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throneofsmut · 1 month

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BOUND IN FLAMES - Part 10

Eris Vanserra × Archeron-Sister- Reader

Description: Feyre and her younger sister go hunting in the forest behind their family's cottage and go through life changing experiences.

A / N: Sorry this part took forever !! i literally kept rewriting because i didn't feel like the story was flowing 😭 and then every time i rewrote i noticed that i was writing in first pov (ngl sometimes i feel like reader fics makes more sense in first pov but thats just MY OPINION 👀) anywho idk if im satisfied with it being in first pov i might edit it later 🧍🏻‍♀️so PLEASE let me know what you guys think and idk about you guys but im in my house of the dragon era rn 🤭 so there is some valyrian in the fic but i also wrote the translations... but i hope you guys enjoy this part (btw i might post part 11 in a few hours) 😚😚

“Why are you looking at me like that, Eris?” He doesn’t respond, his eyes just keep darting from me to Raihn and from Raihn to me. My own eyes darted from Eris to Raihn and back to Eris.

From the corner of my eye I see Raihn tilt his head at Eris—confused. I think he thinks he’s seeing things. His deep gruff voice was clear in my head.

My brows furrow at Raihn’s admission, shaking my head slightly, Did I grow a second head or something?

Not that I can see.

Looking over my shoulder, narrowing my eyes at him, I didn’t mean literally!

He grumbled something I chose to ignore.

Sighing, I took a step closer to Eris, stopping until I was a step away from him, “Eris what’s wrong?”

“What. The. Fuck.”

“What?” As soon as that one word left my mouth it set Eris off.

“What do you mean, WHAT!?” Eris shouted at me immediately. Angrily. Making me flinch.

He hadn’t raised his voice at me in the hours we were together. Hell when we first met he had a knife pressed against my throat and he didn’t scare me. I didn’t flinch, if anything I leaned into it, as if it was a caress—a lover's soft touch.

But this—him shouting at me angrily had me flinching. Only because it caught me off guard. He caught me off guard. It was so subtle, almost imperceptible, but I know I did. Those gold eyes remained on mine and my body subtly settled into a fighting stance. My hands twitching, wanting to clench into a fist.

Eris took a single step forward, making me tense, falter.

And Raihn saw it.

The white wolf prowled forward, moving around me and advancing towards Eris. Each step powerful. Menacing. Lethal. His lips curled back in snarl, baring his teeth—each as long as my fingers—as he growled so low it shook the cabin. A reminder of what was in front of him. Of what he was.

A true predator.

Eris moved, so fast I would’ve missed it had it not been for my fae senses, now standing in front of me. Shielding me with his body from Raihn, his hand gripping his dagger and the other firmly gripping my hip.

Raihn tracked the hand Eris placed on me—the silent claim he made on me—and growled. Possessively. Snapping his jaws at him before stalking forward again.

Eris widened his stance, bracing for a fight, baring his teeth at the white wolf. Stay close to me, his voice a desperate plea in my head, speaking to me through the mating bond.

Raihn snapped his jaws again as if he heard Eris and when he growled in my head as if in answer, I realized that he did.

Readjusting his hold on his dagger, my mate growled one word at Raihn, “Mine.”

And Raihn growled back, hackles raised before leaning back to lunge at Eris. Raihn, don’t! I said to him mind to mind. Please. He only growled back in response.

Then he lunged.

And it was all Eris could do to push me out of the way as Raihn pinned him to the ground with a massive clawed paw on his chest. I didn’t have a chance to react before I slammed against the wood paneled wall of the bedroom.

My vision was blurry and when I touched the back of my head it was wet. I didn’t have to look at it knowing it would be red with my blood. The bits of broken wood from the cabin wall around me was confirmation enough.

Blinking a couple times until my vision cleared and once it did I saw Eris’s dagger was mere inches from Raihn’s fur before the wolf knocked it out of his hand.

Eris cursed as his arms shook, straining with effort from gripping Raihn’s fur on the sides of his neck, struggling to keep him from shredding him apart with his teeth. I groaned, pushing myself up on unsteady legs and took a breath before running to tackle Raihn off of him.

I held on as we rolled off of Eris and then let go, muscle memory kicking in making me land on my feet. Raihn’s rage was flooding our bond in waves and he was getting ready to lunge again. To get to Eris. “Rybās,” I commanded him. (Listen. Obey.) The massive white wolf still shook with rage but he stilled, awaiting another command.

Being that I was a High Lord's heir, I could command anyone with only my voice if I needed. Wanted. And they would bow to such dominance and power. Except for other High Lords and their heirs—if their wills were strong enough. “Dohaerās, Raihn,” through our bond I willed him to meet my gaze. (Serve, Raihn.)

His blue eyes were still a lit with rage as they bore into mine, snarling softly. “Umbās.” (Wait.) It didn’t matter that he would never hurt me—intentionally—since we were bonded. But, above all else he was still a wolf. Still a predator in his own right. Still wild.

Eris moved behind me and Raihn’s eyes immediately tracked the movement, but before he could do anything, “Dokimarvose! Laehossa ynot, Raihn.” (Focus! Pay attention, Raihn.) I prowled closer to Raihn until I stood right in front of him and he had to lower his head to meet my gaze. “Lykirī.” (Be calm.)

He shook his head as if clearing the rage he felt and then pressed his forehead to mine. My hands instinctively went to pet his head, his face, “Lykirī, Raihn. Lykirī.” (Be calm, Raihn. Be calm.) I physically felt him relax under my touch as the seconds went by. Then he moved his head to rest on my shoulder like he was hugging me.

I don’t know how long we stood there, in comfortable silence, until I heard him. Sunshine? He called softly. Cautiously.

I smiled softly at the nickname even though he couldn’t see me. Yes, Raihn.

I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to lose control.

I sighed. Why did you?

I was worried… You hadn’t checked in nor come back yet and then when I found you I saw you were fine. But, then everything happened and when that male yelled at you, I saw you flinch, barely but you did. I saw you tense. Falter. And the last time I saw you do that was the day I lost you. The day I lost him, the day I lost my mother and my fathers. The day I lost the only family I ever knew. Then I saw him holding you—keeping you from me and I just… I just snapped.

He moved, so we were looking at each other again and his nose twitched. Once, twice, then he nudged my hand for me to lift it. I did. He shuddered when he saw my blood on it. Not even a second later I felt his disgust at himself.

I am so sorry, sunshine. I never meant to hurt you, but I won’t lose you again. Yell at me if you want—

I shook my head.

Sunshine—

I put a hand up stopping him, Raihn, I understand. Trust me. It’s all right, but now I want you to meet someone. Someone very important to me.

I turned around to look at Eris, only to find that he wouldn’t look at me. “Eris?” I called softly, “what’s wrong?” He shook his head. Walking up to him, slowly, giving him the chance to stop me if he wanted. He didn’t. I held his face in my hands, tilting his head up to meet my gaze and he shut his eyes. “Eris?”

He shook his head again, “I’m so sorry, little flame,” he whispered.

“What for?”

“Hurting you.”

This time I shook my head, “You didn’t hurt me. I’m fi—“

“Your head.” He said it so quietly, that if i wasn’t in front of him I wouldn’t have heard it.

My hand immediately went to my head, gently touching the gash that I had felt earlier and nothing. It was already healed. No doubt Raihn’s doing, but my hair was still sticky with blood. “I’m fine. I swear.”

His eyes opened, “I yelled at you, when I shouldn't have and you got scared.” His jaw clenched and unclenched. “I scared you and you got hurt. As your mate I'm supposed to protect you and I can’t even save you from myself.” He squeezed his eyes shut and a single tear fell from his left eye. I wiped it away.

“Eris.” His throat bobbed. “Eris, look at me.” He did. Those gold eyes bore into mine, full of unshed tears and a second later I felt all his feelings flood the mating bond. All of his love, but also his regret, his shame, pain and all of his self-loathing for scaring me. Hurting me. I didn’t know what to say—what to do to comfort him except to kiss him. So I did. All while sending him all the love, all the comfort I could through the bond. I didn’t pull away until he did.

“I’m so sorry, little flame,” he breathed.

“It’s all right. I’m all right. We’re all right,” I swore. I took a step back, holding my hand out towards him, “I want you to meet someone.” He glanced behind me and then looked back at me unsure. “Do you trust me?” My hand still outstretched towards him.

His eyes blazed with something I couldn’t name. Something so intense that gave me goosebumps as he swore, “With my life.” Then his hand took mine and we walked back towards Raihn. Together.

Once we were in front of Raihn, I gave them each a smile only reserved for them. “Eris, this is Raihn, my ceangailte (bonded). And Raihn, this is Eris, my mate.”

Both of their eyes widened as they realized what I said about the other.

Eris turned to me, his eyes narrowed and his face flushed a bright shade of red. “Why didn’t you tell me, he was bonded to you?” There was an obvious shift in his demeanor as he crossed his arms defensively. He was offended—upset—that I didn't tell him about Raihn.

And at the same time Raihn asked, Why didn’t you tell me he was your mate?

I narrowed my eyes at them, “You didn’t give me a chance too!” I answered them both.

Eris scoffed. “Don’t you know who he is—what he is?” He said pointing at Raihn.

“No, Eris. I don’t,” I muttered, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Y/n. I’m being serious.”

I huff, “All right, then.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Tell me who he is. Tell me who I’m bonded to.”

“He’s infamous all throughout Prythian''—he tried suppressing a shudder and failed—“probably in Hybern, the mortal lands and the other Faerie Realms too. He’s known for killing fae—here and in Hybern. He’s ruthless.” His eyes slid to Raihn for a moment before turning back to me. “We call him “Ghost” and everyone knows Amarantha has been hunting him for the past decade. Yet, every time she sends the Hybern soldiers under her command, they don’t come back. Ever”

I didn’t bother hiding my grin as I looked at Raihn, but he’s not looking at me, lost in his own thoughts before his glowing blue eyes landed on me. So that’s why I could hear him, when he spoke to you mind to mind. It was through the mating bond, Raihn said more to himself than to me.

One side of my mouth quirks up in a smirk, Well, you’ve been busy, Raihn or should I say “Ghost.”

His deep chuckle fills my head. I’ve been hunting them all down, one by one. Making them pay for what they did. He didn’t have to explain who “they” were for me to know he was talking about the soldiers that killed my family.

I nod at him once. Good.

Raihn’s eyes settle on Eris, So he’s your mate.

Not a question but I still answer, “Yes. He is.” My own eyes settled on my mate.

Eris looked at me with an arched brow, “Yes, what? What’d he say about me?”

“Well, go on. Tell him.” I jutted my chin at Raihn, grinning, waiting for Eris’s reaction.

The first time Raihn spoke to someone else mind to mind was my mother, she screamed so loud and I laughed until I cried from laughing so hard. It was the first time I used my daemati powers to allow Raihn to speak to others. I annoyed him until he gave in because he had said that bonded wolves have a special telepathic connection with their chosen Illyrian companions. This connection allows them to communicate directly with their bonded, sharing thoughts, emotions, and intentions without the need for spoken words. And since it’s special not everyone has the privilege to hear him speak but he did it for me. And then when he spoke to my fathers—the two Illyrians who helped raise and train me—I nearly died of laughter.

Raihn huffed looking at Eris. I said, That’s why I could hear you, when you spoke to her mind to mind. It was through the mating bond.

Eris flinched, his breath hitching as an unfamiliar deep voice echoed within the caverns of his mind, clear and commanding, yet undeniably non-human.

You can hear me, can't you? Raihn asked him, his voice dripping with wicked amusement.

Eris’s eyes were almost bugging out his head and his jaw was slack. The wolf's presence in his thoughts was as startling as a splash of icy water, leaving ripples of shock. Yes.

I heard my own laugh echo in Eris’s head and then he whirled on me, crossing his arms, “What’s so funny?” My lips were pressed tight but it wasn’t enough to stop my laugh from bursting out. Which quickly turned to tears when I remembered my mother’s face and both of my fathers faces after Raihn spoke to them for the first time.

I tried taking in a deep breath to stop crying but it just made it worse and before I knew it I was sobbing. Then Eris was wiping my tears away, “what’s wrong, little flame?”

“You—Your—Face”. I said in between sobs. My whole body was shaking now and when I looked at him again, he was frowning.

But his eyes held a teasing glint in them, “I’m hurt.” He placed a hand on his chest like I physically wounded him, “I thought you said I was beautiful.”

I know he’s trying to cheer me up and I tried to laugh but it came out sounding like a choked sob. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Then, what?” He asked as he wrapped his arms around me, rubbing soothing circles on my back. I sniffled a couple of times before taking in a few deep breaths to calm myself. Letting his scent wash over me, relax me, even though my hands were fisted at his back as I hugged him back.

Taking in one last deep breath. Exhaling sharply, “The face you made when you heard, Raihn, reminded me of the face my mom and dads made when they heard him for the first time.”

“Dads?”

I let out a sad laugh, “Yes, dads.”

“But I thought your father doesn’t know about you?”

“My biological father doesn’t.”

“So, how many dads are we talking about ?”

“Two.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it too.

“What’s their names ?”

“Declan and Callum.”

“Are they— Did they—“

“They died the same day my mom did.”

“Were they”—his voice comes out as a whisper—“mated ?”

“No. But they loved each other so much. . . I don’t think they could have loved each other any more if they had been.” A genuine smile graces my lips as I remember them together.

“And they loved you too?”

“So much,” I answered without hesitation. “Sometimes when I was little I used to cry because I thought they would leave since I wasn’t their real daughter. And they used to promise me saying they wouldn’t, that I was their daughter in every way that counted. That it didn’t matter if we were blood or not, they loved me and they would never leave me. And they kept their promise.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Until they were taken from me.”

Eris just hugs me tighter, “I’ll never leave you and no one is going to take me from you.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t call him out for lying, I know he’s trying to comfort me, but we both know he’s going back Under the Mountain in less than two hours.

Amarantha is taking someone from me yet again.

Eris unwraps his arms from around me and cups my face in his larger hands, “You don’t believe me.” He says and even though it’s not a question, I nod my head anyway. His eyes never leave mine as he speaks. “Raihn, I have to leave at dawn which is in less than two hours. So go for a walk and we’ll let you know when to come back. Be on your guard.” Raihn grumbles something that we both chose to ignore as he goes to leave, and a moment after he walks out of the front door, Eris restores the cabin to how it was with a snap of his fingers. I wouldn’t have known anything happened at all if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.

His eyes drop to my lips and it’s the only warning I get before his mouth slams into mine and I deepen it, earning the sweetest groan from him. Everything about our kiss is desperate. Feral. Then he moves on to kissing neck and it’s the type of kiss that promises more before he’s pulling away.

He smiles at me softly, “Let me show you how no matter what, I’ll always be yours.” He places my hand on his bare chest, over his heart, “This is yours.” Then he grabs my other hand and places it over his clothed cock, his lips brush against my ear as he whispers, “And this is yours too.”

My cheeks heat at his words and I just know he’s smirking right now because he knows how undone he makes me. So I do the only reasonable thing I can think of and grip him harder through his pants and he hisses. “You’re mine,” I breathe.

“I’m yours,” he echoes.

I move the hand that was placed on his chest to his hair and tug on it. Titling his head back before rising on the tips of my toes, licking a broad stripe up his throat, before grabbing his face and crashing my lips into his. We know we’re running out of time which only spurs us on as we ravage each other’s lips.

Only pulling away as we tear each other’s clothes off and get back on the bed.

Eris pulls me to lay on top of him so I’m straddling him. Then his lips find mine again. Desperately. His hands are roaming all over my body as if he’s committing it to memory. Finally settling on the swell of my ass and gripping it. His tongue sweeping into my mouth as my lips part in a moan. Our tongues fight for dominance until I give in to the only person I will ever give in to—my mate.

He groans as he pulls away and flips me so I’m laying on the bed. I bite his bottom lip before letting go to let him stand upright.

Leaning back on my elbows, panting, as his eyes devour me.

And my mouth waters as I see just how hard he is. My tongue darts out wetting my lips as I see the bead of precum on his tip. I let out a groan as he fists his cock and pumps it a couple times.

He chuckles darkly, “Like what yours?”

I bit my lip as I hummed a yes. Not capable of words right now.

He lets go of his cock and grabs my ankles, pulling me towards the edge of the bed so that my ass is almost hanging off the bed. Then kneels on the hardwood floor in front of me and spreads my legs apart.

He nudges my thighs apart wider to accommodate his broad shoulders as he settles himself between them. My breath hitches as he alternates between licking where my inner thighs meet my cunt and sucking. Earning a few whines from me as I try and fail to move under his hold to get his tongue where I want. Which only makes him huff out a laugh.

His warm breath fanned over my wet cunt—glistening with arousal—making me squirm under him, “Eris, please!” I beg.

“Please, what?” He taunts.

“Please touch me—“ the words die in throat as he licks a single broad stripe from my entrance up to my clit. Just like I did to his throat.

He pulls back only for a second to sit up and brace his forearms on the backs of my thighs. Baring me to him while also keeping me in place. Then he’s diving right back in and lapping and sucking at my clit like a man starved. “Oh, f-f-fuck, Eris!” I cry out as my hands desperately fist the sheets that will surely be ruined later.

Another scream rips free from my throat as he continues his assault on my clit, sucking harshly on the swollen bundle of nerves, back arching off the bed while my thighs shake as I writhe under his tongue but he keeps me in place.

Then he’s licking broad stripes from my entrance up to my clit and every time he gets to my clit he flicks his tongue against it with precision. Heat begins to build in my tummy and we both know I’m not going to last much longer. He licks another broad stripe but he leaves my clit alone this time in favor of fucking me with his tongue.

My cunt clenches around his warm tongue as he continues to fuck me with it. He relents only to lap at me again with a flat tongue. Then he goes back to my clit, swirling and flicking his tongue on it as I continue to moan and cry out for him. “Eris! Eris! Eris!”

He moans low in his throat every time I say his name, the vibrations of it going straight to my clit, making the heat spread under my skin as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. “Mhmm, Eris,” my chest rising and falling as he continues pulling moans and whimpers from my lips.

His tongue doesn’t give my clit any reprieve as he buries one long, thick, finger inside me. Then two. Fucking me with them, curling them so they hit that sweet spot he knows will send me over the edge.

“Eris! Eri—“ His name a shattered cry on my lips as I fall apart under his touch. My body trembling, hips bucking as he continues to swirl his tongue around my clit and fuck me with his fingers, working me through my orgasm.

Panting as I came down from my high, Eris stands up and looks down at me with a feral grin on his lips. His lips and chin covered in his spit and my release. Even his chest is covered in my release.

He follows my gaze and looks down at his chest then looks back up at me again. “Good girl.” He praises before sucking the two fingers that he’d fucked me with into his mouth. Cleaning them off.

With that same hand he pumps his painfully hard cock, once and then twice, placing his other hand on the back of my thigh, keeping me spread before he slaps my cunt with his cock. Whimpering as my hips jerk in response to the overstimulation.

“Aww, is it too much? It is too much, little flame ?” Eris teases.

I shake my head no.

His heavy cock presses against my cunt as he leans down inches from my face, “Is it too much. Tell me.” A command not a question.

“No,” I breathe.

His pupils flare, then his lips crash into mine and without breaking the kiss in one quick thrust he buries himself all the way into the hilt. My lips parting in a scream as he splits me open which he swallows greedily as he stays still letting me adjust to his size. His tongue explores my mouth, allowing me to taste myself as our tongues fight for dominance.

I win before he pulls away and moves onto kissing my jaw and my neck. “Eris, I-I need—“ My words get cut off by a moan as he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. Fingers burying themselves in his red hair as he swirls his tongue over the hardened peak.

He smirks as he moves onto my other breast, giving it the same attention, What does my little mate need ? He asks mind to mind—through the mating bond. His deep voice is full of mirth.

You… I need you to fuck me. Even my voice sounds out of breath and full of lust in my head.

His chuckle is my only warning as pushes me farther up the bed so he can kneel on it. He places one of my legs on each of his shoulders, his hands wrapping around my wrist—holding them down on the bed. Pulling almost all the way out to the tip before pushing right back in.

Fucking me mercilessly without abandon.

The head of his cock hits my sweet spot, my walls flutter around him as my pleasure builds. “Gods… Oh gods!” I cry out above the sound of his hips slapping against my skin.

“That’s it, take it, take all me.” His eyes flicker between watching his cock disappearing into my body and tits bouncing wildly. The sight of me making him let out a lewd groan, “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” I whine in response.

“P-please, Eris,” I beg. “Let me touch you.”

“So needy.” He teases.

“Please!”

He kisses my swollen lips, then I feel his lips brush against my ear, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, letting my hands go.

And they immediately find him.

I drag my hands down his powerful, muscled back, over scars from battles and terrors long since past.

And as his thrusts turn deeper, I dig my fingers in, dragging my nails across his back, claiming him, marking him. His hips slamming home at the blood I draw. “Such a good little slut,” he praises. “Marking me. Claiming me. I’m yours, little flame.”

“Mine,” I echo, “and I'm yours.”

Eris growled his approval, “Mine.”

That one word was my undoing, my release blasting through me like wildfire. I couldn’t even remember my own name, I remembered Eris’s as I cried it while he kept moving, wringing every last ounce of pleasure from me.

Eris’s own release barreled through him at the sight of it, and he groaned my name so that I remembered it at last, the mating bond set ablaze with our pleasure.

I held him through it, on and on, as he spilled himself in me.

The mating bond continued to glow, silent and lovely, even after he stilled. The sounds of the world came pouring back in, his breathing was ragged as mine was while he brushed lazy kisses to my temple, my nose, my mouth.

I was trembling—and so was Eris as he remained in me. He buried his face in the crook of my neck and shoulder, his uneven breath warming her skin. “I don’t... ,” he tried, voice hoarse. “I don’t want to go back...”

I ran my fingers down his scarred back, over and over. “I know,” I breathed. “I know, me either.” Already, I wanted more, already I was calculating how long I’d have to wait.

He pulled back, a sad smile gracing his kiss-swollen lips, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“It’s safer if we don’t tell anyone about us being mates, but I still want to claim you.”

“Eris, we don’t have enough time—for the mating ceremony or frenzy.”

“I know,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I know. Gods, I wish we had more time. But I can still claim you another way.”

“You want to mark me.” My lips curve up into a knowing smirk, “You want to bite me.” Not a question but an answer to an unspoken question.

He nodded his head. “Only if you let me.”

“Can I claim you?” He began to harden again inside me as the question lingered.

Eris rasped, “Do you want to bite me?”

I eyed his throat, his glorious body, and I wondered if it were possible to love someone enough to die from it. If it were possible to love someone enough that time and distance and death were of no concern. “Am I limited to your neck?”

Eris’s eyes flared, and his answering thrust was answer enough. We moved together, in an almost hypnotic rhythm like the flames in our veins, and when I reached my peak again, he bit me—where my neck and shoulder met.

Then when Eris roared my name as his release barreled through him and I bit him—where his neck and shoulder met, I hoped the Amarantha herself heard it and knew her days were now numbered.

We fucked three times—twice in the bed, then a third out in the bathtub. We’d gone in to wash off, but I had wrapped my legs around his waist, kissed his neck, then licked his ear the way he liked, and he was buried in me again. I knew why he needed the contact, why he’d needed to taste me on his tongue, and then with the rest of his body. I’d needed the same.

I still needed it. I’d never had anything like him.

And when I had bit him during that second time in the bed ... His magic—his fire had set the entire bedroom, the entire cabin, on fire as he came hard enough that he thought his body would shatter.

But once we were finished, he pulled back the flames and still panting he explained how the cabin and everything was warded not to burn. And it was true nothing was burnt, charred or ash.

Then he’d gone into the small kitchen and mixed some salt and water in a cup before pouring where I’d bitten and scratched him, to make sure the marks—the claim would remain.

And then he’d poured the salt-water mix on me—where he’d claimed me, ensuring the mark would remain.

Eris Pov:

I marked her deep and true, and there was no undoing it, no washing it away. She’d claimed me, and I claimed her, and I know she’s well aware of what this claiming meant—just as I knew ... I knew it had been a choice on her part. A final decision regarding the matter of if she actually wanted to be mated to me.

And she did.

I would try to live up to that honor—try to find some way to get back to her.

To prove that I deserved it. Deserved her. My Y/n. My mate. That she hadn’t bet on the wrong horse. Somehow. I’d earn it. Even with so little to offer beyond my own magic and heart. For now.

She is the reason I made a deal with Rhysand. A deal to kill Beron; my father and High Lord of Autumn. So she’d be safe and happy.

And after I’d be High Lord and she’d be High Lady.

****

The sun is rising, it’s not safe out here in the open with some many fae around, Raihn warned in both of our minds.

Eris flinched, “Gods, I don’t think I'm ever going to get used to that.”

Raihn only huffed, his eyes scanning the forest surrounding us.

I chuckled against Eris’s chest, “You’re gonna have to. There’s no me without him.”

“Anything for you.” Is his only response before tightening his arms that were wrapped around me and kissing the top of my head.

Without taking his eyes away from the forest, Raihn backed up towards us, lying down next to me. Sunshine, we have to go now. The sun rises in 5 minutes and it’s going to take me 10 to get you back to the manor.

All right.

It took everything in me to pull myself out of Eris’s arms, but before I even took a step back toward Raihn, he grabbed one of my hands, “Wait, I want you to have something.” He turned my hand and placed a gold signet ring set with an emerald cut ruby, with a gold chain threaded through it.

I stare at it for a couple seconds longer before closing my fist around it and holding it to my chest and see that one of his fingers is now bare. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, little flame. Remember, what’s mine is yours.” Then he opened his mouth again to speak but closed it. His cheeks now tinged pink.

My brows furrowed, one side of my mouth quirking up in a smile, “What?”

He cleared his throat, “I-uh, warded the ring and necklace so that only you, Raihn or… I could touch it. If someone else does, it’ll burn them.”

“Good.” I said, giving him a smile that’s only reserved for him and Raihn.

Yes, yes, very nice but we need to go. Now. Raihn grumbled as his tail swatted my legs.

“All right, all right, we’re going,” I mumbled. Rolling my eyes as I swung my leg over his body and as soon as I did he stood up. “Raihn!” I chided.

What? He snapped.

“I almost fell,” I muttered as I fisted his fur to keep myself from falling from his back.

Then don’t fall.

Eris walked, standing in front of Raihn, getting his attention, “Get her back safe. Protect her.”

Raihn dipped his head, With my life.

Then Eris walked to his side and titled his head up, and I leaned down, meeting him halfway for our last kiss, for now.

We both pulled away at the same time, pressing our foreheads together, “Be safe,” he breathed.

“Be safe.”

And then he winnowed.

And I closed off my side of mating bond. Telling myself it’s better this way.

****

I awoke hours later, around noon, judging by how bright the sun was.

The servants were sleeping in after their night of celebrating. My body was pleasantly sore from the long night Eris and I had, so I made myself a bath and took a good, long soak. Washing up but also leaving just a bit of his scent on me, just enough so that others would really have to look for it to detect it.

After bathing, I dressed and sat at the vanity to braid my hair. Once I was finished, I opened the collar of my tunic, pulling the chain out with the ring he’d given me, letting it rest on my chest.

Raihn and I strode downstairs and went our separate ways. He went out to hunt for his food while following my nose to the dining room, where I knew lunch was usually served for Tamlin and Lucien.

When I flung open the doors, I found them both in their usual spots. Except Feyre was sitting directly across from Lucien and Feyre and Tamlin were currently arguing. Lucien propped an arm on the table and covered his mouth with his hand, his russet eye bright. Clearly amused but as soon as his eyes locked on me—he glared at me.

And I frowned, “What?”

Even Feyre and Tamlin stopped arguing their attention now on us.

“Where were you?” Lucien spat.

“In my room.” I took a step forward and his nostril flared, his eyes narrowed into slits.

He snarled, “Liar.”

Fuck it. I titled my head to the side, smirking, “I mean I was in my room this morning but last night… well you know where I was last night.”

Lucien growled as he winnowed right in front of me, before pinning me to the ground, “You fucked him?!”

“Lucien!” Tamlin’s shout rattled the glasses on the table.

“Did I?”

“His scent is all over you”—his eyes fell to my chest, to the ring around my neck—“you have his fucking ring around your neck !” He grabbed it. No doubt trying to rip it off me but hissed as soon as it made contact with his skin. It burned him.

I only grinned at him. Turning my head to look at Feyre and Tamlin who were both gaping at us, “Want to know what I learned last night ?” I asked both of them. They didn’t say anything and just kept staring so I took that as my cue to continue. “Autumn court males have fire in their blood… and they fuck like it too.”

“Y/n!” Feyre gasped.

Tamlin’s jaw was practically on the floor, then he was shaking his head, sputtering, “Wait-wait, you and Lucien?”

Lucien answered for both of us, “Eris.” As soon as his brother’s name left his mouth he punched me.

I laughed and when he reared his hand back again, I took my opening, fisting the collar of his tunic with my free hand and head-butting his nose. Rewarding me with a loud crunch.

His hand flew up to his nose and I took the chance to flip us over so I was on top and with my left hand I pried his hands away from his face. The second his face was open I punched him in his mouth like he punched me.

“Enough!” Tamlin bellowed.

Lucien tried punching me again but I was too fast and moved out the way, then I landed another blow.

I was gonna punch him again, my fist inches from his face when I heard Feyre, “Y/n, stop!” she yelled.

So I did, I got off of Lucien and stood to the side of him. My chest was still heaving as I offered him a hand, “We good?”

He eyed my hand before sighing, “We’re good.” His hand closed around mine before I pulled him up.

Feyre cleared the space between us in a couple steps—“Y/n what’s wrong with you ?”— she cradled my face in her hands, looking me over.

I pulled away, “I think it’d be easier to tell you what isn’t wrong with me.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Trust me, I know.” I walked around all of them back to the table and sat down and began filling a glass with wine and piling my plate with food. I didn’t turn back to look at them as I said, “So… are you all not gonna eat.”

They all sighed before muttering their agreement as they found their seats and began eating.

No one said anything for a while, until Lucien cleared his throat, his eyes on me, “Why?”

Such a simple question with a complicated answer.

I took a sip of wine before answering, “Can’t say. But, I can say that Raihn is gonna kill you when he comes back.” I said sweetly.

Lucien, Tamlin and Feyre all blanched making me howl with laughter.

It was Feyre who spoke first, “You shouldn’t trust that-that wolf as much as you do. He’s still wild—still a beast.”

I stared at her, for so long that she shifted in her seat uncomfortably and Lucien and Tamlin stiffened. They way only fae could go still. I titled my head to the side—a predator looking at prey. “He’s not a beast to me… No matter what he looks like or how terrifying he is to everyone.” I got up to leave and Feyre grabbed my arm and I ripped it free from her grasp, “Don’t,” I warned.

She grabbed me again and I whirled. Tamlin and Lucien lunged for me, knocking back their chairs hard enough to flip it over, but Feyre threw out a hand. The High Lord and Emissary stood down.

That easily, she leashed them.

I laughed, the sound brittle and cold, and smiled at all of them in a way that usually made others throw the first punch.

But they just set their chairs upright, sat down, and leaned back, as if they already knew where they'd strike my death blow.

Feyre was their salvation and they wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

But she’s my sister—the closest thing I ever had to one. I would never hurt her.

Feyre pointed at the door. "Get the hell out. I don't know what’s going on with you but I don’t want to see you again for a good while."

The feeling was mutual.

****

Without even realizing it I’d walked back to my family’s cottage. My real family’s cottage.

It looks the same as it did the last time I saw it. No doubt because of the wards my mother had placed on it.

I don’t know how long I stood there on the porch, just staring at the door, until Raihn nudged my shoulder with his snout.

Why aren’t you at the manor?

I shrugged not answering his question. “Did you stay here while I was on the other side of the wall?”

Most of the time. Unless I was hunting them. Them; Amarantha’s soldiers. Do you want to go inside?

“No.” I shook my head, sniffling, “I’m not ready yet.”

All right… I was waiting to bring you here—to show you something.

Finally turning to look at him, “To show me, what ?”

It’s better if I show you first.

Sucking in a deep breath, I willed myself to move, “All right, show me.” I followed him as he walked towards the back of the cottage. We walked for about five minutes before I realized where we were going. “No, Raihn. No. I-I can’t.” I pleaded.

Please…

“No. I’m not strong enough to go to her grave.” I had told myself I would come see her but every time I tried I found an excuse not to. It hurt too much.

Please, Sunshine. I shut my eyes at the nickname. The nickname my mother and fathers called me. I need to show you something.

I was trembling now as hot tears streaked my cheeks, “I’m not strong enough,” I admitted.

Raihn nuzzled his head against mine, You don’t always have to be strong. I'm here now. Let me be strong for the both of us, please.

I didn’t trust myself to speak so I simply nodded my head and we began walking again. Raihn a constant and steady presence beside me.

My legs felt like they were going to give out from under me as I saw what he wanted to show me.

Not one but three graves.

It was then that I fell to my knees, sobbing, they were finally together again. My mom and dads.

I couldn’t stop crying long enough to ask how but I didn’t need to, Raihn’s always knows what I need.

I found their bodies in “The Middle” a few yards away from The Sacred Mountain. They were barely alive when I brought them back. Amarantha had the wings cut off.

I let out a scream, as I pressed my forehead to the grass beneath me, sobs racking my entire body. Their wings. She took their wings. Their wings.

After I killed the soldiers who hurt me, I tried feeling where you were through the bond but I couldn’t feel you. I was so weak from what they did to me and still I tried tracking all of you. But their scents were the strongest yet it was only because I was in The Middle too. When I found them I thought they were dead. There was so much blood. So much.

Raihn let out a pained, sorrowful whine, he loved just as much as I do.

But I focused my hearing and I could still hear their hearts beating—barely but they were. So I got them onto my back and came back home but I tracked your scent here. It was so faint, practically nonexistent but it was here. And then I saw her grave. Your mother’s grave. I remember she told you that she always wanted to be buried beneath a yew tree and how your father’s always said they didn’t care as long as they were all together. It was as if the mother was playing a cruel joke because you buried her beneath one that had two more yew trees that were flanking it. So I buried them here. At her sides, flanking her, as they did in life.

I don’t know how long I had been crying but I finally stopped. “Thank you,” I whispered so low I wasn't sure he’d heard me.

But then he laid his massive head on my lap, I love them too.

“I know. I know you do.” Without thinking, I started petting his head. We both need the comfort.

I miss them.

“Me too.” I lifted my head up to the sky and closed my eyes as I imagined the three of them together, happy and flying. A small smile still graced my lips as I opened my eyes again. Finally taking in the area.

The grass was trimmed, flowers placed on each grave and three simple but beautiful headstones. “Raihn, how’d you get the headstones?”

Do you remember, Adair ?

I nodded my head even though he couldn’t see, “Yeah, their friend from summer, right ?”

Yes. Well he heard about what happened and found me on the porch of the cottage covered in dirt and blood. So he cleaned me up, got me food and water, because I was still weak. And after I got some strength back and walked him here and pawed at the graves where a headstone belonged and he understood.

They were simple headstones—all three—but still beautiful. I couldn’t stop rereading them.

From left to right they read:

Declan Hawthorne

Beloved Husband and Father

Rhaenyra Blackfyre

Beloved Wife and Mother

Callum Rivers

Beloved Husband and Father

There’s something else I need to tell you, Raihn said.

“What?”

Wesley—one of Amarantha’s lieutenants is in Summer. Him and a few Hybern soldiers under his command, they’ve been going court to court.

My brows pinched together, “For what?”

Not, what. Who.

“Me,” I sighed.

Yes. They’re looking for the “Sun of the Night Court.” After they ensnared one of the Suriel and they told them the prophecy. That the “Sun of the Night Court” is the heir of the Spring Court. The heir that is promised to free Prythian—to kill her. So she killed the Suriel, sent out her lieutenants, making them go court to court searching for a boy that doesn’t exist.

“Because, it’s me. I’m Tamlin’s heir.” I finally said the words that have been haunting me for more than 10 years out loud. “I’m the “Sun of the Night Court.”

Yes.

“And when Amarantha assumed that the Suriel said son instead of sun, they didn’t bother correcting her, if it wasn’t a direct question.”

Yes.

“Because no High Lord has ever had a female heir. Until me.”

Yes.

For other parts: Bound In Flames Series Masterlist

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 11

Taglist: @historygeekqueen @cat-or-kitten @yeeyeebabe @khaleesihavilliard @impossibelle @sleepylunarwolf @cutie232 @meepmeep-318 @belledawnidk @fandomrejects @wasntpriscilla @brandywineeeee @thescooby-gang @annblvd @isa1b2h3 @tele86 @glaciuswduo @laceandsuch @hnyclover @spookyboogyuniverse @kennedy-brooke @minaethrym @dustyinkpages @azzydaddy @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @phoenix666stuff @starryhiraeth @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @esposadomd @poetryinshadows @consultinghuntresshasthetardis @lili-flower03

*If you would like to be added to the taglist for this story or to my general taglist, please either reply to this post or send me a message.

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #eris vanserra #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #eris fanfic #eris smut #eris x reader #bound in flames

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magpiefngrl · 2 months

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writing patterns: last lines

I love the first lines meme, but what about last lines? I find them as vital as first lines, if not more. A first line should do a lot of things (indicate POV, tone, voice) while also catching the attention of the reader and inviting them to read on. But it can be invisible, just a way into the story, and that's perfectly fine because the story is what will amaze/impress/entertain the reader.

The last line, however, is the last impression: it can be a powerful punch, or it can be underwhelming. It's the vibe, the feeling, the aftertaste that the reader will carry with her when she closes the tab/book. It doesn't do as much work as the opening, but a really strong (or really weak) last line might colour what has come before.

For this game, instead of recent fics, I decided to check my longer fics; the last line of a longer piece of work sort of carries more weight, in my mind, idk.

Rules: write the last line of your 10 longest fics. What patterns can you see, if any? Which ones are your favourites?

Something I noticed: in my longer fics, I often have a short epilogue at the end of the story. Like a post-credits scene. I'm including both last lines for pattern-seeking. Also, a while ago, I'd done a before-during-after ask thing and posted some sequels at the end of a few fics. I debated using only the original ending here, but the sequel's last line is what will stay with readers, so I added both. Finally, The Boy Who Died has a coda but it's so long I'm treating it as a chapter.

I. 9 ½ Days (drarry, E, ~70k)

(story) Harry burrowed closer to him, eyes fluttering open. ‘You’re real.’ ‘I am.’ Draco tangled their legs together. It was snug under the covers. ‘Touch me and see.’

(epilogue) Harry took his hand and together they stepped forward into the green, living wood.

II. dirtynumbangelboy (drarry, E, 39.4k)

(story) ‘Home,’ Harry says, nuzzling Draco’s hair. ‘Take us home.’

(epilogue) He wants them to look smashing at the betrothal.

III. The Miseducation of Draco Malfoy (drarry, E, ~38k)

(story) Draco decided he would be happy to spend his life making Harry laugh, and thrust in.

(epilogue) “Let’s give them something good to talk about then,” Draco suggested, and Harry smiled, bent him backwards, and gave him a proper kiss, tongue and all.

IV. The Boy Who Died (drarry, E, ~27k)

Overthrowing the regime will take a miracle, Kingsley had said in the dark Edwardian manor. Draco had smiled at that and gazed at Harry. Indeed. Which is why we’ll win.

V. The Gift (drarry, E, ~26k)

Before [Draco] casts Nox, he takes a last look at his packed trunk, and then, in the whispering night, he allows himself to dream.

VI. Hush, darling (drarry, E, 23.6k)

But Draco holds Harry tighter — and doesn’t let go.

VII. The Unquiet Grave (drarry, E, 21.5k)

Draco glanced at Harry and smiled. ‘I’ll be fine. I have a bodyguard.’

VIII. Through the Looking Glass and What Draco Found There (drarry, E, 17.5k)

(original) This world was fucked up. It had pain and grief and sick people and dead people and stupid decisions and bad hair days and fear and regret—although it didn’t have Smith in leather gear, which was something. It also had Harry Potter, who buried his face in the crook of Draco’s neck, and who liked this Draco, the Death Eater Draco, and that made everything worth it.

(sequel) ‘Pull them down yourself,’ Draco said and kissed him.

IX. The Full Monty (drarry, E, 10k)

First, he goes to the kitchen to make sure Arthur is indeed alive — he is, nibbling at some seeds on the counter — but after that, yes, he goes straight to where Potter is waiting, hopefully all soapy and wet.

X. How to Court your Husband (drarry, E, 5,5k)

(original) Their escorts maintained a discreet distance when they arrived and saw what the princes were up to, and twenty minutes later in the palace courtyard, the Fountain spurted a jet of water the likes of which had never been seen before.

(sequel) Harry smiled and stroked Draco’s face. ‘We’re in no hurry, husband.’

Patterns

JFC. I like my epilogues and codas and sequels, don't I? Lord. I don't think I'd noticed it before as clearly as I do now. This isn't even everything: I actually started a coda for The Gift a while back, and I have a half-finished sequel scene for dirtynumb in my folders. I can just never leave off. But it's true: I do love epilogues.

I end with dialogue A LOT more than I start with it. First lines, I estimated a third of them are dialogue, but a good half of the endings are.

A large majority of my endings involve kissing or cuddling or touching in some way. Love language touch anyone?

There's a fair bit of Draco glancing at Harry and smiling.

In the two fics that have a sequel scene, the original ending is, imo, vastly superior to the sequel's. Hm.

Faves

I like the epilogue ending of 9 1/2 Days; the ending of Unquiet Grave, which works better I think in context; the rather poetic ending of The Gift; the original ending of Through the Looking Glass, which, imo, perfectly captures the theme; and the original ending of How To Court Your Husband, which is hilarious in context. Several readers commented on that one.

Tagging

I'll no-pressure tag @lettersbyelise @lqtraintracks @the-starryknight @skeptiquex @etalice @coriesocks @gracerene @citrusses @lower-east-side @hogwartsfirebolt @queenofthyme @writcraft @shealwaysreads @phdmama @stripedroseandsketchpads @sixappleseeds to get the ball rolling-- and of course YOU, reading this! Feel free to tag me so I can read your last lines, I'm ever so curious x

#last lines #drarry #writer memes #endings

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sitp-recs · 5 months

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Hello, I was wondering if you could have any friends to lovers drarry fic rec for me? I enjoy slow burn with a kind and soft Draco (where he isn’t a bully) or one where draco stood for the light side of the war (so preferably during the war). I just want want to see Draco have a strong friendship with the golden trio, really! (I don't mind if the romance is a subplot. I just want a focus on Draco)

(I quite literally watched Harry Potter with my sister thinking Draco was going to have a hell of a redemption arc and was sorely disappointed... So here I am seeking for comfort fics)

Anyways thanks in advance!

Hi anon! I feel you, Draco’s redemption arc was poorly done and so frustrating :( I hope you’ll enjoy these as they combine slow burn, friends to lovers and redeemed Draco. Some are told from Harry’s pov and while Draco’s not always soft I think his characterization will be right up your alley. You might also enjoy GallaPlacidia’s Draco, her fics were taken down but you can find them here. Finally, I have also added my personal favorites redemption arc as a separate category, highly recommend them. Enjoy!

Friends to lovers slow burn:

Vortex by @xanthippe74 (T, 20k)

The idea of perfectly-matched soulmates feels more like a curse than a blessing to Draco. Who would want a soulmate who was a schoolyard bully, a Death Eater, and a convicted felon? Certainly not Harry Potter. And Draco is determined to take this secret to the grave.

Nice Things by aideomai (M, 22k)

The first thing that happened was Theodore Nott came back from France.

With Great Yawns and Stretchings by sugar_screw (T, 22k)

The coffee is very good. Really. And the cats are so cute. That's why Harry goes so often.

Moldova's Magical Tea by @aibidil (E, 32k)

Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and—to everyone’s surprise—Draco Malfoy are opening a magical tea shop to revive wizarding tea culture and, hopefully, to bring the community together after the war. Harry, who is unemployed and trying to find his way in post-war society, wants to help his friends with their new business—but that means spending a lot of time around Malfoy.

Open For Repairs by @drarrytrash (M, 35k)

After the war, Draco works at a tv repair shop and Harry breaks things.

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 (T, 38k)

Harry Potter’s life is fine. Maybe a little dull and predictable, but he shouldn’t complain about that, right? When he unexpectedly finds himself at Luna’s house one afternoon, Harry gets invited to join the secret wonderland that she’s creating with a surprising group of friends. Maybe a summer outdoors is just what a former hero needs to bring some zest back into his life.

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love by @aibidil (E, 80k)

In which a group of wizards' rights activists goes on the offensive after a prohibition against love potions, forcing the magical world to confront the horror of magic's role in sexual assault and the murky legal nature of consent. Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Draco are swept together to solve the case, and in the process they're made to confront their own love and lust—with and without potions.

At Your Service by Faith Wood (E, 95k)

Hogwarts students are in danger; Harry is determined to save them all. There's only one thing he knows for certain: Draco Malfoy is somehow involved.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (M, 114k)

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

My favorites - Redemption arc:

And Save Me From Bloody Men by @blamebrampton (T, 10k)

Draco Malfoy once watched others fighting to stop the world falling apart. This time, he's not just watching.

Slithering by astolat (E, 27k)

Draco found the nest down in the Manor’s cellars, while he was clearing them out.

Heal Thyself by astolat (T, 47k)

"Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.” “What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th.

A Young Radical's Guide to Love by @blamebrampton (T, 66k)

Memories of the war are still fresh, which is all the excuse Decent People need to do appalling things. In this quietly waged conflict, Draco Malfoy is happy to be on the right side of things for once, and even happier to find he’s not alone.

A Thousand Beautiful Things by geoviki (M, 104k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

Changing Tides by carpemermaid (E, 109k)

Draco has spent half of his life spouting the things his father has taught him without much thought about how he feels about what he says. When he unexpectedly comes face to face with the Dark Lord, he grapples with the harsh realities of the world and struggles with his changing views on life.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

Eclipse by Mijan (T, 287k)

Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back.

Twist of Fate by Oakstone730 (T, 302k)

Draco asks Harry to help him beat the Imperius curse during 4th year. The lessons turn into more than either expected. A story of redemption and forgiveness.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #friends to lovers #slow burn #redemption arc

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finitepeace · 8 months

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3 months since I finished Hannibal tv show. Not moving on at all from hannigram.

and here are the fics that i read to soothe the pain and pretend that the mess that is hannigram relationship has been tidied up.

Personal favorites are marked with 🦌 <this is supposed to be a stag but then it turns out to be a goat???>

arranged by time setting.

11 season1 fics, 11 season2 fics , 2 season 3fics, 14 post/before canon fics, 5 fics AU, 2 missing scene fics, 2 collections.

Season 1 divergence

Kissable by FragileTeacup |2,5k words | A Season 1 AU ficlet which explores a simple premise: what would have happened if, after Will had gone to Hannibal's house and confessed to kissing Alana Bloom, he had ended up kissing Hannibal?

Consenting to Dream by emungere | E, 38k words | A seduction through physical objects. It starts with a scarf loaned to Will on a cold day, but Hannibal, as usual, isn't satisfied with anything small.

🦌 Marriage of Inconvenience by FragileTeacup | 3,5k words E | When Will Graham hears that Hannibal Lecter has been threatened with deportation, he's far more dismayed than he ever thought he would be. But a flippant suggestion from Brian Zeller gives him an idea...

Beau Ideal by Gweezle | E, 21k words | will used to be a model -who might be attracted murder-

🦌 Dancing with the Beast by proser | E, 86k words | In order to catch a mediocre serial killer, Will must pose as Hannibal's date for a series of pretentious social events.

La Maison Rouge by Randstad | 2k words, Hannibal starts to show up at Will's house at the crack of dawn to make him breakfast, killing two birds with one stone: cooking is one of his many passions, and, honestly, Will Graham is climbing up the list.

Hyacinth House by bluesyturtle for Azremodehar | 80k, E, It all starts with an injury Will sustains while sleepwalking. [Podfic] read by justbreathe

Kindling by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe) | 10k words, e | When Franklyn's advances of friendship become too much for even Hannibal to politely ignore, he enlists Will's help.

🦌 Separately to a Wood by emungere | 13k words, T, canon-divergence in which hannibal proposed to will on their 2nd day meeting.

Demolition Lovers by thefangirlingdead | 76k words, E, hannibal got found out early, kidnapped will to run with him and will struggled with the usual ‘i love him but he is a murder’..

🦌 Small Repairs by Devereauxs_Disease | E, 20k words, divergence season 1, hannigram keeps finding reason to meet each other

Season 2 divergence

🦌 The Fox's Wedding by thehoyden | E, 11k, post S2 finale fix-it, hannibal took will to japan

Amourette by Petronia | 3k words, E, divergence on season 2

I shouldn't feel lonely when you're gone by Angelic_Disaster | 28k words, E, amnesiac Dr. Lecter,

Slip the Veil by ThisBeautifulDrowning 21,844 Post-Mizumono, Will heals, and thinks, and follows his heart.

🦌 each according to its kind by chaparral_crown | 192k words | Season 2 divergence | instead of taking revenge and planning to expose hannibal, will drop everything and run away

Where All Ladders Start by emungere | E, 43k, season 2 divergence, hannibal regrets and releases will from prison

Pattern Break by ThisBeautifulDrowning | e, 72k | No, Will was going to deal with Hannibal Lecter on his own terms. The man deserved to reap what he'd so carefully sowed, didn't he? After his release from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Will doesn't return to work for the FBI.

🦌🦌🦌 if you will come all the way down with me by coloredink | 7k words, M, they left together with abigail, but at what cost???

Season 3 divergence

🦌 their beaks not yet turned red by chaparral_crown | M, 130K words, magical realism, baby lecter!! post 1st half of season 3, hannibal went to trial but his conjugal tryst with will brought a stork delivered gift | After Hannibal is arrested and the trial dates are set, the stork visits Will Graham. With it, it brings a baby, a legally binding birth certificate, and a hope chest full of gifts for her. Nobody except Will thinks this is weird.

A Postcard and a Knife by Canis_cosmos | E, 37k words, divergence from season 3 when chiyoh threw will out of the train to the past and met young hannibal

post S3 / before S1

God and Glasses by purefoysgirl | 1,1k, G, domestic life of married hannigram

Lean On Me by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles | 2k words | Written for the airport-related AU prompt: "I fell asleep on your shoulder and you were too polite to move or wake me up AU" with a Hannigram twist.

We Killed a Dragon Last Night and Sounders of Three by inameitlater | time travel/loop/groundhog day

🦌 Hear My Soul Speak by DarkmoonSigel | 130k words. WIP. Last updated early 2022. | An AU about how Will might of met Hannibal differently since they both knew Alana. A dinner party gone wrong or terribly right. You decide. Not Beta Read.

🦌 When the Devil Smiles Back byGoldenUsagi | 26k words | A remix of Silence of the Lambs, where Clarice finds herself occupied not only with catching Buffalo Bill, but with unraveling the mystery of what exactly happened to Will Graham. And Hannibal knows more than he’s letting on about both.

🦌🦌🦌Bigger than a Breadbox by KatherineKrawl | 4k words, E | Every day at work, Will's lunchbox is filled with decadent creations, prompting questions from curious coworkers. Hoping to solve the matter, he asks Hannibal for a 'simple' sandwich, but quickly learns Hannibal doesn't quite grasp the meaning of this. Or does his boyfriend have an ulterior motive for his lavish lunches?

TKO by sidnihoudini | 16k words Molly deals with the aftermath.

The Shape of Me Will Always be You by MissDisoriental | 279k words, 1st person POV, | post-fall, hannibal left will so will could return to his old life

A Discreet Madness by emungere | 4,4k words, M, post-fall |

A Damn Slippery Life by Magical_Destiny | 2k words, T, post-fall, molly reacts

Something Else by HotMolasses | 2,1k, T, hannigram talking about that gutting scene...

🦌🦌🦌 Say Cheese! by Devereauxs_Disease | 6k, M, murder husband’s vacations keep appearing in freddie lound’s tattle crime

Cold Beds and Warm Cannibals by Devereauxs_Disease | E, 4,4k, smut and overcoming distrusts

🦌Fruitful by Everett_Harte An AU remix of 'Hannibal'. Where they both meet several years before the show, start dating, and get married. And bang, a lot.

AUs

🦌 the true kingkiller by ORiley42 | 41k words, M, there’s even a very well made podfic for it!, hannibal is a mummy and will accidentally freed him. consequence: will fell in love with him.

Ethics & Aesthetics by FragileTeacup | 106330 words, a Regency A/B/O romance | pride and prejudice au

🦌🦌🦌 Remember (that you are) to die by 13empress | 230k words, WIP last updated 2017 | ABO au, amnesiac will woke up with 13 years past experience including being a parent, a one half of murder husband, and a wrongly incarcerated FBI agent

Oddbodies by toffeecape | E, 72k words | Will is an off-brand sentinel. Hannibal is a reputable guide. What could go wrong?

🦌🦌🦌 Overcoming by purefoysgirl | 547k words, E, A/B/O victorian AU, MY VERY FIRST HANNIGRAM FIC! brought me here and now i'm stuck

Howling Outside Your Door by nobetterlove | 14k words | Content to spend his days on the surgery floor, Hannibal is tasked to present emergency room policy to a Cognitive Science class. He's somewhat reticent, but a single whiff of air changes everything. The professor, Will Graham, is an enigma. A dark bruise covers his right eye and the ripe burnt-sugary sweetness is tainted by a tang of suppressants. How much can finding his true mate really change Hannibal? And when it comes to darkness, where does acceptance lie? 14k words

missing scenes

My Husband by VictoriaAGrey | G, 3,5k words, hannigram being sweet married couple

Mise en Place by WrathoftheStag for Devereauxs_Disease | G, 1,8k, outsider POV -one of the kitchen staff in hannibal’s dinner party-

collections i'm checking out

In Which Loverboy Lecter Prostrates Himself at the Altar of Will Graham

Fresh Meat Friday

Hannigram Extended Universe

Trope: From Sex To Love (Valhalla Enchanted) by TigerPrawn | 14k words | the omega prince Charmont is in need of an alpha to see him through heat until his betrothed arrives from a distant kingdom. The recently freed slave one-eyed mute is just hideous enough to be the perfect temporary alpha to service the prince.

Forgemaster by Llewcie | 11k words | Charmont, the newest Dionysus, loses a bet to his roommate Aphrodite, and is required by her to go on three dates with a god of her choosing. Before he even gets out the door, he scathingly insults the gentle, mute Hephaestus, and then must scramble to make amends.

Blood on Steel by MonstrousRegiment | Ella Enchanted/Valhalla Rising crossover, series of 24k words work

#fic rec #hannigram fic #hannigram #hannibal lecter #will graham

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the-24-7-lawlu-library · 1 month

Note

Can I ask for a fic rec for a fantasy au where Law is a supernature creature (like a fae, vampire, or a demon) is is protective/possessives over human Luffy

Hi there anon,

we have some fae fic already posted, however, I noticed that I can't use too many tags so I will have to adjust some old posts tags again ;; anyway here are some non-human with possessive/protective law

In the Woods by betsib (M)

Luffy is fatally wounded after an ambush, and realises his attempts to flee his pursuers has led him into the Witching Woods. A mysterious figure appears in the darkness and asks him if he wants to live. Luffy says yes, not caring what that might mean for him. Thankfully, being magically bound to a strange forest and its even stranger caretaker isn't a bad deal. Written for 10 days of LawLu 2023, Day 4 prompt: Possessive

It Begins at Forever by KhepiAri (M)

The biggest price of Immortality is loneliness. After waiting for centuries, Doctor Trafalgar Law is destined to stumble upon his one true mate. Love happens when one least expects it, the forever has been set in motion for Law. Three-Part story. AU. Fluff, happy ending. LawLu, ZoRo, NaSa.

Vampire AU by xxkitty13 (E)

What will happen when a carefree man stumbles upon a grumpy vampire's castle?

A plethora of feelings by anonymous (E)

Sort of a continuation of Lustsick. You don't really need to read the other one to enjoy this fic. Law is sick and overthinking as always.

The Moonwitch And His Dumb Werewolf by KhepiAri (T)

A.U., Fantasy. Happy Ending. Three Part. LawLu (Switch Couple) When his village gets burned down and family captured by the bounty hunters, a young werewolf pup, Luffy, finds himself in the protection of a witch boy named Law and his father Corazon. As the war ravages, the magical creatures must unite to fight their biggest enemies; humans. "He was totally going to ignore the red blotch down the cliff; he was going to pretend that below his hill, on the snowy bed, was a creature in red. Yet he found himself walking down, picking up a bundle of expensive red. The child was shivering, his lips had turned blue, and he was muttering nonsense. At thirteen, he didn't want to be responsible, but his father would beat the shit out of him if he learned that he had abandoned a helpless child. He took his rescue inside the hut built of scrapes. He freed the child of his costly chilled cloak, removed the boots which didn't keep the frost bite away, his hands froze when he saw the thin silver chain around his neck with the moonstone pendant. Likewise, he had picked a werewolf pup."

As well as the rest of the Witch Trafalgar Law series by KhepiAri

-Mod Raiya

#lawlu #lulaw #monkey d luffy #trafalgar law #law x luffy #explicitly lawlu #possessive law #non-human #fantasy au #vampire #witch #demon

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earthtooz · 2 years

Note

Ramble abt todoroki incoming!

Todoroki who does so much for you and never expects anything in return. Todoroki who’s your best friend, always at your side and supporting you like it’s second nature. Todoroki who is in love with you but it’s not just fleeting romance, he loves you so deeply he’s content even if you don’t love him back. Todoroki who’s devoted to you because you’re his best friend and he’s yours. Todoroki who you’d do anything for. Todoroki who’s held you while you cried, gossiped with you about anything and everything, trusts you to hold him while he cries, to back him up. Todoroki who whispers brutal jokes and quips only loud enough for you to hear. Who tells you all his secrets, and keeps yours. Who’s kind but funny, vicious to protect those he loves but is so soft. Todoroki who everyone knows is a package deal with you because you’re best friends, and you have been for years. So much so that when they tell you to keep a secret they know, Todoroki also knows all their business. Todoroki who loves you so wholly, who’s your ride or die, but is somehow still surprised when you tell him you love him. When even you might be the one to purpose to him.

Todoroki who makes it feel so easy and natural to go from best friends, to someone you know you’ll spend the rest of your life with. Todoroki who has shown you how easy it is to love unconditionally. Todoroki who’d you’d do anything for, and never once doubt he’d do the same. Because being with him is as easy as breathing.

i kept this ask in the inbox bc i wanted to incorporate it into one of my fics for inspo :o but it'll be a while until i find time to write and post something, so rambling abt this now might be more fitting.

but i totally agree!!!!

todoroki shoto is familiar. he is constant. he is stable and most of all, he is an immovable force in your life- not that you want is any other way.

you have loved him during your years at u.a and you will keep loving him, even as you climb the hero ranks together and face new challenges.

you have loved him at the training camp before being ambushed by the- what was then, the league of villains. you have loved him whilst you cried together afterwards as he thanked fate that you were okay because he had heard from his classmates that you were right in the middle of all the action and it took multiple of shoji's arms to hold him back; to prevent todoroki from rushing into the fog-ridden woods to find you and protect you with the heat of his fire and the walls of ice.

you have loved him in the late nights and early mornings shared in the dorms. you have loved him in all the exchanged cups of tea. you have loved him in all the hugs, gossips, whispers, quips about the class and inside jokes that are sacred to no one but you two. he has loved you in return.

he loves that you two are synchronised to this extent. he has loved you in all the moments that when anything remotely shocking or funny happens, you two immediately look at each other with the same expression, communicating through brainwaves. it's almost creepy.

you have loved him whilst interning under endeavour together. todoroki watched as you grew stronger and you, he. the love you shared bloomed right under his father's nose and although the dual-wielder knew he didn't really need his dad's approval on who he liked, he knows he got it regardless.

he has loved you whilst watching you bicker with bakugo and midoriya during the breaks you'd take during the internship, with the glorious, setting sun brushing your face with its golden glory, illuminating your beauty in a way that made todoroki breathless.

you have loved him in the midst of all of his family drama AND trauma. you have loved him as you wiped his tears away, you have loved him wounded and hurt. you have loved him as he shyly crawls to you for the comfort only he can find in you.

he has loved you when you do the same with him, vowing to keep you safe, holding you closer than he does with anyone else.

even if you break his heart, he tells himself to hug you tighter.

he loves you during the rest of your high school lives, all the way until during third year where this love blossoms into something... more stable, final, and beautiful. now officially together, todoroki learns to love you more passionately. this time, he fully devotes himself to you, more than he could during the earlier years that he's spent pining over you.

he loves you when you become a sidekick for a hero you've been looking up to for years, celebrating your successes together. he loves you when you appear on the annual list of top ten heroes and you love him when his name appears on the top three.

you love him when he brings you flowers after his patrol hours. you love him when todoroki asks you to move in to his place. you love him when you see the way he has manoeuvred his space to become your space: he has filled up vases with your favourite bouquets, he has incorporated furniture he knows you like, he put some of your plushies on the couch and even folded your favourite blanket over the couch so it's always there during cuddle time.

you love him during domesticity too. cooking together, cuddling together, cleaning together - just... existing together, this is all pure bliss for todoroki because he loves you.

he loves you in your pajamas, he loves you when you're dressed to the nines for a hero event, he loves you when he watches you float through the ballroom; greeting every hero that approaches gracefully, he loves you when your eyes light up when they meet his and like magnets, you find your way to him.

you love him even when he throws himself in front of you instinctively to protect you during missions, he loves you when you do the same. you love him during the nights he spends at the hospital and he loves you when he does the same. you love him when you wake up with a sore back and neck, sleeping on the guest chair and todoroki loves you when it's the middle of the night and the first thing he sees is your sleeping figure draped over the side of the hospital bed.

the first time this happens, he knows fully that there is not a moment that he doesn't want to spend by your side and every time he gets to wake up to your sleeping face is a blessing that life has provided todoroki shoto.

and here's the thing- you'd do it all over again because being by todoroki's side, supporting todoroki, loving todoroki is as easy as breathing.

it's you and him against the world because you love todoroki shoto and todoroki shoto loves you.

WHEN I SAY THIS IS UNEDITED I SAY THIS IS UNEDITED but literally thank YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS RAMBLE!!!! it literally GAVE ME SO MUCH SEROTONIN AS I WROTE IT!!!! i have never enjoyed reading an inbox message as much as this one and as i kept referring back to what you said, i just- indescribable experience, 10/10!!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU VELVET!

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firein-thesky · 10 months

Text

Act I, Part I

|| kaeya alberich x afab!reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort/fluff || wc: 13k || ao3 || masterlist || Act I, Part II -> ||

When you, a beloved artist and performer of Mondstadt, attract the attention of the Fatui, there is only one person you seek out for help; the infamous Cavalry Captain of the Ordo Favonius, Mondstadt's beloved bastard.

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+ only

❀ for you are the world (as i am in pieces) - @lorelune ❀

a/n: it is finally here!!! this is apart of a lovely collab with my buddy @lorelune that you should check out!! i've linked their fic above!! thank you so much to @acerathia for beta reading this!!! this is the first act of three that will be posted but this act has been broken into two parts because tumblr hates long posts so i will link that shortly as well! everything will also be on ao3!! thank you so much and i'd love to hear your thoughts!! <33

tags: afab reader (she/her pronouns but is rather gender fluid/binds her chest sometimes and presents both femme and masc), alcohol use, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of stalking/full on stalking from the fatui to the reader, eventual smut (not in this chapter), mentions of heartbreak/abandonment issues, bodyguard au technically, fake dating au technically

SCENE I

Our story begins first in the open night, beneath torchlight and on an ancient, well-loved stage in Springvale. And then our world should open up to the wilderness, to the Mondstadt streets, until we end up in Kaeya’s home; it’s as mysterious and stylish as he is. Everything could or couldn’t tell you everything about him, everything might or might not mean something to the Cavalry Captain.

The night sky shudders into shades of endless plum blue, kissed with silver-burnt stars and the gentle curve of a sweet moon.

Kaeya’s eye catches its brilliance, reflects it back like it was made from the very same moonbeam, the very same starshine.

You roar to life in the darkness.

Fire bursts from your mouth in a red-gold crush of heat, swinging in an arc around your head to illuminate you.

The audience cheers, hollering and clapping, murmuring excitedly at the way you leap from your pedestal above the stage into a crouch.

Your costume twinkles, shimmery and scale-like, jangling like mora in the pocket. It’s slinky, baring midriff and thigh, the curve of your bare feet, ankles and wrists adorned in jingling, scale-like jewelry. Your hair is wild, horns twisting out from your head.

It’s cute, Kaeya thinks, watching with an amused, little smile.

“The dragon careened from the sky and bore down on the knight!” Your narrator exclaims and with a flash of movement, you and the other actor clash in the darkness. Your fire lights up the stage only briefly, to catch another flash of movement, before plunging back into darkness. And then again, a burst of flames in another sharp picture;

The knight’s sword raised above his head to strike you down.

Darkness.

Before your fire explodes out in a plume to make the knight stagger back. The audience gasps.

You twist and turn and move serpentine, fluid like water, or the licks of your flames.

Kaeya hasn’t seen you perform in awhile, perhaps years, but it brings back memories of childhood.

The way you’d light up a room and perform whether it was to sing or dance or entertain.

As a child, you were bursting with it, with freedom and joy. He remembers nights in Ragnvindr manor, tucked away in smoky parlors with adults who cooed to you, who encouraged you to sing for them, to play the piano or violin. He remembers candlelight and the way it seemed to glow brighter for you as you opened your mouth and let all of that wonder out of you.

Your audience adores you here, too, out here in Springville, at this little outdoor theater which is perhaps just a couple half-hazard pieces of wood nailed together. Nonetheless, you make it feel like the rocky terrain of Dragonspine.

And by the end, your audience is hooting and hollering, on their feet, perhaps a little drunk, but adoring nonetheless.

Though it’s nice to see you perform, that isn’t exactly why he’s here tonight.

He sips at the mug of ale in front of him, leaning back in his chair.

He waits until you appear again in plain clothes, changed from your pretty costume, fresh faced.

And my, my are you popular. Everyone stops to talk to you, to snag you, to hug and hold you and laugh with you. He can tell, though, that you’re making your way to him as the night grows later and longer.

He waits.

Until you are in front of him once more, moon a halo above your head.

“Riveting performance.” He purrs.

“Captain Kaeya,” you say his name like it bursts sweet and sharp on your tongue.

He says your name in return, honeyed and slow, taking you in all your glory.

Then you say, “you came,” and your smile is an infectious little twist of lips.

“Of course I did.” He responds easily, looking up at where you’re standing in front of him, and then as if it was innate, only natural of him, “you asked me to.”

Your eyes flicker just behind him, catch someone in the darkness, before settling back on him.

Call it instinct, but he feels his hackles rise, hair on the back of his neck stand up. Kaeya knows danger well and can feel it now, the way you can smell a storm that is approaching.

You offer him your hand, palm up, and in the firelight of the torches around you, it shimmers in his vision, dancing with shadows.

He quirks a brow at you.

“Your place or mine?” He asks.

“You’re not even going to get me a drink first?” You ask, feigning scandal.

Kaeya feels the corner of his mouth tick up, “call me impatient.” He says, but he finally puts his hand in yours, envelopes it in his and realizes he has not taken your hand in many years. Perhaps not since you were children together. Your hands have grown, but so have his. Calluses rough up against your smooth, soft palm.

So untouched. So unscarred. Soft as–

“Yours.” You say decisively.

And you pull him up and into the fray of people, into the sweet night, turning away to guide him but with your hand still in his. He trails after you and if it looks suggestive, if there are some hollers and calls to you–

“The good captain, even?” A fellow actor of yours crows, ale sloshing in his mug, “is there no one in Mondstadt safe from your wiles?”

“Not a soul,” you vow with a laugh and the group roars with cheers, drinks spilling.

“Don’t tell me you two are leaving already!” Another says, “the night is still young!”

“All the more reason to leave now,” Kaeya sings and there is even more uproar, whistles and suggestive howls.

You seize his hand tighter and pull him closer, pick up your pace as if to show your eagerness, leaving all their laughs and hollering behind.

Your shadow persists, though, and Kaeya doubles his step to get closer, to sidle up next to your side. To guard your back.

“Been awhile,” Kaeya hums, “you must be desperate to have reached out to me.”

“Well, in all of Mondstadt, I could think of no one else I’d rather have.” You grin at him and the trouble is, you’re being honest. He can feel it, or perhaps he just wants to, that you would want his presence beyond this, beyond–

As you wander over trails and stones back to the city, hand always in his, he helps you along, or keeps after you like an eager dog. He lifts you off of a stone ridge you climbed, hands fitting along your waist like they belong there. He laughs when you dart away from him, chasing after you only to catch you around the middle, letting you yelp and twist in his hold, tossing your head back onto his shoulder to laugh up into the heavens.

It feels like he’s a child again, a teenager, stepping through time and into another. Nostalgia rips at him, tugs at the seams of him. He wonders if you feel it, too, but doubts it.

Not with the person loping not too far behind, keeping distance but not too much. Not enough.

The gates of Mondstadt are alight with torches.

You walk backwards to face him and for a moment, he really does almost lose his footing, because there is something so bewitching about you. He can’t stop looking, the curl of your smile, or the raise of your brow. It’s a natural sort of beauty, one born from within, he thinks, something in you that’s just so–

Wonderful.

And then you turn back over your shoulder and take off, pulling him after you. Nimbly, he is your shadow. Footsteps on cobblestone, clattering together, until you yank him into a dark little alcove. You press your back up against the stone curve, pulling him by the front of his uniform so that he crowds you, shrouds over you.

“Kaeya–” you say his name a little breathlessly and it echoes in Mondstadt stone streets, voice throwing so that someone could hear you. Will hear you.

He’s quick to catch on, ducking his head into the crook of your neck, though not close enough to touch.

Your follower has paused at the entrance of this alley. Kaeya can see the shadow in the torchlight.

You suddenly pinch his ear hard enough to make him yelp a little.

You laugh, but it’s warm and sultry, head falling back against the stone like you’ll give him more room.

“Right here?” He asks, but his gaze glances past you, at your follower.

You nod to his real question, but pitch your voice up in the charade, “please–”

The sound makes him flush a little.

And it makes your shadow scurry away when he realizes what you’re getting up to, clearly embarrassed, or in the least, shy about being a voyeur. Kaeya fights the urge to snort.

He does realize your hand is still curled in the front of his uniform. And the column of your throat is exposed, pretty, and open for the taking.

He focuses squarely ahead, listening closely to see where the footsteps have gone.

He only catches the grin on your face out of the corner of his eye, before you suddenly let out a louder, lewder moan.

He shushes you, almost reflexively, but he has to fight the urge suddenly to laugh. You do start to giggle this time and although it still sounds deeply intimate, he covers his hand over your mouth so you can laugh into his palm. So that you won’t blow your own ruse.

You keep this up until he finally takes your hand and pulls you away from the wall. You stumble with him, until he’s got you tucked up under his arm.

You’re still laughing a bit, clearly pleased with yourself, as he takes you a strange, meandering way to his own place. Your follower is gone, perhaps for the night off, assuming that you’ll be in Kaeya’s bed. He wonders if your shadow will find you again come morning or if he’ll scout out Kaeya’s own place for the night.

He leads you into his own apartment building, up the wooden stairs, and into his home. For an apartment, it’s rather spacious. Open. There’s a balcony off the bedroom, one that overlooks a great deal of Mondstadt’s streets. The bustling world below and the peaks of Mondstadt’s skyline above. It’s his favorite part.

Once the door is shut and the lock nestled into place, you finally drop the act.

His hand leaves yours, body leaves yours, for the first time that he’s seen you tonight and instantly, he can feel the rush of cold ease in.

“Make yourself at home,” he says, slinging off his own coat, setting his boots to the side.

He wanders in only to collapse on his sofa, eyeing you as you toe off your own shoes and carefully hang your own jacket beside his.

He forgets sometimes, what it's like, to have someone else here.

To have a coat beside his own, shoes kissing his.

“I take it you figured out my letter?” You ask, padding deeper into his home.

Kaeya smiles, “well, you can imagine my surprise when Jean handed it to me.”

“Jean saw that?” You ask, eyes rounding out in horror. “Does she think–does she know we’re not actually–?”

“Sleeping together? Romantically entangled?” Kaeya asks, standing suddenly to move to his office. You follow tentatively after him, only to watch him rifle through his desk and produce the very letter in question.

The envelope is covered in lipstick marks.

“You could’ve been a little more discreet.” He says, before inhaling a little sharply, “did you spray your perfume on this?”

“Do you like it?” You ask in return, “it’s new.”

He laughs, low and soft, “it’s nice. I think you traumatized Jean, though.”

“I wanted people to be too embarrassed to look inside the letter.” You retort, “clearly, I succeeded.”

“That you did.” He agrees, “and even if they did–”

An excited glow comes to your eyes, “did you figure it out?”

“Well, I knew it was some sort of code since the content of the letter was—fabricated, to say the least.”

“What? You don’t remember our clandestine trysts? I’m hurt—“

“You’re very clever.” Kaeya says then unabashedly and he thinks you melt a little at the praise. Or at least, you quiet down. “And it seems you’re in quite a bit of trouble.”

When you speak this time, it’s hushed, like you’re worried someone is listening now somehow.

“Can you help me? I had no idea who to turn to without tipping them off.”

“Well, if it’s one thing I’m good at, it’s dealing with secrets.” He muses, but then he gazes at your letter again, perhaps scouring the contents of it once more.

On the surface, it seems like a love letter, filled with winding, romantic phrases and memories of old; romps under star bright skies and hurried instances in the library. Nostalgic flashes of youth, when you danced the nights away with him. It details a sort of on and off again fling that neither of you can seem to quit.

But beyond that, there are ciphers, a code to uncover. And Kaeya pulls a slip of paper from another drawer of his desk, lays it out on the surface. Your true message reads very clearly in his messy scrawl;

Help. Fatui watching. Must be careful.

Kaeya gestures to the chair across from his large desk. You sink down into it with a nervous little breath.

“How long has this been going on?” He asks and perhaps the air changes, or the way his shoulders settle back. It’s the voice he uses as captain, twinged with authority and coolness.

“I noticed them following me about a month ago. Maybe longer, though.” You answer.

“Do you have any inclination as to why?” Kaeya asks now and he sets your letter aside.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment and Kaeya watches the movement, before you release it.

“It isn’t a secret that I’m not their biggest fan.” You finally answer. “I tend to toy with them if they get too close.”

Much like Diluc, you harbor a deep loathing for the Fatui.

You are a vocal and known defender of Mondstadt’s freedom from Fatui and their meddling hands. Notoriously, you’ve openly mocked them on stage and even worse, outwitted them in social entanglements. At every turn, when they tried to use your family’s name, coerce you financially, or corner you with social politics, you’ve managed to weasel by. They have tried endlessly to get you to bend to their whims, whatever they might be, and you have refused.

For the past few years, they have tried desperately to get someone as loved and known in Mondstadt in their pockets.

And for years, you’ve escaped them.

You’ve done much to outwit them. You’ve caused all out personal brawls between underlings, made a fool of yourself at one of the largest balls between nations, led them on wild goose chases that amounted to nothing, and even gone so far as to reveal salacious scandals to get your way.

Socially, in a battle of wits, you are a wicked opponent.

But physically? You are a sitting duck. And as beautiful as those flames of yours are on stage, you’ve never once used them in battle.

Kaeya remembers you as a child, trying to keep up with Jean and Diluc, well on their way to being knights, and all you did was cry and cry and cry.

It was so clear you were never meant for battle, always been more of a lover, in his mind. Crybaby that you were, you were meant for the arts; your sword a pen, your battle cry a song.

“No,” Kaeya agrees, “but many people are not fans of the Fatui, to varying degrees of vocalness. I can’t imagine they’d be so foolish as to target the very Heart of Mondstadt for no other reason than your disapproval or mischief now.”

The world has coined you Mondstadt’s Heart. It’s Light, it’s Shooting Star. You are as close to an adored princess (—and you’d scoff at the idea of royalty, like a true Mondstadtian—) as you can get in this nation and though you carry the bloodline of Imunlaukr, you have spent your days with the everyday man. You traveled and performed and dined and drank with those far from nobility.

As soon as he and Jean and Diluc had joined the knights, you had already joined an acting troupe. You were already off, free as a bird, to compose and write and perform and sing and dance your way across Mondstadt. Across the world.

But you always flew back home.

At one point, he’d been close to you perhaps, in his youth. You’d grown up alongside him and Diluc and Jean.

He always assumed, actually, that you and Diluc would—

Well, you’re both the beloved figures of Mondstadt.

It’s light and dark, truthfully, blessed by the Pyro Archon.

But everything had fallen apart when—

Kaeya had assumed you’d sided with Diluc and never wished to see him again. Or, in the least, you had nothing good to say to him. You’d never been rude to him, but he’d kept his distance nonetheless.

Perhaps for fear of your scorn. Perhaps he couldn’t face it. Of all the people who could scold him or reject him, yours felt particularly hard for him. He blames it on your otherwise playful and loving nature; to be despised by one of the sweetest of Mondstadt would be hard to stomach.

You used to write to him, more than just coded letters when you were in grave danger. But slowly, the letters stopped, and he assumed Diluc must’ve said something or—

Your paths were easy to keep from crossing.

Kaeya deals in secrets and shadows and is busy with the knights.

And you deal in brilliant light and open-hearts, your whole life on a stage.

Nonetheless, he’s surprised by your warmth.

“What are you thinking?” You ask softly and the way you’ve said it makes him think you could tell his mind was spiraling.

Kaeya sets down your letter, “that you’ll have to stay here for the night if you’d like your little shadow to believe your ruse.”

You open your mouth, perhaps to protest, to ask again—what are you really thinking about?

But you don’t.

“I suppose I’ll have to crash on your couch.” You answer, before a wry smile curls at your lips, “unless you’d like to stage a grand argument where I storm out.”

“You’re still trouble.” Kaeya hums, eyeing you perhaps more fondly than he should.

“And you were my partner in crime once! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t now—“

“I would, if it benefited us.” He assures you, smiling himself, “but for now, I think keeping up a false relationship for the eyes of others may help us a great deal.”

“Is this your way of asking me out?” You tease.

“I think it would give me an excuse to be around you frequently to protect you. No one would think twice about two lovers recently rekindled.”

“Surely, I don’t need—“

“In the least, I’d like to observe your observer.” Kaeya says smoothly, and then, “you’re not seeing anyone else, are you? We won’t have to worry about your real lover, do we?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment, suspended.

“No,” you say then, something strange in your voice, a little shake of your head, “what about you?”

“I’m far too busy with the Knights of Favonius for a relationship.” Kaeya says flippantly, forcing his voice to remain even. “At least that makes things less complicated.”

“Right,” you agree and there is a moment of silence as the situation settles around the two of you. There’s a shyness in the silence, a sudden uncertainty. Kaeya does not do well in it. And apparently neither do you, because at the same time, you both try to say;

“You can take my bed for–”

“I’m sorry to intrude on–”

You both laugh a little and try again;

“You’re not intru–”

“I can’t take your–!”

Silence again.

Your eyes meet and there is a smile in the corners of them, laughing eyes, crinkled with their life.

He opens his mouth to speak again but this time, you lurch forward and beat him to it, “I can’t take your bed!”

“I’ll change the sheets, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He says easily.

“No! It’s your bed and I’ve just–dropped in on your life!” You exclaim, voice pitching upwards. Dramatic little thing that you are.

But Kaeya can’t help but feel as if it’s a little true, not in any horrible way, rather in a way that is worse;

It feels poignant.

Right, even.

To have you fall back into his life the way you used to fall as a child, reckless and with wild laughter.

“Not at all,” Kaeya says and he finds, surprisingly, that he means it, “besides, the couch is comfortable–”

“Then I can take it.” You counter.

“No, I’m afraid it’s my home and I’ve already decided”

“Kaeya.” You say, as if to scold him.

He says your name in return, in the same tone, as if to mock you.

Eyes locked again, Kaeya takes you in fully.

After all these years, you have only grown all the more beautiful. Everyone knew you would be, but somehow you’re more than he remembers, a full bloom, a perfectly ripened fruit. A fledged angel. You’re more than he could ever fathom, somehow in his home, after years, and showing him a warmth and kindness he perhaps doesn’t deserve.

Faintly, he wonders if he should work up the courage to apologize.

For what exactly, he can’t name.

(But for years now, he has felt the urge to apologize. To everyone. For everything. And yet it will never loosen from his throat, lodged there, down deep.)

“Would you like to borrow clothes to sleep in, too?” He asks and if his eye skips down to your body briefly, he is quick to avert it.

Sheepishly, as sweet as ever, you smile and say, “if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he purrs and then he stands, stretches a little, hands raised above his head. “Shall we?” He asks and begins to move towards the door.

You stand to follow him.

“Kaeya,” you say suddenly, his name flying from your mouth like a freed bird.

He pauses in the doorway, the arch between two places; where you are and aren’t. One foot in and one foot out.

He can tell by the look on your face, so painfully expressive, shuddering with several emotions, that you want to say much. You’re like an open book for him to plainly read, so vulnerable.

He hopes you won’t say a thing, doesn’t think he can quite bear to hear it.

“Thank you.” Is what you settle on and it’s soft, painfully earnest.

Kaeya swallows, hides it all behind an easy, flippant smile, “of course.”

And he turns away from you, turns his back on your seeking face because he can’t be what you find, doesn’t want you to pry. Your eyes are too searching and he has to be careful, so careful–

He gives you soft, worn clothes of his. He is careful not to look too long at how you fill their shape, or how you look with your hair undone or your face free of stage makeup.

He is sure all the world wishes to know you this way.

He tries not to make you laugh or smile and is certainly careful not to hold your gaze.

He sleeps with his eyepatch on, shirt carefully buttoned and irritatingly twisted up over his body.

He stares up at the ceiling of his living room as you lay in his bed and he forces himself to think 0f anything but, to think of his duties in the morning, or the look on your face all those years ago.

Why are you being so kind to him?

He turns the question over in his mind like a coin, over and over and over, as if it may land on a side and reveal to him an answer.

He hardly sleeps.

And in the morning, the birds sing and so do you, humming under your breath as you dorn your clothes from the night before.

“My great walk of shame,” you sing with a laugh. “Hopefully all of Mondstadt notices.”

“Wait,” he says and the morning sun makes him lighter, your laugh brightens his whole home, and he disappears into his room momentarily to fetch his bottle of cologne.

If he were a worse man, he would dab it onto your neck with his own fingers.

But instead, he hands you the bottle, “if you’d like them all to really talk.”

You laugh again, full bellied and beautiful. So beautiful that you put the morning bells to shame.

You dab it on your neck, against your pulse points, the smell of sweet mint and amber, something boozy, almost like bourbon, hangs in the air and–and you smell like him. And your own perfume, the crush of vanilla and dark berries.

They’d almost compliment each other.

And then you hang in his doorway like the light beams that linger as the morning turns to day and finally you say, “it was good to see you again.”

“You’ll be seeing much more of me now,” he replies breezily.

“And I’m glad for it.” You tell him, “at least something good has come of this.”

He swallows hard. He averts his gaze from you and onto the Mondstadt streets beyond. The birds that flutter and coo as the day blossoms and grows.

“Go,” he says gently, “and spread your rumors about us.”

You laugh again and promise to do just that, skip in your step, as you turn to take on the world as if not a thing could touch you.

And he shuts the door quickly–to his apartment and home, and to his heart.

He doesn’t dare think about it as he throws the lock into place.

But he’ll hum the tune you were singing this morning for the rest of the day and well into evening.

When he sleeps that night, it is with the thought of your form burning in his bed the night before and he thinks if he prayed much, he’d say oh Archons, what have I done? What have I gotten into?

What does the world have in store for me now?

***

SCENE II

In Angel’s Share, warm and glowing, a love shared between the patrons.

You— have the uncanny, incredible talent of prying open all that is around you, so that it bursts sweet like a ripe fruit into your waiting hands. You have known this since you were a child; if you listen, the world will reveal its secrets to you. If you sang, something sang back. And when you danced, all was moved with you.

And now, all that world seems to hang on your every breath, the tavern hushed as your voice carries over the sounds of a lyre. All the patrons’ faces are relaxed, open for you, as you sing.

Venti plays beside you, fingers plucking carefully, stroking into a fuller sound as your voice carries and rises.

It’s a slinky little song, playful and flirtatious, heart-warming as the room coos and sighs. Not a soul is spared–and they never are, Venti always tells you with a laugh. You can feel it, the energy that simmers, that you manage to reach for and control.

You’re singing about love. You don’t do it often.

But the song is an old one, about young lovers, and petal blossoms. Spring fevers and moonshine. You trill and chirp like a bird, voice soaring and floating above the room.

Until the last note blooms from your mouth and the patron’s of Angel’s Share erupt into applause.

You hadn’t planned on singing tonight, only sitting with Venti and Diluc at the bar. But, as what often happens on lovely, slow-warming nights of spring, the tavern fills and the customers beg for a song as they grow drunker and louder.

You know they will likely ask you for one more—a rowdier one that you will kick up your feet to and dance. You will clap and stomp and pull a drinking man into your arms briefly and everyone will hoot and cheer as you teach someone clumsier than you how to dance to your tune, for a moment so that he might see the world the way you do.

Or hear it with your ears.

They never quite can keep up, but it’s fun nonetheless.

And then, for Diluc’s sake, you will play a slow, soft tune with a violin perched on your shoulder. It will be an old drinking song that you have slowed and made into a minor chord so it rings with melancholy and not cheer.

But it will lull the patrons and urge them to leave for the night, arm and arm, bumping shoulders.

You will help Diluc clean up and he will urge you to head home, too. Venti will linger, though hardly lift a finger.

For now, though, you retreat from your place of spotlight to take up your stool at the bar once more. Venti perched up beside you.

“Another round, barkeep!” He announces.

Diluc looks flatly at you, before his eyes shift to Venti and drawl, “with what money?”

“I’ll pay for it, Diluc.” You pipe up and he sighs and shakes his head like he always does.

(He never charges you for them, anyways. You’ll still try to leave money for the both of you at the end of the night.)

Instead, he says, “that was quite the song.” As he sets a glass of valberry wine in front of you; it is one of your favorites.

For Venti, an ale.

“A love song!” Venti adds, waggling his brows as he loops his hand around the mug of ale. He takes a large sip, throat working, gulping it down far quicker than he should be.

“I was in the mood,” you say breezily, lifting one of your shoulders in an easy shrug.

Diluc cocks an eyebrow but otherwise does not press you. He returns to wiping down the bar.

Unlike Venti, who slams his mug back down onto the bar (sloshing some of the ale and Diluc, the poor man, sighs as he runs his rag over the splash) and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before saying, “you’re seeing someone!”

Now, technically, you are supposed to be sharing this little rumor in hopes of it spreading like wildfire.

But lying to Venti? To Diluc—

About Kaeya, no less.

So instead, you say, “I wouldn’t say that, per se.”

Venti pounces excitedly, “but there is someone! Who is it? Do we know them?”

You swallow. Though you are an actor, you are hardly a liar and even now, it turns your stomach over itself to do it. You’ve never been good at lying; your heart has always been on your sleeve, emotions written so plainly across your face. Lying makes your skin itch, you can hardly ever do it, even rarer can you pull it off.

“Well,” your voice goes high.

“We do, don’t we?” Venti asks, impish grin hooked onto his lips. .

He mistakes you for shyness or awkwardness over a crush, rather than nerves or guilt. You let him.

Venti is a dear friend of yours and has been for several years now. It was a sort of instant connection with him; even stranger and more wonderful than that, once the world had given him to you, it had felt like he’d always been in your life, at your side. Your bard. Your drinking and dancing partner. Your confidant and mischievous accomplice. The games the two of you play are far beyond anyone else; you send each other all over Mondstadt with scavenger hunts and puzzles–for new sheet music he’s written for you to sing or exciting news you wish to tell him– tongue twisters and poems, cherished clues and inside jokes. Your letters are often in code or riddle. The two of you are always disappearing to secret places and hiding spots.

He’s your dearest companion.

Lying to him troubles you greatly.

You’ll have to ask Kaeya if you can tell him, if you could explain to Diluc that–

Still, you swallow, “you do, yes.”

“Let me guess!” Venti then says, tapping his chin in contemplation. And for a moment, you have half a mind to lead him down a riddle, instead of this guessing game. The wine is muddling your head, though. “Is it Franz?” Venti asks.

You laugh, surprised, shaking your head quickly; Franz is a fellow actor. He’s great fun but—

“Franz is seeing Emil!”

“It’s not Rosaria, is it?” Venti then asks, “I thought you said that was a one off sort of—“

“It’s not Rosaria!” You cut him off, cheeks suddenly blossoming into an embarrassed heat as you glance at Diluc. Venti had been the only one who knew about that.

Until now, of course.

You smile sheepishly.

“Rosaria?” Diluc questions, surprised as well.

“It was a one off sort of—“ You begin to repeat Venti, laughing nervously.

“I just had to be sure!” Venti then cuts you off, before taking another long sip of ale. He makes a show of mulling over his thoughts.

“Is it…” He trails off, before his eyes suddenly sharpen and pin you to your place. You swallow because you know him and you know that look. Sometimes, you think Venti knows too much. You don’t know if it’s intuition or–

“…Kaeya?”

You freeze.

“It is!” Venti crows.

“What?”

You wince.

“It’s just—it’s nothing—really!” You squeak out.

“I had heard you went home with Kaeya!” Venti continues, loud enough that, yes, this rumor will certainly spread now.

And more importantly, you believe it’s loud enough to reach the ears of the man who has been following you all day; the undercover Fatui member sits not far off, keeping his eye on you. He pretends to drink alone.

“You went home with Kaeya?” Diluc repeats and if he sounds as if he might scold you, you suppose you wouldn’t exactly blame him.

You lean in towards them and instinctively, they do the same, the three of your heads ducking close to each other.

“It wasn’t like that,” you whisper to them, “but if anyone else asks, it was like that.”

Diluc’s brows furrow and a frown settles onto his lips. Venti throws his head back and laughs.

“What are you two up to?” Diluc asks scornfully, eyeing you.

“Nothing!” You chirp but it isn’t very convincing.

“I knew you had feelings for him,” Venti continues, perhaps a little too loudly again, and somehow, it’s as if his voice could carry. Like he’s thrown it playfully, caught it on the breeze from the open window.

Venti has always been rather magical to you. In the same way it feels as if you’ve always known him, it feels as if he could have always been here, in Mondstadt, even before he appeared. There is something in Venti that sings to you, the way the wind does on a beautiful day, rushing through your hair and into your heart. You couldn’t name it, but you know it as well as you know the streets of your home, as well as you know your favorite sonnet or song.

You make a show of shushing him and he laughs heartily again before he throws you a wink.

You grin mischievously yourself this time.

“Has Kaeya ever taken a lover?” Venti asks now, perhaps wondering out loud.

“Too many.” Diluc grouses.

“He’s strange that way, isn’t he?” You muse, taking a slow sip of your wine. You consider your next words. “He somehow has the reputation of taking countless lovers, but I couldn’t name you a single one.”

Venti’s eyes twinkle, as if he knows something you don’t. Like a child, you sometimes wish to beg him to tell you what he seems to know, what the world has given him, but you know that is no way to learn.

“Diluc?” You question.

Diluc gives you another flat look, “I am not privy to Kaeya’s romantic life.” He puts away a glass a little more forcefully than necessary, the glass twinkling, “and I have no wish to be.”

“You can’t name a single paramour of your brother’s?” Venti presses and the two of you lean against the bar in intrigue now, excited, shining eyes turned to Diluc.

“No, thank the Anemo Archon, I can’t.”

Venti snorts at a joke you can’t seem to grasp.

But then you and he share a look, and this time, you can read very plainly what is in his face. You wear twin smiles, impish, and all trouble.

Diluc shakes his head, “don’t look like that in my bar. If you’re going to cause trouble, do so elsewhere.”

“You’re such a grouch,” you snip back at Diluc, taking another sip of your wine, the sweet burn settling deep in your belly. Warmth blossoms. “You’re not curious at all?”

“No,” Diluc says again quickly.

You narrow your eyes, “liar. I know some part of you cares, no matter how badly you pretend not to.”

Diluc huffs, “if I cared, I’d know.”

Venti hums, “then you do know.”

“I just said–”

“I think it has more to do with Kaeya, don’t you?” Venti then says lightly, perhaps too lightly, “if Kaeya wanted you to know, you’d know. Kaeya keeps his cards close to his chest.”

Another sip of wine has you feeling flushed. Open.

“Well, I’m just going to ask him the next time I see him.” You declare to the two, to the bar, perhaps to the whole world.

As if maybe it was you who asked for the truth, he’d answer.

“Good luck with that.” Diluc says dryly.

“Good luck to you!” Venti cheers, jerking his mug of ale out to you so that you may clink your glass of wine against his. You do so, just as he laughs;

“Good luck on your endeavor to capture our Captain’s heart! If anyone could, it would be you!”

***

SCENE III

The Mondstadt streets, early morning; bustling and lively. A flourish of colors as people pass to and fro. Our lovers meander, as if in another time entirely. Kaeya is often shrouded, by people, by vendors, by the world.

You walk beside Kaeya, shoulder to shoulder, past vendors of food and flowers and jewelry. Children yell and chase each other past you, mother’s hollering after them. The smell of fresh food and perfume floats on the breeze.

Kaeya swaggers beside you, sword at his hip, in his full knight’s uniform. You, on the other hand, are in simple skirts; white ruffled fabric beneath an outer layer of peach. A corset of flowers, woven, but hardy and loved, with silk ribbons in the back all tied up and tangled in your hair. Despite the dress, you’ve decided today to bind your chest. Some days, you bind, some you don’t. Some days you are more masculine and others feminine.

And often, you live in between, perhaps around the two. Both and neither all at once.

Heads turn as you pass but this is what Kaeya wanted.

He ducks his head now to say, “your shadow is certainly persistent.”

His voice is low and soft, kept hidden from prying ears.

You look up at him, “they always are. I swear, one day, they’ll follow me into the bathroom–”

Kaeya snorts, casting his eyes back outwards at the moving streets.

Now, he says, more obviously, “what have you got left on your list?”

You look down into the basket on your arm; the loaf of bread that is still warm, the couple of fruits and vegetables that fill in with color around it like large jewels.

“Milk and eggs,” you respond, “but I like to look at the flowers, too.”

“As you wish,” Kaeya smiles and you feel his hand at the small of your back, leading you through the crush of people, towards where you will find your milk and eggs.

“Kaeya,” you say, soft as the breeze.

“Hm?”

“I have questions.”

He quirks a brow at you now, intrigued, perhaps even wary. It’s hardly a flicker of his expression. But still, he asks, “of what kind?”

“Mostly the secretive kind.” You answer; you’d like to ask who you can share this false relationship with. You want to know if he’s informed Jean.

You step up to the vendor for milk and eggs with Kaeya at your back.

“You should save those for later, when you’re in my home.”

“Oh?” You ask, head turning over your shoulder to look at him,“I’m coming over later?”

Your eyes meet and if you didn’t know better, you’d think the tension is real, the little fissure of heat that kindles inside you makes you flush with warmth in the face. Along the tips of your ears.

Kaeya really is handsome. A true knight in shining armor or–he looks like a prince from a fairytale, you think. The regal line of his nose and pretty dip of his cupid’s bow lip, the depth of his blue eye; you swear it could be a shade of blue you have never seen before. One that you could give a new name to.

“If you’d like,” he says breezily, his smile sharp and handsome, “I’ll provide dinner.”

“And wine?” You ask, a smile of your own tipping up into a mischievous curve.

“Always wine.” He agrees and this time, you think his smile is more sincere.

You purchase your eggs and milk with twinkling coins that you press into the warm, wrinkled hand of the old farmer who sells them. And then you are on your way again, meandering the streets at Kaeya’s side.

“I do have a question that can be asked now, though.” You return, cradling the basket on your arm filled with your goods, letting it rest against your hip.

“By all means,” he replies, as if he’ll be that easy to give you an answer. He gazes back outwards, at the world around him.

And before you can lose an ounce of courage, you look up at him and simply ask, “have you taken many lovers?”

He laughs, surprised, and his head turns sharply to look at you again. “Is this a trick question?”

You laugh now yourself, “not at all! I’m being earnest.” You implore him with your eyes now, expectant, and honest.

He laughs again, softer, shorter, as if he can’t believe you. He returns his gaze to the street in front of him. “I’ve had a few.” He answers simply.

“A few?” You prod.

“My, you’re nosy.” He teases.

“I’m curious. I want to know!” You defend, nudging him a little, “I want to know more than just the elusive rumors about the casanova of the Knights of Favonoius.”

“Is that what I am?” He purrs, “a casanova?”

“Don’t change the subject!” You respond with another laugh and it’s almost a little dizzying, watching him work in real time to slip from your grasp. You feel heat in your cheeks, up along the nape of your neck.

But you adjust your grip, you try again.

“I’ve had quite a few.” He amends sheepishly, boyishly. “I hope you’re not the jealous type.”

“I am.” You snip back playfully, honestly, but still, “were any of them serious?”

You can tell he is weighing how to answer as he lapses into a brief silence and then, as if he’d manufactured it, he urges you suddenly to a vendor for flowers, with her large bushels of them, beautiful and bright and fragrant. He ducks behind a burst of them, appearing around the other side with one in hand, which he offers to you.

His grin is lopsided, handsome. “For you, my lady.”

It’s blue and beautiful, full of fragrant petals and blooming a deep purple at the center.

You snatch the flower from his grasp, “you’re avoiding my question.”

Still, you bring the flower up to your nose and inhale deeply.

Kaeya meanders around the other bunches of them and you follow after him, keeping the one in your hand close to your face, by your nose. It’s sweet smelling, soft and mellow, and fresh.

“What do you define as serious?” He returns your question with one of his own finally.

“Have you been in love?” You ask now.

“Sure,” he answers with a secretive slip of a smile.

You don’t know why, but you almost think he’s bluffing.

“So it was serious?” You encourage, trying to ease more out of him.

He shrugs gracefully now and gives you another, “sure.”

“Did you think you would stay with them forever?” You pivot now, knowing you have to be specific. The question bubbles from you without thought, as if you are asking if the weather is alright, or if he’d prefer the red or gold flowers this morning.

He stops up short.

He looks at you very strangely for a moment.

And perhaps it is one of the first straightforward and honest things he’s said to you, “nothing lasts forever.”

“No, but you could promise your own forever to someone.” You respond, letting the petals of his flower brush up against your cheek, soft and silky.

“Well, what about you?” He returns smoothly, carefully avoiding what you’d just said.

You smile, because you know now, you can tell he is an expert of avoidance. You smile like you’ve caught him.

And as if to teach him, you answer very honestly, “I have been in love many times, but I only promised forever once to someone.”

Now it’s your turn to meander around the flowers, turn over your shoulder and wander away from him a little.

He follows tentatively.

“And what happened?” Kaeya asks carefully.

You pull another flower out of the bunch to admire it next to the one he gave you, a wispy white one, twinged peach at the edges.

“I got stood up,” you admit and pick your head up from your flower searching to look at him briefly, “we were going to elope.”

The look in his eye is perhaps a little too delicate for your liking.

You return to fiddling with the flowers, pulling another, and another, to create your own, small bouquet of them. It’s easier when your hands are busy to speak about this still, which even years later, feels raw and prickly.

“It was while I was touring in Liyue–we were supposed to meet at some old ruins–an altar– and be married at dawn. I was going to leave the acting troupe, leave Mondstadt behind forever, and disappear with him.” You say, carefully arranging your flowers, delicately shifting and changing them. You offer a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and try to joke, “it was all very romantic at the time.”

You let out a breath, admiring your bouquet, “I waited all morning. And then all afternoon. All night. I thought something horrible happened to him but–”

You pick your head up again and this time Kaeya offers you another flower; one to match your bouquet. You accept it and it fits beautifully into the bunch of them, carefully placed at the center. It’s another blue one, soft and lovely and full to bursting.

“It turns out he just got cold feet. He married a Liyue girl a year later.”

“And what did you do?” He asks softly.

“I went on to perform in Sumeru, Fontaine, Natlan, and Snezhnaya. And then I came home to Mondstadt, licking my wounds, and haunting poor Diluc and Venti at the bar. Singing too many heartbreak songs, drinking a little too much–you know, the whole spiel.” You say and this time, you do smile, because despite how hurt you were, memories of Venti trying to cheer you up, causing a ruckus, and poor Diluc trying his best to help you as well flood to you.

Jean taking you out on girls’ nights and your fellow artists banding together to keep you afloat. Lisa finding beautiful copies of your favorite plays and stories. Good people who came back into your life and tried to put you together again. Good moments, despite it all.

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Kaeya begins smoothly, reaching out to smooth a petal a certain way, “I think that is perhaps the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of any man doing.”

You snort and Kaeya continues, “I’m serious.” But you can’t tell if he means it or not, “Imagine losing the very Heart of Mondstadt.”

He suddenly takes the bouquet from your willing hands and goes to pay for them with shimmering coins. He returns the flowers moments later, settles them into the crook of your arm, but not before stealing one and tucking it carefully behind your ear.

“There,” he murmurs, eye flickering over your open face, unreadable as always, “perfect.”

And with that, he saunters away and you are left staring after him, on his coat tails for a moment.

But he pauses, he waits for your skip of a step to come back into place at his side.

The flowers fill the space of your kitchen with the color of blue you can’t name, the one that is caught in his eye, and the one you dream about in Mondstadt skies.

***

PRELUDE TO SCENE IV

Late afternoon. Outside the monumental Cathedral. Once inside, light pours from stained glass windows in a kaleidoscope of color. The way it touches you is almost a mystery, a vision. The audience should never fully see Kaeya’s face as he turns and moves, always partially shadowed.

“I need to check on something before we see Jean.” You tell Kaeya and he hustles to keep up with your steps.

“In the Cathedral?” Kaeya asks, brows rising over his face in surprise.

“Sort of!” You chirp and then you glance over your shoulder, throw him a smile he knows means trouble, and say, “it’s a secret.”

Kaeya masks his face well as he follows you around a sudden stone bend that veers away from the main room. He assumes it will go up, to the spires, but instead, it goes down. He stares at curled stone steps that lead into darkness. He glances around for a moment as if someone might stop the two of you, but no one does.

You disappear into the shadows and Kaeya follows behind quickly.

Now at a door, you turn, press your back to it and Kaeya comes up short. It’s a tight space, this narrow crook, and if Kaeya were to step away, he’d have to take another step up above you.

“Will you guard the door?” You ask sweetly.

Kaeya can’t help but laugh, a little surprised, “are you supposed to be doing this?”

“I have a key.” You protest, fishing out a necklace from beneath your buttoned up shirt–today you are in trousers, with your chest bound, but a pair of heeled boots. You hold it up and a gold key shimmers in dull light. It looks old and perhaps once illustrious, with a whirling, intricate design.

“Who gave that to you?” Kaeya asks.

You look perfectly innocent, “I found it myself.”

Kaeya can’t help the smile, “does anyone know you have it?”

You narrow your eyes, “you’re not going to tattle on me, are you?”

His smile turns into a fond laugh, warm and softly echoing in this little hallway, the arch of the door. “No. Should I be worried?”

“No,” you respond and he’s fit to believe you as you turn back to the door and fit the key into the lock. With a gentle, easy click, the door creaks open. “I’m just going to fetch my diary.”

“Your diary?”

Without an answer, Kaeya watches as you disappear behind the door, which leads to another, darker hallway. You lift your hand and light fills the space, a flame of yours licking to life. There is another door at the end of the hallway. He assumes you’ll go on, push through that one as well.

But instead, you turn to the side to face a bookshelf lining one of the hallways. There’s plenty of them. You push on what appears to be a small statue fastened to the shelf and use it as leverage to begin sliding it over.

Your eyes flick to Kaeya only briefly and you lift your finger to your lips as if to ask him to keep your secret.

The door shuts before he can stop it, sealing him away.

Instantly, he frets.

He pushes against the door but it’s locked now. And you have the key.

He tries to remain calm. He feels suddenly foolish or tricked. He just thought–

Well, he assumed you were a goody-two-shoes. Mondstadt’s proper, most beloved girl. He thought you didn’t have a rebellious or secretive bone in your body. He assumed, for all intents and purposes, that you were something of a prude in this way. A rule follower.

Huh.

Kaeya glances back from the way he’d came, to the door.

Perhaps he doesn’t know you as well as he thought.

He tries not to worry the longer the minutes grow.

He doesn’t want to call for you because he doesn’t want to attract attention but if you don’t return shortly–

The door suddenly creeks again and Kaeya has to step out of the way as you reappear behind it.

And in your hand is a small, leather-bound notebook.

You shut the door behind you, sealing your secrets away.

“Diary found.” You tell him with a smile, holding it up. Then, you tuck into the crochet bag on your shoulder.

He stares at you, still rather surprised.

“What?” You ask, brushing past him, to head back up towards the curved stairs.

“What secrets do you have in that diary that warrant such a hiding place?” Kaeya asks, still astonished.

You laugh, warm and bubbling, as you return to the main floor of the Cathedral. The colors of the stained glass in the afternoon sun shimmer on you, dancing over your skin in a wash of violets and peaches, blues and crimsons. Emerald colors your shoulders. Gold along your face. You look like a wonder. A fairy. Part god–

“Nothing so important–just my feelings. Songs I’ve written. Snippets of poetry.” You tell him and he wishes he could believe you. You say it so earnestly. “Secrets of the heart, I suppose.” You joke.

Kaeya glances behind him, then back to you, “and where did you–find that place? How did you–?”

“I know many places in Mondstadt that others don’t. I’ve stumbled upon them ever since I was a child.”

You catch his gaze over your shoulder, shimmering in his vision, and smile, “maybe I’ll show you more of them sometime.”

The afternoon light almost blinds him as you swing the massive doors open once more. He dumbly follows after you, taken aback, enamored, in awe.

“Come along, Captain!” You sing like a bird, “Jean is waiting!”

***

SCENE IV

Jean’s office. Golden hour. The light turns the wood of her desk and floor and the walls bronze. Papers are scattered around her desk, haphazardly organized. Her hair is a halo glow in the last rays of the sun. Kaeya’s back is turned, towards the bookshelves and away from the audience, like he might be searching for something. He is careful not to look at you.

You sit across Jean’s desk as the afternoon wanes into evening, the sun dipping you in honey rays, soft and dreamlike. Kaeya busies himself with the rows of books, keeping his back carefully turned away from the two of you. He listens closely, though, even as he pretends he doesn’t.

“So you’re not actually…seeing each other?” Jean asks.

“No,” you laugh, “did I scare you with my letter?”

“Yes.” Jean says seriously.

Kaeya fights the urge to turn and offer her a cold look. Still, she continues, “I thought I was going to have to lecture one of you. Though, I’m not sure which one–”

You laugh now, fuller, warmer.

It’s a lovely sound, it fills the space with warmth.

“Who else knows? Kaeya, I don’t appreciate you withholding this from me at first.” Jean says and Kaeya can feel her eyes touching the back of his shoulders like the tip of a sword might.

“You know I deal in secrets.” He responds flippantly.

“This is different.” Jean responds and perhaps he does know that.

You and Jean are childhood friends, he knows Jean cares a great deal for you. Or harbors some sort of over protective, sisterly feeling towards you. And even when you went away, even when you hardly saw each other, he knew the feelings didn’t wane.

No, he knows how childhood bonds are.

“It’s alright, Jean, we’ve had to be careful. We needed to establish a believable cover.” You are quick to mediate, perhaps defend him. “I started this, anyways.”

Jean won’t get mad at you, nor will she blame you for much.

“Currently, we’re the only three who know.” Kaeya pipes up, allowing his finger to trace over the spine of a book gracefully.

“I’m trying to convince him to allow me to tell Diluc and Venti.” You quickly add and Kaeya knows now that he’s lost that battle.

Jean will side with you.

“Diluc doesn’t know? Wouldn’t he be a useful ally now? She spends a lot of time at the tavern; he could keep an eye on her when you can’t.” Jean says.

Kaeya takes a moment too long to respond, he knows it, senses his mistake, because Jean pounces–

“You two are a pain.”

“Now, now,” Kaeya begins smoothly, “I just think the less people know, the better.”

“You know you can trust Diluc.” Jean scolds.

“Diluc is a terrible liar.” Kaeya snips and his head snaps to the side to glance at Jean over his shoulder. He quickly rights himself and shields his face once more, returning to his perusal of books.

“I’m sure if he knows what’s at stake, he could keep it together.” Jean responds, tone firm and unmoving.

Kaeya sighs heavily, but his next reply is cut off by your own voice, “I don’t like lying to him or Venti.” And then, because you’ve never been one to shy away from the truth, you add, “especially about you.”

“I think both would readily help us. The more eyes on her, the safer she is.” Jean agrees.

Kaeya can not explicitly express why this makes him bristle— or perhaps he simply doesn’t want to admit it. He knows it, somewhere inside of him, knows that the thing that claws and scratches looks a little too close to jealousy. It is perhaps just a little too green. Maybe, he wanted to keep you to himself just a little longer.

But he knows, logically, Jean is right. And if it’s for your safety–

Kaeya finally turns to look at the two of you. Which is foolish, because the sun is setting, and you are in its window. You are caught in its light, warm and relaxed, with your chin in your hand as you turn to look at him.

“As you wish, Acting Grand Master.” Kaeya says evenly and offers a (frankly) rude little bow. Jean will know he’s mocking her a little and that he doesn’t particularly like the decision made. And then he says to you, “shall we? I’d like to get you home before sundown.”

You prick your head up, concern and surprise on your face, “am I staying with you for the night?”

Kaeya is careful to let the tone of your voice roll off him and not take it or covet it.

“No,” he muses, “I thought I’d stay with you for the night.”

He pretends he doesn’t notice the way you brighten or the way you jump up from your seat to follow him. He doesn’t turn to look at you, but he hears your soft goodbye to Jean, and her murmuring something in return. Your sweet little laugh. And then your quick steps to catch up to him once more.

When you exit the Knights of Favonius headquarters, taking the steps with a little skip, you suddenly sidle up to his side.

Right underneath his arm, attaching yourself.

He is careful to school his features, dropping his arms around your shoulders easily. Yes, he supposes it’s wise to look like a couple heading home together.

“Sorry we ganged up on you,” you say and the way you peek up at him would be enough to send any foolish man’s heart into a tailspin.

Kaeya is desperately lucky he’s never been a fool.

“No,” he soothes, “Jean is right. And you shouldn’t have to lie to your friends.”

He feels your fingers flex at the bend of his rib, in the fabric of his clothes like you’re tightening yourself to him. He walks in step with you, with your side pressed to his.

Has he ever done this, he wonders, so openly with someone? Walked through the cobblestone streets with a lover under his arm? Or has he kept everyone in shadows and secrecy?

It doesn’t matter. This is a secret, too. It isn’t real.

And still, the question flies from his mouth before he is prepared for it, “why didn’t you ask for Diluc’s help?”

You stop walking and as he continues for a moment, you slip from his embrace.

He turns to look at you. The sun is a crimson flare, catching on your ruby Vision, on the look in your eyes.

You smile like a cat that’s caught a canary.

“Kaeya,” you say his name like a melody, “are you the jealous type?”

For a heartbeat, he almost feels harpooned, caught, suddenly struck in place. It’s frightening to be picked apart so effortlessly, with that smile on your face. Earnest. Horribly lovely.

What a strange creature you are, he marvels.

But then he laughs and lies, “not particularly.”

You hum and begin to saunter towards him, walk on past him, and he is caught in your shadow. He follows.

“It would’ve made sense to ask him.” Kaeya continues.

“But I asked you,” you say simply, “you’re who I thought of.”

Carefully, he reaches for your hand, the brushing of his pinky to yours. As if to ask, may I play pretend with you? As if to ask, may I take up the role of the one who gets your hand?

You readily accept it and the part, too. And then you smile at him again, impish, filled with mirth;

“Besides–can you imagine how scandalized Diluc would’ve been if I’d given him the same letter I gave you?”

Kaeya truly laughs now, deep from his belly, and you laugh with him as you pull at his hand, as you press up against his side. Your fit of giggles fills the sky.

And the world must watch as you stroll through Mondstadt together and wander up to your home on the hill. He thinks the world must watch as he slips through your door, through your fingers, like a serpent in a garden.

Like a sweet sinner, a non-believer, slipping into the back pew in the house of a love-spun god.

***

SCENE V

The trail from Springvale to the main city should feel familiar to us. Though lonelier now, shrouded in darkness that was easily chased off with two. Later, Kaeya’s apartment; a rapidly growing safe haven.

After your rehearsal on the stage in Springvale, you meander back to the city. Kaeya said he would meet you halfway, but currently there is no sign of him. As the hush of night descends, a feeling of wariness overtakes you. You hear the owls begin to hoot and the distant, far off call of a wolf. The wind rustles the bushes.

You turn to glance over your shoulders, again and again, half afraid that one of the times you may find someone staring back.

You try to calm yourself. You swear you’re being paranoid; you have taken this road countless times. There is little to fear.

And still, the feeling persists. It grows.

You turn fully to look behind you, allow a burst of flame to erupt in your palm to illuminate your darkening world.

“Is someone there?” You call out.

With everything in you, you wish to hear Kaeya’s voice reply. Or Diluc’s. Maybe a fellow actor lollygagging behind?

Your heart thuds hard in your chest, quickening.

And even before you see the rush of a shadow, something instinctive, something ancient in you, tells you to run–

You take off as you plunge yourself into darkness, fleet-footed and desperate.

You run hard and know certainly now that someone follows. You can hear it, feel it, the press of them behind you. The city lights of Mondstadt in the night sky are your beacon.

If I can just get to the city, to the light, to my city of light–

You run harder, more wildly. Fear sharpens and quickens you.

A flash of silver ahead of you.

Your heart knows it before your mind;

“Kaeya!”

You nearly collide with him but he’s got you, hands on your shoulders to steady you, eye flying over your face desperately.

“What is it? Are you hurt?” He asks before looking past you.

“There’s some–” you turn to look with him.

But the forest behind you is quiet. The darkness is hushed. Almost unnaturally so. Goosebumps erupt over the nape of your neck.

Your words die, dwindle in your mouth.

You swore–

You try to catch your breath, try to quell your racing heart. “I thought there was something behind me.”

Kaeya has gone inhumanly still, too, listening, watching. You think he senses something, too. He must know danger, know its call, no matter how silent.

He’s got his hand on your lower back, corralling you closer to him protectively. He doesn’t stop eyeing a spot ahead, though, in the darkness.

He hums. “Perhaps it was an animal.” But he seems to know differently.

After a moment, when you have your breath under more of your control, you manage to get out, “must’ve been.”

“Let’s go,” Kaeya turns you away, hand slipping around your waist for support.

You lean into him.

Belatedly, you realize you’re shivering. Hard. Trembling all over.

He ushers you into his apartment above the city once more. The moment the door is shut and locked tight, he moves with more urgency to guide you to his couch.

He disappears momentarily and you almost want to call him back, like a child, you want to reach for him. He returns with water and sets it on the coffee table.

He kneels in front of you now, like the knight he is.

“Are you okay?” He asks first and again, he searches you. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, the movement jolted, unsteady.

“I just feel–strange.”

Kaeya’s eye softens fractionally, “probably an adrenaline crash. I’ll grab a blanket.”

Again, he disappears and you want to stop him. You want to grab his wrist before he can slip from you, you want to sink into his arms. You want to be held.

But you sit and you tremble.

When Kaeya gently fixes the blanket to your shoulders from behind, you jolt, startled.

“I’m sorry,” he says then, “it’s just me.” He comes around again to kneel in front of you. He pulls the blanket tighter around your shoulders, affixing it to you, bundling you in it.

It smells like him. You try and take in a deep breath to still your trembling.

After a moment, you say, “there was someone.”

“I believe you,” Kaeya agrees softly, “someone was chasing you–I heard the second pair of footsteps and came running.”

You inhale shakily. Tense silence fills the space.

You can hardly speak, “do you think–do you think they were actually trying to–?”

Kaeya inadvertently answers your question, “I think we should be more careful from now on. I want eyes on you always from here on out.”

“I thought it’d be fine–I always walk home from rehearsal and–”

“I know,” Kaeya soothes, “I thought I’d get to you sooner. I should’ve been. I’m–”

“They’d just followed me around before.” You say uselessly, almost in disbelief, “why would they–?”

“We’ll find out,” Kaeya says gently, “but for now, you should rest. How do you feel?”

“Shaky,” you answer, “I’m not sure how I’m going to sleep tonight.”

“I’ll be right out here,” Kaeya promises, “they won’t try anything now. It’s clear they’re waiting until you’re alone.”

You want to beg him to allow you to stay on the couch with him, or for him to sleep in bed beside you. You feel needlessly clingy, like a scared child. How silly, he must think of you, to be so frightened of a little chase. You’re sure he’s seen so much worse, faced danger you can only conjure in storybooks.

You bite your lip, catch between your teeth so it won’t wobble. You nod.

Kaeya studies you for a long moment before you feel the careful press of his hand on your knee, the delicate swipe of his thumb in a soothing caress.

“Would you like me to draw you a bath?” Kaeya asks softly.

For a moment, you’re surprised by him or perhaps his attempts at soothing you. A bath does sound appealing though being alone doesn’t.

(Instantly, an image flashes hot in your mind, of you in the bath, and Kaeya leaning against the counter to chat idly with you. Or seated beside the basin, his sleeves rolled up, or–)

“No, I don’t need–” you’re quick to try and assure him.

“It’s no trouble at all,” he stands with grace and ease and makes his way to his bathroom. In a moment, the water is running and steam is filling the small space. The scent of iris and eucalypts.

You force yourself to stand on trembling legs, astonished with how thoroughly adrenaline has riddled your poor body. You’d think you’d be used to adrenaline in some way, the sharp plummet of your heart because of stage fright.

But performing dangerous tales is significantly different from being a part of one.

“Thank you,” you say gently, catching Kaeya’s hand to squeeze momentarily.

“It’s nothing,” he brushes you off and slips from you, allowing you to disappear behind the door to the bathroom.

All alone you can hear the drum of your heart again.

Your reflection looks strange to your own eyes in the mirror. Everything feels different; unreal, almost. You look away quickly, towards the running water, the filling bathtub.

You try not to think, to strip yourself bare, and to leave the jitteriness on the floor with your clothes.

You slip into the warm water.

Kaeya left you clothes of his, a towel.

You want to call for him. You want your heart to quiet. You want your fear to dissipate like the steam.

You force yourself to take deep breaths. You force yourself to wash and scrub at your face and neck. You are okay. Kaeya is outside the bathroom and you are safe.

Still, your feeling of unease doesn’t leave you.

Even after you have donned Kaeya’s clothes and stepped from the warm bathroom.

You linger in the archway of his bedroom.

He looks like he’s about to speak but you beat him to it, “will you stay with me? In your room?” In your bed?

You watch Kaeya’s brows raise in surprise before he quickly schools his features. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“I’m asking you,” you respond and perhaps there is a note of vulnerability, perhaps there is a wobbling, small part of you that sounds a little too desperate to his ears.

You find some form of embarrassment in the press of heat in your face. But you don’t retract it, let your honesty hang between the two of you like a pendulum.

“I’ll sit on the armchair in there until you fall asleep,” Kaeya compromises, “how does that sound?”

Relief is sweet and cool and winding around you. You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding tightly to.

“I’d appreciate that.” You say and you turn to try and make yourself comfortable in his bed once more.

There has been several nights now where you have slept in his bed alone while he sleeps on the couch. Each night, you offer to take the sofa, and each night, he denies you.

Tonight, he drapes himself over the lovechair in the corner of his room.

He settles deep, eye flickering over you as you turn the covers over and crawl into bed.

In the silence, you can hear your heart again, “I’m sorry for making you do this.”

“There’s no reason to apologize,” Kaeya says smoothly, waving away your concern, “I’m glad I could help.”

You wonder if he means that or if he’s saying it because it is the right thing to say. You don’t dare ask him. You don’t dare press; some truths you would rather not be revealed to.

“You look like you’re about to tell an incredible bed time story in that arm chair.” You joke instead.

Kaeya snorts, head rolling a little onto his chest. He looks tired, too, disheveled a little in a way that he rarely is.

But he’s still so buttoned up; you wish he’d show you the defenseless side of him. The one not in perfect ruffled blouses or knights’ coats. The one without the eye patch or the carefully charming smile.

“Would you like me to tell you a story until you fall asleep?” He asks dryly.

But when you laugh a little and say, “yes, actually,” you mean it.

Kaeya’s brow quirks upwards.

“I don’t have many bedtime stories.” He tells you.

“That’s okay,” you reply, “I’m going to fall asleep soon, I’m sure.”

Kaeya hums lightly, letting his head fall back against the back of the chair. He hangs there for a minute, revealing the lovely brown shade of his exposed throat.

Finally, he says, “I’ve got one.”

“Please share,” you encourage.

Kaeya draws in a slow breath, allowing the silence of the room to be sucked in, too. He holds it so the only thing you can do is wait, watching him in the near-dark.

Finally, he speaks and his voice is nothing like you’ve heard it before;

“Once, there was a prince from a far away, forgotten land…”

The soft cadence of his story, hushed, and almost tentative, lulls you. It eases your heart and your mind. It reminds you of the wash of the waves against the shore or the wind as gentle as can be.

In no time at all, you are drifting off into strange, plum-darkened dreams of lost princes and beasts in the night.

And unknown to you, Kaeya gently pulls the covers of his own bed up over your shoulders. Gingerly, he tucks you into bed and watches your sleeping face for a moment.

With a breath loosened, he finally leaves your side and finds his place on the couch.

And in the morning, for once, you are awake before him and find him on the couch.

Carefully, you tuck the blanket he’d thrown over himself up around his shoulders. You brush a strand of his long hair from his face. You let loose a quiet breath.

He sighs in his sleep and turns towards your touch, chases it in his dreams.

And though you linger, you don’t bother him again, but turn to begin making coffee for the two of you.

You hum softly, an ancient little melody from a faraway land, and it stays in your head the entire day, with thoughts of a lost prince who, in your mind, surely looks like Kaeya; handsome and refined and beautiful. He must be noble and kind and charming like him, too.

And more than anything, his eyes must be stars like his, too, and his hands must be calloused and gentle.

And his voice must be like his, too, when he murmurs sleepily, rubbing at his eye, “where did you learn that song?”

“I don’t remember,” you reply and you set a steaming mug of coffee on the table beside him, “I think from a traveler, a long time ago.”

“I haven’t heard it since I was child.” He admits.

“You know it?” You ask.

“Thank you,” he says softly, voice still rough with sleep, “for the coffee.”

“Thank you,” you respond, “for staying beside me last night.”

“It was nothing,” he assures gently. And then he finally answers you, perhaps in a way that you know is personal to him, “it’s a lullaby.”

You smile behind the lip of your own mug, gentle and sweet, and say;

“Then the coffee is nothing, too.”

***

Act I, Part II –>

#kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #kaeya alberich x you #kaeya x y/n #kaeya alberich x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impct x y/n #cielo's writing!#cielo writes!#cielo collabs!

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inevitably-johnlocked · 7 months

Note

I have no idea if you're still answering anything despite your hiatus and constant uploads, but could you recommend any fics that include drinking games, or just getting to know each other hang outs with the squad (not just John and Sherlock)? I love the friendships!

Hey Lovely!

Ah, I'm done my 2 week hiatus, and even then I was, as you said, still fairly active LOL. I just needed a break from feeling obligated to get new lists out right away, is all! :)

I do have a few lists you might enjoy:

Games

Games Pt. 2

Drunk and Drinking Johnlock

Drunk and Drinking Johnlock Pt 2

Those are pretty broad lists, so here's the exact fics from them you may prefer. If Anyone has any they want to suggest, as always, please do!

DRINKING GAMES / HANGING OUT

Never Have I Ever by Hannelore-Grace(T, 2,073 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Drinking Games) – In which the Yarders, Sherlock, and John play the time-honored drinking game.

Bored Games by patster223(K+, 2,769 w., 1 Ch. || Cluedo / Board Games, Friendship, Humour) – Sherlock is bored and John decides that they should play Cluedo. In retrospect, it was a truly awful decision.

Paranoia by Ewebie(M, 3,789 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Drinking Games, Scotland Yard Gang, Jealous / Possessive Sherlock, Inappropriate Questions, Embarrassed John, Matchmakers) – John and Sherlock join the gang of Scotland Yard for a night of drinking, and it gets a bit personal and revealing.

Right Foot Red by Irrevocably_Sherlocked(E, 3,089 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss/Time, Board Games, Frottage, Masturbation, PWP, Friends to Lovers, Come as Lube, Come Marking) – ...ok, it’s juvenile, but at least it’s a game where touching is allowed. And if something more were to happen, well, John can’t say he’d be too upset about that. “What are the rules of this game?” Sherlock asks, the disdain evident on the word ‘game’. “I spin, you do as I say.” John thinks he sees a slight widening of those pale grey eyes at that, just for a fraction of a second, before it is shut down. Oh, this is interesting, he thinks.

The Hand You're Dealt by MapleleafCameo(M, 9,806 w., 6 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Card Games, Alternate First Meeting, No Slash / Platonic Relationship) – John wouldn't have minded so much if only Sherlock would stop introducing him as 'John Watson. I won him in a poker game.’

The Hand You're Dealt by MapleleafCameo(M, 10,624 w., 6 Ch. || Humour, Friendship, Card Games, Alternate First Meeting, No Slash / Platonic Relationship) – John wouldn't have minded so much if only Sherlock would stop introducing him as 'John Watson. I won him in a poker game.’

Never Have I Ever by hudders-and-hiddles(E, 10,655 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, First Kiss / Time, Drinking Games, Love Confessions, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers) – John and Sherlock tag along for the Met's weekly night out, where the evening's chosen drinking game is Never Have I Ever. Sherlock is reluctant to join in until he realizes he can learn all kinds of new things about John, but he forgets that John might learn a thing or two about him as well.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror(E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

MARKED FOR LATER

Sherlock Learns How To Play Strip Poker (and loses badly) by wendymarlowe (E, 5,127 w., 3 Ch. || Strip Games, Strip Poker, Blindfolds, First Time) – Sherlock has deleted the rules to poker, so he demands John teach him. Strip poker, because why not. And blindfolded, because John refuses to play without Sherlock having a handicap to counteract his giant brain. The fact that John can now ogle Sherlock's increasingly-nude body is just a bonus, of course. Part 33 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times

In a manner of speaking I'm dead by fellshish (T, 6,372 w., 1 Ch. || Halloween, Mystrade, Angst With Happy Ending, PIning, First Kiss, Drunk Idiots, Drinking Games, Humour) – Sherlock and John accidentally dress in matching outfits for Lestrade's Halloween party. Things only get worse: someone pushes them to play 'Never have I ever'.

Spin The Bottle by helloliriels (M, 8,120 w., 6 Ch. || Drinking Games, Calls/Phones, Strip Games, Truth or Dare) – Have you ever played this game before, Sherlock?

The Mole by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (T, 18,378 w., 8 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Reality TV AU || Mystery, Adventure, Games, First Kiss/Time, Humour, Romance) – Ten strangers — Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Martha Hudson, Molly Hooper, Jim Moriarty, Greg Lestrade, Sally Donovan, Philip Anderson, Mary Morstan, and Irene Adler — must work as a team to win money on a reality TV show hosted by Mycroft Holmes. The twist? One of them is a mole, hired by the producers to sabotage the game.

The Last Drop by Phyona (M, 20,185 w. || Pre-Slash, UST, Drinking & Talking, Drinking Games, Spooning, Witty Banter, Intense Conversations) – Sherlock and John fend off boredom with a night of heavy drinking. Part 1 of the The First and Last Trilogy series

#steph replies #drinking games #game fics #hanging out fics #my fic recs

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steddiecameraroll · 11 months

Text

Hi, hello, intro 👋

I'm R, she/he, queer, elder-millennial. Thanks for checking out my steddie-obsessed space. If you're here, then you are probably in the same boat. 💕

Ko-fi ☕️ for exclusive access to fanart WIPs and hi-res downloads of completed fanart

Links: ✦ AO3 ✦ Redbubble Shop ✦ Pinterest Steddie mood board ✦ Original Art blog ✦ TikTok

Tags: ✦ My posts ✦ Fanart ✦ Tumblr ficlets ✦ Steddie text posts

Send an ask or comment to be added to my permanent tag list.

List of WIP and completed fics with main tags under the cut

Ratings:

E - will have explicit smut

M - will have sexual content but no explicit smut

T - won't have any sexual content other than kissing

WIP:

Maybe You'll Start Slipping Slowly (and Find Me Again) - 7/9 chapters - part 2 of series - 70,861 words so far - Rating E - modern AU, angst, cheating, post-breakup, hurt/no comfort, 💔, unhealthy coping mechanisms, future fic, divorced Steve, DILF Steve (eventually), eventual happy ending, steddie end game

Two Roads Diverged in a Wood - 2/4 chapters - 16,310 words so far - Rating E - Eddie 1st person POV, flirting, road trip, sharing a motel room, getting together

Multichaptered:

Chopped S35E21 - 10,428 words - Rating T - Chefs AU, Chopped crossover, sweetness, getting together, happy ending

I'm Thinking of the Way it Was - 8/8 chapters - part 1 of series - 86,137 - Rating E - angst, miscommunication, unhealthy coping mechanisms, post-breakup, getting back together, happy ending

It Takes a Muscle to Fall In Love - 7,943 words - Rating E - miscommunication, happy ending, pining, smut

My whole existence is flawed (You get me closer to God) - 24,124 words - Rating M - Modern and No Upside Down AU, musician Steve, miscommunication, Eddie says he doesn't want a relationship (he's the dingus in this one), Happy Ending

This is Supposed to Be My Damn Year - 52,151 words - Rating E - Eddie 1st person POV, pre and post Upside Down, explicit Eddie thoughts during smut, epilogue that could be its own fic (you might cry from joy), Happy Ending

Coming Back from Too Far Gone - 40,451 words - Rating E - 20 years later, getting together at the Byler wedding, Steve's in a bad headspace, happy ending

(*my fav*) Must Have/Can't Stand Checklist - 65,012 words - Rating E - 3 years later, Steve moved to Chicago, getting together, fluff & gooey sweetness, cuddling, smuuuut

Sometimes a Little Burn Felt Good - 48,480 words - Rating M - depressed Steve, angst, codependency, getting together, avoidance, bad communication, happy ending

Goodbye, Eddie - 13,557 words - Rating T - Eddie doesn't live, Steve copes and realizes he was crushing, depression

Why Can't We Try? - 22,339 words - Rating M - pining, Steve is bad at feelings, flirting, slow burn, happy ending

Sound of Awakening - 36,558 words - Rating M - pining, truth or dare, flirting, gay panic, jealous Eddie, happy ending

What Happens In Our Dreams - 41,702 words - Rating E (for light smut) - Steddie having prophetic visions, Vecna possessing Eddie, boyfriends, action, happy ending

Oneshots:

Follow Your Heart - 2,275 words - Rating T - Strangers to Lovers, First Meetings, Eddie feels drawn to Steve

Ever notice a man's hands? - 2,862 words - Rating E - Finger sucking pt 1

Opposite - 1,659 words - Rating T - Steve pining, miscommunication, confessions

Two Years Too Long - 4,525 words - Rating T - Modern College AU, no UD AU, idiots to lovers, Steve is a dingus

You Can Never Know For Sure - 2,677 words - Rating T - Eddie's sexuality crisis, Robin meddles lovingly, cuteness

Your Silence Gives Me a Migraine - 4,051 words - Rating T - Tattoo Artist Steve, ADHD Eddie, Flirting, Idiots with crushes, happy ending

When it's time (I'll be there) - 807 words - Rating T - 5-1, Afterlife, Near Death Steve, very very sad but sweet ending

Steve's Fantasy Live and In-Person - 4,648 words - Rating M - Stripper Eddie, Byler bachelor party, flirting, happy ending

The Artist and The Hair - 6,900 words - Rating M - Artist Eddie, Steve and Robin attend a Paint & Sip event, flirting, dom/sub tones, crushing, happy ending

They Keep (Just) Missing - 13,760 - Rating M - 4-1, 4 times they should've kissed, angst, pining, crushes, happy ending

The Pursuit of Self - 8,784 words - Rating M - crushes, gay panic, self-discovery, happy ending

#steddiecameraroll posts

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zellink · 5 months

Text

nearer, my god, to thee

a post-botw zelink fic. [ one-shot // 11k words // E-rated for sexual content ]

>> Read on AO3

Summary: Link finally understands that it isn’t him who has absorbed this kingdom into his bloodstream—it is the kingdom, it is her, and she is surrounding him, swallowing him whole. A tent in a forest, a summer night full of stars, and two people who have always been part of the wild.

Notes: Written as part of Zelink Hype Squad server's Hestu Gift Exchange 2023-24 for @spices28 ⭐️ Special thanks to @1up-girl and @mustardcheesedog for being such amazing betas. ✨

nearer, my god, to thee

Hyrule has always been a beautiful land.

Rolling hills that bleed into meadows. Verdant canopies of trees that shield and cover whatever creature that wanders beneath. Rivers that run wild into everywhere and nowhere, into seas that lead to places unknown. Mountains that seem to scratch the sky. Canyons that go so deep, one might think the core of the earth is visible from a bird’s eye view.

And Link, upon waking up from his long slumber, has laid his eyes on every inch of the land. Has seen it all through summer’s rage and winter’s wrath, underneath stone archways in front of mansions long gone, from behind overgrown vines that wrap around fallen citadels. He’s lost and found himself, time and time again, in the Lost Woods and the Hebra Mountains and the far-flung corners of Gerudo Desert. Has absorbed this land into his bloodstream until he becomes one with it, until he’s just another permanent fixture of the landscape—another mountain in Lanayru, perhaps. Or another river that flows through Faron.

But when all is finally said and done, and he has bled and bled in the bowels of the castle and in the field, and a golden light shines in the sky and descends gently onto the grass, he realizes, finds—

That there is just one more part of Hyrule that he hasn’t absorbed into himself at all.

And that part is living and breathing and sitting in the saddle atop her white stallion, riding alongside his brown mare. Her cheeks are flushed from the late summer’s heat. Her long blonde locks are blown back by the evening breeze, the top a little bit mussed up and the braids across her crown slightly loosened from the day’s hot journey eastward.

The urge to extend his arm outward and run his fingers through those tresses claws inside him.

He clenches at the reins a bit tighter instead.

They continue to ride.

To their right, Wetland Stable is all lit up for the night. Link has been there before, too. A few months ago, he slept in a cot underneath that very roof after he had chased down a particular landscape portrayed in an image on the Slate, hunting it all the way into the forest just across the river.

In the end, he had come out of it with a singed brow and an arm covered in burns—classic memento from the Guardians—and the haunting fragment of a memory from one hundred years ago, where the woman he ached to bring home had despaired and cried in his embrace, among the rainfall and the mud.

The woman’s voice is what slices through his thoughts.

“Gods, I’ve forgotten how muscles can ache from too much use,” Zelda says. “I think we should stop for the night and get some rest. What do you think?”

Link smiles at her. There is no mud nor rainfall on her face anymore—only a few beads of sweat that his fingers long to wipe away. “Yeah, I agree.”

“Shall we head to the stable, then?” she asks.

He turns his head to look at the stable again. It’s not especially crowded—Wetland Stable never is, unlike Riverside or Dueling Peaks—but he sees a few visitors sitting around the communal cook pot, sees some other patrons conversing with the stablemaster, and thinks that they’ve had their fair share of strangers’ eyes upon them for the past month in Hateno.

They’ll have more of that in their destination, too: Zora’s Domain is filled with people who know exactly who they are, beyond their unassuming appearance. People who know of the titles from their former lives, know of the hefty past that they carry upon their shoulders.

He wants to take her somewhere else. A place unknown to anyone else except for him. No prying eyes, no whispering mouths. Only boughs of trees overhead, the soft sloshing of water from leaping frogs, and the chirps of restless crickets.

Wants to share that piece of wilderness with her. Consume it together.

“There’s this spot in the cove of Crenel Peak,” Link says. “There’s a pond and a lot of trees and sometimes there are fireflies, too. We can pitch a tent and rest there.” He pauses. “If— if you want.”

Zelda’s lips curve into a smile—wide, dimpling her cheeks, and his heart twists and twists. “That sounds lovely, Link,” she replies. “Let’s go there, then.”

They change course, pulling at the reins to keep left on the dirt path, then turning at the intersection and heading a little further north. Past the quiet fields and open meadows and the unobstructed view to the castle—all black and gray and no wisps of crimson at all against the twilight sky—until they reach the base of Crenel Peak, where the hills part to reveal an opening to a tree-filled recess in the side of the mountain.

Link dismounts first, hitching his mare onto a trunk on the outskirts of the small forest before offering Zelda his hand—gloved palm facing up. He knows she’s more than capable of sliding off her stallion herself, but, well—he’d never pass up the opportunity to have her touch grace his skin. She takes it, and he feels her lean her weight onto his hand as she dismounts. Feels the warmth even through her glove, feels his blood rushing towards where their bare fingers meet.

When she lets him go to hitch her own steed, Link lets out a slow exhale through his mouth.

Blames his sudden breathlessness on the summer heat.

He unfastens their shared traveling pack and tent from their horses’ backs while Zelda takes the bedrolls. Lets muscle memory from a hundred years prior overtake his body because this—working together with her like clockwork, preparing themselves for a night in whatever pocket tucked away within the kingdom—is something even a long slumber can’t ever erase from him.

They walk further into the cove until they find a small clearing where the pond awaits, right at the base of the hill. He takes out the sheets of canvas and the poles, and begins pitching the tent. Assembles the poles, connects one end to another, then inserts each pole into its corresponding grommet. As he stakes the corners of the erected tent into the ground, he sees her build a fire in his periphery, steel against flint atop a bundle of wood. Orange sparks fly, and then their camp for the night is finally illuminated, ready for their rumbling stomachs and aching bodies.

And anything else that might unravel as the night progresses, a voice within him says, though he chides it, pushes it away.

Link unlaces the traveling pack and searches for some wooden plates and spoons. Fights off a smile from breaking across his face when his fingers brush over their tangled belongings—the clasp of his additional pair of pants catching the strap of her silk camisoles; her hairbrush that somehow got stuck to his robe.

Eventually, he finds those wooden plates and spoons.

He sets the utensils atop a nearby tree stump, places a cook pot on the fire, and says, “I think there’s plenty of mushrooms around. Do you want stew or skewers?”

Zelda purses her lips, mulling over his question, and something warm shoots through his nerves as if it’s the very first time he’s uttered such a question to her in this century. He supposes he should start getting used to this—asking mundane questions about nothing, about everything. Where to stay for the night, what to have for dinner.

“Skewers would be better, I think,” she replies as she settles on a fallen log in front of the fire. Gives her sweaty forehead a cursory wipe with the back of her hand. “It’s too hot for a stew, don’t you think?”

Oh, he really could get used to this.

“Yeah, skewers sound good.” He smiles at her.

So Link spends the next ten minutes foraging for Hylian mushrooms around the area, putting each that he has picked into a cloth bag Zelda had fashioned out of his worn shirt back in Hateno. In the end, he’s gathered enough mushrooms (and some Hyrule herbs, too) to feed six: one portion for her, three for him, and two for leftovers that can serve as a light lunch tomorrow for the rest of the journey to Zora’s Domain.

He returns to the cook pot, procures the jars of oil and crushed rock salt from their pack, and begins cooking their dinner. Pouring a little bit of oil, then hovers his hand above the pot, gauging the heat before pouring all the picked mushrooms into it. He stirs and stirs with a wooden spoon, trying his damndest not to look her way too much lest he makes a mistake and burns himself on the hot iron.

(But then any burn or cut is worth it when it’s for her.)

Once the mushrooms are cooked through, Link realizes that he doesn’t have the wood sticks, so he serves the food in the bowl and hands it to Zelda.

“This is just… a bowl of cooked mushrooms,” he says, bashful. “Don’t actually have the sticks to skewer them. Sorry.”

A laugh bursts from Zelda. “That’s no problem, Link,” she says, grinning. “I don’t think we would be eating the wood sticks anyway,” she adds, before reaching for the bowl from his hands. Covering his fingers with hers, pressing slightly before taking it away.

His breath becomes ragged in an instant, though he knows how to quickly regain his composure, because it has happened many, many times before. In Hateno, in their shared home and on the streets and every place in between. A lingering touch here and there, fire through his veins. The air turning heavy each time, but holding themselves back as they ride out the initial shock of being alive together in this century, as they parse through their grief and loss and shared wounds.

But now they are outside and there’s a certain lightness that percolates through him that he knows hasn’t been there in ages, and they are alone together—so alone—and he knows it will snap.

It’s just a matter of when.

So he shoots another smile at her and goes to serve a bowl for himself. Settles on the log next to her—the side of his thigh touching hers all the way to their knees. Feeling his skin sizzle even through the fabric of his breeches. Eats and eats with barely any words exchanged because their shared silence is as natural as breathing. When they break it, it’s for her to comment on his talent of making even just mushrooms seasoned with salt and herb taste good, and he replies with thanks and heat rising on his cheeks.

It doesn’t take long for them to finish their meals. It has been quite a long day, after all.

He takes the bowl from her and washes their dishes by the pond as she takes their pack inside the tent, fastens the flaps together, and changes into her sleepwear. With a rag he scrubs and scrubs the grime off the cook pot, averting his thoughts to anything else other than the sound of fabric rustling from beyond that layer of canvas, which proves futile anyway.

It’s painfully familiar, because he knows he’s been here before, regardless of the scantness of his memories. He’s felt this so often, if not always. A century ago, in other places, bearing skin with fewer scars but one that still aches to touch her all the same.

With everything cleaned, he sets them on the same nearby tree stump to dry. Takes a deep, deep breath, then takes his bedroll and pulls at the laces to unfurl it atop the grass, in front of the tent.

Link stares at it for a while, just as he has done for the past three weeks—the same bedroll set on the floor beside the bed in their home. Imagines two bodies atop it instead of just one, pictures two sets of limbs searching for one another and tangling and joining. Swallowing those images down his throat, where they sear until they settle inside his stomach, dormant and docile, before they come up into his mouth again the next night. Over and over and over, because he knows that they have all the time in the world now and all that’s left to do is wait.

And he intends to swallow them all down and wait again tonight, though something in his gut tells him that maybe, just maybe, the trees and the open sky overhead might catalyze a bolt from the blue.

There’s more rustling from inside the tent, so Link decides to distract himself by undoing his baldric and belts, taking off his gloves, carefully setting the Sword against a tree, and then sitting down and unfastening the leather vambrace from his right forearm. Then it’s the patterned strip of cloth that he peels off from his arms, unwrapping, unraveling, until he’s only in his Champion tunic with the cotton shirt underneath, his pants, and his boots.

As he sets his protective leathers aside, Zelda comes out from the tent with her cream-colored nightgown finally wrapped around her figure—loose and sleeveless, with the thin straps hanging on her shoulders and the hem falling down to her mid-calves.

The sight knocks all the air out of his lungs.

Then his eyes settle on her face and he notices the furrow between her brows.

“Why are you setting the bedroll outside?” Zelda asks.

Link gulps. “I’m here to keep guard.”

Funnily enough, even he can hear the slight question mark that follows that sentence.

Zelda actually appears surprised by his reply. “From what? Hot-footed frogs?”

“There were bears here before,” he feigns obliviousness. “When I found this place the first time around.”

“Which I’m sure you’ve dealt with since I don’t see or hear them anywhere,” she says. There’s something fond in those emeralds of hers, like she understands exactly the predicament he’s found himself in because she’s in the thick of it, too—in the knowing and not-knowing, wanting to end it in the most perfect way possible—softly, gently.

“I’d like to keep watch with you, too, then.” A shy smile forms on her lips. “If you need the additional set of eyes, that is.”

Link knows she isn’t talking about bears anymore, knows that she knows he doesn’t need the additional set of eyes, because protecting her comes as natural as the blinking of his eyes, as inherent as his fingers around the indigo hilt of the Sword.

He doesn’t need the extra guard; he just needs her.

“Of course,” Link replies.

>> Continue reading on AO3

#now off i go to lose my mind working on my longfic #my fic #zelink #botw zelink #zelink fic #zelink fanfiction #botw fic #botw

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