Finally Catching Up After The End Of Semester

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:

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

Heal me XI

Word count: 2300+

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

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

Also I've got a little carried away🤷

Part X | Part XII

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Aury-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence stretched.

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

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

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

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

"Much better. Thank you."

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

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

This time he only nodded, probably expecting it.

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

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

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

"That night?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist:

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

Over the Garden Wall - Chapter Four

Chapter Four - As the Poets Say

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

Yes, the title is a reference to Song of Achilles

Benedict Bridgerton Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Warnings: none? I think?

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

As always, 18+ Minors DNI!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marietta gave her a small, sad smile. 

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

Marietta sighed. “I am now invested.”

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

“You are not,” Marietta responded. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Benedict!” Eloise shouted.

“What, sister?” he hissed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing, Mama.”

“Nothing, Mother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Things change, Your Royal Highness.”

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

----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am,” he responded. “I really am.”

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

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

Colin simply nodded. “I understand.”

----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----------

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

Talk of art. Talk of love. 

It was all he needed. 

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

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

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

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

The smile on her face was intoxicating and contagious. 

“Benedict,” she said. 

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

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

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

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

“I knew you would come back.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Every day sounds lovely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Consequences be damned.

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

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

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

Fire Lilies Masterlist

Zuko x Princess!reader

“Two lovers forbidden from one another. A war divides their people…”

Trilogy:

- Fire Lilies

- Secret Tunnel

- Come What May

Blurbs/Continuation Pieces:

- Playmates

- First Kiss

- What Could Have Been (au piece)

- The Great Escape

- Roots

- The Duties of a Princess

- Cherry Blossoms

- A Good Man

- The Blue Spirit

- Underneath the Pale Moonlight

- The Tale of the Princess

- Sickness

- Betrayal | Break Apart (rewrite)

- New Family

- In Another Life (au piece)

- Turmoil

- Return to the Secret Tunnel

- The Reunion

- Obstacles

- That’s Rough, Buddy

- Someone Else

- Great Friends

- Life Changing Field Trip

- The Truth

- Beach Day

- Date Night

- Scar

- The Beginning of the End

- Sozin’s Comet

- A New Battle Begins

- For What It’s Worth

- The Nightmare

Mini-Series:

- The Throne: part one | part two | part three | part four

New Adventures:

- The Gift

- The Promise

- Refined Taste

- The Search: part one | part two | part three

- Smoke and Shadow: part one | part two

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // MASTERLIST

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

AO3 Link

Current Word Count: 37.2k

Status: Ongoing

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

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

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

Daughter of the Spirits; chapter 10

➳ pairing: zuko x f!reader ➳ genre: a retelling of the show from season 2 onwards with a heavy focus and expansion on zuko’s story (canon divergent) ➳ warnings: violence, swearing, smut (underaged if your age of consent is above 16), spoilers for anyone who hasn’t seen the show ➳ word count: 3943 ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ summary: In which y/n comes across the fire nation prince during her stay in Ba Sing Se. ➳ tags: @harmlessoffering, @lammello (i’m sorry if i’m forgetting anyone, lmk if i am or if you want to be added)

Chapters: 01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12,

More Troubles

You headed back to your room not too long after that. Somehow you felt so far from your parents but also closer than you had in months. It was certainly a strange feeling, especially because you were so far from home, but it was not an unwelcome one. Maybe someday, after the war was finally over, you would be able to see them again. With the avatar gone, however, that hope was starting to fade.

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