smelled so much like you now, mixed with his own scent.

Fuck it was a good combination.

“Here,”

“Hmm, I think you owe me for borrowing it all day. I’ve been all cold without it!” Satoru chimed giving you a smirk, eyes looking at you over the rim of his glasses so you could see his mischievous intention.

“You’re kidding right? It was your fault in the first place!”

“Nah I done nothing wrong!”

He didn’t take him much to back you into a nearby cupboard, hiking your skirt up to your waist and pushing your panties to the side. Your hands gripped against the cupboard shelves as he pulled your hips back into him, his breath fanning across your neck as he placed little bites along the skin.

Pressing the tip of his dick between your slick folds and rocking his hips, a long airy moan left him, your hips twitching back as his head caught your clit.

“Watch it then,” Satoru pushed your head forwards, forcing you to watch as his dick slid between your thighs, rubbing along your clit in the process. The head glistening with slick as it pushed through your folds, using them and your thighs as a flesh light. Gojo leaned forward to bury his face in your neck, his hand in your hair still keeping your head down to watch as he thrusted.

“Shit this feels s’good - Hah -I ain’t even done anything and y’so wet already, bet I could slip right in huh?”

“Nah-“ you huffed, arching your hips back before bringing them back as you started to rut against him yourself, Gojo stopped moving and watched as you rolled your pussy against him, tightening your thighs. “-you’ll have to try a little harder.”

Gojo chuckled behind you before pulling back, with the wet slap of his cock hitting his stomach before he spun you around, hands gripping the back of your thighs he lifted you up to wrap them around him. One of your hands gripped the shelf behind your shoulder, the other gripped the hair at the back of his head. Pink dusted both your cheeks as the closet started to get stuffy.

Gojo looked down to the slight gap between you, cock rested against his abdomen, he flexed it watching the trail of slick and pre cum link from his bellend to his stomach.

“Reckon? It’s dripping from just rubbing ya.”

You groaned and pulled his head back roughly, he winced but let out an airy moan.

You rose an eyebrow before a smirk spread on your face. You tugged his hair again, even harder and watched as his dick flexed, his hands tighten on your thighs and a moan caught on his throat.

Oh, the cocky bastard liked it!

“You’re pathetic Satoru, you really have no idea do you? Hurry up and fuck me then before a change my mind.”

You lifted and rolled your hips forward, your hole catching at his head, it only took him one thrust to slid in. A moan leaving you both as you clenched squeezing him. his cock flexing again in you as he felt you adjust around him.

“Shit -how are you always so fucking tight?”

He shifted you, lifting you a bit higher than him and wrapping his arms around your waist. He went to press his face into your neck but you pulled his head back again by his hair to take in his expression. Blue eyes glazed over, light pink across his cheeks and his mouth slightly open.

“You look so fucked out already Sato’”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes drinking you in.

“Open your mouth,”

And he did, your hand pulling his hair back again as you let spit gather on the end of your tongue, Gojo watched as you slowly let it dribble onto his own. Cock flexing again he moaned, closing his mouth he swallowed without even being told.

Because this was his way of being sorry, ‘cause he fucking loved it when you took control of him like a dog.

But he’d never admit that.

“Guess I can be a lil rough,” he mumbled before twisting his hair from your grip and burying his face into your neck, arms wrapping even tighter as he started to fucking rut into you. His heavy moans and sighs fogging against your neck, vibrating down your skin and making you clench around him

“S-slow down Gojo-“

“Nah, I’m way too fucking fired up now.”

Day four however took a turn of events, he hasn’t actually seen you today which was unusual.

However when he did see you it only spurred something ugly in his chest.

Anger wasn’t an emotion that Gojo felt often, if at all. He was far too care free and lacked any real connection to most things, he didn’t care deeply enough for things to get him angry.

Or so he thought.

Seeing you at that coffee shop with that fucking guy?

That did it.

Yeah that guy! The Dipshit.

Gojo didn’t get it, did you not understand the message he was giving you when he made you cum all over the guys desk? The guy who was asking you about your dating choices?

The message was clear, so he thought anyway.

You’re mine.

But he’d never admit that, right?

You actually ended up going out with him even after Gojo made a sloppy mess between your legs and had the name Satoru falling from those pretty plump lips of yours as you cum over his tongue again and again. He didn’t even relieve himself with you that day on the desk- that’s how selfless he was being that day! Yet you were actually went on a damn date with him! Even after he fucked you dumb yesterday in the closet!

And you were happy.

You were laughing, smiling and fucking flirting with him.

You didn’t smile at him no matter his goofy behaviour -you never laughed at Satoru Gojo.

That really bugged him. He was always goofy and silly!

And he knew your body inside and out -he always made you feel better after he upset you. That guy didn’t, as far as Gojo knew anyway.

Shit, wait, what if you cum for that guy like you did the six eyes? Was he better than him? No freakin’ way! Is that why you were happy and smiling with that guy? Shit, shit, shit.

“Satoru, you good?”

“Huh? Yeah m’fine,” he waved Suguru off side glancing at you again from his booth at the cafe.

“Really? You look like you’ve just been dumped.”

“What? I’ve never been dumped, no one’s dumped me!”

The all too fast reply was humorous, it didn’t match his trying to look cool facade -in fact he broke it altogether.

Geto rose an eyebrow, a smirk twitching at his lips, his eyes had seen his best friend staring at you with another guy and he seen those blue eyes of Gojo’s stealing another side glance like he was worried to miss something.

Suguru chose his words specifically when he said the dump word.

Plus that defensive sputtering of a reply that was so out of character from his usual cocky, flippant friend?

Oh no, this was hilarious ! Satoru was actually hung up -he was upset. Over a girl.

“I didn’t say you had, said you looked like it,”

“Tch, whatever. There’s not even an expression for that kinda crap, you’re talking shit Suguru.”

Geto’s eyes widened slightly, pink dusting across Gojo’s cheeks, his body and emotions totally betraying the look Gojo was trying to give -flippant and unbothered.

“Man, look at you!” Geto laughed, leaning forward on the table to point at Satoru’s cheeks “-the blush brings out the blue in your eyes~”

Gojo slapped his hands away and glared over the rim of his glasses. Leaning back into the boot he swung an arm over the spine of it, man spreading and shifting his pose to deflect his feelings as if trying once again to convince his emotions into what his body language was showing, however they still weren’t meeting to agree.

“So you’re not into her?”

Gojo snorted and rose an eyebrow at Suguru,

“Her? As if,” Gojo waved his hand dismissively “-not my type.”

Suguru nodded, crossing his arms and leaning back into the booth seat, turning his head up to the ceiling as if he was in thought.

“Yeah, gotta be honest you’d be punching with her Satoru. Guess you’re not into wife material,”

Suguru was playing the game and it was working.

Gojo frowned as he looked away eyes unfocused as he stared aimlessly into the cafe.

“Aren’t you dating Gojo?”

“-who said that?” You practically spat, you were flustered but it came out more aggressive than you wanted, seeing as you cleared your throat and asked again in a nicer manner, still looking at the guy like he has grown three heads.

“Uh I mean the whole school is whispering about it, you not seen that little fan club of his death glaring at you?”

“What idiot would date Satoru?” Your nose wrinkled as if he disgusted you, as if the thought of actually being with him was so unimpressive that you couldn’t imagine someone that would go for him. HIM, GOJO SATORU UNIMPRESSIVE! The audacity!

“So, you’d be up for me taking you out for a coffee? It’s the least I can do y’know.”

The conversation ran clear, even as he ate your pussy an hour after they were spoken it still rang at the back of his head. That insecurity of his that he buried being triggered.

You’re not good enough, everyone thinks you’re annoying and only see you for your potential -only see you as the six eyes.

The whole conversation you had and he heard, your reaction to dating him was actually hurtful -why did he disgust you? Sure he teased you a lot, but he always made you feel better! It was part of the game right? He teased you, you get angry and you both make up.

He was good looking -incredibly so if you asked him and most people. He always smelled good -he bought really expensive cologne. He was hygienic, his clothes were always clean and stylish. He had money. He was the strongest sorcerers around even at 18. He was the pride of his family.

So why did he disgust you? Why did you act like he wasn’t good enough?

Tch.

So you wanted to act all high and mighty huh? Like he wasn’t good enough for you.

Well, Satoru would settle the score -he’d stop the rumours and clear things up no problem!

Let day five commence.

“Oi,”

Your shoulders hunched as you heard that dreaded voice appear in class, it was Friday and clock out was fast approaching, in fact this was the last lesson of the day before a few weeks holiday. You were sat at your desk grabbing your book for the study session.

A hand slammed down on your desk as he half bent over, reluctantly you looked up and your face fell. His shit eating grin was smug, eyes glistening over the rim of his glasses as they reflected from the sun bouncing on them through the window.

“You left these at my place-“

Hanging from Gojo’s index finger were the panties he’d ripped off from you last week, looking innocent as they swayed so silently from his digit as he lifted them to gain focus on it -no he lifted them so the whole class could see them.

The gasps from the room flooded your ears, your eyes darting to see everyone in the class was looking at you both.

“Satoru that’s too fa-“

Oh? The fact Suguru was finally saying something was perhaps enough to kick your brain into drive that this was actually happening.

“Ah, they didn’t fit you Satoru? What a shame,” even though you were trying to deflect him the heat was rising to your face, feeling up your neck like bugs under you skin.

Like Gojo fucking Satoru under your skin.

Gojo snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Wrong pair those looked great on me. These I ripped off you remember? Hence the condition, thought you’d want’em back for your new dipshit boyfriend.”

In a fluid movement he bunched the panties in his hand and pointed that thumb over to someone behind him. Your eyes followed and landed on the guy you’d been to coffee with, your eyes then followed to where he was sat and it clicked.

That desk..

“He’s not my boyfriend, you’re the dipshit!”

“Yeah yeah, s’what you said ‘bout not dating me yet you’re leaving this at my place hmm?”

He grinned at you, if you were less upset you’d maybe see that his eyes weren’t entirely amused like they usually danced with when he teased you. You’d see he was hurt, he was annoyed there was a slight hardness to them.

But he’d never admit that.

Your hand covered your mouth and cheeks in an attempted to cover your face going beet red, eyes filling with tears as the shear embarrassment hit you like a train. There were so many eyes on you and you felt corned. Your heart sank to your stomach, drowning in the acid that sat there, eating away at you so viciously you felt nauseous.

You stood from your seat, clumsily grabbing your bag and books, looking at Gojo with enough pain on your face to make his own expression fall.

The glistening of feral amusement from his eyes dulled as he set his gaze on what he could only guess was his first look at heart break. -his first look at really hurting you.

No, this wasn’t right, it wasn’t supposed to make him feel like this.

Your hand lowered slightly to release words that made him freeze.

“I hate you Satoru,”

It was eerie how quietly and calmly you spoke, yet it was just so fucking sad how your gentle voice cracked. There was no insult, no temper -nothing.

No, this was different to your usual anger, this wasn’t how it usually goes. You started off like you always did, keeping him place and bantering back. But this?

You never said you hated him, you never looked at him like that before. These weren’t tears of frustration this was something else.

Suddenly he didn’t think your eyes looked so pretty like this, glistening with tears that he caused.

You turned and he stood frozen at your run from the room, everything slowed as you left. How your hair whipped around you, how those stray tears left you dancing a battle through strands of your hair. It was all so clear as time slowed and that was nothing to do with his unique eyes.

The class wasn’t full of people yet -you hated crowds and always got here early but there were a few here.

Suguru gripped the back of his collar and pulled him back, dragging him out the class.

“Satoru, you’re beyond dense. You really outdone yourself this time.”

The next few weeks of a short holiday flew by and Satoru heard nothing from you, his texts not delivered and his calls straight to answer phone.

Satoru > Yo pretty

Satoru > you ignoring me now? Don’t do that :( you’ll miss me too much~

Satoru > c’monnnn babe don’t be like this :( I know how you make you feel better~! ;D come spend next weekend with me! I’ll even take you to get some Mochi, there’s this Zunda and cream flavour you gotta try! I’ll buy you a box!

Satoru > oi stop being a big baby, talkkkkk toooo meeeeeeeeeee!

Satoru > oi

Satoru > hellllllooooooo

Satoru > ╰⋃╯ both know mines bigger :D he misses you <;3

Satoru > Hey, it’s been two weeks, seriously you good?

Satoru > Hey, y/n you’re not back at class, can you just let me know you’re good?

The return to senior high for the last few weeks before everyone left for university or careers came and went quickly -he never saw you again.

He never seen you to tease and he missed it, he missed finding you to annoy you. He missed burying his face in your thighs to cheer you up, he missed pushing that silly school skirt up, he missed how your thigh high socks felt under his hands as he grabbed your thighs whilst bullying his dick into you.

But he’d never admit that to you.

“Y-You’re a r-real asshole you know that?”

A flat line presented on Gojo’s mouth, cracking his can of drink open his head tilted in the direction of the voice, blue eyes looking over his glasses as he stared at the guy without much expression. The guy brave enough to stutter an insult to him.

Yeah, the guy who took you out on a date. Sir dipshit.

“S-s-sorry what was that?” Satoru mocked uncaringly, stuttering to remind the guy he was scared to talk to him.

“Yeah, that! Exactly what I mean. She never dated me you idiot -I asked her out for coffee so she could help me come out to a guy I liked, who’s now my boyfriend.”

Gojo’s heart accelerated in his chest, he finally understood what the phrase meant ‘the colour drained from their face’ because he literally felt the blood dropping from it.

God that was weird, he’s never felt that before.

Outwardly he stayed collected -he stayed cool because he was Gojo Satoru.

“So?”

“So?! Everyone’s noticed how grumpy you’ve been, you deserve much worse after what you did. You should have just asked her out like a normal person would, but your crappy god complex wouldn’t allow that would it!”

“Who said I liked her like that?”

He deadpanned at Gojo, the silence between them was thick as the blue eyes stared at him without much expression trying so hard to remain cool. Trying so hard to not show his discomfort.

But his heart was bouncing against his rib cage, his lungs were trying to pick up his breathing as his emotions started to physically unsettle him, Gojo’s palms were sweating yet he felt a cold rush over his skin.

What the hell was going on? Was he sick?

“You’re kidding right? Do you not realise you’re completely head over heels for her? The whole school knows it, how do you not? Y’know, you don’t deserve her, good job you have no idea, you were so mean to her because you couldn’t figure out you liked her and you’re useless in dealing with it. You saved her from it.”

Turning and fanning his hand dismissively over his shoulder Gojo was left to stand by himself with his can of drink fizzing against the silence he was plunged into.

Eyes blinking, his cool attitude and posture absolutely crumbling to a dumbfounded display.

He liked you?

Is that what this was?

No he didn’t like you!

Right?

The whole school knew? The fuck?

Gojo collected his phone from his pocket, turning on his heels he walked down the hallway whilst making a call.

“Satoru,” Geto answered

“I like her?”

“What? Was that a statement or a question?”

“The whole school knows I like her, what-“

“Oh, her. You finally realised huh Satoru?”

“YOU TOO?! Why didn’t you tell me!”

“You’re hopeless,” Suguru sighed heavily down the line, “-like you’d have done anything about it. Thought it was best forgotten after the last day you seen her, it’s been weeks and schools over, s’a bit late. She’s gone Kyoto for university Satoru.”

“How do you know that? She’s not carrying on as a sorcerer?”

“I seen her last week at Jujustu Tech. Her dad died recently on a job and he wanted her to get away from it all.”

“Her dad died?”

“Yeah, that mission couple weeks ago with the train, that special grade took him out and she finished it off, she has a pretty nasty domain apparently. She had a meeting with the higher ups about it, she was injured.”

You never told him about that, ah man, if Gojo didn’t know what guilt felt like before then he sure fucking did now.

Is that why you weren’t messaging him?

“Just let it go Satoru, you screwed up, move forward.”

No, that wasn’t why you weren’t messaging him.

You weren’t talking to him because of what he did, because of how he was treating you. Because of what he did the last day he saw you.

He tried to forget it because hearing you say you hate him was horrible, seeing you truly upset was weighing heavy on him and the fact he wasn’t there this time to wipe your tears, or make you feel better didn’t sit right with him.

But you’d disappeared from his life, you’d ignored his texts and calls, you left him.

Was it really too late?

You really had left.

Your house was sold, waiting for a new family to occupy the building. Gojo stood before it frowning, hands in his pockets as he looked over it looking so empty and lifeless, a mere shell of the comfort it would bring him. He’d see your cursed energy residing within it, sometimes your dads if he wasn’t away on missions.

The same building that looked so different now, weird to think it had your window on it which Gojo had thrown stones at in the middle of the night when he was having trouble sleeping. He rarely needs a lot of it and his eyes are the reason for his lack of sleep, not to mention his intake of sweet things to try keep his mind stimulated.

It was only getting worse as he got older, he seemed to realise. Yeah, both his eye sensitivity and his sweet tooth.

You were never particularly happy about it, him rattling stones at your window when your dad wasn’t home.

“Piss off will you?! It’s like 2am you menace! Quit throwing stones at my window and find someone else to torment.”

So he did.

Stop throwing stones at your window that was, he’d still turn up only this time floating innocently outside your window knocking on it asking to be let in.

“I told you to quit it Satoru!”

“Nah, said stop throwing stones at ya window so I did, just knocked instead.”

“Get in before someone sees you!!”

Worked like a charm. Every time.

Now though? Doubt he could be getting away with that at the new owners. Besides you weren’t there.

Turning he left the house behind him and found himself walking past it at least once, maybe twice a week for the next two years.

He hoped he’d find your cursed energy there, maybe the new owners were distant family and you’d come back to visit.

But the family held no cursed energy, not even a flicker of it. So Gojo eventually stopped walking by, but one place he did return to was the grave of your dad.

He’d leave a flower there.

“Guess I shouldn’t have been such a dick to her huh?”

Silence as usual.

He’d stand and leave, sighing as he now replaced his glasses with his blind fold he had started to wear because it was being too much for his eyes to deal with.

Everything was so damn blinding.

At first he thought of you everyday, thinking he never used to think this much about you when you were around.

At least he didn’t think he did. Besides Suguru and Shoko he didn’t really rely on anyone, but perhaps you were someone from his past that he could have included on that list back then that only seems to get shorter.

When Suguru dumped him outside KFC, not one of his classiest moments, Gojo truly started to feel alone in this life.

As the weeks turned into months, months turned into years and he gradually forgot about you the best he could, only occasionally being reminded of you every now and then.

Usually when another girl asked him about his past relationships.

“So you’ve never had that special someone?”

They all thought they’d be that thing for him but they never were, 90% of the time he couldn’t even get around to sleeping with them. He wanted something deeper than surface sex, sure it felt good but something was missing.

He never had a relationship, because he just wasn’t the kind of guy to be involved with someone like that. His work was dangerous, he alone would make anyone around him a target. So Gojo kept his distance, his god complex grew trying to bury that deep, gnawing insecurity and stomach churning loneliness. His infinity kept people at bay, both for his emotional and physical protection, burying his sickening need for touch by something that loved him.

These girls after you? They never stood up to him, they were pillow princesses and only aided his dominant nature. He never got that rush that he got with you -that high and low.

He was never as hard as he was for you, that 9 inches on a good day? Yeah, definitely remained at a 8.5inches

He stopped comparing to you after three years, he stopped thinking about you and he buried his head into his work because the weight of Suguru leaving him was another thing for him to carry. He was lonely and he didn’t want more people close to him again and feel that loss.

Funny, because the people he loved were still alive and left him, it hurt more than people dying around him that he knew.

Suguru was a deep friendship lost, you were something he didn’t fully understand.

He started to get comfortable, he started to move forward from you and Suguru…

Then the order came from the higher ups.

Stood in the usual room, Gojo remained in the centre, bored and irritated with these douches already sputtering at him.

“There has been an issue in Kyoto, we need you to go and investigate, students have been going missing. There have been rumours that a cursed object has been confirmed, resulting in a reincarnation of a past cursed spirit rising. You are to investigate and execute, minimal damage and lives lost Gojo, we mean it this time.”

“-and put a damn curtain up will you?”

He didn’t even reply, turning he fixed his eyes in front of him, he heard them and had nothing to say because his mind was else where.

Returning back to you, just when he stopped thinking about you almost three years later.

Kyoto?

That’s where you went right? He’s pretty sure Suguru told him you’d be studying at a university there.

Well, I hope you guys enjoyed <3 I’m tempted to make this into a part three in a slight time skip. Hmm! We shall see, do we need a part three for closure & comfort? Cause I think so 😎

Thank you thank you thank yoouuuu for all the comments / reblogs etc 🥹

Tags: it isn’t letting me tag everyone! Sorry! I’ve tagged the accounts that are letting me. I’ll try again tho. <;3 ps I won’t engage with ageless blogs or blank ones!

@tomiokas-lunchbox @krisp0415 @ifartmangos @ritsatoru @ekaterinatepes @angrydaughter @jessie9008 @marie-morningstar @love-me-satoru @jspenft

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

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.

Taglist:

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