Prt 1.

𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮’𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥 prt 1.

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

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

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

Word count 11.4k

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

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

Until one day he happened to crush the wrong person. 

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

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

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

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

“You!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps even his heart thumping more than it should be.  

—0—

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

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

So he tried to not feed it.

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

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

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

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

However, being sixteen and hormones arriving changed things up.

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

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

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

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

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

Why? You had no idea. 

You didn’t really care either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’d give you that.

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

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

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

“The fuck you starin’ at?!”

“Where’s Barou?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ta-da!!!” 

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

“Watch it you slob!” 

You looked over your shoulder with a dry expression, 

“You’re such a princess Barou,” 

“Piss off.” 

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

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

‘The King’s Strike.’

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

Then his hair.

It was him. Striking a goal. 

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

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

“Since last year,” 

“Every game?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut it you slob.”

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

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

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

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

“You comin?” 

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

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

“Front row on our teams side,” 

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

“-got it, girl?” 

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

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

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

“I knew it.”  

—0—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My feet are buzzing!”

“Get better trainers then you idiot,” 

“I did! They haven’t arrived yet.” 

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

You pouted and prodded his bicep,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oi! King douche!” 

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

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

“What the hell was that about yesterday huh?” 

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

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

“By me,” 

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

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

“Date me then,” 

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

“Date me, I can tolerate you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got it, girl?” 

“Barou, was that your first kiss?” 

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

“Get lost I have training to do.”

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

 —0—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

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

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

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

His hand cupped your chin locking gazes with you. 

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

“Your dicks literally flexing under my hand-“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe the film I picked was too long-“ 

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

“You’re dead-“ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit, you taste good.” 

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

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

“Fuck-“

“Don’t swear big brother!”

“Get lost brat!” 

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

“Fuck you find so funny?”

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

“You’re still hard-“

“Yeah? No shit,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M’sorry its so fucking stupid,” 

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

“What’s stupid?” 

“I think I’m in love with you, B.” 

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

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

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

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

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

—0—

Blue lock was a shock. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M’cumming Barou!” 

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

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

“You got the birth control, right?” 

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

But your struggle made something conflicting lurch in his chest. 

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

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

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

“Look at me,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—0—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

Shit why did you do that? 

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

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

B > Answer your damn phone, 

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

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

“H-Hey B, sorry I-uh,”

“The fuck you sound like that?”

“Like what?” 

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

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

“Why? You with someone?” 

“No. Aren’t you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heh, trouble in paradise aye?” 

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

“Showed in your training today,” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Sixteen and no.” 

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

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

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

You deserved everything and more. 

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

—0—

You never called him back and he hated it. 

He really fucking hated it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’d be shit in a threesome,” 

“Get fucked fuckboy.” 

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

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

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

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

“Shouei, that’s enough!” 

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

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

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

—0—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay.

Good start, he answered super fast. 

“Heeeeeey! Shouei’s phone!” 

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

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

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

Christ almighty were you about to be sick? 

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

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

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

Fuck it should be him! 

The fuck were you saying sorry for?! 

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

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

“Oi, you trust me right?” 

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

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

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

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

But your sob broke through the silence again. 

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

“-we need to talk, huh.” 

“Yeah,” 

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

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

How fucking dare he. 

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

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

“-if that’s what you want, Shouei.” 

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

“I dunno what I want.” 

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

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

So you took control. 

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

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

Call ended. 

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

Fuck, what the fuck did he just do? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The feeling would pass with time. 

Right? 

—0—

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

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

Jack could have damn well fit on that door!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

England might be a refreshing option. 

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

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

avatar masterlist

*note- after ehfar is over, i won't write for avatar anymore. also, these avatar fics are the first fics i've ever written and i've improved a lot since then! please read some of my other works if you enjoy these<3

zuko

transferred ↳ 23k words, finished series | trying to run from your past is hard, but falling for your brother’s roommate is even harder. little do you know that he’s falling for you as well.

everything happens for a reason ↳ 114k+ words, in progress series | as a servant in the fire nation, you’ve learned that life is often unfair. but as you venture through a tumultuous relationship with a certain prince, you come to realize a very tricky lesson: everything happens for a reason.

eyes closed  ↳ 1.3k words | you know you should hate him. but you can’t stop thinking about him. 

falling ↳ .8k words | two idiots go hiking together, romantic chaos ensues

warmth  ↳ 1.6k words | the two times he notices her shivering and the one time he does something about it. 

empty ↳ 1.6k words | victory had never felt so empty.

reminiscence ↳ 1.3k words | just because you and your husband are retired doesn’t mean you don’t have amazing advice for the new team avatar.

right where you left me ↳ 2.7k words | after his betrayal in the crystal caves, zuko returns to the fire nation a hero, leaving a fallen ba sing se behind him. but what happens to the girl he left behind, a girl who only knew him as lee?

oh spirits ↳ 1.8k words | literally just the ‘there was only one bed’ cliche with zuko

sokka

talking to the moon ↳ 4.1k words | dealing with the aftermath of the worst event of your life. 

you look perfect ↳ 1.7k | sokka cheers you up before your anniversary.

night owl ↳ .9k words | when things get too overwhelming, your boyfriend is always there to pull you back, no matter how forcefully he has to do it.

neighborly things ↳ 1.6k words | reader can’t make things for shit. thankfully, she has a cute and crafty neighbor willing to help her. 

come back safe ↳ 1.2k words | you and sokka have to part ways in ba sing se, but he’s not letting you go without saying his piece.

fever ↳ 1.7k words | sokka’s convinced there’s a mystery illness keeping you from focusing, but somehow he’s completely oblivious that the only ‘sick’ you are is lovesick, and he’s the reason you can’t focus.

hold on to me (im a little unsteady) ↳ 1.7k words | a late night with sokka reminds you that even on the worst days, you always have someone in your corner.

asami

death by a thousand cuts ↳ 3.1k words | you and asami fall out of love.

korra

cold ↳ .3k words | not everybody can withstand freezing weather of the south all day. luckily, between all the jokes at your expense, korra can help.

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one summer day

06 saturn ii. where ushijima’s words take you by surprise. 

<< 05 saturn i. | >> 07 sun and moon (coming soon) | << the collection >>

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: i am back from my trip now, i will be posting more regularly again, thank you for staying! i loved reading the tags on your reblogs of one summer day, they make my heart go WAHHH! my inbox is always open if you want to chat <3 - ave word count: 1.5k warnings: angst, childhood trauma, parental neglect/verbal abuse, past death of a family member

april, second year

“you don’t have to be the person in your house with me.”

since he stayed with you that night, there has been a medley of conflicting feelings swirling in you. you had felt embarrassed in the morning, but also relieved for his presence. and this burning shame in your chest whenever you see him and his eyes seem to ask, are you alright? 

you could tell he wants to ask so many questions, but he is holding himself back, waiting for you to tell him yourself. worst of all, you wanted to tell him, consequences be damned. but you were afraid he would see you differently. you don’t think you could bear the person who’s seen you at your worst decide you were not worth his time. but if you wait any longer, perhaps he would decide that anyway. 

“what i mean is, you can be yourself around me, always.” you know that. deep down, you feel it. 

“ushijima–” you start, staring down at your shoes, thinking about how to explain that day to him without trauma dumping on him. 

he corrects you, “wakatoshi”

your cheeks color, testing the way his name rolls off your tongue, “wakatoshi… i owe you an explanation…”

you decide it is easier to start from the day everything changed. so you tell him what you haven’t been able to tell any of your friends since that day eight years ago. about your sister, akiko’s death anniversary. that she passed away in an accident, and that it was your fault for leaving her outside the house when your mother tasked you to look after her. that even though eight year old you went in to get some water for the both of you playing outside, it was still your fault. that she had ran out after a stray cat and did not see the car coming. that it was your fault. 

“am i a terrible person?”

and then you hold your breath, knowing there is a possibility that he would have that accusing look in his warm brown eyes. beautiful with tiny flecks of greens and golds. you think those are your favorite features of him. and fuck, it would hurt like hell if that is the way he looks at you from now on. but you had taken a leap of faith, all you can do is hope for the best. hope that the feeling in your gut is not wrong.

“and your parents, why weren’t they around?” for their daughter’s death anniversary goes unspoken. of all the questions he could have asked, he sure did pick the most difficult one, you thought. 

“let’s just say we all cope in our own ways. akiko’s death… it changed our family for the worse. my father threw himself into work to forget about it… my mother… her grief made her meaner, colder, it changed her.” 

he gives you a concerned look, causing you to hurriedly explain that your mother is not abusive. “she’s just different than the mother i had when akiko was still here. she cared less about us, her words became sharp, like knives designed to hurt, especially when it comes to me, but she never laid a hand on us. i think her grief morphed into anger, and she never stopped blaming me for that day.”

“it isn’t your fault, you know that, right?” he grabs your wrist, turning you around to look at him. 

your next words comes out in a whisper. “i know, but if i hadn’t left her, akiko would still be here. if i had done what i was supposed to, my parents wouldn’t have lost their daughter, and we could have been happy,” your voice cracks. 

“you were a child. it wasn’t your fault. do you understand?” his strong grip on your shoulders forces you to look into his eyes. there was no judgement in them. no accusing look, no blame, only resolution. and they made you feel safe. “you cannot be blamed for your parent’s decisions, and it was their responsibility to look after their children’s well-being, not an eight year old child. your only duty was to grow up.”

an unidentifiable feeling overwhelms you, welling up tears in your eyes. what is it about me and crying in front of ushijima? you had been fine, just fine before he came along and messed up your coping system. every year before this on that day, you wouldn’t even cry, believing that all your tears had been spent when you were eight. that all you could do is feel empty and sad and self-destructive on that day while lying in your bed, staring at the ceiling until the sun comes up. 

oh gods, you were eight, and you had believed that it was your fault your family lost a sister, a daughter, and your mother let you believe it. she never let you forget it. all the hurtful words hurled at you. all the pain you swallowed and carefully locked away in a box. 

your home stopped being a home that day. 

home should feel safe. home should be a place you long to be after a long day, not somewhere you dreaded. home should feel like a warm blanket on cold winter days, not a house that is a place to eat and sleep. home should feel safe. but it doesn’t.

you had known it for a long time. but you had been running away, refusing to face the fact. that maybe if you pretended hard enough, it would all go away. all this heartbreak that you had hidden away would vanish. 

“i don’t think my mother fully forgave me for it. i don’t think she forgave herself either.” but you were only a child. and all you wanted was her love, and approval, and support, and presence in your life. 

you look up at the stars shining in the dark sky, wondering if your sister is one of the millions smiling down at you from a far away distance. “she would have been in junior high if she was still here.” you smile sadly at the stars, thinking of the life that she could have had ahead of her. all taken away in one unfortunate moment. 

“your sister would want you to be happy, to live for yourself. i think she would find solace in that.”

you turn sharply to look at ushijima. “i–i have been doing my best to survive.”

his voice turns gentle, “but not truly living.”

“have you spoken to anyone about this?”  he inquires, though you think he knows the answer.

you clench your fists, looking away, a rising feeling in your chest that you identify as discomfort. oh, he is safe, but he is not afraid to tell you the truth, no matter how much it hurts. “you’re the first.”  

no one would understand anyway. not your parents, if they even cared enough to listen to you. not your brother, who had pushed you to open up, he lost his sister that night too. 

“then you no longer carry the burden by your lonesome. live, y/n, for you and your sister.”

live. he says it like it is so easy. as if living in that house doesn’t make you gasp for breath. if only your house did not also feel like your prison. if only being alive when your sister no longer breathes does not feel like a sin. as if everyday does not feel like being trapped in the past. 

and then with excruciating realization, you admit it. “i don’t know how.” 

the recognition leaves your head spinning, and you seek the comfort that you had felt in his arms. looping your arms around his torso, you bury your head into his chest. how do i do this how do i do this how do–

“you take it day by day. one foot in front of you at a time. and you keep looking forward.” he tilts your chin up, searching your eyes. “i will be right next to you.” he promises. 

“don’t say things you don’t mean.” please don’t make promises you can’t keep.

“y/n, i only say things i mean.” you hope he sees the gratitude in your eyes. you really hope he means it. because you think you can make it, with him by your side. when you’re with ushijima, you can truly breathe. with him by your side, you can see a glimpse of your future tonight. maybe not tomorrow, not a month from now, but one day, you could be happy. 

akiko, did you send him to me? thank you. i love you. i miss you. i miss you so much. but i think i need to learn to let you go now. 

reblogs and comments are appreciated!

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Over the Garden Wall - Chapter Four

Chapter Four - As the Poets Say

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

Yes, the title is a reference to Song of Achilles

Benedict Bridgerton Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Warnings: none? I think?

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

As always, 18+ Minors DNI!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Marietta gave her a small, sad smile. 

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

Marietta sighed. “I am now invested.”

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

“You are not,” Marietta responded. 

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

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

----------

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

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

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

“Benedict!” Eloise shouted.

“What, sister?” he hissed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing, Mama.”

“Nothing, Mother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Things change, Your Royal Highness.”

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

----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am,” he responded. “I really am.”

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

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

Colin simply nodded. “I understand.”

----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----------

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

Talk of art. Talk of love. 

It was all he needed. 

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

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

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

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

The smile on her face was intoxicating and contagious. 

“Benedict,” she said. 

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

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

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

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

“I knew you would come back.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Every day sounds lovely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Consequences be damned.

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

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

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

Love always,

Alma xx

Taglist: @imdoingbetternow @dd122004dd @soulmates8 @aureolinb @poppyalice2001 @thatgirljas13 @sunnygrey99 @frogsandhomicidalducks @dreadity @psychomanias @muxshwriting

---

Over the Garden Wall - Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten - Tricked by the Past

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

Title is from Spectre by Radiohead

Benedict Bridgerton Masterlist

Series Masterlist

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

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 4.0k

As always, 18+ Minors DNI!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will she be alright?” he asked.

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

“Yes, of course,” Benedict nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Benedict nodded. “That and more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good God.”

----------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, my dear.”

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

My love, 

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

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

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

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

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

I fear it has returned tenfold. 

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

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

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

I love you so much. 

Yours,

Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then she tasted the bitter liquid. 

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

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

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

She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. 

----------

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

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

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

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

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

“Her Majesty—” Marietta corrected. 

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

“How long ago was this?” Marietta wondered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I would risk anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----------

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

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

That was all. 

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

Time meant nothing anymore. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love always,

Alma xx

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

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Word count: 3200+

Warnings: a bit of violence

Part XVII | Part XIX

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you want that powder from Madja?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gazed back at him.

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

You raised a brow at him.

"What?"

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

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

"How?"

"Simply different."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How is Rhys?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who will come?" you asked subtly.

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

"Friends?"

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

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

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

Evening of Starfall

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Little bit," you answered honestly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But..

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was looking for you."

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

"Are you okay?"

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

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

"You what?"

"You heard me."

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Where do you think you are going?"

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