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awearywritersworld · 6 months

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she mumbled that i was peculiar

sukuna x reader summary: impressively, sukuna is still trying to find ways to deny his feelings for you. nevertheless, he keeps you safe from harm when a late night trip to the store doesn't go as planned. will seeing his violent nature for yourself change the way you feel about him? he seems to think so. w/c: 4.2k (oops) tags/warnings: angst to fluff. attempted kidnapping. canon typical violence. depictions of blood. reader throws up. reader is in shock for a bit. cursing. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: i'm sorry this took so long! im ngl, i struggled quite a bit to write this chapter. i'm still unsure about the pacing, but here it is anyway. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! series masterlist // masterlist

it's not often that you go out for the evening, but tonight is one such occasion. you leave around seven, excited to meet nobara and maki for dinner.

when yuuji falls asleep a few hours later, sukuna doesn't take over right away. he spends a while in his domain, engaging in what some people might call sulking.

before long, however, he begins to feel restless and he tells himself it's because he's grown accustomed to his finite hours of freedom. of course, it has nothing to do with your absence.

so he assumes control of his vessel's body and pulls a short novel from your bookshelf. settling on the couch, his fingertips brush over the cover: the stranger by albert camus

it's the first time he's ever been alone in your apartment, a fact he's well aware of, and his eyes wander to the front door. it'd be all too easy to pull it open, to make his way downstairs and out onto the street.

how long would it last before yuuji regained control? are you nearby? would you get caught up in the havoc he'd doubtlessly wreak?

the thought makes him grimace. returning his focus to the book in his hands, time seems to pass by faster as he makes his way through the pages.

even so, he deems the narrative a bit boring. in his (what's the opposite of humble?) opinion, dead mothers and nagging girlfriends don't make for the most captivating story, so his mind begins to wander once he happens upon the quote:

"so why marry me, then?" she said. i explained to her that it didn't really matter and that if she wanted to, we could get married. besides, she was the one who was doing the asking and all i was saying was yes. then she pointed out that marriage was a serious thing. i said, "no." she stopped talking for a minute and looked at me without saying anything. then she spoke. she just wanted to know if i would have accepted the same proposal from another woman, with whom I was involved in the same way. i said, "sure." then she said she wondered if she loved me, and there was no way i could know about that. after another moment's silence, she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

sukuna thinks about you— the woman who forced her way into his solitude.

although, what if it hadn't been you? what if the brat had been involved with another woman? would he have eventually taken an interest in her too?

are you really that special, or is he just going crazy inside the cage that is itadori yuuji? the latter is much more likely, right?

he supposes he prefers the idea of madness over... feelings for some human.

all of a sudden, your apartment door seems much more inviting. would it be so bad if he were to step through it? what did he really have to lose?

yeah, that's right. he'll get up any second now and act on every horrible impulse he's been repressing. any second now... any second...

he can't quite figure out why he's unable to bring his limbs to move, weighed down by some force that's beyond him.

it's at that moment the door clicks open and for a split second, he thinks it must be his sign to go, but then you come waltzing in.

"'kuna!" you greet in an excited manner, disrupting the peaceful quiet.

kicking off your shoes haphazardly, you make your way over to him and promptly drop yourself into his lap. it elicits a bout of unwelcome clarity for the king of curses.

no, he wouldn't have taken an interest in just anyone, that much becomes obvious. it wasn't through a medium as flawed as chance that he came to... tolerate you. you're much too annoying for that to be the case.

"hello???" you wave your hand in front of his face. "i'm home."

"i can see that."

"welcome home, darling," you say in a deep voice, a poor imitation of him. "i missed you so much— that's what you're supposed to say."

yeah, definitely too annoying.

"but i didn't miss you." one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh, a betrayal of his preceding assertion.

"you're sitting alone reading—" you pause to inspect the book lying open beside him. "existential fiction about a nihilistic frenchman. of course you missed me."

he changes the topic rather swiftly. "you're drunk."

"i'm tipsy, at best." you roll your eyes. "can't i just be happy to see you?"

"you'd be the first."

"i don't mind making history."

you place a kiss on his lips, casual and affectionate in way that makes sukuna's body stiffen, and stand up.

"i need to get ready for bed, then we're gonna watch tv together because i missed you— gosh, see how easy that was?"

you run off to the bathroom and his body doesn't fully relax until he hears the shower turn on.

the thought of missing someone is a strange notion to him, because it implies eagerness and desire. for as long as he cares to remember, those emotions have been reserved for proclivities much more sinister.

so he hadn't missed you. he just would have preferred it if you stayed home. that's all.

when you return to the living room around fifteen minutes later, you're wearing one of yuuji's shirts, and as far as sukuna can tell, very little otherwise.

making yourself comfortable on the floor between his legs, you pass a hair tie behind you. "can you braid my hair?"

he's watched you get ready for bed enough times that he's fairly certain he can manage it. taking the tie from you, he still asks "why can't you do it?"

"because i'm sleepy," you frown, reaching for the tv remote.

gathering your hair in his hands and carefully dividing it into sections, he sighs. "you require so much looking after."

"you're not going to die if you can't have cookies tonight." sukuna states dryly, glancing at the clock that reads eleven o'clock.

"please don't trivialize my struggle," you begin, pulling on your jacket. "i want miso butter cookies— my grandma's secret recipe."

most of what you need can be found in the kitchen, but a trip to the store is in order for a few final ingredients.

"my mistake," he huffs, rising to his feet. "how insensitive of me."

"oh, it's alright. just don't let it happen again."

"sure. i'll keep that in mind, princess." sliding the apartment door's chain lock off the track, he does little to hide the vexation in his tone.

just as he reaches for the handle, you stop him and wrap a scarf around his neck, forcing a hoodie into his hands. "put this on. you'll be cold."

he looks at you as if you're crazy. "i don't have to worry about things as insignificant as the weather."

"well, put it on anyway," you insist.

he decides that acquiescing will be easier than arguing for the next five minutes and slips the hoodie over head. when you both step out into the chilly air of night, there are still a decent number of people traveling the streets.

stopping at a crosswalk the next block over, you begin to prattle on about what you need to pick up and the different steps in your recipe. naturally, you completely miss it when the pedestrian sign turns green.

"come on," sukuna commands, his hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging you along with him. "i don't have all night."

you scoff. "to be fair, i didn't say you had to come with me."

"yeah well it's late. you shouldn't be out alone." there's a hint of exasperation in his voice, like he truly had no choice in the matter.

despite that, once you reach the other side of the street, his fingers slide down your palm and thread through yours.

you glance over at him and find he's looking off to the side, so you bite your lip to suppress your pleased smile. is he avoiding your gaze intentionally? you decide that bashfulness suits him better than you would have expected.

offering him a light squeeze of the hand, you hope it conveys your appreciation of his small display of affection.

"so, are you going to help me make the cookies?"

his lips press into a thin line. "as thrilling as that seems, i don't particularly have a penchant for baking."

"you think you'd humor me a little! you know, since i'm your only friend and all."

"if anyone else asked me such a ridiculous question, they wouldn't live to see tomorrow." you ponder whether he's joking and quickly decide that he isn't. "this is me humoring you."

"you're so mean to me."

"hardly."

"fine," you pout. "then you can't have any!"

"now, hold on." the threat does make him hesitate. you've come to learn that if there's one thing he loves as much as reading, it's food. "let's not be hasty."

you're approaching the store, the sliding doors just a few strides away.

"it's only fair! besides, you're not going to die if you can't have cookies," you throw his earlier words in his face.

he exhales deeply. "have i ever told you how irritating you are?"

"woah! now you're definitely not getting any, mister!"

"alright, alright," he groans as you step inside. "i'll help you bake your stupid cookies."

"perfect!" you exclaim as if you knew he'd give in eventually (you did). "then you can start by finding the miso paste while i get everything else!"

you scamper off before he can tell you not to order him around like some common servant. he's never even been grocery shopping, how the hell is he supposed to find anything in here?

wandering the aisles, he stews over how domestic this is. for god's sake— the king of curses, shopping for ingredients and making baked goods. what have you reduced him to?

just as he considers giving up, he spots the item he's looking for and grabs it so aggressively that it knocks a few packets of instant miso soup to the floor. wrinkling his nose in distaste for the entire experience, he sets off looking for you, though his efforts are to no avail.

he wonders where the hell you could have gone off to when a flickering light catches his eye, filling him with a strange sort of unease.

it's emanating from a narrow hallway tucked away in the back corner of the store. at the very edge of the hall, a phone with a familiar case is lying on the floor, the screen shattered.

his blood runs cold, a sensation that is fully unknown to him, and the miso paste slips from his fingers. he appears in the hallway the very next second and the sight that greets him ignites a furious hostility in the center of his being— heavy and consuming.

you're struggling against one man as he drags you out of the backdoor and into an alley. another man is holding the door open, urging his partner to hurry up.

the hand over your mouth keeps you from yelling, but you're unsure you would have been able to make a sound regardless.

one second you're cast into darkness, and the next, the light seems blinding. the flashing is unceasing and it makes your head hurt.

two limbs are wrapped around your torso, keeping you firmly in place, and your arms are trapped at your sides. you might be kicking your legs, but they may just be dragging along too. you really can't be sure.

there's a thrum of a heartbeat at your back. it's pace is unforgiving, the intensity mirroring that of your own. you've a vague concern that your heart may very well beat right out of your chest.

then there's an abrupt shift in the air and a sickening crack echoes through out the night. crumpling onto the concrete, you think it must have started raining before you realize that the droplets on your face are warm.

you wipe at your cheek and your fingers stain crimson, the color matching that of an increasingly large puddle seeping across the pavement beside you.

there's a heap lying a few feet away and you recognize that it's wearing clothes. it's a sight you struggle to make sense of.

needing to focus on something else, your eyes find sukuna and the expression he's wearing is fierce and unreserved. "tell me what you wanted with her."

you've never heard him speak in such a way. his tone is low, his cadence nothing short of threatening.

"s-s'kuna?" your own voice sounds foreign to you and it goes unheard by him.

he has your attacker pressed against the brick wall of the alley, both hands wrapped around his throat. he's too livid to realize the pressure on his windpipe is preventing him from answering.

sukuna throws him to the other side of the alleyway out of frustration, the man rolling onto his back and wheezing to appease his lungs.

"tell me!" sukuna commands again, louder this time. less collected.

the man scrambles away from his looming figure. "th-they sent us, told us they needed her for an important matter."

"who?"

"they'll kill me if i tell you—"

sukuna crouches down, laughing dryly. "and what do you suppose i'm going to do?"

his eyes are almost unrecognizable to you. they're frenzied— a few shades deeper than the scarlet you've grown so fond of.

"you'll k-kill me either way, so at least i'll die with honor—"

"tch. useless." sukuna waves his hand, and you can hardly comprehend what happens right in front of you.

neat red lines appear across the man's body, then it ruptures into nothing at all. the only evidence that he was ever there in the first place is his blood.

the stench of which is perhaps the worst part— intense, coppery, and hot. it makes your eyes water, and before you know it, you're hunched over and emptying the contents of your stomach onto the ground.

sukuna is at your side in an instant, pulling your hair away from your face, but while one of your hands is braced against the concrete, the other endeavors to push him away.

his body doesn't budge at the contact, but he takes a step back anyway in an attempt to respect your wishes.

your mind is a mess filled with racing thoughts— what the fuck? this cannot be happening. what the hell even happened in this first place? that man was there and then he wasn't.

inhaling sharply, you wipe at your mouth and shift to pull your knees to your chest.

"what..." you trail off, surveying the unutterable, incomprehensible scene before you. "what did you do?"

he doesn't respond, though his features noticeably soften. somewhere in the back of your mind, you know very well what he did, but you can't help repeating. "what did you do?"

"we need to leave." it's not that sukuna couldn't handle whoever might show up, but seeing as this is your reaction, he has no desire to. "if you let me touch you, i can take us home."

you take a moment to think about it, then nod wordlessly. as soon as his hand falls on your shoulder, you're met with that same sensation you felt the night gojo teleported you and yuuji home after one too many drinks.

though this time, the sick feeling in your stomach isn't caused by liquor. you don't stand up, you don't so much as move a muscle when you feel the surface beneath you shift from concrete to carpet.

sukuna breathes out your name, his uncertainty evidenced by the way he's shoved his hands into his pockets. meeting his eye, you reiterate the same inquiry once more. "what did you do?"

it's almost as if you want him to tell you that he didn't do anything. that the whole experience was some disturbing nightmare.

"those men would have hurt you."

"that doesn't mean they deserved to die." you choke on the final word.

"yes— it does."

with that, silence hangs in the air like a suffocating miasma.

looking to your hands, you're reminded of the blood you've been spattered with. "i need to wash up."

you still don't move from your spot, too fixated on your flesh and the dreadful hue that it's been painted with. sukuna notices now that you're trembling.

he approaches you hesitantly before extending his hand. "let me help you."

you decline his offer, shying away from him. "i think you've done enough already."

god, the look in your eye is utterly despondent. he struggles to swallow the lump that forms in his throat.

his arm falls limply to his side and he looks across the room, your copy of the stranger earning his attention.

he's overcome with chagrin when he realizes that his concern brought about by camus' quote the other night was wholly misguided. he'd been focused on his own feelings, whether they were genuine or simply wrought by his isolation.

how foolish was he to ever question what you truly mean to him? with the anguish that's settled in his chest at the sight of your current state, the fact he ever doubted it makes him feel like a hopeless idiot.

had he any sense at all, the part that resonated with him would have been—

she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

disgust. is that what you're feeling now? he's certain it is.

it was just last week that he relayed the story of his past. you're the only person alive to know the truth of how his wickedness came to be, and you met him with unconditional sympathy and understanding.

you pulled him close and embraced him, but now that you've seen him for what he truly is...? you can barely stand to touch him and it's like a knife to his heart.

you're so fucking warm— like the sun against his skin after weeks of endless rain.

and if you're the sun, surely he is the moon— cold and barren on his own, but brilliant when in the presence of your light.

to be without that? to be without you? it's a prospect too terrible for him to bear. it makes his stomach twist miserably.

you're startled (as is he) when his form falls to the floor, his knees meeting the carpet with a dull thud. he calls out your name again, but this time, his voice cracks as he speaks. "please."

he doesn't have a clue what he's even asking for. a chance to explain? forgiveness? a way to turn back time?

you don't say anything, but you do shift your gaze to him. he knows that he needs to fix this, so he wracks his mind for the right words.

"i didn't enjoy killing those men." he's somewhat surprised to find he's telling the truth.

"you didn't?" your voice is so small and timid that he can hardly decipher your words.

"no. my only concern was to keep you safe— to make sure they never put their hands on you ever again. all i felt was rage and... and... guilt. i should have never left you alone and it's my fault—"

"stop," you interrupt him.

there are tears welling in your eyes, making it difficult for sukuna to breathe. he's positive you're going to tell him that his intentions were of little consequence and that you never want to see him ever again.

instead, you push yourself forward and collapse against his body, your own wracked with violent sobs. the reality of the situation is only just now hitting you. it'd been much easier to focus on what sukuna had done, rather than what almost happened to you.

"i was so scared, 'kuna."

and still, despite the way you're clinging to his shirt and burying your face in chest, he's under the impression that it's him you were afraid of.

"i'm sorry," he tells you earnestly. "i never meant to frighten you."

"n-not of you. those men." you're struggling to speak in between desperate gasps. "why did they do that? what did they want with me?"

"i don't know." though, he is going to find out.

sukuna is not a man well versed in comfort, so he's not entirely sure why he begins rocking you back and forth, but he does it anyway.

when you finally start to breathe a little easier, he mumbles into your hair, "come on. let's get you cleaned up."

he doesn't give you a chance to respond before he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. setting you down on the counter gently, he searches the linen closet for a cloth.

it's quiet, save for your intermittent sniffling, as he runs it under warm water and wrings it out. his free hand moves to rest against the side of your neck and he dabs at the blood on your face, rinsing the washcloth every now and then.

he tries his best not to show it, but sukuna is agonizing over what might be going through your mind.

do you still feel safe with him? have your feelings changed? do you still love him, even when you've been so harshly reminded what he's capable of?

when you speak for the first time your words are hoarse, barely above a whisper. "thank you for saving me, sukuna."

he thinks about telling you not to thank him, not when it shouldn't have happened in the first place. he left your side, an error in judgement he'll never forgive himself for.

he considers your mortality— your weakness— in relation to his feelings for you. he's always seen this exceptionally human quality as despicable.

but now? all it does is terrify him.

"in the past, i was only concerned with my own whims and desires." his hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb running over your cheekbone. "though after tonight... you have to know..."

it's clear that he's struggling. his eyebrows draw together and his mouth twitches as he ponders his next words.

"i care about you, angel." his voice is hushed when he adds, "very much."

your eyes widen briefly and you murmur his name, but your mind is still reeling from the events of the past twenty minutes and you can't think of anything more to say. you're emotionally exhausted in a way you would have never thought possible.

it's plain to him too, so he knows his next question is selfish, but he can't go on without knowing. "does what you saw tonight change things between us?"

the silence preceding your answer seems to stretch on forever.

"i thought it would," you confess eventually. it was as if you'd put up a wall in your mind separating sukuna the king of curses from sukuna the man you spend your evenings with.

and it's difficult to reconcile the fact that the hands you saw used to murder two men are the same hands that are caressing your face so delicately.

at some point, however, you realized that the only time you felt fear tonight was when you were without him. his arrival and ensuing actions inspired shock and apprehension, though in some twisted way, you knew it meant you were safe. "but it doesn't."

the next question tumbles from your lips thoughtlessly. "does that make me a bad person?"

he chuckles and some of the tension in the room dissipates. "i think i'm the last one on earth that can pass moral judgement on you."

he tucks your hair behind your ear and scans your face, relief coursing through his body when he sees you smile. in this moment, there isn't anything else in the world he would have asked for.

"i guess you're right."

and now, the hand over your mouth is your own, an attempt to stifle your tired giggles. the light of the bathroom is warm and steady. sukuna's hands rest atop your hips, his touch firm but comforting. while you can't feel your own heartbeat, you're positive it must be beating in time with his.

when you crawl into bed that night sukuna pulls you close, your back pressed to his bare chest. you're thankful for the softness of his demeanor, because you need it tonight more than ever.

he doesn't recede to his domain until yuuji wakes up the following morning. he's determined to keep an eye on you as you sleep, to watch the slow rise and fall of your chest with newfound gratitude.

he knows he needs to speak with the brat about what happened. someone is after you and while he hates to admit it, he knows he can't ensure your safety alone.

and he will keep you safe, no matter the cost.

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kasagia · 1 year

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I'll be back for you

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x reader, Kaz Brekker x reader Summary: The Moon Summoner ran away with Alina from the Little Palace with the help of Kaz Brekker's crows. The group successfully escaped from Darkling's hands, but that doesn't mean he will forget about his Y/N. He's going to chase her until she is in his arms again. However, Mr. Brekker did not let his childhood friend disappear without a trace from his life again. He will protect her. For all costs. After all, she was his newest investment. Warning(s): Darkling, Kaz fights haphephobia (but not as severe for him ), reader argues with Baghra, reader has internal moral conflict, curses, fights, and their red aftermath, I used a quote from TVD and The Invisible Life of Addie Laurie because… they fit and I love them veeery much It's my first one-shot for both Darkling and Kaz, so please be gentle (I'm very nervous and excited at the same time to publish it) <3 Word count: 14k (too long, someone should take me away from the keyboard in the middle of this)

~•♤♤♤•~ Part 2 (end) ~•♤♤♤•~

Every night since you escaped with Alina and Genya with the help of your childhood friend Kaz and his crows from Ravka, you've been haunted by nightmares. No. Not the usual horrible flashbacks of your past in Ketterdam or the Little Palace.

HE visited you.

The Darkling. The Black Heretic. The man who promised to keep your heart safe and broke it in two along with your trust.

Genya has a right to warn you about powerful men. But you, the lost girl kidnapped by slave hunters from Ketterdam, the girl who has nothing to lose and was happy enough to somehow end up in the general's tent and find out about being one of the most powerful Grisha, didn't want to listen to her.

You foolishly believed that you, of all people, were able to charm the most dangerous man in all Ravka with your beauty, character and mind.

You believed that sweet words, longing glances and tender moments between you were real, that they meant something.

But it was all just a game. A game that brought him your affection and blind trust. And Kirigan, Darkling, or Alexander played in it like mastermind.

You should have listened to Genya. At least those damn dark eyes wouldn't haunt you every time you closed yours.

With the taste in men you have, you should have predicted that the first guy you hooked up with would be a psychopath. Fate could only be a little bit more favorable to you and not connect you to the hundreds-year-old black heretic who created the fold.

You've always had a weakness for villains and gray characters.

Your first teenage crush only proved it.

Because who else but you would fall in love with a bastard boy from the barrel who started his criminal career with the Dregs, who couldn't stand the touch of other people, and who wanted nothing more in his life than revenge on Pekka Rollins?

If I survive this shit, I really should find someone normal to be with.

You thought before you somehow managed to fall asleep for the first time in a month, hoping that your bond with the Darkling would weaken for those few hours when you tried to find peace.

~•♤♤♤•~

It was pure darkness around you. Not that one when all the lights went out and it's only you and your bed. No. They felt too familiar for you to confuse them with anything else. Those were his shadows.

He must have been near, playing with you as he always had.

You carefully took one step forward. The shadows parted in front of you, so you could see the ground. You bent down to your boot and pulled out a dagger, hiding it behind the sleeve of your blouse. You had to be ready for anything. Even if it meant fighting the shadow lord himself in your own subconscious. You sighed, stepping uncertainly into the darkness.

Your eyes quickly adjusted to the place around you, allowing you to move faster along the path. You recognized this bloody spot. The path in the woods you raced down when he took you for your first ride. Then he dragged you to HIS fountain, telling you nonsense about how it's only here among other Grishas that you discover your true self. He was already weaving his manipulative web around you, and you fell into it like an oblivious fly.

The snap of a twig stopped you. You looked around, not seeing anything at all except for the fountain in the distance. You flinched as his shadows gently pushed you forward.

"I'm not going to play another of your games, General!" you screamed as you spun around, walking forward. If he was already disturbing you, at least he might have had the honor to step out of the shadows.

"Call me Aleksander…"

You shivered as you felt his soft whisper against your neck. You spun, summoning your light and shooting into the space behind you. Unfortunately, it didn't encounter any Black Heretics on its way.

You huffed angrily, continuing your walk until you reached the fountain.

It was different than when he brought you here last time. The engravings have changed. They no longer told the story of the Black Heretic who created the fold. They were of you and Aleksander. Slowly falling in love.

"The union of darkness and his light." you felt your body tremble as the fabric of his kefta brushed your hand.

"I would never have taken you for such a sentimental fool." you turned to face him, taking a step back to increase the distance between you. With a very smug smirk, you noticed that he had dark circles under his eyes. Good. At least the son of a bitch suffers as much as you do. "Especially not after what Baghra had told me."

"My mother has the amazingly irritating gift of ruining my plans. She also doesn't like the people I care about much."

"Hmm… what a pity. Maybe if you weren't planning to use us as weapons in your plans, I'd care more. Also, don't try to tell me that there are people in this world who are more important to you than yourself. We both know I'm not going to fall for it again."

"I understand your resentment." you laughed, shaking your head in disbelief as you turned your gaze back to the fountain. "What's so funny?" you relished every irritated word directed at you. Maybe you couldn't seriously hurt him physically, but at least you could be a pain in his ass.

"I just forgot how easy it is for you to choose words that both tell the truth and work in your favor. Please, continue. I didn't truly laugh for a very long time."

"You're making a mistake." he stood next to you, grabbing your arm to turn you toward him.

You yanked your arm out of his grip as soon as your powers met in that familiar dance of dark and light. You both sighed, stunned by the sudden combination of your powers coursing through your veins. You opened your eyes, which you closed in the flow of the moment, meeting his tender, longing gaze. The man reached out to cup your cheek, but you pulled away from him before your skin had a chance to touch again.

"Funny. That's what I heard from your mother before she made me realize what shit I got into."

"One conversation with my mother, and you're ready to give it all up? Just because she was faster than me? Because she revealed a truth about me that she had no right to? What if I wanted to tell you right after I dealt with the group that wanted to attack you and Miss Starkov?" the grudge in his eyes only fueled your anger. He had no right to resent you for running away from him at the earliest opportunity when he had been hiding this important piece of his past for so long.

"What does it matter, general? None of it was real anyway." you growled, turning your back on him again so as not to reveal your hidden emotions to him. You didn't want him to know that you still cared. Indifference was a worse punishment for him than your wrath.

"So c'mon. Prove your point. Turn around, look me in the eyes, and tell me that you didn't feel anything towards me for even the slightest moment."

You wanted. You really did. To look directly into his soul-black eyes and say that he meant as much to you as the dust under your shoes. However, you both knew very well that it would be just a poor lie. And you both knew each other well enough to know when the other was lying.

"Just because my foolish heart longs for something, it doesn't mean I'll give in to its stupid desires. Wasn't you the one who told me that wanting makes us weak?"

"You should know I've changed my mind by now." the sound of leaves crunching under his boots was the only warning you got before you felt his presence behind you. "You. You are changing my mind."

"Don't tell me I have any influence over you. It's a poor play. You can do better, Kirigan."

"You and I may change the world, Y/N…" you flinched as you heard the exact same words he said here so many months ago. You turned to face him when you felt the coldness of one of his shadows wrapping around your leg. You pointed your dagger at the man standing only one, little step away from you. He didn't seem affected at all as you pointed the dagger at him. He didn't even look at it. His eyes were only on yours. "You may not see it now, too blinded by your righteous, but not entirely fair, anger at me, but deep down, you know that we are destined for greater things than others. You, me, and Alina together can be the strongest creatures in the world."

"You know very well that we never wanted to live like this. Neither of us."

"Do you? Alina maybe doesn't want to be the Saint, but you, Y/N?" you took a step back and another as the black heretic approached you with his every word. He stood in front of you, letting the dagger you were holding in your trembling hands touch his chest. He smiled almost mockingly, seeing that your weapon against him was exactly the same one he gave you on your birthday, provoking your anger again. To spite him, you summoned wispy beams of white light that began to radiate from your hand to chase away his shadows.

"You don't know what I want." you growled, pressing the dagger harder against his heart to remind him that you were in control here. He could sneak into your dreams, but at night you were the most powerful Grisha in this bloody world. And even he had to reckon with your power.

"Yet I still see a desire in your eyes." you shifted your gaze to him, watching him silently and with hostility as his face was illuminated only by your powers. You were disgusted to find that, despite his betrayal, he was still equally handsome to you. "Not only for me but also for my power. You, my little moonlight, you want to be just like me. Strong, powerful, and ageless." he raised his hand deftly, dodging your dagger, and, under your watchful gaze, brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, stroking your cheek as he did so. He took a step towards you, causing you to press the blade against his neck as he got close enough to whisper in your ear. "You can run as far as you want, but you don't run from the truth that's inside you. And when you finally understand what you really want, I'll be there for you, waiting with open arms for my saint moon."

"Have fun waiting for this day, Morozova." you whispered, not giving in to his piercing gaze.

"I am a very patient man, after a thousand years on this earth, you will be too, Y/L/N."

"I'm not you, Aleksander. I don't wanna live forever, and I'm not gonna. I won't see the only people I truly love and care about die before me. Even eternity and unimaginable power are not worth it."

"They're still people you love and who can share this fate with you. Who will live long enough to be with you forever." one of his shadows began to wrap around your hand, forcing you to remove the dagger from his neck.

He leaned closer to you and rested his forehead against yours. You sighed, shivering as the scent of his familiar perfume enveloped you after so many weeks apart. You were tempted to give in to him again. And that dark desire in your heart terrified you more than the capabilities of the Black Heretic caressing your cheek.

"This isn't love. It was just a game. We were just playing a game. The same one you created a long time ago to earn my trust. But I'm no longer that naive girl who is desperate for somebody's attention and love. You made me stronger, crueler, ruthless. And believe me, general, I'll repay you for all you have done."

"You don't believe that. You can't have believed my mother that I am your villain so easily." in other circumstances, where your heart wasn't beating for his, you'd probably laugh at the desperation in his voice. But now that every fiber of you longed for the man before you, there was only one thing you could do.

"Then tell me, Aleksander..." you leaned in to him, rubbing his nose with yours as he closed his eyes and waited for your lips to finally touch after weeks of craving your slightest touch. "Why was I so tempted to do this?" you dug into his tempting mouth, giving you both what you needed.

In your head, you explained this crime against your friends as wanting to do what was originally intended to be your primary goal. The gentle prolongation of your longing, amazing, desperate kiss before you plunged the dagger into his side without the slightest hesitation wasn't your fault at all. Aleksander moaned into your lips, pulling away from you as he felt blood trickle down his side.

"Leave me alone, or I will make myself your villain." you whispered into his mouth before you somehow managed to get yourself out of your "dream".

~•♤♤♤•~

"Y/N?" Alina's soft whisper wakes you up. You opened your eyes, feeling how your chest was burning for fresh air and your heart beating faster than it should. The woman was sitting next to you, holding your hand.

In the corner of your eye, you can see Nina standing in the doorway of the room Kaz graciously assigned to you after you arrived in Ketterdam. You can swear on saints that Inej was looking through your window before she went - probably going to tell Kaz about your fourth nightmare this week.

And it was only Tuesday.

You felt attacked from all sides. If not Inej through the window, then the madmen through the door or in your dreams.

"What are you doing here? It's well after midnight." you asked her, gratefully accepting a towel from Nina to wipe the sweat from your face. Alina and Genya lived far from the club, in motels on opposite sides of the city.

"Just in case someone betrays us. At least one of you will save yourself if the Darkling comes to these parts."

Brekker's brilliant and preventive mind had already terrified you before you stepped off the boat onto the familiar land of Ketterdam. The fact that he thought through and arranged your accommodation before anyone could ask him was either another display of his otherworldly mind or a blatant act of arrogance and overconfidence in his strength against the Darkling. But you knew Kaz too well to assume that he underestimated the power of the Black Heretic even for a moment.

"Nice to see you too. Kaz sent for me."

"Since when does the sun summoner do all the Dreg king's orders?" you asked, making Nina laugh.

"Since the moon summoner is constantly skipping her bedtime. You have to sleep. You can't always be on Jesper's special energetic drinks." she scolded you like a little child, to which you snorted indignantly.

"I will take a gorgeous, lovely, very long nap right after we kill Kirigan. Before then, nobody can make me do that. And tell Kaz I remembered him as braver the last time we saw each other on your way back to the motel."

"We are just worried about you, Y/N. You slept the whole night only once since we left."

"Don't tell me you're surprised. If you were me, you would do the same."

"Maybe. But we both know you're stronger than me. I know you can beat him, and even if you can't do this alone, which I doubt…" she wrapped her hand around yours, making you look into her eyes again. "You must know I will always be by your side, like you by mine. It's you and me against the darkness, Y/N."

"You know, you've spent way too much time on that boat with your toughts. You sound like an old uncle giving good advice or something."

"Speaking of advice, if I were you, I wouldn't insult the only person who can wake you up from… this." Nina waved her hand in a circle, pointing to the miserable state you were in.

"You should see Kirigan. I stabbed him." you replied with a self-satisfied smirk, watching the heartrender gasp in shock and Alina shake her head in disapproval.

"What have I told you about starting unnecessary arguments with him and maiming him?"

"That this is a good way to vent my anger and frustration?" you asked innocently with a huge smile.

Alina drew breath to argue with you, but a knock on the door distracted her. You glanced at Jesper, peering into your room, and wrinkled your nose at the light-burnt sheets you and Alina had left.

"The boss wants you, moon girl."

"Not only him." you murmured, pulling the remnants of the quilt from yourself. You took your clothes out of the closet and turned to the people in the room with your hands on your hips. "Are you leaving or staying for the show?" Alina mumbled a silent apology, blushing in embarrassment as she left, along with a laughing Jesper and an amused Nina.

You sighed as you stood in front of the mirror and brushed away the sweaty hair that was stuck to your face. Thanks to Inej and Kirigan, it looks like you'll have a long conversation with Kaz about your safety again. Your friend was sometimes a bigger pain in the ass than you—an achievement that wasn't granted by you to just anyone.

"I just fucking hope you're writhing in pain right now." you muttered to yourself, not believing for a moment in the sincerity of what you just said.

~•♤♤♤•~

"You wanted me." you entered the Dirtyhands' office without knocking, taking a place of honor on one of the two comfortable armchairs in the room. Kaz didn't look up from his papers, but the slight crease of irritation on his forehead told you he had noticed your presence. You were surprised that, after years of separation, you could still read him easily. "It's rude to ignore your guest."

"It's rude to come in without knocking." he replied to your provocation, tracing something he had just written. You snorted in amusement, seeing that you managed to distract him.

"Well, I didn't come here for no reason. You sent Jes for me."

"Jes?" a diminutive you used for his sharpshooter, has earned the man's attention. He gave you a questioning look, throwing the papers on his desk.

"What? Can't I make a friend other than you?"

"I'm your boss." he hummed, getting his cane up from his desk and walking to his dresser. You rolled your eyes as you watched the man's back. The son of a bitch knew perfectly well that you hated it when he didn't look at you during a conversation.

"Sure, if it helps you sleep, tell yourself what you want, Brekker."

"You live at my club, sleep here, eat with my crows, and waste my time taking some useless gossip from downstairs." he enumerated, turning over his things and searching persistently for something.

"And I'd been doing this for four years before you became Mr. Scary Dirtyhands from the Barrel. You just proved my point, Kazzle. We are friends."

You got up from your chair and stood next to him. You glanced at the contents of his drawer and frowned, noticing something familiar. You reached for a small silver box with his REAL initials on it, but the man slammed the drawer shut before you could get your hands on the find. You snorted indignantly as you noticed the smug smirk on his face as he nearly clipped your fingers for your meddling.

Kaz Brekker was sentimental enough to keep the ashtray you gave him.

You involuntarily remembered what you told him when you handed it to him.

"I know you don't smoke and don't celebrate your birthday, but I think that's a pretty nice metaphor and the closure you need."

"What? An old ashtray from the market? Which you probably swept from under the noses of some heavy smokers."

"No, genius, in case you haven't noticed, it has a special engraving. Read it."

"For K.R., let him rest in peace. What's that supposed to mean?"

"You can consider it what you want. A keepsake of your former self, a lost life you might have had, an urn for the ashes of your former self... we both know you're not the same man you used to be. And you have every right to be, Kaz. It's just... I think you deserve something commemorating your old self. The boy who stole half-rotten apples with me to survive. Now you are someone else—someone stronger, wiser, cunninger... but know that I will never forget Kaz, who was my only light when I was at my worst."

"That's pretty sentimental for you. Also, calling me light is not quite an appropriate metaphor." he replied coolly, returning to his book.

You nodded to him, saying goodbye. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him stroke a silver object for a moment and put it in his pants pocket. You smiled. Apparently, you weren't the only sentimental fool in Ketterdam.

"Then, as my friend, you won't mind telling me about that strange connection between you and the Darkling that keeps you from sleeping without threatening to set my club on fire with your dazzling moonlight?" he asked, snapping you out of your flashback.

"No, because, as my friend, you won't be nosy, and out of politeness, you won't ask."

"I anticipated this reaction. That's why I got this." a velvet ring box magically appeared in his hands.

"Are you going to propose to me? Oh, Kazzie, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for this! You don't have to kneel, sweetheart. We can call Jes, and he'll do it for you. It's a perfect opportunity for him to practice before asking Wylan."

"Can you be serious for just one moment, please?" he asked, blushing slightly and trying to give you one of his famous menacing looks.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist. Besides, you could have foreseen in that plan of yours that I would never waste such an opportunity."

"Just open it." he sighed, tossing you the box. Too curious to find out what was inside, you decided to leave the poor boy alone and refrained from commenting further. You widened your eyes as you saw the real ring. "What? No enthusiastic and loud: "Yes, Kazzie, I'll marry you!", so my crows can tease me about it too? To be honest, I'm disappointed, Y/N."

"Well, I could have been joking about it when I didn't have a ridiculously beautiful ring in front of me. Sorry that I'm a little confused, Kaz."

"It's good you like it, but I'd rather know if it works as it should. Put it on your finger."

"As romantic as always." you murmured, trying on a silver ring with an opal and small diamonds around the stone. You raised your hand and, by using your power, increased the light reflected by the moon that was still in the sky so it could illuminate your new jewelry. "It's beautiful, but I have absolutely no idea what it is supposed to do."

"Protect you." you glanced back at Kaz, only to discover that he had been staring at you the entire time. The white sparkles in his eyes caused by your light captivated you more than the shining diamonds. You shook your head, remembering what happened the last time you gave in to your stupid crush.

"Protect me?"

"I've been doing some research with Alina and Nina about the bond between you and him, the amplifiers… we believe this will weaken the bond between you enough for you to sleep peacefully. He will not enter your mind uninvited." he said, spitting out the words about the Darkling like he was a plague. But you were more interested in something quite different from his open dislike of the Black Heretic.

"Why? Why are you getting through all of it for me? It's not your war to fight. You have no interest in it."

"I have. Since I got you out of the Little Palace, you've been my investment. And I protect everything I invest in and what's worth my time. No matter what."

"You do realize I won't bring you any profit? Alina would be a better choice than me." you questioned his choice. Kaz turned to the window, as if looking for Inej, whose arrival would interrupt this uncomfortable conversation.

Unfortunately for him, the saints had no watch over him. And one of them was waiting for him to gather his thoughts and answer her question. He had to do this without betraying the emotions that had been bubbling up inside him since he had first seen her at one of the Dreg's raids. He was lost the second he saw her and completely fated to love her after their first conversation.

But she couldn't know it.

She couldn't know that his heart was gone with her and that it took him ages to find himself after she disappeared. He promised himself to keep her away from him. To make sure he wouldn't fall for her beauty, mind, eyes, smile, and laugh like he had done as a child. But the second he saw her again, he knew that his heart was hers. Hers to keep, hold, break, play.

But she couldn't know it.... At least not now. Not when he had just snatched her from the Darkling's grasp.

Not when he wasn't ready to love her the way she should be loved.

"That's for me to evaluate and for you to make sure I won't regret this. Besides, I only invest in one-of-a-kind. I don't need more narcissistic saints to go into my office like it was their own." he said after a long silence, without taking his eyes off the window.

He was afraid that his eyes would betray the truth hidden in his stupid heart. He was grateful to all above that she wasn't a heartrender and couldn't feel his treacherous heart beating madly every time he looked at her. He just had to make sure Nina didn't reveal his little secret. He didn't know that the woman had been blackmailed into a similar case by the moon summoner.

"So I'm pretty lucky. I would die if I had to sleep on those inconvenient motel beds."

"Considering how much sleep you actually get, you're unlikely to notice a difference." you gasped, feigning indignation at the mischievous, amused tone of his voice.

"You're a cruel bastard, Kaz Brekker." he finally turned to you with a small smirk on his face. You giggled, only widening his smile.

"Go and check your ring. I hope you won't be threatened by any ugly faces."

"Yes, boss." you saluted, walking towards the door. You opened it and were about to leave when an idea popped into your head. You leaned against the door frame, looking at the man taking his place at the desk. "Kazzie?" you asked sweetly, biting your lip to keep from laughing too soon. The Bastard of the Barrel gave you a questioning look, fearing the familiar tone of your voice and the question coming. "As your fiancée, am I going to get half of your club?"

"Over my dead, cold body." he replied without a second of hesitation, perfectly prepared for such a provocation from your side.

"You know, you need to work on sharing if you plan to be husband material in the future. I feel sorry for your future spouse, unless it'll be your job."

"Go to sleep before I put you in bed myself."

"You should know better than to scare me with a good time, sweetheart!" you shouted back, leaving and pushing your way through the crowd of a few shocked Dregs who had probably heard the part about the fiancée and whom Kaz called to his office as soon as he saw them.

And as soon as he is done with them, Kaz will rip your legs out of your pretty ass. Even Alina and Nina will not be able to help you.

~•♤♤♤•~

The ring worked great. From that night on, you slept like a baby every day. The Darkling's face appeared only occasionally in your nightmares (both bloody ones and… more pleasant ones). But it wasn't REALLY him. Just a messed-up version of your sick imagination.

In the meantime, you trained with Alina and Nina (the woman needed the presence of other Grishas in Brekker's gang; besides, she was an amazing friend, and she also made wonderful waffles); you developed your powers; and you two gossiped with Genya, as she changed your looks every week so that no one would accidentally recognize you (by the way, you learned that David was heading this way to reunite with the love of his life).

You became close to Jes (you had the honor of being trained with HIS PISTOLS) and Inej, whose comforting company was invaluable (as well as the rooftop stealth lessons. Kaz cursed her after the first time you scared him by climbing through his office window and giving you a barrier. Of course you had your mind, and you didn't listen to him. Your unexpected visits to his office only became more frequent.)

So you could say that everything was on its way back to normality.

But it wasn't. Because one fine day, when the crows, Kaz, you, Alina, and Genya were eating breakfast at his club, someone showed up at your door.

Someone you didn't want to see more than the Darkling himself.

"What the fuck is she doing here, if I may culturally ask?" Alina gave you an apologetic look as Baghra walked casually into the crows' kitchen like she belonged here. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kaz taking any sharp metal objects from the table that you might have used to attack the woman.

You and Baghra had a rough relationship. Due to the fact that you and Aleksander were something, the woman did not look at you very favorably. You had no intention of fawning over a woman who wanted to kill her own son, either. Maybe your feelings for the Darkling were... unclear, but you wouldn't wish anyone, not even your worst enemy, a mother who was willing to stand against her own child, to spurn him instead of doing... anything to help him out of his darkness. It was not in line with your moral views. But no one here seemed to care since they invited the mother of Satan to your table.

"It's nice to see you too, Y/N."

"I don't even have enough respect for you to lie to you and admit that seeing you didn't ruin my day. I will ask one last time..." you got up from the table, shielding Kaz and the crows as you summoned your power. "What are you doing here?"

"My son is looking for you all over the world, do you think I won't try to get to you first before he does?"

"Oh, you've already shown how much you care about outdoing Kirigan in reaching us. I'm asking you, what do you want from us?"

"I came here for you. Because of you, child." you stiffened slightly, wondering what else the old woman had to say. But you would die before admitting that Baghra's help would be invaluable to your little band of rebels. Your pride was both your greatest strength and weakness.

"Well, excuse me, but I have more important things to do than listen to some old lady's ravings. I haven't finished my breakfast yet, and I'm far too sober for another conversation about how everyone wants to use me as a weapon."

"Every day I'm less surprised by how you ended up with my son. You two are a perfect match for each other." she snapped, annoyed at your indifferent attitude.

"I'd suggest you get to the point. You were the one who wanted to meet with us. As our moon summoner mentioned, we don't have to listen to you. And trust me, I have absolutely no intention of stopping her when she wants to kick you out of my club." Kaz stood next to you, measuring the woman with a watchful gaze.

You were proud that he believed in your and Alina's powers and wasn't afraid to provoke the shadow summoner in your presence. You cast a fleeting glance at him, watching as Baghra gave him an appraising look.

"Mr. Breaker. It would be better for you and your club if work with the summoners of the sun and moon ended in Ravka. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"I never make ill-considered decisions, and certainly not out of fear." he replied with his poker, business face.

"This is only a trait of the greatest winners or greatest losers."

"You don't have to worry about him. Mr. Brekker is always on the winning team." you answered for him, having had enough of this woman. Unfortunately, it looked like she wouldn't be leaving you so soon.

"Turn that light out, girl, before the Grishas swarm here. I won't hurt your boyfriend and his friends." you frowned as you heard Jes coughing in the background, trying not to laugh. With a wave of your hand, the white light around you vanished. You watched in displeasure as a smirk began to form on Baghra's lips.

"He is/I am not my/her boyfriend." together with Kaz, you both uttered these words as Baghra pushed past you. This caused you to turn to one another and exchange equally awkward, perplexed looks.

"Whatever, just get your lovebird butts over here." she murmured as she unfolded the map on the table and took a few items out of her bag. You snorted at seeing a small wooden statue of Aleksander.

It was going to be a long and tiring morning.

~•♤♤♤•~

"We have to hurry before your boy gets here. Good thing he is walking with the cane, at least it keeps him from sneaking up on us." Baghra growled at you. She'd only been here a week, and she'd already ruled everyone. You were no longer surprised at where Aleksander inherited his incredible self-confidence and arrogance.

"For the love of God, I'm telling you for the last time, KAZ IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND. Besides, if I were you, I wouldn't underestimate him. You could actually learn from him. You'll need a cane soon, too."

"Can you two just stop arguing for once and focus on the task at hand?" the sun summoner lingered, following you to the basement of the Crow Club.

"I'm sorry, Alina, that I'd rather banter with that witch than figure out how to seduce her son, lull his guard down, pluck the antlers of a wonderful steg out of his hand, and break the link between us once and for all."

"Start by undoing a few buttons on your blouse and letting your hair down; that should be enough for him to lose his mind." she advised you, making you and Alina shudder, both equally abashed.

"Seriously?" you asked mockingly, giving her a disgusted look. Nevertheless, you followed the woman's suggestion. "What is the next step? Shall I wear some nice underwear?"

"Not necessarily, but it would be nice to take off that ring. I doubt Aleksander would appreciate that someone other than himself gave you such gaudy jewelry." you snorted, taking off the only thing keeping the Darkling from crossing the walls of your mind.

You bypassed Baghra's outstretched hand and handed the ring to Alina. The older woman snorted indignantly at what you stuck your tongue out at. She didn't expect you to trust her with anything, even something as small as Kaz's ring, right?

"Done. What's next?"

"You need to make a connection. Every time he thinks of you or you think of him, you seek each other out and make a link. Imagine his face, voice, and silhouette; recall some memory associated with him; do anything to have him in front of your eyes. It should work and take you to where he is now. Just like when you two were getting into each other's dreams before Mr. Brekker gave you this ring."

"I did not seek him of my own free will. It just happened." you defended yourself, not wanting anyone to think you were looking for the Darkling like a lost puppy.

"You know him. He will continue to invade your thoughts and your life to convince you of the error of your ways and choices. This ring can work now, but what happens when you two get stronger in the future? It will stop working. You will be condemned to endure his pervasive presence. In the morning, afternoon, nights, and midnights. He won't let you go. Never. You cannot extract the stag from your own body. So you must find a way to block him permanently. Not by some magic ring."

You sighed, realizing she was right. You will be free of him only when any bond between you is gone. The only thing you were afraid of was that it existed between you and the Darkling long before you killed the stag...

Darkness and its light. Moon and shadow. Destined to be together. United at the end of the day.

"And what if I fail and he chokes me, stabs me, or just uses the cut on me?"

"We will observe the energy around you. If we see too many shadows or your light, we'll pull you out."

"All right. Let's get this over with." you sat down, leaning against the wall of the Crow Club basement, praying to all of Inej's mighty saints that your plan would work.

You closed your eyes, remembering the moment before your big performance at the winter fete.

You had to pretend that you didn't know Kaz, and then you had no idea what he was doing here wearing one of the soldiers uniforms. He promised to explain everything to you, but then Aleksander came.

"I'll take her from here." he said to Kaz, letting him know that he was no longer needed.

But he has not left you. Aleksander ignored him, examining your kefta carefully. It was beautiful. Genya decorated it with silver threads and embroidered stars and moons in different phases. However, the fact that probably delighted him the most was its black (but actually dark navy blue) color. But he didn't care about the true color of your kefta as long as it looked black to any other observer.

A clear signal that you were his moon.

"I have something for you." he whispered as he leaned closer to you so that your noses were practically touching. He pulled something shiny out of his sleeve. He held the silver chain up to your eye level so you could see the pendant. Moon with a star. You shifted your gaze from the shiny object to those mesmerizing black eyes staring at you in pure adoration. "I know you're practically festooned with these symbols, but I wanted you to know..." he interrupted, brushing your hair over one shoulder so he could place the necklace over your neck. He planted a quick, tender kiss on your nape as he clicked the silver jewelry. "That you're not just a Saint Y/N, summoner of the moon. You're mine moonlight in the worst darkness of mine. My hope and peace. The only light I let through my shadows."

You grabbed the pendant, noticing your initials carved into the back of the moon.

"It's beautiful." you turned in his arms to whisper in his ear, making him shiver as you kissed his earlobe. "Aleksander..."

~•♤♤♤•~

You opened your eyes.

A dim light illuminated Kirigan's war room.

You did it. Now all you had to do was seduce him. Piece of cake.

You let yourself watch him flick through some papers, wrinkling his nose and occasionally running a hand through his hair. The exact same one with the stag antler still stuck in it. You shook your head, remembering your task. You had to outsmart him. And in such a wise way that it didn't cross his mind that you might have bad intentions towards him.

"Aleksander." you whispered as you stepped out of the shadows. The man either really didn't notice you or he was a brilliant actor, judging by the pure shock that painted his face the moment he turned to meet your gaze. "You seem surprised to see me."

"I am." his mask of indifference and self-confidence quickly fell back into place. "But perhaps I shouldn't be. I should have known you'd prove to be an apt pupil. Not many can learn that trick." he placed the papers on the desk and leaned against it. "But after our last meeting, I had the impression that you didn't want to see me again. What changed your mind to seek me out?"

"I hate to say this, but I realized you were right."

"How so?" he began to watch you with interest, too curious to know what you were going to say to repay you for stabbing him last time. The fact that he didn't pounce on you with his shadows the moment he saw you gave you an odd sense of confidence. Maybe you could have made it.

"I was meant for more. And you were the first person to see me as I truly am. First to help me realize what I'm meant for. First to tech me how to use my power and how to see it as something more incredible than terrifying. First to see, I was more than a scared little girl. That I was powerful Grisha and I can do anything I want." with every word you said and every step you took towards him, you could see his mask crack open, revealing his true emotions. However, there was still a shadow of uncertainty and suspicion in his eyes. You had to remove it if you wanted to win this battle.

"Was I? And what about Alina? Or your helpful friends that take you away from Little Palace?" you hoped you didn't show that his words affected you. You were afraid that somehow he might have discovered a little help from Kaz and his crows.

"They… they don't understand the power growing within me. I thought that Alina might share my feelings, but … it seems to me that we understand our possibilities completely differently when it comes to our powers. And my friends… I think they're more afraid of what I can do than admire it as… as you did."

"That's not their fault. I did try to warn you. Tried to explain that with so much power that flows in our veins, usually comes fear from the side of our loved ones."

"I know. I think I'm starting to finally understand that now." you took one slow step towards him, feeling his watchful gaze on you. "There are no others like us, and they never will be. We are connected by our powers. Alina can live without us, but you and me… you and me are destined to work together and to stand by our sides. There is no darkness without light, but it's the moon that brings it into the night and that lives among the shadows, working with them… Like calls to like, right, Aleksander?"

In his eyes, you could see how much he wanted to believe you, how much he wanted the words you said to be true... but you knew that Aleksander lived too long to believe only empty words. He needed conclusive proof that you were on his side and that you were only his moon. And you had to convince him somehow.

"As I delighted as I am that you found your way to me, what do you want?"

"That thing that binds us. I think you fear it more than you actually care to admit."

"I fear everything there is to fear; it makes me strong. I understand things about power that you've had years yet to learn, moonlight."

"Well, as you said, with a good teacher, I'm a very apt pupil. But I think we both know… that it's not all about power, though, is it?" you walked the distance between you two and stood chest-to-chest with him. "What about the other bond we share? That one I was avoiding for too long." you slowly cup his cheek, making him close his eyes at the touch of your soft skin. You tenderly stroked one of his black scars on his cheek, which made the Black Heretic sighe in relief. "I want you, Aleksander." he opened his eyes, looking at you in disbelief when he tried to seek any sight of lies on your face. "And being in your presence terrifies me as much as making me feel… like I finally belonged somewhere. Like I was made by saints to be next to you. It felt... right in some crazy way."

"Love is for madmen, Y/N. And I've already told you…" you shivered as his cold fingertips touched the hot skin of your neck. His fingers went to the silver necklace—your only sin against your friends. He took the pendant in his hands and kissed it, not taking his eyes off yours. "You're my moonlight. Nothing has changed, and I doubt it ever will... for both of us."

You pulled him by the hair to connect your lips in a long-awaited kiss, too annoyed with how long you had to work him out. (Or too scared that his words are true.) You moaned as he bit your lips, and in one sweeping motion, he scooped you up off the floor and sat you on his desk.

He pulled away from you, dropping his kefta on the floor, and went back to kissing you as if you were the only one that mattered in this world. But the next amplifier's whereabouts map you laid on as he kissed your soul out of you was a glaring reminder that you could never have truly had him.

You would never be his first choice.

"Forgive me for stabbing you, then." you whispered into his mouth as you broke apart for a moment to catch your breath. He pressed into you more fervently than before, caressing your waist tenderly.

"I will have kissed these tempting, sweet lips, even if it means I'll get stabbed by you, every time I do it."

That was good to know, you thought, throwing your arms around his shoulders and slowly pulling out the dagger from your sleeve as he continued to kiss you greedily, like he wanted to sate himself with you while he still had you in his arms.

"Your words, not mine." you murmured, catching his mouth with yours while driving the dagger into his hand. He snarled, breaking away from you and trying in vain to yank the metal out of your hand. You tried to pry the last stag's bone out of him.

But suddenly, just as you were about to do it, you find yourself back in the basement of the Crows Club.

You were breathing fast, frantically looking around the room. Kaz was kneeling a step away from you and watching you worriedly as you tried to calm down.

From the cane that was on your leg and his firm grip on your arm, you figured out pretty quickly why you suddenly came back. You yanked your arm from his hand in your anger, forgetting his phobia of touch and how much of an achievement it was for him to hold your arm.

"What the hell, Brekker?! I had him! I could end this right there! UGH! Why did you let him break our connection?!" you screamed in frustration, looking resentfully at Alina and Baghra.

"You nearly blew yourself out with your power, and they couldn't bring you back."

"I had it under control, Kaz!"

"Oh, really?" he asked mockingly, struggling to his feet with the help of his cane and walking over to you with equal anger painted in his eyes. "Because it didn't look good from my point of view. You could have blown up the whole club..."

"Of course you would only care about your stupid, fucking club! Forgive me, Dirtyhands. Next time I'm going to save the damn world from the Darkling, I'll pick up a place other than one of your fucking bases!" you yelled at him, pushing past a shocked Alina and Baghra.

"Y/N, come back here!" he shouted after you. The distinctive sound of his cane told you he was following you.

"I'm not your fucking property, Brekker! I can go anywhere I want!" you screamed, running as fast and far for him as you could, thanking everyone above that Brekker wasn't able to catch up with you. You needed a moment to yourself. And you only knew one place in all of Ketterdam where you could be truly alone.

~•♤♤♤•~

For a long time, you hated harbour. It was a reminder of your weakness—a reminder of a girl who got kidnapped by slave hunters. Then you met Aleksander and became one of the strongest Grisha. From then harbour was for you to remind you of the birth of Saint Y/N. Moon summoner. It was funny for you to see how easy it is to get on the ship and go anywhere you want. Be anyone you want. But you don't have this choice anymore. Not until your past stops chasing you whenever you close your eyes.

"I knew you'd be here." Kaz's voice below you made you shiver, but you didn't grace him with your gaze. "You'd be too merciful to me by choosing an easily accessible spot, wouldn't you?" he grumbled as he clambered next to you on the crates of goods. He sighed as he managed to climb up. He tossed his cane, catching it spectacularly and resting it against the crate beneath you. He leaned forward, staring out at the harbour with you, when the wind blew his hair, messing up his always perfectly styled hairdo.

"Nobody made you follow me around, Kazzle." you murmured, casting a fleeting glance at him, grinning mischievously at how tired he was of climbing crates. Someone here was in bad shape. Brekker must sit with these plans and papers for too long.

"I did." you turned your head to meet his piercing gaze. "I already told you. I take care of my investments."

"Maybe you're making a mistake."

"I'm never mistaken. I know when and how much to invest in something valuable."

"But what if I'm a lost cause? What if you're wrong this time? Why do you think I'm done with the Darkling? Me and him have so much in common... what if I become like him? Are you not afraid? That one day, in my naiveté, I'd decide Kirigan was worth a second chance and betray you? That one day I'll stop controlling my power and that I'll hurt you? How can you sit here so calmly and..."

"Because I know you better than myself. I may not believe in saints, but I believe in you, Y/N. I will always believe in you."

You swallowed, looking down in embarrassment. You didn't deserve this.

"I get caught up in it sometimes. That I return with memories to the Little Palace. I wonder what I could have done differently to prevent all this. How could I reason with him, what could I do to dissuade him from his plans. How to behave, what to say out loud, and what to keep to yourself. And I'm furious with Baghra that, being his mother, she didn't fight for him to the end; she gave up before we could do ANYTHING for him together. And I curse myself every time I feel guilty, knowing that I left him utterly alone. So tell me, Kaz, knowing now all these doubts growing within me, do you still believe in me?"

The killing silence told you everything you wanted to know.

"Come on. Go right ahead, Kazzie. Call me a fool, an idiot who wants to believe that everyone deserves someone close, someone they can trust. Who stupidly believes in giving people a second chance." you said, afraid to look up to see the revulsion in the eyes of the only person you could always count on.

Kaz said your name, but you ignored him completely, feeling tears slowly welling up in your eyes. Suddenly you felt the cold steel crow's head of his cane under your chin. Brekker forced you to look into his eyes. And you thanked all the saints for the tenderness that was still present in them.

"You know, I don't think that about you. You are a Grisha. The moon summoner. The only beacon of hope in the darkness. I think that in your job description lies faith even in the most deprived, lost, and broken souls."

"I didn't know that poetic side of you, Brekker."

"I've changed since the last time you saw me."

"Really?" you asked, nodding at his gloves and cane. He caught your eye, gripping the crow's head tighter. "Hey. You have every right to do that, Kaz, okay? I was kidding, and I didn't know it was still a sensitive subject. I'm sorry. Apart from that, I can name more. For example, you still have a stick in your ass when it comes to pranks. It was too easy to get on your nerves with Jes." you said, trying to make a joke to lighten the atmosphere.

"Looking now at you, it's better for humanity that you haven't become a saint. Saints, protect some wretch who would have asked you for help." you smiled at him, glad he understood your intentions.

"Now, I feel hurt, Kazzie. Wouldn't you pray to me if they hung my holy image up here somewhere?" you asked, offended, putting your hand over your heart.

He knew he would spend hours, days, and weeks praying to her, only to see her face again and hear the voice of the Saint of his heart...

"No. No saint has ever watched over me. It wouldn't make sense to pray to you either. Especially since I knew you personally before you became a mighty Grisha."

"Well, I'm no saint yet, but since I'm your newest investment, I guess that means I'm supposed to serve you in some way. And since I'm not going to be your errand dog or spy crow, I guess a good compromise would be if I became your bodyguard. Then you can't say that there's no saint watching over you."

"I don't need a guardian angel."

"It's good then that I'm far from being an angel." you stared at each other, the wind blowing your hair, as you enjoyed the understanding between you and the unspoken acknowledgment of your closeness.

Kaz Brekker could not have a weakness. This city would use it against him very quickly. But he felt that perhaps his weakness could be powerful enough to be his greatest asset instead of his darkest burden. Maybe he didn't have to worry about her that much.

"Ketterdam was boring without you. It was also harder to work without your… skills." he said uncertainly, averting his gaze from your piercing, mesmerizing eyes.

"Is that your way to tell me you missed me?" you were teasing him and pushing his cane. He almost fell over when you broke his only support. You almost couldn't prevent yourself from laughing.

"We could have gained much more kruge if you had been here."

"I didn't want to leave." you whispered, involuntarily remembering the day they kidnapped you.

"I know." he leaned towards you, forcing you to look into his eyes. "You don't have to worry about them. I made sure they were six feet deep underground before you even set foot in Ketterdam." your heart warmed at the thought that he was chasing them for you.

He made sure you were 100% safe and comfortable before he brought you back home. Home. You didn't think you'd find him among the crows, thieves, and the Dreg Club. You didn't think you'd feel this way about him—one of the men whose lifestyle was far from normal and safe.

"You're getting soft in your old age, Brekker." you replied with a half smile, holding back unwanted tears. You weren't that weak girl anymore. You were Grisha. And thanks to the man sitting next to you, you were (almost) free. You grabbed his cane, right next to the crow's head, where Kaz's hands were. His gaze flicked to where your hands were so close together. He turned his head to meet your watery eyes. "Thank you, Kaz. For everything. It means a lot to me. Even if it was foolish to break into the Darkling's palace and kidnap us like sacks of potatoes."

"It was the perfect plan! Nobody noticed us." he was indignant, immediately defending his action.

"Yeah, but what I and Alina get hit with every time Jesper and you steer that wooden cart over rocks is ours. You could really choose a path that wasn't made of stones."

"Next time, it's up to you to make a plan to escape the 500-year-old shadow summoner. We'll see how you do." he snorted, offended, but didn't move an inch. Contrary. His hand moved closer to yours, wrapping precariously around yours on his cane.

"Less than a week back in Ketterdam, and you're already letting me into your plans? Aww, I love you too, Kazzie."

He would give all the kruge of this world to hear those words from you for the rest of his life... and it surprised him that he wasn't afraid to admit it to himself at all.

"And I almost forgot how annoying you can be."

"Don't worry. I have all the time in the world to shrink your inflated ego and remind you of that, boss." Kaz held his breath. He stared at you searchingly, trying to find in your face the answer to whatever question he was asking in his head. You unknowingly scooted closer to each other so that your shoulders rested against each other.

You were much closer to each other before. Kaz (on his good days) even felt comfortable hugging you for a while. After years apart, you thought it would take ages for him to get used to your presence again and the brief touch without going underwater with Jordi.

But you were here. Holding hands, leaning against each other, and staring into each other's eyes.

You shivered as you felt his breath against your cheek when he leaned a little closer to you, testing his border.

"You're shining." he whispered softly, hypnotized, afraid to break the silence between you.

"What?"

"Your eyes are shining." his trembling hand took your cheek as you were watching him speechless. Even in your wildest dreams, you wouldn't suppose he would hold you like that. He truly changed. He beat Pekka, and now the King of Ketterdam was fighting with his demons. You were so proud of him and also sad that you weren't with him at the beginning of his road to healing. "And the light is coming out of your skin. You're shining like a star for lost souls."

"You're not lost... not anymore." you whispered, your voice trembling, fully understanding what he had left unsaid.

"I was. But now the moonlight is lighting up Ketterdam's darkness again."

"Kaz... I..." you held your breath, staring at him in anticipation. You didn't know what for. All you knew was that taking your eyes off him for even a second was an unforgivable crime.

Your noses were almost touching, your lips were the closest you've known each other. And Kaz was as calm as if he'd never had a haphephobia. As if the situation with Jordi never happened. You were afraid his waters would finally rise, interrupting your moment, but as soon as your foreheads touched, all the logical thoughts in your head went to hell. It was just you and him.

And you would still enjoy that closeness if the sound of breaking glass and Jesper's curses hadn't driven you apart.

"Here you are! How the hell did you get in there?! Get down! We're leaving in half an hour!" Jesper shouted to you from below and disappeared as quickly as he appeared. You cleared your throat, realized what Jes said after a long moment.

"We are leaving?" you asked, surprised. Bastard didn't say a word about going anywhere.

"Yes. I'll explain everything to you on the ship." he gave you a brush-off as he began his downward journey.

"On the ship? Kaz, what have you planned?!" you shouted angry as you followed him.

~•♤♤♤•~

"This is the dumbest plan ever made, and believe me, I've been to more than one of his idiotic ideas." you said, pointing at the offended Kaz.

Your great friends (and Baghra) have decided to sneak into the Darkling's palace, steal his maps and war plans, and set the Little Palace on fire.

You started to doubt their good sanity... or sobriety.

"Sooner or later, we have to sneak in there. Aleksander has stolen from me all the books and records of our ancestors; he is in possession of immense power, and we can not allow him to make use of it." you clenched your fists, almost ready to pounce on the woman for revealing the Darkling's true name.

"Who is Aleksander?" you ignored Kaz's question, nervously twirling the ring he gave you on your finger.

"Was he able to steal something from YOU? And you let him do it? How surprised I am."

"What are you implying?"

"I implying that we are in some huge coach driven by your men, leaving Ketterdam on your initiative and entering the lion's mouth because you said so. In my place, you'd be suspicious too."

"The odds of me betraying you are as high as the odds that you will."

"And why is that?" you hissed, furious at how easily she got on your nerves.

"Aleksander has a knack for manipulating people. A few sweet words, and even your boyfriend won't be able to count on your devotion anymore."

"Watch your mouth. I'm not her boyfriend." Kaz growled, tensing up next to you, thereby stopping your quarrel. Baghra shrugged, continuing her quiet conversation with Alina. In your mind, you were planning the old lady's slow death until someone's hand grabbed yours in a strong grip.

You turned your head towards Kaz. He stared blankly out the window, completely ignoring your gaze. Instead, he started drawing circles on your palm, trying to calm you down somehow. You turned your head in the opposite direction, smiling to yourself at the tender gesture. Unbeknownst to you, Kaz had the same smirk as yours on his face.

The rest of the trip to the city was uneventful. As planned, Alina and you stayed in Baghra's secret stash while the rest went off to play heroes. Your job was to distract the Darkling, and Alina was supposed to watch over you.

You'd agree to their plan if your role wasn't just to stand by while others risked their lives trying to get the information you all needed.

But you decided not to argue with the others about it this time. After all, they couldn't control you once you got into the palace. You might as well have snooped around, looked for what you needed, and done most of the work for them. Closing your eyes and getting ready to connect with the Darkling, you only hoped that your little disobedience would go unnoticed.

~•♤♤♤•~

You just finished searching Kirigan's study, war room, and bedroom. You were on your way to the last room - the library, when you bumped into the one person you wanted to avoid.

You were paralysed as soon as you saw him walking down the hall. You hoped he wouldn't look in your direction, but the general (alert as always) glanced at you briefly before disappearing from your view. You had the faintest hope that he would think you were a vision, but all of it vanished when you felt a hand gently wrap around your neck and pin you against the wall.

"You either have too much free time or you enjoy haunting me at random times, little moon." you didn't answer, too scared that the moment he touched you, all your power took on a life of its own, merging with his shadows, as it usually does when your skins meet for the first time after a long separation. You were defenceless. Kirigan frowned, watching you with growing interest. "Speechless? Not any irritating responses? Do you fear me, Y/N?" his taunts brought you to your senses, forcing you to calm down immediately. You couldn't wait for Alina to be rescued. You had to fight him yourself.

"That's what you want, isn't it? To have everyone and everything under control, too scared to say or do anything against you."

"Fear is a powerful ally and also loyal."

"Not as loyal and lasting as love, trust, respect." you tried to break free from his grip, but all attempts to remove his hand from your neck proved futile. You were lucky that instead of tightening the grip and cutting off your air, he just wrapped his other arm around your waist, pulling you closer so that your faces were mere millimetres apart. "We could have had it, Aleksander. All of it. All you had to do was set me free and make me your equal."

"You'll come to feel it towards me someday. For now… even though I truly want to, I have no time for you, moonlight. Your friends are waiting for me. But don't get the wrong impression…" he leaned towards you, stroking your cheek tenderly as he whispered in your ear. "I will be back for you, my Y/N. Wherever you are hiding from me."

You shivered as he kissed your temple, making this terrifying promise to you. At some point, his shadows enveloped you completely and sent you back to the room where you and Alina were hiding.

And after one look at the sun summoner, you both knew what you had to do.

~•♤♤♤•~

You couldn't remember the last time you ran so fast in your entire life. It must have been back in your Ketterdam days, doing some little errands for the Dregs.

But this time, you weren't running to save your life. You ran to save Kaz Brekker's ass, who was the only one (not counting Inej, who was already hidden somewhere with Alina, waiting for you in harbour) who didn't return from his mission. As you expected, everything went to hell without you, and if you and Alina hadn't arrived, half of the crows (including Baghra) would have been captured by Aleksander's grishas. You wouldn't feel sorry for the old woman, but Alina insisted on saving her.

Jes, Wylan, Nina and Baghra searched other parts of the Little Palace, trying to burn everything in their path. You could still make it. If only Brekker hadn't gotten lost in the meantime. You knew you should go with him. You've always been a team player, and pairing you with Alina for this mission and leaving you behind was their worst idea.

You promised yourself that the next time you'd strap that risky idiot to your hip.

That's why you breathed a sigh of relief when you saw him at the end of the corridor. But instead of running up to him and yelling at him for his thoughtlessness, you hid in the shadows as he backed away slowly. Someone had to catch him. You caught his eye for a moment, glad he noticed you and started to head your way. Thanks to this, you could assassinate his attacker and try to escape from the palace.

Piece of cake. If he wasn't talking to a fucking Darkling.

"I know you kidnapped my moon summoner. Now you're going to tell me where you stashed her." you cursed internally, feeling yourself start to panic. You guys were officially screwed.

"We didn't take her. She fled on her own." you marvelled at how Kaz could still keep his composure with an angry Darkling a few feet in front of him. Sometimes you forget how mentally strong he was.

"I don't doubt in it… where is she? I won't ask you again."

"I don't know. I don't own her… but it's pretty clear she wasn't interested in being a captive anymore."

Aleksander got even angrier at the little insinuation that Kaz took better care of you, that he didn't treat you like an asset, unlike the general. You cursed Dirtyhands for wanting to mock and taunt the Darkling, even though you could see that he wasn't so confident around him.

"I heard about you. And your crows. It would be a shame if something happened to such a talented group." the Darkling summoned some of his shadows, causing Kaz to back away and reach for the light grenade that you and Wylan had prepared. "It's good for you that you have the decency to show signs of fear."

"I'm afraid of what I must."

"And yet you are not so defenceless." Kaz raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Don't make a fool of yourself, Mr. Brekker. I can feel my moon's power everywhere. Especially when it's imbedded so much into one small object."

You tensed, remembering that you had given Kaz the necklace before he left for the Little Palace. A necklace whose pendant you poured so much moonlight into that no shadows could surround him while wearing it or only holding it.

Defence against the Darkling. Specially prepared for situations like this. However, handing it to him, you hoped the two would never meet, growling at each other like two rabid dogs.

"Y/N must have strong feelings for you to give you some of her power. And you for her. Putting your people and yourself at risk, your profit, your club. In the name of what, Mr. Brekker?"

"If you did thorough research on me, you'd know that all of Ketterdam knows I don't need a reason to do things."

"You'll never fully appreciate what she really is. But that's alright. Because I do." Aleksander let Dirtyhands' insult pass over his ears, trying to annoy him that much, so he let his guard down. You knew very well that method, just like you knew that Kaz wasn't foolish to fall for it.

"You've right. I'll never use her as a weapon or treat her like a saint. That's not what she wants. You may understand her powers, but you have no idea who she really is. What's in her mind. What are her dreams and desires. All you care about is her power, which I don't give a damn if she has or not. You see her only as a moon summoner. Not Y/N. You don't know the woman she was before Grisha's thing. You will never know how amazing and indescribable she was before Ravka. This is part of her that only I was allowed to see. You can't change the fact that I know her better than you."

"You're forgetting one important fact. You are a child, and she is Grisha. Y/N may take years to forgive me… but I can wait. Take away my shadows, and I still have something you don't. Time. Meanwhile, you will grow old. Your hair will grey, but she will remain ageless. Like me. Not mention your little inconvenience. Do you think you'll be able to touch her for more than a few minutes before your body grows old? That you'll be able to give her the life she deserves? We both know that one day, maybe a year from now, maybe fifty, she will realise that she has only one equal. There are no others like us, and there never will be. Even you can't change that, Mr. Brekker." he gave him a hostile look, laughing mockingly as he noticed that Kaz continued to back up with each step the Darkling took towards him until he did not stand in front of your hiding place. "Don't worry. I'm not going to kill you. Time will do it for me." he summoned more of his shadows, wanting to scare him with his power. You three knew very well that with your necklace around his neck, no cut would kill him."You should have stayed in Ketterdam, Mr. Brekker."

At this point, you both decided to step in. Kaz threw his grenade, and you summoned your power, blinding the two of them. You grabbed Kaz's arm, and you both ran (as fast as his leg would allow). You stopped only a few corridors and stairs further, at the crossroads where you were all supposed to meet. Along the way, you avoided several fires that the tidemakers were busy with.

"What are you doing here?!" he growled furiously at you as you finally stopped, only making you more angry at his recklessness and attitude. He attacked and insulted the most powerful grisha. An 18-year-old with a cane and no powers.

"What am I doing here?! You tell me, what are you doing! You made him mad for no reason! You think now that he knows your identities, he'll let you go so easily? He will hunt you as long as he lives, just like me and Alina! Congratulations, Brekker!"

"I knew the risk." he replied angrily, looking around all four corridors.

"No, you didn't. You'd know a flimsy toy like that one, fucking grenade wouldn't be enough for him with all the amplifiers he's got."

"Well, I guess your little gift was strong enough to protect me. Which brings me to the question… why am I the only one blessed with this power from you?" he asked as he walked over to you, standing a few inches in front of you. You were both panting with quick anger, rage, and adrenaline, which was slowly draining from your systems.

"It's not your business, Brekker." you growled into his face and took a step, trying to avoid him, but his firm grip on your elbow stopped you.

You turned to face him, ready to yank your arm out of his grip and scream at him to fuck off, but all thoughts flew out of your head as soon as you looked into his mesmerising eyes, which were looking at you with concern and… love.

"It is my business." he leaned closer to you, just enough for you to feel his warmth and his scent, and far enough away not to touch you any more than he already did. "You... you're my most important business. And if something happens to you, if he catches you again..." he sighed, shaking his head, trying to find the right words as he licked his annoyed lips, unconsciously drawing your gaze to them and making you hold your breath for a moment, wanting something as forbidden and holy as kissing them. "I don't know how to... express my feelings. I don't know if I even understand them well enough. All I know is that I would rather die than see you enslaved and sorrowful... and it pains me to know that I'm too weak to protect you. That I'll always be too weak FOR YOU."

"You are literally everything but weak. In my eyes, you're the strongest person I know, Kaz. One of the very few to whom I would entrust my life in the blink of an eye."

"And yet I'm not enough for Grisha's love."

"How could you not be enough for something you already have?" Kaz's head snapped up as he watched you, befuddled in complete silence. You hesitantly reached for his hand, giving him enough time to pull away. He did not do. "And because I love you, I cannot be selfish with you. I cannot risk your life just because I have loved you since we were stupid teenagers." he squeezed your hand, too overwhelmed by his emotions to say anything. Fortunately, you understood him without any words.

Slowly, as if time had slowed down just for you two, he leaned towards you, resting his forehead against yours. You stood like that for a moment, enjoying the other's presence, forgetting that the palace was burning around you and probably 100 Grishas were chasing you.

"I will have you, Kaz Brekker. But only when it's safe for both of us." you promised him, whispering with your eyes still closed. "And for that to happen, I have to stay here. I have to make sure he doesn't go after you, that he will be distracted by me instead of planning your death.." you were about to extricate yourself from his grip, but the man only pulled you closer to him, not wanting to let you go.

"Please, don't. Stay with me. You're not a saint or a hero. You said it yourself. More than I could count."

"Kaz…" you took the ring off and put it on his little finger. "Keep it for me until I'm back. As a promise that whatever is going to happen next… I will be back for you." testing your luck, you placed a quick, tender kiss on his finger, feeling him tremble under your lips.

Before you got a chance to change your mind, you ran in the opposite direction, following the voice of the fighting Grishas.

You didn't turn around. You didn't steal a second glance at him, even though you knew he was watching you until you were out of sight. You knew the moment you looked into his eyes again, you'd change your mind.

You had to be strong.

For both of you. For your common future.

~•♤♤♤•~

When you regained consciousness, you weren't surprised that your hands had been handcuffed, so you couldn't use your powers. You were surprised to be greeted by the familiar sheets of Aleksander's comfortable bed.

And the Darkling himself was lying right next to you with his face towards you.

His eyes were closed, giving you a good look at the darker shadows under his eyes than before. Without knowing why, they disturbed you more than those lazily hovering around the bed. For a moment, you listened to his measured, calm breathing, which would probably confuse anyone else and give the illusory belief that the man next to you is sleeping. But you knew him much better than to fall for such a simple trick.

"I know how you breathe when you're sleeping, Aleksander."

"Maybe I was trying to fall asleep."

"Wearing a kefta? Doubtful." he opened one eye, staring at you silently. You felt your heart start beating faster from the nerves. You had no idea why you were here. Or at least you didn't want to admit it to yourself, so you decided to play the fool. "Are the dungeons undergoing some kind of refurbishment, or are they so full that you haven't found another place for me?"

He stared at you silently, deep in thought. He took his time to answer, playing with the strands of your hair that had escaped your bun from an earlier fight.

"It didn't seem like the right place for you" he finally whispered, making you even more suspicious.

"And where is my right place? After I stabbed you in the back so many times? In your bed? In your arms? As a weapon for your use? Where do you see me, Aleksander?"

"By my side. I've always seen you by my side." he answered at once, without a trace of hesitation in his voice. His shadow circled the room, caressing you from time to time. You didn't know if he was planning to let your guard down or if he had completely lost his mind.

"I don't understand. You should be mad at me. Why don't you hate me? Why are you still looking at me like... like you really have feelings for me? This is another one of your games, right? You want me to go completely crazy this time, don't you?"

"No, my little saint moon." he whispered, undaunted by your anger, gently cupping your chin so you had to look him in the eye. "All I ever wanted was someone equal to me. Why should I get mad at you when all you're doing is trying to find your way to me?"

"I don't…"

"Then why did you let them catch you? Don't try to lie to me, Y/N. I was there. I saw with my own eyes how you backed away from running away at the last moment. Why?"

"You know why." you whispered in a shaky voice. You closed your eyes, trying to protect yourself from the Black Heretic's penetrating gaze and show him the tears beginning to form in your eyes. "I have a million reasons why I should give you up, why I should hate you more than anyone else, but the truth is… my heart wants what it wants. And I don't think I can resist this anymore." you couldn't control your tears, but from the tender touch of his hand as he wiped them from your cheek and the clank of the handcuffs opening, you figured they were necessary for him to believe you.

"You have no idea how long…"

"No." you cut him off before he could say anything more." I have one question for you. Answer it right, and I'll forget about the last few months. Answer it right, and I promise you that you will never have to be alone again, that I'll always be by your side, along with your shadows and everything else that you truly are. That I will accept my destiny as being your moon. I won't let anyone scare me away from you ever again. I just… I need you to be completely honest with me. This one time." you cursed yourself at how weak your voice sounded when he grabbed your hand, kissing tenderly the places where the handcuffs were marked. "You don't have to tell me your whole plan; I just want to know… are all of these lies, battles, wars, deaths… just to keep the Grishas safe? You have no other intention behind this than to give our people home, where they don't have to be afraid of people who hate us and our powers?"

"I swear to you, my little moonstone, there is no other reason. I'm not a maniac drunk on power, as everybody tells you. I just want our people to be safe; I want to give them a world where we can explore the abilities of our power without fear of getting killed for being extraordinary. I can only do this with you by my side. As my equal. As a person who thinks like me and can keep up with my plans. As my partner. As the only one I can trust."

"Good." you nodded, cupping his cheek as you pulled him closer to you, so your lips caught each other again.

And maybe it was naive to think he bought your story about being completely devoted to him; maybe it was just another one of his games; maybe this time he really believed your words. Or maybe he was tired of pretending you didn't feel that strange attraction every time you were together.

You did not know. And you didn't want to know.

You gave into that burning desire every time you were near him, explaining to yourself that you had to earn his trust.

But there was much more to this one kiss than just lust.

It was a promise to you.

You will break his heart and make him hate you. You will drive him mad, drive him away, and then he will cast you out. Aleksander will come to think of you not as his lover but as his greatest enemy. Alina, Baghra and you gonna end the circle of unnecessary deaths.

And then you will finally be free...

Or at least... you will kill you both while trying to hate him as you should from the beginning.

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adora-but-ginger · 28 days

Text

Psych you out in the end

Word Count: ~400

Synopsis: The BAU is known for its impulse. According to Gideon, that meant hiring you.

Pairing: Eventual Spencer Reid x gender neutral! reader

Warnings: s2 setting for this one, which means, and say it all together now, glasses reid is here!

masterlist

next addition to the collection

A/N: AAAAAND I'M BACK BABEYYYY. Sorry for the delay in writing (it's been months whoopsie). Had to quickly finish getting a degree--but I'm back! This is the start to a series of stories that can be read as stand alones, but also altogether. This is simply just a quick intro, but I am SO excited for this. Think of this as an adaptation of the show psych into the BAU except the reader is an actual medium.

"Gideon, you're pulling our leg right now." Morgan was flabbergasted to say the least at what his boss just announced to the room full of agents (and a doctor).

"I most certainly am not. Believe what you'd like, but the matter of the fact is that they're good at their job and based on their prior experience they will make a beneficial addition to the team. The BAU is full of exceptions, and they will be no different." They were all thinking the same thing--what was Gideon on?

"There's no way the FBI would hire a 'psychic'". Spencer put air quotes around the word. After all, he was a man of science.

"I actually prefer the term medium, thank you very much, Dr. Reid." You figured this was the right time to come into the office. You knew going into this that there would be a lot of push back and when word got out about Gideon's decision to hire you for what you really were, people were going to talk. Technically, you were hired under the title of 'professional profiler with a concentration of psychological tells,' but that was just a fancy title. It wasn't like you were a money grab, you truly were good at what you did. You were in a similar position as one Penelope Garcia Gideon told you, in the manner that you were on the FBI's radar. You knew too much in some people's eyes, so you were either offered cell time or this job. You took the latter.

You made it your business to know what you were walking into. Derek Morgan had the muscles, Emily Prentiss made your heart skip a beat, JJ was the communication liaison, Aaron Hotchner was the second in command, Penelope Garcia was the tech master, and Dr. Spencer Reid was the genius.

"You know, the term medium actually emerged in the late 19th century when--" the doctor started to ramble, but was soon cut off by another team member. Hotchner.

"Reid?" A look his way made silence ensue. "This was a very...impulsive design we made, don't give us reason to regret it. Okay agent?"

"It's actually doctor, sir. I have a PhD in Psychology."

He nodded towards you, face showing no emotion. "Doctor it is. JJ?"

You took a careful seat next to the Reid, who in response pushed his glasses slightly up his nose with a side glance towards you before tuning into the case description.

This was going to be something, that's for sure.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #bau #criminal minds x reader #gender neutral reader

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tan1shere · 3 months

Text

Treat

Young Miko X female reader !

A/n: just a lil something for you all <3

Summary: Miko had been working in the studio all day and she comes home to food, drinks and nakedness ;)

Warnings: smut ! Mdni. Fingering, pet names, swearing- pretty sure that's about it !

Masterlist

There was no denying that you were excited for Miko to come home. She had been in the studio all day and you missed her tons. She had been working so hard lately and you were incredibly proud of her for that, so. You being the kind and generous soul you are, you decided to make her a lovely meal. It was and will be late by the time she gets home, the darkness of outside cascading into your small home. Having nothing but a candle lit. So far this was going quite romantic, but you had a bigger surprise for her. You had cooked her favorite meal, setting it on the table and preparing everything else, some drinks for the two of you also. When you see her car pull up, you scurry up to your guys bedroom, beginning to strip. You had contemplated whether you should be fully naked or have some cute lingerie on. But you knew once she would see you. She'd want you right away, and you didn't want to keep that from her as she deserves it and nothing less. "Honey I'm home." She says in a slight joking way, quoting that one line. Her steps come to a halt once she sees the table all set. "Baby?" You don't respond wanting her to come up to find you in all your naked glory.

She begins to make her way up to your shared bedroom, instantly stopping in her tracks when she spots you, her eyes widen as she stares at you, speechless. "Whats- what's all this for?" Her mouth hung open a tad. "Thought you deserved a treat. You've been working so hard." You begin going towards her, slowly but surely. "So I made food." "I saw." You inch closer. "And decided to do this alongside." She bites her lip, looking down at your figure, now being close to her. "We haven't even eaten yet." She breathes out. "Thought you may want something a little sweeter beforehand." You now bite your lip, making her lick hers. "That's incredibly tempting." That makes you grin. "Well then, come get me." You keep that grin on, turning around and crawling back onto the bed. She was obsessed with you, there was no doubt about it. "Can't believe all this is for me." Moving over to lean against your body, you look at her lips. "Mhmmm, you're so special." She smiles. "And you're so hot."

You lean in connecting your lips against hers, it felt heavenly, seeing as you haven't been by her since earlier this morning. The kiss slowly heated up, making you loose your breath, but in fairness. Did you care? No. She moves her hands to your hips, knowing she could touch absolutely anywhere right now, but she takes it slow, wanting to savor this moment. You knew that wouldn't last long as you felt the current nakeout sesh intensify. "I missed you all day. Was thinking about you." You let out a hum against her lips. "I missed you too." She smirks. "Yeah?" Making you reply with a breathy 'mmm' her kisses move to your neck, grazing the skin while beginning the sucking assault. You let out a small breath, it slowly turning into a moan as she sucks harder. Her soft hand makes contact with your thigh making you softly gasp. The kisses move down lower, moving to your newly hardened nipples, sucking almost instantly. You once again let out a moan, a bit louder than the last.

"Please.." Your breath is uneven, getting needy for more of her. More of her touch. She lets out a low hum, continuing to suck around the bud. The hand that was once on your thigh, moves painfully slow, close to where you needed it most. She hovers it over there, as if she awaited something else. "Baby." You whine slightly, making her brain go all fuzzy at the lovely noise. This makes her waste no time, touching your sopping folds. Resulting in your mouth opening, letting out the occasional moan as she moves her fingers against you. "You're so wet already. Have barely touched you." She speaks against the flesh of your boob. You could hardly think straight at all now, closing your eyes and focusing on her fingers. "F-fuck. Faster.." her moves do infact speed up against your clit, when she suddenly moves them to your entrance. Giving you no warning, slipping them in and working away at your core. "You make such pretty sounds mama." Your eyes roll all the way back as she fingers you, deep. You couldn't get enough you wanted to be closer to her.

"Mm- I need you." You say. Honestly you didn't know what you needed, but Miko somehow does. "Want you to cum before we move onto the next thing ok?" She was all about your pleasure first which turned you on to the max. Her words, her movements. "I- I'm gunna cum!" You breathe out, feeling the liquid go onto her fingers. Your breath is rapid, slowly but eventually coming down from your high. She removes her fingers, without any thought into putting them in her mouth. "Best meal, ever." You felt like you were dreaming. "N-need." You try to get out, going to tug on her pants. She got the hint going to take them both off, along with her shirt. You run your hands over her stomach, tits. Going to kiss her again as she lines up with your pussy. You were too distracted by the kiss, that when you felt her hot cunt on yours, you let out a breathy moan into her mouth. Falling into the mattress as you couldn't hold your weight up.

Your back arches off the bed, begging to feel it all. Desperate for it. It was genuinely messy but so delicious. "I needed this all day." She rasps. Enjoying every bit of it. You reply with a moan, keeping your eyes shut. "Baby, eyes on me. Please." And how could you ever deny that. You immediately open your eyes to look at her, but it was a struggle, wanting to relax into the feeling more. Your eyes were droopy, hooded. "Mmm fuck." You eventually manag to get out. Keeping your mouth agape. She watches you so closely, your lips, tits, noises. Everything. "Look at me mami." This just makes you arch your back more as she keeps the same pace she's been going at. "Wanna watch you as you cum." She continues out of breath. "I- I'm so close." She nods. "I know. Me too angel." As you could feel it approaching you feel her hand grab one of your breasts, squeezing and pinching. That sends you overboard, cumming right against her with a small scream of her name, she follows not long after. Let's just say, that food downstairs were going to become leftovers.

#young miko x reader #young miko smut #young miko

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nexusnyx · 1 year

Text

to my sweetheart

40s!bucky barnes x f!reader [8.2k] summary: The promise of a weekend home hangs over Bucky's head like the sun used to shine on sweet summer days, illuminating everything in life. It's all planned out in his head: the place he'll take you to, the things he wants to talk about, the hundreds of ways he needs to touch you. It's all planned. A taste of how it'll be when the storm passes—he's ready for it. 📝 this was based on this post. if you like it, reblogs and comments make all the difference. i hope you enjoy this sweetheart saturday, 'cause this will be the sweetest one. 🏷️ established relationship, letters, angst, longing, love delcarations, Steve x Reader (platonic) ⚠️Smut. Minors, DNI. Unprotected sex, body worship, slow fuck.

masterlist | series masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤJuly, 1943.

My sweetheart,

You're a menace even from far away. How can that be? If I hadn't met you exactly like this, I'd dare say I'm surprised. But I'm not. Little minx. Do you know the lengths of what I had to do to finish your last letter? The effects you have on me, even from far away?

I bet you do. Good god, I can bet you're fuckin' smiling, right now. Sittin' there all pretty with your knees pulled high, so giddy and proud of yourself for what you've done to me. Well—let it be known that this here... this is payback.

First things first, thank you for the pictures.

You're more than I could ever ask for, every single time. One of them is safely tucked inside my uniform. I placed the other one inside my pocket watch. Morita's already laughed under his breath as if I can't fuckin' hear him sayin "you don't let a single hour pass by, huh, Sarge?", so you should be happy to know that, as well. My guys are giggling because of me. Because I'm whipped for you.

Second of all... thank you.

From the bottom of my heart which belongs to you entirely, I'm thankful for you. Knowing Ma has a friend in someone soothes my soul. I got a letter from her a few days ago—she's mad at me for dating you "for almost half of an entire year, James Buchanan. almost half a year and you didn't think to bring her here yourself! You'll count yourself lucky if you go back to the base camp with your ears still intact because when I see you..." and this is a direct quote, by the way. I have her letter right next to me—Ma's mad, and I'm glad that she is. It means she loved ya. As I knew she would.

What did you two talk about? Ma said you played with the girls, too. I think I dreamt of that scene. Did she show you my embarrassing baby pictures? I bet she did. My favorite one is the one that Stevie's got paint all over him; I love that one.

Now... as for the rest of your letter.

What should I do to you, hm?

You can't just tell me these things, you lil' witch. Can't just talk about the things you wished I was doing to you, 'cause I'm not there to do them, and it makes my chest tight, my heart beating faster.

I went to the showers at 2 something a.m. to finish that letter, 'cause I felt your words like caresses all over my skin. Here's a new acronym I learned from Gabe: V E N I C E. Wanna know what it means? I'll tell ya.

It means I think about it, too. Not often, unfortunately, not because I don't want to, but because in here I have very few moments to think about good things, but when I do, that's where my mind goes to—in the sweet minutes I have all to myself, my mind runs back to your presence like a puppy, wiggling its tail with its tongue out, so happy and so excited beyond words because of one single person.

My mind rushes to you, to memories of us, to moments we shared. Most of all, it seems to zoom in on the seconds where we were the closest. I save those memories for the stars, for when no one else's around, for when I can let my brain dive and swim in them.

You said that for you, what comes back when you're alone in the dark is the ghost of my hands.

For me, it's the fathom of your lips.

The way you kissed put a spell on me. Right now, as I write this, I'm sitting alone in a corner of the common showers with my neck sweating just a little bit and my heart beating in my throat, all because of that: the thought of your lips, so present and so sweet, making me ache all over. Should I be concerned, lil' witch? With the way you have control over my body even from far away? As if I were a puppet with strings only you can see, I'm aching for you and you're not even here. I'm hard, painfully so, because your picture and the distant echo of your giggles in my ear are enough to put me in a trance... the way you whisper my name when my hands are searching in menace ways the best path to get under your clothes and imprinted all over your skin... It's so difficult to write like this, sweetheart. Very Excited, Now I Caress Everywhere... d'you get it now? D'you see it?

I'm not there, but I can see you reading this. I can see your thighs clamping together in a pitiful attempt to not think about how I loved to tease the path to my favorite place, with my hands, my lips, my tongue. I'm gonna dream about it tonight, I can already see it. Gonna dream about your little whines, and how excited you got, while always being so good. Never asked for more. Never pushed for faster. Just took whatever I had to offer you, and asked in the sweetest way possible for what you wanted. "Jay." I miss that. The way you call me Jay when it's just us. No one's ever called me that before, and no one ever will again.

So do it, lil' witch. Touch yourself all you want when thinking about me. You had to ask for permission, didn't ya? (It's a rhetorical question. You never have to ask. I told ya long ago that from me, you can take and take without ever asking first, and yet you did, anyway.) I'm the luckiest bastard in this godforsaken and twisted world, all because of you.

I'll be there on the last weekend of this month, only for two days, but it'll be enough.

Just a taste of what'll come for us when all of this is over. A taste of you — that I miss so goddamn fuckin' much, Jesus Christ, sweetheart — and hours and hours of making you smile until it's imprinted in the walls of my brain, secured safe and sound in the labyrinth of my mind.

Wait for me, but never sadly. Keep up your studies, and focus on them just as I focus on work here whenever I have to. Talk to your friends, stay clear of those damn radios that only make you anxious and get you to bite your pretty nails, take Steve out for walks and keep that neighborhood in check, the two of you. I'll be back. I'll always come back to you.

With love in my heart (and because of your menace ways, my hand in my pants), I say goodbye for now,

V.E.N.I.C.E;

always yours, J.B.B.

In a month and a half, Bucky has written and read more than in the past decade, at least.

You'd scold him for admitting such a thing so easily, but it was true.

There are a few letters exchanged by now—the U.S. Postal is doing their best, but can only do so much—but they're enough on their own. More than two, sometimes 3 pages long, filled with more post scrimptums than anyone else rather than you two would care to read and it's probably acceptable, and always signed with a lot of love.

It's a whole new world created between the two of you where childhood memories are shared, secret fears that neither Bucky nor you ever imagined talking about are laid on the table, and all of that written between paragraphs of gossip stories from home or the military base, and dirty dreams and wishes.

A mess. An entire conversation—one with topics that go back and forth since the first letter and short pieces of dialogue you two shared with important people; it's the best conversation he's ever had.

The longest. Deepest.

ㅤㅤㅤ"I love talking to you, Jay. If before I thought we were two peas in a pod, now I'm certified of it the same way I'm certain the Sun rises in the East to set in West. Can you see the same thing I do? Sometimes, it feels as if we're sittin' on our porch, on our living room armchairs, laughing to one another about the sweet memories or silly theories that only we find amusement in."

Through you, Bucky hears things his Ma is saying. Gets news from his two younger sisters, as well as realistic check-ups on Steve.

In one of your letters, you said, "you know, I'm starting to feel calluses. I dreamt of writing dark children's books for so long, and I think this is my punishment, in some sort of way. How in the hell am I having an argument with Steve and you through here? You two are wrong. We talked about this before and I'll say it as many times as needed: this whole 'trip to the future' thing is hiding something bigger, and it's cute that you two think that geniuses and billionaires are just giving us all of their biggest developments. Truly adorable," and it had sparked the favorite topic in his unit: the existence of aliens, or not.

You're there without being there.

Most of them don't even know about you, of course. Bucky's private, and likes to be that way.

Morita, Gabriel, and Dum Dum are exceptions—those tree men proved to be the exact type of company a fella needs when facing an untamed and suffocating darkness.

They teased Bucky about his alone 'poet' time. When the time in July finally came for the soldiers to be dismissed for a weekend home before being shipped to London, Morita bid him goodbye with, "and see if you do something else other than writing back home, eh, Sarge?"

Bucky would.

He barely gets any sleep, waiting for the time when he'll be sharing your presence and counting each minute of it, placing them in the same precious box he kept your words.

With his eyes closed, the smile sets in stone on his face.

To any onlookers that pass him by, Sgt. James Barnes looks at peace.

Everything around him feels sharp and colorful.

Bucky almost feels surreal—his energy is humming underneath his skin, scorching as hot as the star that starts to rise.

He breathes in deeply as he steps out of the train, welcoming the smell of home.

Brooklyn is a hive of noise, so loud and different than anything he'd been used to these past weeks, and he strides in confidence towards his destinies.

For each of his people, Bucky told a story, but all for a good reason:

First, he has to visit his family. If he had told Steve about the time his train arrived, he'd be there without any regard for his sleep and comfort, and Bucky loved him too much to pull him out of bed before the sky had even lost its dark blue tones.

So first, he goes to the Barnes household.

Bringing bread, he steps inside his home almost feeling like the first rays of sunshine itself. Bucky's welcomed by the oldest feeling of attached to being safe and sound when Winnifred's arms wrap around him and she lets out a choked gasp at his name.

"James," is the first name he hears.

He's James during breakfast while he updates his mother to the best of his abilities, and fights the persistent sting in his eyes whenever the light illuminates her dark hairs, shining evidence in her new silver strands. He's James — but in a scolding tone — when his mother hears that he omitted from Steve his arrival time, and he's oh, James when his plans for later tonight are laid on the table in a soft, almost shy-spoken tone.

"I really like her, you know?" his mother tells him.

She's leaning against the sink with her ruby red robe, the soft slippers he bought for her as a present, and her hair held up in a bun. Bucky smiles at the approval, ignoring the heat in his cheeks that blossom at his mother's all-knowing gaze and the glint in her blue eyes. "I'm glad to hear that, ma."

Winnie does no effort to hide how pleased she is, and he has to admit that the teasing face he catches in reflections sometimes came from one person, and it wasn't his father. "Will I get to spend some time together with the two of you, at least?"

According to Bucky's plans, very little, because the time was as counted as their paychecks. "Well—today I'm gonna have lunch with Steve, then the three of us will meet up."

"Right."

"We'll probably hang around Stevie and I's apartment. Then we'll get ready to go to the Stark exhibition."

Winnie's are you serious look reminds Bucky that she never saw the three of you all hanging around together. "Really, James?"

"What?"

"You're gonna bring that poor, sweet boy to chaperone and be a third wheel at your date? Son," the title is another scolding and meant to serve as a tug in his ear.

He can't help it—Bucky laughs. "Mom," he teases right back. "That 'poor sweet boy' will be just fine." He snorted—there was nothing poor nor sweet about Steve. "The three of us are friends."

"And I'm not doubting that for a second. I'm just sayin'. Does he need to be there on the date? Does he even want to?"

"They already argued about this and the final conclusion was, apparently, that yes, he does." Bucky had to bite his lip at those bits in your last letter—even through ink and paper, he could see you and Steve as clear as daylight. "Steve and her are really good friends, Ma. She knows how much I miss him, and she claims that he's been even more annoyin' about stuff, mumbling shit—sorry, mumbling stuff about 'Bucky this' and 'Bucky that', so she ain't havin' it. Plus, it's not like the two of us can't behave. We never made Stevie feel left out."

His mother chuckled. "For some reason I find it hard to believe that you two are not the grossest thing together."

"What?!" his laughter intensifies. "You never saw us together."

"And whose fault is that, hm? Hm?" Winnie's look pierces through him as the last drops of her coffee seep to the cup, and she grabs her cup like a ninja, with eyes still glued on him and her head shaking, no need for a single glance to where her hands are going. His mother sips, and Bucky's laughter subsidies to a smile. "Well, I'm glad you she's generous enough to share ya." Her whole face softens. "Bubba's right. Steve's been missing ya a lot."

Bubba. Bucky forgets how to breathe for a single second. "Bubba?"

The name that his mother calls the girls—Bubs, Bubba, baby.

Winnie smiles behind the cup, and he's not sure if her happiness is directed at him because of how he looks, or at the whole situation. "Yes, James. The woman who's been comin' to my house for two months now, havin' almost daily cups of tea with me to talk about life and the perils of life is, to your surprise and delight, my Bubba. Are you really surprised?" Her next chuckle is as sweet as her coffee must be. "I like her. I told ya already."

"I can see that."

His mother moves to sit in the chair in front of him. "And you haven't answered my question yet, young man." She crosses her legs and offers her coffee for him to sip, which he does. Gods, this woman is a bee. He returns it with a grimace.

"Right, as I was sayin', today we're going to the Stark fair, the three of us. Eat a hot dog, be annoyin' at the square, drink a couple of beers. Then tomorrow, uh—"

"You two love birds will be together all day, yes, I can imagine."

He's thankful his mother saves him from saying the embarrassing bits, at least. "I have to go back on Monday."

"What time?"

"Thirteen hundred train."

"So there's time for breakfast?"

His smile returns. "Yeah, Ma. There's time for breakfast together."

Across the table, his smile seems to be reflected back at him. It looks a little older, with more crinkles around the corners and kissing the side of the eyes, but the same smile nonetheless. "Now I'm happy." She sips the coffee, humming in pleasure. "And what's so interesting at this fair?"

"Was that Bucky's voice?! Ma! Is Bucky here?!"

Ah, that screeching tone.

The second name he hears—Bucky.

Screamed at the top of her lungs by Rebecca, and later by a still sleepy Dorca, Bucky's greets with open arms his young rascals and spins them in the air, so lucky to have their laughter be the only sound he hears once again.

He does his best that whole morning to imprint every second spent with them like a tattoo in the malleable muscle of his brain. He wants Rebecca's slightly nasal and bossy tone to be of easy access when he's far away. He wants to not forget how long Dorca's hair is getting, or how much his mother still has control of this entire house at the tip of her fingers as if she's a powerful spider whose webs are invisible, but stronger than the eyes behold.

Before he leaves, he takes them for ice cream. Bucky asks all sorts of questions, trying to squeeze as much as he can in only a few hours, knowing that no amount of time feels enough nowadays.

Later, there's Buck.

"Hey, Buck."

It's a second homecoming.

This one, it tastes like a little bit of everything. "Hey, Stevie." The tiny frame that fits in his embrace as if it were a puzzle piece, it smells like childhood and teenage years all mushed together. "Glad to see you're in one piece."

It's a jab to the fact that his best friend and soulmate was about to get into a fight just seconds before Bucky finds him, and it was met with an ocean-cold stare. Blue meets blue, and Bucky can only laugh.

"Oh, shut up," Steve rolls his eyes. "I hate that I let them go—fucking bastards."

"Hey, hey; you can't fight 'em—"

"Can't fight 'em all, I know, punk, I know." Steve sighs, but when he looks at Bucky again, his gaze softens. Something clicks, and Steve seems to come back to himself. "You sound like Father Chase," his snorted laugh means it's Bucky's time to scoff.

"Maybe because he had a point?"

"Always did. Doesn't change the facts."

"And what are the facts?"

"The facts, Buck, are that you're a softie," before he can come up with an answer, Bucky's frame is pushed back by the force of it—Steve doesn't go for it, he lunges for another hug, body crashing against Bucky's. "'m glad you're back."

The facts must be true, if only when it came to Steve, at least. "Punk," he mutters against soft blond strands. Bucky hugs back just as hard, and they let go at the exact same time.

A single look is shared, and then they nod.

Secret conversations aren't only spilled in acronyms.

I'm glad to be back, his nod says.

While Steve's says, Now we're alright.

They were. For now, everything was alright.

"You get your orders?" Steve starts walking in the direction that Bucky's heart was tugging in—the direction of your apartment.

He follows, putting one arm around Steve's shoulders. "Sure did. The 107th. Sgt. James Barnes, shipping out on Monday for England."

"Sargeant, huh?"

Under Steve's appraising eyes, Bucky's always felt a little bit analyzed. "Yeah." No inch of him went unnoticed. "I'll do my best to take care of all of them." An artist's eye on you could be an unnerving thing.

It soothed when he smiled. "Of course you will, Buck." Often, Bucky wondered if Steve had any idea of how much power his opinion yielded. "You always do your best." A smile of his alone, and Bucky felt more approved than any superior's highest praise. "I—" he hut himself short, but Bucky knew what he swallowed down. I just wish I could help. "I'm happy for ya."

Always so good, "thank you, Steve." Not a day would go by when Bucky would let it pass the opportunity to thank god for gifting him with Steven Gran Rogers. "Now—" he looked up, seeing your building approach. "You sure she has no idea I'm here?"

Another roll of eyes—Steve could one day get cursed with the sight of his brain forever. "I'm starting to think you're spending too much time with your comrades. You forgot already who's had your six since forever?"

"Awn, Stevie—don't be jealous of my smelly, grumpy men. You'll always be my number one."

"You're ridiculous. Of course she doesn't know. Lady thinks you'll be here on the 4pm train, just like we talked about. She's probably still sleepin' 'cause of her late-night shift."

"Another one?!"

A scoff. "You try to tell Lady what to do and see how it goes. I already know my place of speakin', and it ain't that one."

"God, how on earth did I end up with the two more stubborn people to ever walk this goddamn planet? No, really—"

"Oh, because you're a beacon of flexibility."

"—you two are made from a single mold, and whoever used it on you first, and then her, saw their mistake two heartbeats too late, then broke the damn mold 'cause they knew if they made more, it'd mean world domination."

There's a single second of pause, and then Bucky turns to the amused gaze staring at him. Steve with a hand on his hip and a smirk on his face will always look the same. "You've gotten more dramatic. That's a fuckin' wonder." He turns around laughing to himself and shaking his head. "Go say 'morning' to her. I'm gonna go get tomato sauce, we ran out of it yesterday."

The implication that Steve's been hanging around more registers in all the happy places of Bucky's brain, but everything's washed away by the flood that it's the sight of it—

your window.

Bucky's entire world does the thing: it tunnels.

The same rounded, small rocks that he used on the first date still litter Mrs. Simyl's vase. He picks one, weights it in his hand, and with a heart-thumping loud in his chest, he throws it to your window.

A peck.

KNOCK

Bucky waits: one, two, three heartbeats.

He swallows the lump that rises in his throat.

The sun already rose, but it comes up again.

At least, for him.

When your head pops out in the window, Bucky swears it does.

Like a sniper's barrel, your eyes know exactly where it goes on instinct. They find him underneath your window pulled by the gravity that—with a quick check on his hummingbird of a heart, it's confirmed—still there.

North, meet South.

"Jay?"

"Hi, sweetheart."

Your face disappears, taking everything with you. The light, the warmth, the strenght in the gravitational hold of your beautiful eyes and gaze—as soon as they disappear, Bucky's spell is broken, and his feet gain life.

He knows you're rushing to your door the same way he rushes up the stairs.

He's glad the uniform stayed in his suitcase, safely tucked in his and Steve's apartment. He'd sweat from all the heat he's emmanating, and probably drench you in an ocean before he could get a single kiss.

Bucky's pulled by his North, and when he sees the familiar sight of your door, it's already swinging open.

"Oh, god." There's a breach in time. A break in the fabric of space. One moment, he's a few steps away from you, and the next thing he sees and knows, he has an arm full of you.

"Bucky."

That's him. James, Bucky, Buck, Jay. From all of his names, now's the only time when all of his cells feel slotted into place. Bucky's heard every one of his names, all the ones that matter, and now he is whole.

His voice evades him.

Inside his arms, he's aware that you're shaking, even if the notion takes a moment to register—as it should. He's shaking, too; vibrating, is more like it, because he's here, and now that he can breathe, his body seems incapable of doing so.

He inhales deeply, even if it's all trembling.

Your smell is different from any other. Bucky would recognize in a crowd of millions. He'd find it blindfolded, he was certain of it.

If they made him forget his name, Bucky would be Nobody, but even as Nobody, he would know that this is the scent of his person.

Citrine. Mint leaves. With a deeper inhale, he catches the underlying tone—vanilla. The purest and sweetest form, used in the lotion you put all over your body after showering sometimes, mixed with the unique and personal scent of just you. Vanilla has a taste on you. It's sweet, but not sticky.

It's summer.

Bucky is in love.

When the pull that holds you together seems to loosen its threads, you and Bucky pull back at the same time.

Not too far—neither one is able to go further than millimeters for now, and in the back of his mind, he's thankful that Steve gave the two of you the time you needed.

Just like he and Steve clung to each other like a lifeline for embarrassing minutes that neither one chose to talk about, you two are roped together, and going too far is impossible for now.

The only space is a breath of air separating your heads.

Bucky pulls an arm up, crowding your head inside his forearm. His palm spreads on the top of your head, holding you there.

His eyes find yours, swimming and spilling over.

Your lips tremble when you speak. "You told me you were getting here later," he feels your hand making fists out of his white shirt, resting on the curve of his lower back. After a sniffle, you add, "'m gonna kill you and Blondie," and then, you nuzzle your nose on his.

He laughs. Bucky truly is home. "He was just followin' my orders, lil' witch. No killing, please."

"You two planned behind my back," you go on, sounding small and choked still. His crybaby that never cried before.

Bucky's arm cage around your head got a little tighter, and his arm around your waist pulled you impossibly closer. "Don't cry," he pleaded in a whisper. "It was to surprise ya."

He thinks you're beautiful even with wet, rosy cheeks. "I'm surprised," your laugh came out choked, and you sniffled again. Bucky accepted the tears despite how much his hand itched to wipe them away, and clean your cheeks. Lower, and softer, so much softer than he was used to hearing any voice, you say, "You're actually here..."

The awe in your voice is a sentiment he can understand. "I am."

"I'm not dreaming."

His forehead stays touching yours as he shakes his head, and while it's an uncomfortable angle, but he likes it for now. "No. Seems neither am I." It's the closeness his heart aches for, and achieving it soothes the wrinkles in his soul.

You, on the other hand, seem to need a better angle—your head pulls back against his head, gaining a couple more inches of distance, and his body moves along with yours.

When you're far enough to look at his whole face, Bucky's breath is sucked out of his body.

He's here.

"I missed you, Jay."

And so are you.

Bucky smiles and dives.

Your eyes are closed, lips waiting for his.

If angels sing, this is it. Angels, a choir, or maybe just the white noise of his head subduing, opening up space for this—your lips on his are a single drop falling in a pond, creating ripples until the surface is a still mirror.

Neither one of you moves too much. There isn't back and forth, or any deepening of the kiss. On the contrary.

It is what it is.

A sweet sound of hello. A press of lips, two pieces meeting together, fitting in as one.

When the air he stored runs out and Bucky gasps in your lips, he hears your pleased hum.

You smile, breathing in through your nose. "'m so happy," you inform him.

Bucky laughs. He breathes out, and kisses you again, but messier this time. Rougher. He wants to taste your tongue, wants your oxygen in his veins. He nibbles, bites, sucks on your lips; Bucky finally gets his tongue intertwining with yours, walks you back inside your place, and closes the door with his foot even if somewhere in the back of his mind, he's aware that Steve will come passing by any minute now.

The kiss is enough for now.

A single taste—a sip of a galleon he'll drink whole later tonight, bathe himself, drown in; Bucky pulls back and is pleased to note how pink you look and the puffiness in your lips.

You two exist in silence for a moment, just breathing each other in, and then,

"You ready for a day with Stevie and I?" he asks.

Your smile is enough of an answer. "Where's Blondie?"

"Probably comin' right up."

"'Kay. Cool." You press your lips on his again, melting and humming softly; all the little sounds he's missed. The hums, and ahs you make when melting in his arms that he's taking back to the base with him. "'m gonna change."

"Cool. Let's go."

Your laughter as well—he's pocketing that, and keeping it close to his heart. "That wasn't an invite."

"Was it not? Damn, I could've sworn it was, miss. My bad."

"D'you think I can get any 'changing' done with you in the room?"

Although the question is asked amidst laughter, you seem okay with Bucky glued on your back and stepping where you do, channeling his inner cat. "I have no clue. We'll figure it out."

"And if Steve arrives?"

A cackle from him—you're the witch, but Bucky laughs like one at that joke. "I'm sure your new best friend can find himself just fine in your house. Wasn't he here last night?"

"How d'you know that?"

"He said you two ran out of tomato sauce. He went to get some to cook lunch for us."

"You mean for you to cook lunch for us. We're just sittin' there lookin' pretty and talking your ear off."

"Sweetheart, that sounds marvelous to me."

True as he said to his mother, there is no third-wheeling or chaperoning.

In the same kitchen as his two favorite people, Bucky has one of the loveliest afternoons of his entire life. In fact, his Saturday is so good that Bucky marks the date in the calendar in his mind — the 24th of July — as some special daybreak.

He fits right in. Between the jokes that you and Steve now share and he has no idea what the roots of them are, next to your attentive, hawk-like eyes that never seem to leave him, snuggled by the much smaller frame of a friend who still looks up to him as someone good.

It's a pity that Bucky has no superpowers.

He would fit an entire month right there, in the afternoon reserved for the three of you.

By the time the sun is setting down and you three feel the need to clean up for the exhibition, the trio has already covered every base:

The military. Family. Neighbors (both the annoying as well as the good ones). Steve's stubbornness, and then yours. England. Bucky's squadron, with the specifics of each man he claimed to like.

Bucky laughed. He sobered up—those coal, slimy tentacles of war tried sneaking their way to the front.

Impossible to be done with you and Steve present.

When Bucky comments about separating — 'Steve and I can go to the apartment to get ready then come pick you up, whatcha say?' — he gets the same attitude from both.

"Why would I go stay alone at my place?" you ask.

Steve nods along. "Just wait here 'till she picks up her overnight bag and she'll come with us."

"Yeah. Steve never takes longer than ten minutes to get ready, anyway."

"True. I say Lady and I will be ready before you are," Steve adds with a knowing smile.

You laugh with him. "Oh—that's for sure."

"Hey!" Bucky loves to see you two teaming up. It's the kind of thing he'd like to see forever if he has any say in it. "I don't take that long."

To that, he hears many arguments.

"Oh my god, who is he talking to?" you ask, turning your gaze to Steve.

"I don't know. He's actin' like we don't know him," Steve snorts.

"It's crazy. Did he forget the times we had to wait for him?"

"Many times."

You glance back at Bucky, all smiles and daring. "You think you can hurry up tonight, princess?"

It does something to him. He hates that it does—and he sees and hears it in Steve's laugh that it's obvious, too, that the stupid teasing nickname pulls a string or two of his, and he huffs away from you both. "Ungrateful duo of firecrackers, I swear to god."

"Oh, c'mon!" it's you, rushing to catch up to him, laughing the same as Steve.

"Yeah, c'mon—"

"Don't you dare, Steven," he cuts him off before he can use it too, and it gets only more laughter.

"You didn't answer her question, you know," Steve comments when he catches up to Bucky and you.

He rolls his eyes. "I'll speed up. 's not like I have to look my best—not when you two aren't doing anythin' to deserve it."

"Damn, Jay. Not even a little bit of cologne for me?" you pout.

The gall. The audacity. He huffs and puffs, and turns his eyes away from you. "I'll think about it." He's a joke. Bucky's going to spend at least triple the time in the bathroom, but it's okay, because he'll come out to you and Steve waiting for him.

"Welcome to the Modern Marvels Pavilion and the World of Tomorrow!"

In his uniform, Bucky feels oddly in place.

He's pulled by the sleeves by either you, or Steve. "C'mon, c'mon, Buck, it's starting!" you squeal.

Willing and pliant, that's his role for the whole night. With a smile plastered on his face, and a giddiness he hasn't felt since he was a kid. Not that he was ever this happy in his childhood—this is a new, shinier form of happiness.

It happens because he's in the right place. With the right people.

Also, he paid very close attention to your eyes when he left the bathroom an hour ago.

When Bucky saw that glint, a very familiar one to him, his body responded. He felt your gaze on him. On his uniform. The tension that for a second became almost like humidity in the air, it hung for a few seconds, and it made Steve go to the kitchen with yet another roll of his eyes.

"I'm... gonna go drink a glass of water. You two—yikes. Be quick. The eye fucking is gross."

"Such a gentleman, Steve," you joked, but the lack of eye contact with him kind of ruined it for you.

Bucky approached you, walking in slow and deliberate steps. He allowed you to look at every inch. Feeling it was good, too—your eyes ranking up and down his body was almost a physical touch, and it made the soft spreading of your palm on his chest warmer.

"You look..." the words left you, leaving your lips parted and pink. "Very nice."

Not often did Bucky feel bashful. "Thanks, sweetheart." A rare gem such as this needed to be polished, even if it was perfect in its raw form. Bucky leaned in closer, barely containing his smile, and with his mouth nearing your ears, he whispered. "I have a feeling it's not my hair and my perfume that you like."

The intake of your breath was loud from this proximity. "Jay..."

That whisper alone was enough for him. He whispered your name back and kissed your temple with a smile. "Save all of those thoughts for later, 'kay? All of 'em. I wanna hear everything that's goin' around on that pretty head of yours."

Breathless, you whispered, "'kay'," and then nuzzled your face against his neck before pulling away. The flush was high on your cheeks. Redder than before, and due to more than just makeup. "You really do look handsome," that whisper made his insides tangle, and he enjoyed it.

"'m glad you think so."

That part was only forgotten when he saw the automobiles.

Even if Steve hid it better than you and Bucky, the reality hit you three all the same. Three nerds in a science fairy served for more than entertainment; it meant a night to be remembered.

Bucky gets lost in hours of conversation.

You three see everything. Even the dance floor is forsaken in the name of reading about stuff, theorizing about what is left out of the exposition, and laughing with each other as the ideas that bounce between you three get wilder each time.

It's almost midnight when you three make your way to the apartment.

Bucky is in a tipsy state. Steve—well, his tolerance is not the best, and mixing sugar with alcohol is a bad idea. It's all good though, because you hate the taste of it, and walking between the two of them like a beacon of balance and normalcy is a thing you did before.

Steve's hand hooks through your shoulder, into Bucky's nape.

He talks about the war. The human condition—Mrs. Georgia, from downstairs.

"She's been cryin' every night or two. It's—sad. Loud. God, I'm so glad I'm gonna black out tonight."

Bucky ends up taking off Steve's shoes while you tuck his sleeping body into bed.

He looks up at you, and sees the strand of your hairstyle escaping the pins, framing your face into something more suited for the faint yellow lights of late-night times and the Moonlight outside. "At least he waited 'till he was home," Bucky reasons.

You smile at him. "At least he didn't puke."

"Touché."

Once Steve Rogers is safe and sound, you turn your body to Bucky, both hands placed on your hips.

Here it comes, thinks Bucky...

"Safe and sound."

He smiles. "That he is." Bucky knew he'd be. It wasn't his first time hearing this.

He extends one hand in the air and is delighted when you catch it.

"Let's go?"

It's barely a whisper.

You nod at him, fitting your body under one of his arms as you walk out of the room. In the quiet magnitude of this hour into the night, you whisper, "I should've let you buy me cotton candy."

Bucky closes the door of the room holding back his laughter. "I'll make you scrambled eggs when we get to the hotel."

"Will you?"

"I will."

"I don't know if I trust your tipsy self to a stove."

Bucky groaned, pulling you even closer to him to bury his nose into your hair. "I'll be a hundred percent by the time we make it there."

The conversation goes on in hushed whispers as you two walk, ignoring all the other rare figures you see walking in the streets too, not on purpose—on the fact that it's a new world, already.

As soon as the apartment door was locked behind him, Bucky's world shifted in its axis; everything becomes you.

He's barely aware of what he's answering.

The only thing he knows it's that you're teasing him—he pays attention to the blush he sees forming on your cheeks once you feel his gaze so locked on your lips. He laughs under his breath when you stutter, and then laughs harder when you poke him in the ribs for laughing in the first place.

He feels how warm you are despite how chill the night has become.

Inside his jacket—his uniform, you've found heat.

The hotel room he located for the night is not far from your house itself, and it's one of the most decent ones still inside his budget. Rooms that are nice and clean, plus a decent breakfast.

It was far from what you deserved, but Bucky had years of work ahead of him before he was able to afford that.

When he enters, you take a little spin around.

Bucky puts both yours and his duffel bags on the floor.

He lets you walk around, and take your heels off, his eyes following you.

When they finally land on him, Bucky can almost see the air that stands between you.

Your voice is as low as a whisper. He hears it loud and clear in the deep quiet of the night. "You're not gonna cook for me, are you?"

He's kicking his shoes off as he shakes his head.

Bucky's eyes are so attentive, that he catches the shivers that run through you.

"Tomorrow," he promises.

Your fingers graze the long sleeve of the dress until it hooks on the shoulder pad, but Bucky hums negatively.

The movement stops.

He takes his steps until he's an inch away from you, and breathes in deeply.

"'m pretty sure that's my job."

It was. One of the best parts of it, now that Bucky paid close attention to it. His hands removed the fabric from your skin, exposing it to the light entering the room through the window, and in those moments, Bucky managed to fit in hours.

Every inch of you being exposed to him, it was like he painted it somewhere in his mind, guarding that canvas in a special slide of his subconscious.

When all your clothes were on the floor, he continued his ministrations of sewing all your measurements to memory.

Bucky's hands — palm spread flat, his fingertips, his knuckles — made work of you, while you removed his clothes in return.

Once naked, he could pass on to the next stage:

"Wanna remember how you taste, sweetheart."

The shaky gasp you let out when his words met your ear was too fast for him to catch, but everything else that followed fell into Bucky's lips.

They were wide, hand-made nets, built only for one purpose: to fish every part of you that was delectable.

Bucky started with close-mouthed kisses and ended up almost devouring you. Swallowing you whole.

There were hours between that first and last stage, though.

At first, everything was slow.

Bucky had been so preoccupied back at the base with whether the first time you two fucked would be the same as the ones from before or not, that he missed the entire point.

It had always been great. The connection between you two always started with more than just physical, and when it got to that point, you two were already lost in each other.

This was immersion.

Hearing your tender, then groaned, and later broken moans of "Jay" counted as his sea.

Your eager touches were current, guiding him in.

This was far from fucking. There was nothing crude about the first time—there was only love.

Bucky never made love before, but he understood why not when your body unfolded in front of him. When your legs open wide and everything blossoms, Bucky has full comprehension of what a feeling can do to two people.

Not just any feeling. This.

Bucky's a drunk man.

It's only his grace that you're as far gone as him. As Dionysus blessed—when Bucky's fingers intertwine with yours to replace your fisted hands in the sheets with his own instead, Bucky's gaze catches yours.

He sees the warm and inviting openness of black in your eyes.

Bucky kisses and leaves his feeling all over his path.

As overwhelming as it is, making love is also beautiful. This type of surrender required a level of trust and blinded faith that he's not sure he even had before, but he finds it right there, in bed with you.

The first time is slow.

Both of you taking your time to marvel at how in sync you are—to marvel at how wet one makes the other, and how unashamed both of you feel in touching each and every part.

He's never had anyone touching him the way you do. Bucky gets your lips leaving prints from his face, his chest, arms, and legs, all the way to the curve above his ass.

As he opens you up with his fingers, Bucky keeps watching all the emotions passing through your face.

The first time you make love, in gentle, long, and agonizing steps.

When he pushes inside at last, he can almost swear he hears violins.

Or maybe it's your nails digging at his back—your pained, blissed whines. "Jay."

He's whining, too—your name spills from his lips as much as air does, and you two move not to reach an end, but to feel what is connecting you at that exact time.

When the words leave his lips, Bucky can see them traveling in the air before being sucked in by yours. "I love you, sweetheart."

Out of his lips, into thick, warm air, and falling...

You gasp, closing your eyes for a moment, and Bucky tastes your tears when he's gifted back with, "I love you too, James." It makes him smile, shaking from head to toe like a leaf. "I truly do."

"I know. I feel it."

"It w-was never like—like this. Never before."

An understatement, if he ever heard one. Bucky could feel your heartbeat as if it was his own; it was more than just his cock buried to the hilt inside of your warm cunt, feeling every construction and high of your pleasure, or the vibrations of your moans and the pleas for his name that seemed to reverberate all through his being—

"This—" he bucked his hips harder, just to feel the waves of pleasure cursing through you, and laughed with his lips ghosting your mouth. "This is—oh—it's making love, sweetheart."

"Jay!"

Bucky was unsure of how long it lasted.

Could've been hours, or just a few, blissful minutes.

From the thick layer of sweat that covered your bodies by the time you both came undone, his guess tips more towards the first.

It's almost like seeing a visible thread being cut—when the orgasms hit your bodies, one right after the other, Bucky collapses his back in the bed, carrying your body along with him.

That's where you two stay, for a few moments longer.

"Were we whispering?" you ask.

He likes when your lips are on his skin. They're warm, and he has their shape memorized now. "I think we were." If he was a better artist, he'd draw them. "D'you want me to cook for you now?" he asks with a chuckle.

You tilt your head up, take a second to think it over, then answer with a simple smile.

So Bucky cooks.

He slaps your hand when you try putting on his white t-shirt laying on the ground, commenting, "No need for that at all, c'mon'," and watches with the same pleased and hungry eyes as you stay leaning on the wall as he uses the small stove for a quick meal.

After that, there are other times.

There's the desperate round, and there's the fucking, and the unexpected, and the lazy, 'we're too tired to move but still horny enough for this' moment where he just lays in bed with his hands between your legs, touching your pussy even if he's not actively doing anything.

Bucky washes you with careful hands and a lot of tenderness in the shower, running the cloth and the soap through your marked, sensitive skin as slowly as his sleepiness allows.

"We're gonna have a good day today," you tell him.

Given the whispering tone and slurred words, Bucky assumes you're almost sleeping, too. "Yup. All day to ourselves. Dinner with Steve. Come back here to sleep well."

"I love you, James."

Bucky would never get tired of hearing those words in your voice. He pulls your body close, kissing even if he'll taste soap and warm water. "I love you more." He whispers your name, kisses you again, and turns off the shower head before cold water sprays on his perfect day.

Nothing about today is cold.

Bucky's warm. While you may carry the elegance and magic of the Moon, you're his Sun.

His North, and his Sun, which would always guide him home, for hot and perfect days like this that remind him of why it's good to be alive and to feel all of this love.

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 1 year

Text

Treading On Thin Ice

Word Count: 8,000+

Warnings: Some language, insanity, frightening sequences???

Summary: A little bit of peppermint bark goes a long, long way. || Kol x reader || Here lies my Masterlist || Christmas At The Compound 2022 ||

A/N: This fic was requested on Wattpad. The books mentioned and quoted in this fic are The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson and A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. I do not own them. Thanks for reading!

☃️Story Begins Below☃️

Generosity - The spirit and action of freely and frequently giving to others.

"Y/N/N!"

Rebekah's voice carried your name across the compound and you glanced up from wrapping garland around the railing of one of the Mikaelson's many stairwells. You knew you should have been prepared for when the blonde girl just appeared at the top of the stairs as if having teleported, yet the sight still made you jump. It wasn't your fault though, despite having been raised in the house of a witch. You were really only used to the concept of vampires - not the reality.

"Y/N/N," She repeated. "I need to ask you something."

"Hi, Bekah." You offered her a small smile to show that you were listening. The girl waved her hand dismissively.

"Yes, hello. I-" She paused, regarding the decorations you'd been working on. "Oh, darling, that's coming along splendid!"

You let go of a chuckle at her attitude. Oftentimes Rebekah would forget that she didn't have to be terse with you. "Why thank you, Bex," You said, moving into a mock bow.

"You're welcome." The girl smiled, grateful you understood her behavior. So few did. "Anyway, I wanted to ask if you intended to make any more of those thin mints by chance?"

You raised a brow. "Are they gone already?" You wondered, amused but not surprised. "Man, I knew those were gonna be popular but I didn't know they were gonna be that popular. I should've made a bigger batch."

Rebekah's smile turned a little sheepish. "Could you make another one? Please?" She turned her pleading eyes on you and though you hadn't intended on refuting her request, you most certainly weren't going to now. You couldn't deny that girl anything. "I don't mean to be demanding, but they were so fantastic."

You snorted and turned back to your decorating with a slight shake of your head. Mass murderers or not, her family was way too good to you. "You're not being demanding, Bekah. Honestly, I don't think you guys ask enough of me, all things considered."

She frowned. "But you're-"

"Pregnant! I know. Trust me, I'm well aware." You cut her off, holding up a finger. "However, one month pregnant is not dead. I'm fine and I feel great. So as long as you guys are providing room and board for me, the least I can do is help out and cater to y’all’s raging sweet tooth's. Savvy?"

Rebekah groaned playfully. "Ugh! I suppose if you must," She huffed.

“Oh, I must.”

The blonde original's face softened affectionately and she sighed. "Has anyone ever told you how amazing you are, Y/N?"

"No, not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?" You tossed her a wink and she rolled her eyes. "I'll get on those thin mints as soon as I'm done here," You said. "Who knows? Maybe I'll make some Chex Mix too."

The girl's expression lit up and she skipped down the stairs to pull you into a hug. "You're the best Christmas present ever!" She cheered.

You couldn't help but laugh. Turns out, all those stories about the youngest Mikaelson were completely wrong. She wasn't outright cruel and snide, she was just cautious. She didn't like being betrayed and thus didn't trust easily. However, you had quickly worn down her defenses with your sugary confections.

You pulled away from her arms upon hearing the familiar squeal of the front gates. Elijah was back! Though you turned to greet him with a smile on your face, that excitement quickly dimmed as you caught sight of the grim expression he wore. Beside him, Josh - one of your closest friends since you'd moved in - looked equally disturbed. Something was very wrong.

"Joshua, in the basement you'll find what we need. Fetch them quickly please," Elijah said. His tone was polite as always but it carried an undercurrent that made it clear he wasn't asking. Josh nodded, quick to comply.

Worried, you cast a quick glance at Rebekah - a question evident in your eyes. The blonde just shook her head, lips pursed and brows drawn together.

"Rebekah?" Elijah called from below. Something in his voice was urgent.

"What is it, brother?" The girl demanded, pushing passed you. "What's going on?"

A scowl twisted your good friend's lips and his eyes darkened. "It's Kol."

Rebekah inhaled sharply. "What?"

"He's come back." Elijah's frown deepened. "Kol is here in the quarter and he appears to be in the midst of one of his episodes."

"Oh bloody hell." That was the first time you'd seen Rebekah look truly frightened.

"I know," Elijah sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We have to get Y/N out of here. Now."

You blinked, feeling a spike of dread slash through your chest. You-you couldn't leave. You couldn't. He was out there. He would find you. You couldn't let him get to you. You didn’t care what sort of danger you were in now, getting torn to shreds by an original vampire would be preferable to allowing that disgusting excuse for a man to ever lay his beady eyes on you again. Elijah had promised.

"It's too late for that!" Rebekah argued faster than you could open your mouth. "If he's already in the city, then he'll be watching us, brother. The second we try to send Y/N anywhere, knowing Kol, he'll probably try to eat her!"

Alright, admittedly that didn't sound like a great option.

"Then what?" The dark-haired original questioned. "What do we do with her, Rebekah? Because, by the old gods, I will not allow that girl and her child to be hurt by anyone, especially Kol."

"And I appreciate that!" You called down to them timidly. "Excuse me, just so we're on the same page, is this the super insane brother who likes to snack on people like I snack on cheese and crackers?"

"That would be the one," Rebekah huffed, frowning. She turned back to Elijah. "If we caught him, could we keep him contained until he rides it out?" She suggested.

Your friend shook his head. "I don't like the idea of Kol and Y/N under the same roof."

"I don't think we have another option," Rebekah said.

“It’s too risky,” Elijah insisted.

“I’ll take that risk,” You spoke up. Your voice shook only slightly and you clutched the railing for support but you stood your ground. You would be brave.

Elijah sighed again - he’d always taken such good care of you and you loathed to ask him for one more favor but you had to. “Y/N, you know I respect you, but I don’t think you comprehend how dangerous my brother truly is.”

“Maybe not,” You admitted, shrugging. “But you’ve beaten him before, haven’t you?”

“Only with the help of Niklaus, and only when we’ve managed to catch him by surprise,” He pointed out with a shake of his head. “But Niklaus is miles away, and Kol is expecting us to retaliate.”

“Expecting?” Rebekah scoffed. “He’s not expecting us to retaliate, Elijah. You make him sound passive. This is Kol! You know as well as I that he intends to force us! I’d bet he’s already dropping bodies, so either we subdue him or we lose the quarter!”

Grim realization cast a shadow over your dearest friend’s expression and he nodded his weary agreement. “It’s a trap,” He conceded. The deceptively young man raised his eyes to you again. “Now do you see why you must go?”

“If I leave, then that just plays into his hand doesn’t it?” You noted. “If his whole goal is to bait you into reacting, then-” you jabbed a finger toward your chest “- let’s not hand him extra bait!”

“You know she’s right,” Rebekah pressed softly. He clenched his jaw.

“Please don’t make me leave?” You whispered. “Please don’t break your promise.”

He held your eyes for a moment, then Elijah cursed under his breath and turned to his sister. "Fine, we do it your way," He reluctantly agreed. "Y/N, go to your room and stay there please. Don't come out unless Rebekah, Josh, or myself come to collect you. This is for your own safety, do you understand?"

You could sense the seriousness of the situation in the depths of his pine bark eyes. You decided it best not to question.

"Okay."

It wasn't as though you'd been living with the Mikaelsons for very long - no more than a few weeks really - but even in such a short time, the three siblings you were familiar with had told you plenty about their youngest brother. Horror stories, that was what you'd been told. Even Rebekah, who spoke of the wild Original with the most fondness among her family couldn't deny his thirst for mass slaughter. According to his siblings, Kol liked hurting people.

That wasn't a concept you could really understand. While it was true that you didn't know him personally and that you had a tendency to see the best in people, you found it hard to believe that Kol could be quite as horrid as his siblings claimed. From what you had been told about their kind by your mother, the Mikaelsons themselves, and Josh, Kol sounded more like a raging addict than a raging psychotic. Though you were probably wrong. Again, your familiarity with the nature of vampires was purely theoretical.

That was why you decided to heed Elijah's orders.

All danger aside, being confined to your room for a few hours didn't bother you so much. After all, you had the entire Stormlight Archive sitting on your shelf, so it wasn't as if you could really get bored. Funnily enough, it was only after Elijah and his sister returned that you found it much harder to remain behind your locked door.

Your head shot up when the first scream tore through the air. Ear piercing, shrill, bloodcurdling, and ominous, the sound alone was enough to set your heart racing. That scream was followed by several shouts.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Get that away from him!" That voice belonged to Josh - he sounded worried, disturbed.

"No!" A different voice cried. "No, Ethan! Don't do it!"

Then that scream came again. It morphed into words.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

"Ethan, no!" Josh yelled desperately.

The scream came once more, intense and unremitting, rising to a crescendo that chilled you to your very bones. Then, all at once, the sound cut off.

You sat there on your bed, frozen. Your back ramrod straight as you clutched your book to your chest and waited. For eight beats of your pounding heart, silence permeated the compound - a shocked, absolute sort of silence. The kind that follows death like a shadow.

Then like a crack of thunder in the night, there was laughter. Sick, horrid laughter. It was rasping and manic, crazed and deranged - unfeelingly cold and slick like ice, there was a hoarse, retching quality to it, lurking just beneath the surface. It echoed off the walls and through your skull, sending a shiver down your spine. The sensation of a thousand invisible eyes descended upon you and your breathing turned harsh and frantic.

The laughing stalled.

"Oh, what fun this is!" A new voice exclaimed, you'd never heard it before and you would have been satisfied never to hear it again. "I do so love a little jaunt through an inferior mind. Perhaps you should mandate vervain intake for your lackeys, Elijah. After all, the least you could do is make it a challenge for me, eh?"

That voice… That voice! It was repulsive - downright sickening. There was no warmth in it whatsoever - no life - only stone-cold death and wretched, scathing, venom. It stole the warmth of the room you resided in. Yet, at the same time, something about the sound was so smooth, so alluring and playful, that you almost felt inclined to listen. Something in his voice nearly goaded you to relax, to trust whoever welded it like a gleaming silver blade. That voice didn't sound dangerous.

It sounded… tempting.

Perhaps that was what made it so bloody terrifying. You had never felt more unsettled in your life. Not even when he had been shadowing your every step. That man's obsession with you was nothing compared to the stark horror now flooding your senses.

What was going on out there?

The calm timbre of Elijah's voice cut through the air soon after, but his words didn't do much to calm you.

"Why do insist on this bloodshed, brother?" He demanded, voice ragged - patience worn thin.

"Because. It's. Fun."

And that awful laughter came again, seeming to fold in on itself and multiply. Growing louder, almost gleeful, it was manic and maddening, like a pack of hyenas encircling their prey. Locked in your room, you felt trapped yet exposed. What was going on out there? You had to know.

So you did something undeniably stupid. You got up and opened your door. Stealing out into the hall, you swiftly ducked behind a pillar and peeked through the second-floor railing, taking in the courtyard below. There in the center of the compound, a ring of vampires stood around a young dark-haired man.

He both scared and fascinated you.

Perhaps you would have thought the boy to be beautiful had his features not been tainted with madness. His thick dark hair seemed soft and you might have liked to run a hand through it had those locks not been disheveled and flecked with blood. His lips might have distracted you had they not been twisted into a vile sneer. His teeth were perfectly white but the terrible, deadly fangs he displayed ruined the illusion. Perhaps his eyes might have been deep enough to lose yourself in, but the curse in his blood and the rage in his heart had corrupted them with a horrific blackness that seemed to overflow, fracturing his otherwise innocent features into the visage of a monster.

Two steel cuffs clad his forearms, these attached to hulking, robust chains that looked strong enough to hold the weight of an ocean liner. Those cuffs burned the skin beneath them, rendering his arms a repulsive mess of scorching red flesh and blood. He hissed and laughed, purely demented, as he tugged and tore at the chains but, positioned on either side, each holding fast to a chain, stood Rebekah and Elijah. Both of your friends had their respective chains wrapped around their arms, struggling despite their teamwork to restrain their brother.

The vampires circled around them each kept hold of their own ropes. The thick cords were wrapped around his throat, others around his arms and legs and yet, all of them together couldn't seem to bring him down. There was one rope, you noted, that had gone slack. You followed the line with your eyes and quickly stifled a scream. A bloody corpse lay sprawled on the ground with a jagged length of wood impaled through his heart - self-inflicted.

Above you, a clap of thunder shook the sky and the heavens opened, raining down vicious hail though the day had been cloudless only minutes before. This was New Orleans - it doesn’t hail in Louisiana. You shuddered from the cold and the horror, but that disgusting, unhinged laughter only re-doubled.

"No matter what you see or hear, know that it is merely an illusion!" Elijah's voice rang through the courtyard. Bold and commanding, it rose over the unnatural icefall. "Keep him out and you will not be deceived."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that," The awful voice drawled, sounding so clearly from the boy at the center of it all. He merely grinned.

Within moments, a second scream - not the first you'd heard - erupted from the courtyard. Then another, seconds later. And another one again after that! One by one, shrieks permeated the atmosphere until the cries of the undead were all you could hear. Several of the surrounding vampires collapsed to their knees. There was retching and sobbing, some were choking while others gasped for breath.

Amidst the pain and the chaos, Kol lifted his face to the sky, eyes closed and mouth warping into a grin. And that monster kept on laughing. "I don't think they can help it, Elijah!" He taunted, sadistically gleeful.

"Josh?" Rebekah called over the gathering storm. "Josh, you have to fight it!"

Of all the others surrounding the siblings, Josh was the only one left standing. He screwed his eyes shut, his expression drawn with effort.

"I-I'm trying!" He bit out between clenched teeth.

You drew in a sharp breath, wishing you could reach out and take your friend away from this insanity. "Josh…" You whispered, still crouched as you watched from your hiding place.

The monster in the courtyard heard you. His eyes snapped open and locked onto your own. It all happened so fast.

You had never wanted to imagine what a lobotomy might feel like, but you were certain you received a taste of one then as something - some powerful, vile force worked itself into your mind with all the delicate touch of an ice-pick driven by a sledgehammer. You squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head in an attempt to wrest his consciousness away from yours but your feeble inexperience was pathetic in the face of this practiced maniac, backed by enough raw power to rival that of Klaus. An unnatural chill ran down your spine as any mental barrier you had shattered like stained glass in a storm and the last glimpse of reality you caught was that demented grin of his widening into a bleeding gash across his face.

"Now, now, now… What do we have here?" That terrible voice whispered into your ear. A pair of hands - soft and warm though you didn't want them to be - settled on your shoulders and you froze. You didn't move. You couldn't move as his hands trailed down your arms and he knelt just behind you. Those hands slid to your wrists, thumbs pressing in to find your pulse. "Human," He hummed a second later, blunt teeth tugging gently at your earlobe, nipping almost teasingly. "How interesting." You didn't understand why you couldn't move! Your body simply refused to respond. "You know, I've torn through quite a few of your kind today…" Kol's mouth moved lower, leaving soft kisses along your throat as his hands shifted to your hips. Two sharp points scraped over your jugular. "Yet, not one of them smelled so sweet," He murmured, that insatiable hunger more than evident in his tone. "What are you going to taste like, I wonder?"

Finally, you could react. (He let you react. He was the one in control here. Kol wanted to see you run scared.) You cried out, jabbing your elbow backward into his chest and scrambling away from him as fast as you could. The monster just watched, amused, and tilted his head. "Who are you, sweet-thing?"

"Y-you're not real," You stammered, trying to sound brave.

"Are you sure?" His tone was playful, mocking as he grinned and stalked closer. "I think you should guess again."

He seemed real, he felt real but it was all in your head. Elijah had said so. You could always trust Elijah.

"You're not real! " You shouted, voice growing firm. "Get out of my head and leave me alone!"

His expression soured into a scowl. "Perhaps you're right," He said. Then, in a split second, Kol was behind you. "But I'm not too far away, am I?"

Your eyes snapped open and you knew he had let you go because those haunting black abysses stared back at you with a promise.

Yet, in the moments you had grabbed Kol's attention, Josh had found his opening. He raced up from behind and jabbed a syringe directly into that monster's neck, injecting him with enough vervain to down three original vampires. Kol roared and threw his head back, clipping Josh's skull with an impact that would have killed any human instantly, but it was too late. His legs soon gave out and he fell to the ground - out cold.

Yet, you found yourself unable to truly process what had happened. You got to your feet, clinging to the railing for support but you didn’t move beyond that. Below you, the other vampires recovered from whatever attack Kol had unleashed on their sanity.

“Take him to the basement,” Rebekah ordered, letting go of a long breath as she collapsed into a chair. The others nodded and got to work. You just watched them, seemingly unable to tear your eyes from her brother as they dragged the temporarily lifeless corpse away.

“Would you like to tell me exactly what you were thinking,” Elijah’s voice sounded from behind you, effectively shocking you from your stupor. You jumped, turning to face his displeased expression. Yeah, you were in trouble all right.

“I can honestly say I have no idea,” You replied, pressing your lips into a thin line. “It just sort of… happened.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do you have any idea what my brother could have done to you if he had broken free?”

“I don’t think I want to imagine that, thank you.” You rocked back and forth on your heels nervously as Elijah’s glare intensified. “But, hey! He’s out for the count, so it’s all fine!” He crossed his arms over his chest and you let go of a nervous chuckle. “How was he so powerful anyway, huh? I mean, that was weird,” You pointed out, gesturing to the storm overhead. Its intensity was rapidly waning.

“The dude was higher than a kite, that’s how!” Josh called up to you. He’d begun cleaning up the body of his fallen friend.

You raised a brow. “What does that have anything to do with it?”

“Kol’s been snacking his way through several states on his way here, and with our father dead, its not like he had to worry about avoiding attention,” Rebekah sighed, rubbing at her temples.

“I mean, we’re talking a kill count higher than my carrer best in Call of Duty,” Josh added. “And that’s saying a lot!”

“Is it though?” You teased.

“It is actually,” He sassed. “Anyway, running on that much death is like running on a concoction of jet fuel, monster energy, red bull, sixty three pounds of sugar, eight tablespoons of the essence of Dwane Johnson, a five hour energy, seven triple espresso shots, and gorilla testosterone… with just a dash of peppermint.”

You blinked. “Interesting metaphore,” You admitted. “Please never say that again.”

He just shrugged grinning. You turned back to Elijah. “So if your brother is that doped up, then what’s going to stop him from tearing his way outta’ this joint as soon as he wakes up?”

“We'll keep injecting him with vervain on the hour until he regains a grasp on his fragile sanity,” Rebekah answered for her brother.

“And if that fails we’ve raised a barrier spell to keep him contained,” Elijah said. His expression softened and he placed a hand on your shoulder, meeting your gaze. “As long as you stay out of the basement, Kol will be unable to harm you.”

Nodding, you bit your lip. “I sure hope so.” Unwittingly you cast your eyes toward the doorway through which Kol had disappeared, and a thread of curiosity tugged on the corner of your mind. You shook it away. “I’m gonna go make those thin mints now.”

For the next week and a half, you did a rather excellent job of putting Kol out of your mind. It was no easy task, mind you, considering the occasional screams of outrage, strings of profanity, and creative death threats that rang through the compound every now and again. (That boy had quite the set of lungs on him.) The death threats especially gave you a good reason not to go wandering into the basement. It wasn't until the tenth day of administering hourly vervain injections, that Josh finally declared the guy "moderately chill".

"Define, moderately chill?" Rebekah demanded. Elijah had forbidden her from seeing their brother - knowing their presence was only likely to rile him up. But that couldn't keep her from worrying.

Josh shrugged. "I mean, he's not trying to impale me on my own rib cage anymore."

"Wait, I thought you guys said he was restrained!" You said, a slight note of panic rising into your voice.

"Oh, he is," Josh assured you. "Doesn't stop him from trying though."

You grimaced, reminding yourself yet again why going down to see the wild Original was a less-than-intelligent idea.

But two days after that, your curiosity began to outweigh your common sense. You started to pity the guy, he must have been lonely down there all alone - not to mention bored… and hungry. As a person who was quite fond of food, you didn't want to imagine what going without it for a week would have to be like.

Thus, you decided to pay him a little visit and came up with every justification in the book as to why because morbid curiosity was an awful reason. Rebekah had told you that Kol could be really sweet when he wanted to be, so you figured that it certainly couldn't hurt to earn yourself a place in his good graces. Bringing him something to eat sounded like an excellent way to do just that. Besides, you had found a new recipe for peppermint bark and you needed a guinea pig. Elijah and Rebekah were off doing whatever it was they did to keep the peace in the French Quarter, and Josh was on a date. You wouldn't have a better chance.

So, you pushed all thoughts of self-preservation aside and ventured down into the basement, armed with a cookie sheet, a billiard cue, two blood bags, a plate of peppermint bark, and Brandon Sanderson's The Way of Kings.

There wasn't exactly a cell down there per se - just a dingy alcove behind a small archway with a cot set up in the center. Despite it being invisible, you could instantly tell where the barrier spell was. Apparently, Kol had been entertaining himself by attempting to spit past it. He clearly hadn't had much luck as there was a semi-consistent line of dried blood marring the stone floor. It reminded you of something out of Lilo and Stich. Well, you'd been right about the boredom.

Peering through the archway, you studied the boy inside. His wrists were still clasped in those shackles you'd seen before, except now those had been secured to opposite walls. The skin beneath the cuffs was still red and raw, in fact, you thought you could see smoke curling off of it. That had to be painful, though you tried very hard not to pity him. Shifting your attention to his face you were shocked at how peaceful and innocent his expression seemed. He was sprawled across the cot, fast asleep and you couldn't help but find him… cute. This boy looked nothing like the monster you had seen two weeks ago.

You sat down on the floor just beyond the magic barrier and watched him for a bit. Not in a creepy way. You just didn't want to wake him and if you did, you had no idea what to say.

Turns out, you didn't need to worry about that because Kol woke up on his own. He groaned, lifting his head and his eyes fixed on yours.

"It's you…" His voice was dry and scratchy, though you couldn't expect much less from a person who hadn't had anything to drink in two weeks. Confusion colored his expression initially but within seconds, dark veins crawled outwards from his eyes, spilling down his cheeks and you caught a glimpse of his fangs. You froze as he stared at you longingly. Then he groaned and curled himself into a ball like a child with a stomach ache. Only then did you notice the shadows beneath his eyes and the profound lack of color in his skin.

"Are you hungry?" What a stupid question.

"Starving," Kol growled miserably. "Come to torture me, have you?"

"No, actually I brought you a snack."

He glanced up, raising a brow. "Excuse me?"

You held up one of the blood bags and his eyes widened. In a split second, he was off the cot and straining against the chains. Their length allowed him within a mere three feet of where you sat and you jumped back. Kol hissed, his pitch-black eyes singularly focused on the bag in your hand. He struggled and thrashed, gleaming fangs on full display.

The color in your face drained away.

There was the monster you'd seen in the courtyard.

"Scared, are we?" He growled, sneering. Those teeth snapped at you with all the power of a hyena.

You didn't reply. You just backed away.

"DON'T YOU DARE TURN YOUR BACK ON ME!"

But that's exactly what you did. You turned and ran from that place as fast as you could, clamping your hands over your ears to block out his voice as Kol screamed insults at your back.

Yet, you found yourself returning two days later. Apparently, Josh's date had gone well and there was some problem across the river that Bekah and Elijah had to take care of. You knew you had absolutely no reason to extend your kindness to that monster in the basement again, especially after he'd so completely rejected it the last time; however, you were a generous person and if he wanted to be a jerk to you then that was his problem. You would keep being kind regardless of how he decided to treat you because really Kol was only hurting himself. He was growing weaker by the minute - starvation had to be excruciating and you were offering him a respite from that pain. He was sure to concede eventually.

So down the steps, you descended once again, moving to sit on the floor just beyond the barrier spell. This time, Kol was already awake. He struggled to sit up, arms shaking, and glared at you viciously.

"Ah, she's back," He snarled, lip curling with disgust. But it wasn't entirely genuine, you could see the curiosity and surprise shining through his eyes.

"I am." You nodded, holding up the blood bag as you had done before. "And I brought you something."

Kol's eyes immediately turned black, but this time he remained carefully still. "What do you want?"

You shrugged. "I wanna give this to you."

His eyes narrowed as he forced himself to look at you - not the crimson substance in your hand. "What do you really want?" He pressed.

"I really want to give this to you! Unless you try to attack me again, in which case I'll leave and come back tomorrow and the next day and the next until you get over your ego and take the hand that's being offered to you."

Kol scoffed, rolling his eyes. "And why would you want to help me get out of here, darling? First thing I'd do is rip into that pretty little neck of yours."

"Oh, heavens no," You snorted, grinning wryly. "I don't want you out of there any more than you want to be in there."

"Then why offer?" He demanded.

You shrugged. "Well, starvation doesn't sound too pleasant. You must be feeling pretty sick by now."

The vampire's eyes darkened and he scowled. "I don't want, nor do I need your pity, bug," He spat. If looks could kill, you would have been drawn and quartered.

"Good thing this isn't pity."

"Then what is it?" He mocked.

"The fruit of generosity," You answered, “which you have long denied your fellow men.”

“That’s Charles Dickens,” Kol hummed. “Never did like him.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. "Well, in that case, think of it as a Christmas present."

"Generosity…" Kol hummed the word, watching you appraisingly. "People will take advantage of that, you know."

You huffed a laugh but there was no humor in it. "Believe me… I know." You knew better than most. You quickly met his eyes again. "But you won't."

He seemed to find that deceleration extremely amusing. "Oh, is that what you think?" He chuckled. "Darling, with that in your hand, I could easily find my way back into your head. I could do whatever I wanted. I could drive you mad."

"You could. But I know you won't."

"Do you have faith in my humanity, sweetheart?" He teased. His grin was a sharp row of gleaming teeth.

"Nope!" You exclaimed. You held up your hand exposing a ring. It wasn't really your vervain jewelry - that was the new ankle bracelet that Elijah had bought you - but Kol didn't need to know that. "I got an upgrade. Smart bug."

He huffed a laugh, amused by your cheek. "The possession of a brain does not make you intelligent."

You just rolled your eyes. "Look, do you want this or not?" You asked, gesturing to the blood bags again. Kol's attention was once again enamored with it. You watched him try to hold back, try to retain his pride but it wasn't long before he broke.

"Fine," He bit out. His eyes flicked to meet yours. "I want it."

"Next time I'll teach you to say please." You smirked and tossed him the bag.

He caught it easily and for the briefest of moments, you thought you caught him watching you. Then that moment was gone and he tore into it, groaning voraciously as he practically inhaled its contents. As soon as he was done with it, you tossed him the next, wordlessly. He downed it without a second thought, and though he tried to keep up the spiteful, angry facade, you could see Kol's relief visible in his posture.

"Is that better?" You asked as soon as he finished. He just glared and tossed the empty bags back at you.

Shrugging, you scooped those up and opened the Tupperware container you'd brought with you - the one full of peppermint bark - and shook it.

He watched you for a moment, seething. "Now what?"

You grinned cheekily. "Want some? I made it just yesterday."

Kol rolled his eyes, moving to sit on the cot where he rested his arms on his knees. He watched you with narrowed eyes but took his time to reply. "What I want, darling, is to know who the hell you are."

"Me?" You raised a brow. "I'm Y/N Y/LN."

Kol huffed. "What's a bloody name mean to me?"

"Not too much, apparently," You muttered.

"Who are you? What are you? Why are you here?" The boy in the cell demanded, seeming more curious now than furious.

"Well, I already told you my name. I'm pretty human as far as I know, and I'm here because I make poor life decisions," You said. It was no crime that you didn't want to tell Kol your life story. He didn't need to know any of it.

"Poor life decisions, eh?" He offered you a wry grin. "Would you mind elaborating on that?"

"Yes," You deadpanned. "Look, I did something stupid and Elijah brought me here. That's all you need to know."

"Why would my brother bother himself with you?" His tone was somewhat accusatory, though you couldn't comprehend why.

You shrugged. "I dunno. I guess it's because Elijah's sorta like my… cousin."

"Cousin?"

"One can never have too many cousins," You said, smirking.

Kol scoffed. "I beg to differ. One can absolutely have too much family."

"True, however, cousins are not immediate family," You countered. "They're more like friends who feel obligated to do you favors."

"Ahh…" He nodded. "I see. So you're a manipulative bitch then, eh?"

Your face soured though it was mostly theatrics because Kol was entirely right. Beneath that frown, you were smirking. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I prefer the term: opportunist. Plus, I'm not a complete leech. I help out here and there. I dust shelves, sweep floors…" You shook that container of peppermint bark again and shrugged. "I bake... I'm helping."

Kol snorted. "It's cute that you think that."

"Oh, so you admit that I'm cute?" You teased, winking at him.

He raised a brow. "Flirting are we? When you're so fond of my brother? Darling!" He shook his head reprovingly. "That'll get you onto Santa's naughty list for sure. Then again, my brother does have a thing for women who take advantage of him…"

"Elijah?" You balked. "Dude! I just said he's like my cousin… This ain't Alabama!"

Kol chuckled darkly and once again, he was in control of the conversation. The guy was quite good at gaining the upper hand. "Well, in that case, sweetheart, I'd be infinitely more worried."

"Why?" You questioned, narrowing your eyes.

"Because you won't be able to keep this little ruse of yours up forever," He reasoned. There was a sick gleam that didn't belong in such innocent eyes. "Niklaus or my sister - one of them will figure out what really drives you, then you'll be wishing you had the romantic affections of that noble stag to protect you when the claws and teeth come out. My family is not one to be manipulated."

Kol was good at intimidation, that much was true, and his inferences were logical but he needed to work on his humility. That boy had jumped the gun.

You smirked. "Who said it's them I'm manipulating?"

He blinked, tilting his head. His eyes flicked along your frame, inspecting you again. "Clever bug." He grinned. "This isn't generosity, is it? No, not at all. You're just trying to butter me up."

"Is it working?" You hummed.

"Nah."

"Alright!" You shrugged. You didn't need it to work. Not right away. "I've got some time, want me to read to you?"

"Certainly not!" Kol said. "I want more answers."

"Then ask more questions." You shrugged, mostly indifferent. "But at least be a decent person and try the treats." You loaded up the cookie sheet with a few pieces of peppermint bark and, using the billiard cue, pushed it past the boundary spell. Kol got up, regarding you somewhat distrustfully. Despite the restraints, he managed to get close enough to hook his foot around the lip of the cookie sheet, pulling it closer to himself before bending down and picking up a shard of the treat. He inspected it carefully, then after a moment, cast his eyes back up to yours.

"It's poisoned, isn't it?" He accused.

You scowled, taken aback. "Of course not! I'm offended, Kol. Honestly, what do you take me for? I wouldn't waste perfectly good vervain on you! Not to mention, that's a vile misuse of perfectly good peppermint bark!"

"Then why are you so desperate for me to ingest this?" He challenged with a sneer.

"Because it's a new recipe," You reasoned, tossing your hair over your shoulder with an indignant huff. "What if it turns out to be nasty? I wouldn't want to feed my friends something subpar, now would I?"

He rolled his eyes leaning back against his cot. "I thought you said Elijah was like your cousin," He said. Kol popped one of the pieces into his mouth idly. He probably wouldn't have done it had he not been so hungry - anything to at least provide the illusion of comfort, you supposed. Yet, he couldn't hide his genuinely surprised reaction when he tried the treat.

The boy did a double take and a small, yet radiant smile overtook his face. You grinned. Though, a second later, he caught your eyes and wiped that expression away.

It didn't bother you, however. It couldn't bother you because, though it had been for just a moment, Kol had proven you right. There was more to him than that horrid monstrosity of an exterior. There was more to him than the villain he played. Under all of that, there was a boy - scared and hungry, upset and alone. Beneath the monster, there was a person with the same desires as any other.

Because this month was December and December is the time when all people just want the same things. Generosity and companionship are the two things everyone wants for Christmas and deep down, Kol was no different.

A few beats passed and Kol reached for another shard of peppermint bark as silence settled between you. Tilting your head, you watched him and, after a moment, you opened your mouth.

"Bravado," You said, smiling just slightly.

Kol's head shot up. His eyes were wide and weary but not near as sharp nor as threatening as they'd been merely a moment before. He looked more like a child who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar because you'd seen him. You'd seen past his front and he knew it.

"What?" Kol's voice was hardly more than a whisper.

You leaned forward, settling with your elbows on your knees.

"Bravado," You repeated, gesturing minutely to his hands which still shook, though not as severely. "Bravado is the hallmark of insecurity."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Whatever warmth you had seen in his eyes drained away in hardly an instant, his expression growing hard as obsidian as his posture closed off to you yet again. You cursed yourself. You should have known better than to push.

"Get out," Kol hissed, teeth and fists clenched tight.

"Kol I didn't-"

He spoke again, voice taught with barely constrained rage. "I. Said. Get. Out." He kicked the cookie sheet back at you with force and it skidded across the stone floor, nailing your knee hard enough to make you wince.

"Fine," You said, quietly. Then, you gathered your things and left.

Yet, Kol's ire didn't stop you from coming back. You returned, again and again, every day and though Kol continued to take the blood bags from you, he refused to engage you in conversation. This went on for days. Though it wasn't long before you grew tired of it. You had seen something in him that day, and he was trying to forget it existed but you weren't going to let him.

The next time you descended those stairs and sat on the floor, you waited for him to down the blood bags just as you had every other time. Kol grew weaker by the day, though he was in less pain than he would have been thanks to you. He sat facing you, with his back resting against the far wall of the cellar. You knew he expected you to leave, but you didn't. You held your ground and said what he needed to hear.

"I'm not mad at you, Kol."

The boy slowly raised his head, it lolled to the side as though he hadn't the strength to keep it up. His skin was ashen and his eyes were dull, sunken into his face as though there was some black hole inside him. The breaths he took were shallow and unstable. He was falling apart, yet still, a bitter smirk spread across his face.

"Well that's a first." Somehow his voice, raw and quiet, was more unsettling than the screams you'd heard weeks ago in the courtyard. The hollow whisper worried you more than that unholy laughter had. It made you empathize with him.

"I'm not mad, because it wasn't your fault," You continued.

"Another first."

You sighed, shrugging. "Your reaction was only natural. I would have done the same thing."

"I'm sure you would have."

You took a deep breath. You were about to do the dumbest thing you would ever attempt, yet you weren't all that afraid. Getting to your feet, you approached the barrier spell - the only thing guaranteeing that Kol could not harm you - and crossed over the invisible boundary. Those deep brown eyes followed you, trailing your every step with suspicion and disbelief as you crossed his cell and knelt beside him.

Kol, starving as he was, didn't attack you. So you offered him a gentle smile.

"It's okay, Kol. It was my fault," You said quietly. Kol froze. "I just got too close, didn't I?"

His eyes grew wide, pupils dilating as he stared at you with an uncomprehending expression. Reaching out slowly, you ran a hand through his hair. The dark locks were dirty and tangled, but soft all the same. Kol hesitated, but leaned into your touch as though he simply couldn't stop himself.

Leaning in, you pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I forgive you."

"Why?" He demanded, watching you with wonder.

You just smirked. "Think of it as a Christmas present."

"For me?" He coughed, grimacing. "Or for Elijah?"

You sighed. "I'm not here for Elijah."

"Then why are you here?" He looked at you, desperation for understanding showing clearly through those eyes. "My brother hardly bothers with his own siblings if he deems them unworthy of his limitless time."

"I'm in over my head," You said simply, shrugging. "I think it's what got me in so deep that maybe he saw something in."

"And what was that?"

"Generosity." You smiled - thin as a strand of hair. "I showed someone too much and he turned out to be a creep who took advantage of me. Elijah's making sure it doesn't happen again. That's all."

Kol's expression twisted with confusion, then cleared with understanding. "A-are you-" He trailed off, unsure.

"Oh come on," You said, chuckling slightly. "I know you've heard it by now."

Your baby's heart had started beating three days before.

The boy's bright grin confirmed your statement. He laughed, though the sound was tired. "You're going to make an excellent mother," He said.

You smiled. "Thanks."

Kol leaned his head back against the wall, weak but grinning, and sighed. "So, what's that book you brought with you?"

With a bubbling laugh, you stood and wandered back to the boundary spell where you'd left your stuff.

"Wait, don't-"

"I'm not going anywhere, Kol," You snickered, bending down to snatch the book. Then you made your way back to sit beside him. The boy leaned against your shoulder and though it made you just a tad bit nervous, you let him. Carding a hand through his hair, you opened the book and began to read aloud.

"Szeth-son-son-Vallano, Truthless of Shinovar, wore white on the day he was to kill a king."

It wasn't long before you lost track of time. Unfortunately, reading out loud ensured that you couldn't hear the footsteps of your friends when Elijah, Rebekah, and Josh returned. If Kol had heard them, he didn't inform you.

The door to the dungeon swung open on hinges that protested rather loudly and your head shot up from your reading.

"Y/N, I'm going to have to ask you to step away from him," Elijah's cold, commanding voice sounded from the entrance.

You bit your lip. "You know, uh… I can explain this," You promised.

"Can you?" Elijah's glare was a frigid sort of rage and it was concentrated entirely on Kol.

You opened your mouth. "No. No, I cannot."

"I see," Your friend hummed. His eyes flicked to you and you thought you felt just a little of what it might be like to jump into a freezing lake. "Y/N, return to your room at once, please. I would like to speak to my brother."

"Okay." You weren't going to object, not when Elijah was providing your room and board. Though, that didn't stop you from looking back at the boy you'd finally brought to the surface. Picking up the tray off the floor, you gave him a small smile and slid the Tupperware container full of peppermint bark back toward him. Then you left without another word.

You didn't hear anything from Elijah, Rebekah, or even Josh for the rest of the day. You sat on your bed and waited, but the only sound that came from downstairs was an exasperated Elijah's indistinct yelling. Whatever discussion took place in the basement lasted for a few hours, but no matter how many times you texted Josh, all he would tell you was how reckless your actions had been.

The following day, you ventured to the kitchen. You weren't going to stay in your room the entire day. If Elijah wanted to stay put, then you would do so while being productive via baking. That day, you decided to bake thin mints. Tasting one, you hummed as the chocolate melted on your tongue. You didn't even hear the kitchen door open.

"Might I try one of those?"

You shrieked, jumping nearly a foot into the air. Whirling around, you were rather surprised to find Kol standing in the kitchen doorway, smiling at you - not smirking, just smiling. He looked a lot better

"I dunno," You said, returning the expression. "I think you're gonna have to say the magic word."

Kol stepped closer, crossing the room until he stood directly in front of you. He reached out and took your hands in his own, pulling them to his chest. “Please?” He said, in the sweetest tone you’d ever heard. The puppy-dog eyes he gave you were the color of melted chocolate. You grinned.

“Here-” You held up one of the squares. “-Catch!”

Tossing the mint up in the air, you giggled as Kol threw his head back and caught it between his teeth. He winked at you, biting a piece off as he leaned against the counter.

“These are fantastic,” He said. “Thank you.”

“Ah… So he does have some manners - good to know.” You nodded to yourself sarcastically and he rolled his eyes.

“Only for you, sweetheart,” He hummed. “Only for you.”

You chuckled. “I see. Now, do you wanna tell me how you convinced Elijah to let you out on - what I’m assuming is - vampire parole?”

Kol shrugged and tried to steal a second mint but you slapped his hand away. “We made a deal,” He said simply.

“You promised to behave?” You questioned, raising a brow. “You? Just like that?”

“You seem surprised,” He chuckled.

“Oh. Well, then I’m not being expressive enough because I am astounded!”

Kol waved a hand dismissivly. “Eh, shouldn’t be too hard, I don’t think - not with you manipulating me and all that.”

You blushed. “Is that permission to keep making sweets?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely.”

Snickering, you passed him another thin mint. “Well, in that case, Merry Christmas, Kol.”

He took it. Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss sweeter than chocolate to your cheek. “Merry Christmas, darling.”

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln @r13mar @rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow @apolloroid @thatweirdoleigh @misswe03 @eat-cake @felinegrate @trikigirl271 @cute-freak27 @fayeatheart @archangelslollipop @slaypussypop-21

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intimidating-fettuccine · 6 months

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Christmas at the Mansion (+ the castle)

I'm posting this now because I leave for a trip for the holidays tomorrow (and I don't know how my schedule will be), although I also have an old holiday scenario queued up for Christmas day :) If you celebrate anything, Happy Holidays, and if not, have a nice end of the year! I'll still be around to answer questions and post quotes and stuff at the very least.

Like with Thanksgiving, first and foremost, Slender is cooking and baking a fuck ton of food. But, he's got a lot more company in the kitchen this time as LJ, Candy, and Jason are all making a whole bunch of candy and cakes and other desserts as it's their time to shine. LJ actually has his own candy-pulling hook, and he makes homemade candy canes for everyone in whatever flavors they might want that year (they usually vote on them and he'll make a few batches), and everyone snacks on them while waiting for dinner to be ready.

I think they probably do Secret Santa in the mansion because there are just so many of them, and if they want to get an extra gift for specific people they're allowed to do that too, although those gifs are usually exchanged privately, although Slender gets at least one gift for every resident. They all get up early in the morning, and Slender will make a big yummy breakfast with pancakes, homemade cinnamon rolls, and hot chocolate for everyone, and they'll sit around the giant tree and exchange all the Secret Santa gifts. Some years they might do themes, but most of the time they just all try and get something that they think their person will enjoy. After they exchange those gifts, if anyone got an extra gift for specific people they usually pair off and exchange those.

After the gift exchange, it's Christmas movie time. They'll go into the big living room and they take turns picking Christmas movies to pass the time while Slender is making Christmas dinner. Everyone snuggles up with their hot chocolate and just relaxes, telling jokes and funny stories while they watch Christmas movies they grew up on, and it's fun for the creeps that were/are human to show movies to the demonic residents who haven't seen them yet. For lunch, Slender will usually have Tim prepare some food for everyone, and by that time the candy canes are usually ready so everyone snacks on those as well.

By the time dinner is ready everyone's excited and rushing into the dining room to have Slender's famous Christmas feast. Slender usually has his brothers and his mom over for Christmas dinner, Toby invites his mom over, and Natalie invites her younger brother. Everyone is happy to be surrounded by the family they love, especially since Mrs. Rogers and Slender's mom always bring extra dishes that taste so fucking good. It's one of the most lively dinners in the mansion because everyone's bantering and sharing stories about each other, and the room always fills with laughter and smiles. I think Slender's mom would probably also get gifts for all of the residents (and the extra guests) too, and she'd share them after dinner was over. After dinner, everyone normally just hangs out and plays video games or board games, especially if someone got a new one for Christmas, and they'll just spend time together laughing and having fun until everyone gets too tired to stay awake anymore.

On the other side of the Underworld, Zalgo also tries to have a Christmas for his employees as well. He and the best cooks of his employees will prepare a gigantic, lavish feast for all of the workers that reside in the castle, and they'll all eat together in the large dining room in the castle meant to fit all of them. Zalgo also takes care to provide a gift for all of his employees, and while he has well close to 100 including his castle and the employees of his assassination company, he makes sure to get them a gift they'll honestly enjoy. Of course, they always get him gifts as well, even if he tells them that he doesn't need them, but the blush and shy smile on his face at their generosity makes it worth it for them to do so. Zalgo will have to return to some work eventually, but he does his best to provide a good holiday to his workers, as he feels they deserve it for all of the hard work that they do.

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eleanor-bradstreet · 10 months

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Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 2: The Masquerade

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer From a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: G Word count: 8.1k Masterpost Previous chapter Next chapter

Author's Notes: THANK YOU for your incredible patience while I took forever to write this next chapter. It's the most daunting one in the whole story for me (and potentially the longest), and my summer has been full of travel and distractions. But I'm committed to keeping this story rolling! I do need to write chapter 3 which should be comparatively short, and then chapters 4-15 are already written and just need tweaking. Expect more frequent installments soon, though I do need a bit of time to focus on a Halloween fic for y'all 😉

As a reminder, text in italics are quotes from AOFAG and are the work of Julia Quinn.

Lastly, if we're manifesting things for Benophie in the show, the song I imagine them waltzing to at the masquerade is the VSQ cover of Young and Beautiful - it's so mysterious and romantic and gives voice to Sophie's anxieties. Enjoy 💙

Sophie was no stranger to courage. It was courage that had bolstered her through her lonely childhood at Penwood Park. Courage that enabled her to face each morning knowing she would most likely be subject to Araminta’s abuse. But what drove her to sneak into the Bridgerton masquerade was something different. Courage was an element of it, but she also had the odd and wonderful sensation that she was somehow destined to attend. A sort of magnetism pulling her back to Genevieve’s shop then down the street to the wisteria-clad manse glowing with candles in every window under a starlit night.

It had proven surprisingly easy to accomplish her ruse. She had dressed Cressida in her iridescent mermaid costume then helped Araminta into a garish Elizabethan gown. Both of them fussed and snipped at her, demanding assistance and criticizing when it was provided. Lord Cowper kept his ensemble comparatively simple with a black horned mask that Sophie found to be an accurate reflection of his true character. Soon enough all of them bundled into their carriage, leaving her alone for the evening. Sophie knew to make for the modiste’s shop as quickly as she could, and only dithered when it came to selecting the shoes Gen had told her to bring. Neither of her sorry two pairs would suffice for a ball which meant borrowing a pair from her employers. She felt safer using Cressida’s except they all proved too large, to the point Sophie knew she would be tripping over herself. Araminta’s shoes fit comparatively well but her stomach lurched at the thought she may discover they had been taken. She reminded herself that she was the one tasked with cleaning them so she could easily replace them once she returned. Memories of a stinging slap dealt that morning solidified her resolve and she selected a pair of silk slippers in a pale blue-grey with diamond clips that complemented the silver gown she knew was waiting for her.

Wrapped in a cloak, she had scurried to Gen’s door and the proud smile on her friend’s face gave her a burst of excitement for what was to come. The modiste slipped her into the finished gown, somehow impossibly more breathtaking than it had been before. Sophie couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mirrors in the shop, bewitched by how the fabric caught the light. Gen had procured all the trappings, outfitting her with elbow length silk gloves, starry earrings and jewels for her hair which she helped to coif atop her head in an elaborate style. She even swiped rouge on her cheeks and stain on her lips, something Sophie had never tried before, and by the time she was done Sophie didn’t recognize her reflection even before the demi-mask was fitted over her eyes. She was an elegant silver stranger and one who looked every bit deserving of entry to a ball.

With a kiss on the cheek Genevieve sent her out into the night and closed shop to attend a party of her own, the likes of which Sophie could only guess at. Though her heart was pounding as she treaded the cobblestones up to Bridgerton House, she knew it was from excitement as much as nerves, and when she was waved into the main hall without question, it nearly stopped altogether. It was a sight far better than she had imagined. A candlelit scene of ivory grandeur with masked guests milling across the lacquered floor and up the grand staircase, dancers in the center and towers of treats and champagne to each side. It felt as if she had stepped into a dream and she never wanted to wake up.

She was knocked from her reverie by a young lady who appeared at her side, costumed as a Grecian muse. “My, what a beautiful dress!” She commented.

Sophie swallowed, suddenly fearful that her very voice may betray her identity, but instinctively she responded. “Thank you.”

When the girl only smiled and moved away, she breathed a sigh of relief. Who here could possibly recognize her voice aside from the Cowpers? She scanned the room but they were nowhere to be found. The lady who had spoken to her was at a table by the wall selecting a dance card. Not wanting to attract suitors, Sophie moved past the cards and weaved her way toward the nearest refreshments. Her eyes were so fixed on the array of delicacies that she failed to register how many heads turned to watch her.

The tiered display before her boasted a variety of sweets unlike any Sophie had ever seen. Candies and fruits, chocolates and tarts, even ice cream were all for the taking. Until that moment the only treat she had ever eaten was marzipan, a controversial candy that both her father and the Cowpers kept on hand for guests but despised themselves and so were none the wiser when she snuck pieces. Spoiled for choice, she seized a raspberry tart and had to fight from moaning at its rich sweetness. Then she nibbled on a chocolate, then a lemon cake before she stopped herself, realizing it would be unladylike to gorge herself and thereby risk revealing that she did not belong. She switched to a flute of champagne, another luxury she had never sampled before but quite enjoyed, and began to move about the perimeter of the room.

The sea of costumes was so varied and elaborate, Sophie felt confident she did not stand out too drastically. Among the women there were queens and faeries, flowers and creatures of myth, all hidden behind demi-masks or veils. The gentlemen presented as an array of devils and jesters, satyrs and knights if they weren’t simply wearing their tails and a mask. Sophie listened in on their snippets of conversation. Courtship gossip among the women and business among the men. The young ladies whispered their opinions of the bachelors and the bachelors largely stayed silent unless they were mumbling about retiring to the smoking room. Behind them in the center of the hall were the dancers, swishing over a bee motif painted onto the parquet floor. The song was a sprightly one, spurring couples to hop around their partners while grasping hands and looping arms in a complex sequence. Sophie was transfixed, marveling at how it reminded her of a music box come to life. Everything was a feast for the senses: the twinkle of the candles, the strings of the musicians, the bubbles that tickled her tongue and the silk that wrapped around her skin. This was the life she had read about in Whistledown. This was the life she could have had as her father’s daughter if things were ever so slightly different.

A footman collected her empty glass and she felt herself calming. But that calm was immediately shattered when she noticed not one, not two, but three young gentlemen approaching her from various points in the room. It was then she realized that card or no, they would ask her to dance. It was also when she remembered that she did not know how to dance. And it was then that she began to chastise herself for forgetting this crucial fact before sneaking into a ball. She had been so caught up in the thrill of simply observing the masquerade and so used to being overlooked that she had not contemplated the possibility that a man may ask her to dance. If she attempted to, it would immediately become obvious that she was an imposter. Her mind started to race, eyes pinging between the three admittedly handsome gentlemen who drew closer and closer, looking at her as if she were a piece of meat and they were starving lions. There was nothing for it - she would have to hide. Backing away as gracefully as she could, she scurried around a cluster of guests, lifted two more flutes of champagne and darted down a hall where open french doors promised a swift escape.

---

[Shift to Benedict’s POV as written at the beginning of Chapter 2 of AOFAG. He is begrudgingly attending the masquerade, aggravated that he cannot be distinguished from his brothers.

…he sometimes wished he were considered a little less a Bridgerton and a little more himself.

Violet asks him to dance with Penelope who is unfortunately dressed as a peacock. On his way, he is cornered by rude debutantes.

“A Bridgerton!...Which are you? No, don’t say. Let me guess. You’re not the viscount, because I just saw him. You must be Number Two or Number Three.”]

Grimacing his way out of yet another insulting and inane conversation, Benedict tucked himself into a corner under the stairs. He should have pushed forward to go humor Penelope Featherington but he had lost sight of her and he didn’t know if he would be able to bite his tongue through one more chance interception by an air-headed debutante or her mama. All of these ladies simpering over a man who they could not name while their mothers’ half-smiles betrayed that they saw him as little more than a consolation prize now that his titled brother was taken. He pitied them, knowing it was what they were all raised to do. But he also pitied himself for being the focus of their attentions. He supposed it was inevitable that he would find himself playing the marriage mart one day and it was precisely as miserable as he had imagined it would be, if not more. But having failed in his pursuit of art, the one thing that had stirred true and enduring passion within him, what else was he supposed to do? Perhaps a wife would make him feel grounded, grant him a new sense of purpose. But none of the young ladies he had met throughout the painfully long London season had been able to produce any feeling in him that was even a fraction of what he felt when he daubed oils on canvas, or sketched a flower, or studied a Turner sky.

With a rueful smirk he wondered if he would fail at becoming a husband too. He hadn’t the merits to get into the Royal Academy without a bribe; perhaps he didn’t have the merits to succeed at the marriage mart either. As eager as the women were to throw themselves at his feet, he didn’t know if he could hide his true feelings well enough to make it to an altar. Feelings of disappointment, lack of inspiration, and invisibility. The dreadful suspicion that he was not destined for the productive life of artistry he had always imagined. He was only a Bridgerton, one of many, and the most he could hope to achieve was some form of domestic happiness, if any woman would tie herself to such an empty shell of a man.

His stomach sank as he heard his surname giggled in a nearby pack of debutantes. It was all too much, he needed fresh air. As he turned toward the back hall he felt an odd tingling sensation in his limbs and all of his focus seemed to narrow on the french doors. Perhaps he had drunk too much, perhaps it was too hot in the room, but it was not an unpleasant feeling. Rather, it was a feeling of certainty. Certainty that he must go outside and his feet were itching to carry him there. He did not protest and in a moment he was through the doors and in the cool air of the back garden.

On instinct he walked toward the massive elm tree, planning to rest on the swings hanging from its branches. Scattered torches and a pearlescent full moon helped to illuminate the garden, making it a peaceful respite from the crush of people inside. He assumed he was alone but realized he was mistaken when he rounded the rose bushes and beheld an odd sight. It was a woman standing on the paving stones with her back to him. She was dressed in a silver gown, antiquated in style but made of the most mesmerizing fabric that seemed to absorb the very moonlight and make her glow. Her head was turned toward a large window of the house through which could be seen the dancing couples inside. She was mimicking them, slowly, jerkily, raising her arms and stepping to and fro with an invisible partner, stumbling every few steps and then hissing at herself as she tried to match the movements once again. It was clear she was trying to learn the dance and failing spectacularly.

Benedict couldn’t tear his eyes away. Even without seeing her face he could tell she was a beauty. But more than that, she was the most curious creature he had come across at any event of the ton. So many questions immediately arose. Who was she? How atrocious had her dancing master been? Why wasn’t she chaperoned? Whatever the story was, he simply had to know it.

He stepped closer and cleared his throat, hoping not to frighten her.

“Are you in need of a partner?”

“Oh!” Instantly she whipped around and nearly jumped a foot in the air.

Benedict’s breath caught in his throat. He had been right about her beauty, it was evident even behind her demi-mask. But it wasn’t simply the trappings of her stunning gown, glimmering jewelry or scarlet lips. It was innate, some kind of light that animated her from within. It called to him like a lighthouse across a stormy sea and he was transfixed. He had never experienced such a powerful sensation upon first seeing a woman. Sophie stuttered, embarrassed to have been discovered tromping around in the garden and nervous that her behavior was about to reveal her as a trespasser. The fact that her inquisitor was tall, dark and handsome was also causing her mind to stall. She offered a meager explanation. “I…I am not familiar with this step, so I was…trying to learn.”

Her voice was the sweetest music Benedict had ever heard. It made him feel weightless, electrified. Akin to how his favorite landscapes left him gaping in awe, but even more visceral. He realized he was staring at her, agog, and snapped himself back to attention. “And you did not want to ask any of the gentlemen inside to teach you?”

“I didn’t want to seem silly. Though I suppose, I have already failed at that.” She dropped her eyes and blushed and Benedict felt heat surge through his own skin at seeing its beautiful hue. What was it about her that made him falter when every other young lady made him want to run? Who on earth was she?

“I don’t recognize you. The same array of people always come to these parties.”

“Ah, then my disguise is working well.” She arched a brow with a mischievous little grin.

Benedict felt his stomach flip with delight. “What is your name?”

Sophie prickled. She would need to be crafty with her answers to maintain her anonymity. The consequences of being discovered were dire, but perhaps that was what gave it an undeniably exciting edge. She had learned to hide herself in plain sight with the Cowpers. Surely this wouldn't be much harder. “Is a degree of mystery not the purpose of a masquerade?”

His lopsided smile set her at ease. He wouldn’t interrogate her; he was amiable.

“Very true. So you are going to make me guess?”

“I think it would be a fruitless endeavor.”

Benedict marveled at the beautiful stranger as the intrigue grew deeper. She was the first debutante who had reacted to him with anything other than fawning desperation. She was playful. She was a breath of fresh air.

He stepped closer, folding his arms as he looked her up and down. “Well, you have already given me a significant clue. A young lady in society who does not know the quadrille. That is unique indeed.” She straightened her mask and he noticed her unadorned wrist. “And no dance card. You are truly committed to remaining as anonymous as possible.”

“All in the spirit of the event.” She turned quickly and walked to a nearby table where two flutes of champagne sat unattended. She drank down the remnants of one a bit too eagerly, betraying her nerves.

“Is someone joining you?” Benedict wondered if he had interrupted the flirtations of another suitor. If so, the man was a fool to take his eyes off such a creature for even a moment.

Sophie followed his gaze to the second glass and felt herself flush at being caught indulging so brazenly. She picked it up and carried it back to him. Now that he knew she could not dance, she could relax and enjoy his conversation at least.

“You have joined me, Mister…?”

He accepted the glass and huffed a laugh. “Oh come now, my disguise is not nearly as good as yours. You don’t have to be so coy.”

The woman continued to stare at him blankly and the puzzle of her grew infinitely more bewildering. Could it be possible that she truly did not recognize him? Even if this was her first event among the ton, she could not have failed to hear his name on every other woman’s lips as they chased him through the ballroom. Nor could she be so ignorant about her hosts. They were at his bloody house after all.

His brow knitted in disbelief. “You truly do not know who I am?”

“There you are!” A voice called out suddenly.

Sophie’s stomach lurched into her throat. She’d been found out. She’d be thrown into the street, and tomorrow probably into jail for stealing Araminta’s shoes, and–

A second man marched around the rose bushes also in tails and a black demi-mask, shorter and broader than the first but also remarkably handsome. He stomped up to confront the other.

“Mother has been looking all over for you. You weaseled out of your dance with Penelope and I had to take your place.”

The taller man smirked. “And did that put you out terribly, brother?”

Sophie looked from one man to the other. Even under their demi-masks, the familial relationship was more than obvious, and she realized in a blinding flash that they must be the famed and coveted Bridgerton brothers. But which brother was her visitor? Benedict. He had to be Benedict. She sent a silent thank you to Lady Whistledown, who’d once written a column completely devoted to the task of telling the Bridgerton siblings apart. Benedict, she recalled, had been singled out as the tallest. Sophie began to assess him anew, the most eligible bachelor in the ton. Remembering that Gen had shared a dalliance with him, she could understand the appeal.

“It was better than any of the alternatives, I must say,” The man who must have been Colin Bridgerton shrugged. “If you flee the party and leave me to that pack of she-devil debutantes, I swear I shall exact revenge to my dying day.”

Benedict laughed and Colin turned to Sophie with a start, realizing that they were not alone. “Oh pardon, present company excluded. I apologize, Miss.”

He bowed politely and she returned her best curtsy.

“No offense taken, sir.”

The annoyance melted out of his eyes - a captivating shade of blue - and his voice grew silky as he stepped toward her. “Might I request an introduction?”

“I doubt you’ll meet with success.” Benedict snickered. “I would like one as well but the lady is committed to the spirit of the event and will not share her name.”

Colin frowned at her playfully. “Not even a false one?”

Sophie grinned, enjoying their little game. She had never received so much attention from any member of the upper class, much less two suave and flirtatious bachelors. It made her bold. “If you really insist, I suppose I could tell you something.”

“But not the truth?” Benedict asked.

“This isn’t a night for truth.”

Colin leaned in with a devilish smirk. “My favorite kind of night.”

Benedict rolled his eyes and tugged his brother upright. “Shouldn’t you be with Penelope?”

At this, the younger grew flustered. “I…well…”

“It would be the honorable thing to do, making sure the young lady is asked to more than just one dance this evening.” At the end of his argument Benedict folded his bottom lip into an exaggerated pout and Sophie felt her insides flutter.

Colin seemed possessed by a new sense of chivalry. “Very well, I’ll take my leave. And fight back through the pack of ravenous wolves…”

“Wolves?” Sophie laughed, turning to Benedict. “Is that what drove you out of doors as well, sir?”

“I suspect it is.” Colin grinned and clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Our mother would like nothing better than to see this one married off.”

“Brother…” Benedict’s grip tightened around the champagne flute.

“Would you take pity on the poor, long-suffering woman and chase him up the aisle?” Colin shot a wink at Sophie.

“Have you been at the tea again?” Benedict grumbled under his breath, staring daggers.

Sophie couldn’t remember being so entertained before. “I believe I shall have to get to know him better first, and take the full measure of his character before any chasing shall commence.”

Her co-conspirator released a loud sigh. “Then alas, I fear he may be found wanting and remain a bachelor forever.”

“Are you quite finished?” Benedict snipped.

Sensing the end of his patience, Colin slapped him on the back and desisted. “I am.” He turned to Sophie with a beaming smile and bowed once more. “Enjoy your evening.” Then he was gone as quickly as he had appeared, leaving them alone in the garden.

Sophie allowed a giggle to escape. “It is charming to see two brothers who get on so well.”

Benedict took a large swig of champagne. “You’d call that getting on?”

“I would.” Sophie smiled softly. “I have no siblings myself but it’s clear the jesting stems from a place of love.” Indeed, Sophie felt herself surrounded by love at this house. A love of family and community that she had always longed for but always been denied. It was bittersweet to be wrapped in it, knowing it would only last for one evening.

He quirked a brow. “Another clue. She has no siblings.”

“That cannot be that rare.” Sophie spluttered, chastising herself for her misstep.

“It certainly narrows the options.”

“Well, it is the last thing I shall share about my identity.” She set her chin defiantly and Benedict found it to be quite the most adorable expression. Now he was determined to know everything about her, however long he had to play her game.

He stepped toward her again, lowering his voice. “Why so many secrets?”

“I told you, this entire night is meant for secrets. Though I believe I have uncovered yours.” Sophie said with an enigmatic smile, truly warming to her role as a mysterious stranger.

“Oh yes?”

“I know who you are.”

Benedict shrugged. “I assumed as much.”

“I didn’t at first,” she confessed.

“What gave me away?” With no discernable parents shoving her in his direction, Benedict wondered how she had deduced it.

Sophie grinned, victorious. “The fact that you are here with your brother. That you look so alike. And are both being hounded by the young ladies.”

“We look alike even with masks on?”

“Even with masks,” she nodded. “Lady Whistledown writes about the Bridgerton brothers quite often, and she never passes up an opportunity to comment upon how alike you look.”

Ah, she was a Whistledown reader, though that didn’t help him parse her identity among the young ladies of the ton. He had never read the scandal sheet himself but was unsurprised that it contained discussions of the Bridgerton resemblance. He had heard it all his life, how similar he was to his two eldest brothers. The three of them were often called by the others’ names, even by their own mother on occasion, with everyone typically defaulting to assuming they were all Anthony, the Viscount. He and Colin had used it to their advantage from time to time, wielding perceived status to get preferential treatment or making handshake deals to embroil Anthony in some ludicrous business venture. He of course could see the clear distinctions between each of them but it seemed society could not. If anything, he knew he most closely resembled his late father and it caused the greatest pain when someone slipped and called Benedict by his name. It was all something he had learned to live with. He loved his family dearly but his visibility as a Bridgerton often made him feel invisible as Benedict.

He steeled himself to be wounded again by this lady in silver. “And do you know which brother I am?”

“Benedict,” she smiled brightly. His heart skipped hearing his name on her lips. In the soft glow she cast, he finally felt seen. “If indeed Lady Whistledown is correct when she says that you are the tallest among your brothers.”

He swallowed to try and hide his excitement. “You’re quite the detective.”

She shrugged. “I merely read a gossip sheet. It makes me no different from the rest of the people here.”

He wanted to chuckle at how she voiced his precise thoughts aloud. Perhaps she was an enchantress with the power to read minds. Whoever she was, dream or reality, he needed to know more. Downing the rest of his champagne, he set the glass aside and moved closer, trying to study the contours of her face and color of her eyes behind her mask.

“And if Lady Whistledown were here and saw you tonight, would she know your identity?”

The woman backed away, playfully but pointedly drifting across the grass toward the elm tree. “I’m so well disguised that no one would recognize me right now.”

He continued his pursuit. “What if you removed your mask? Would she recognize you then?”

“I’m not going to answer that.” She walked backward slowly, always staying paces ahead of him.

He returned her wry smile. “I didn’t think you would, but I had to ask nonetheless. Dare I ask what else you know about me from Whistledown?”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

Sophie’s nerves were running haywire at being chased with such evident intent by a gentleman. And not just any gentleman, but Benedict Bridgerton himself. She had never planned to flirt nor attract the attention of gentlemen at the ball. She had only wanted to observe it, to soak in the atmosphere, to forget the life of Sophie Beckett for a few hours. But now the most coveted man in the ton - a man far more charming and beautiful than she had presumed - was stalking toward her with hungry eyes. She should have been terrified at being discovered or even compromised, but she wasn’t. She was enjoying this. Perhaps she could blame the champagne for the heated, buzzing feeling throughout her body but whatever it was, it left her heady with confidence and craving more.

Something bumped into the back of her legs and she turned to see that she was standing by a pair of swings hanging from the branches of the looming tree above. He had her cornered. But he was nothing but a gentleman as he held the swing steady and gestured for her to sit. With the volume of her skirt she could do little but perch on the seat and hold onto the ropes to keep her balance. He lowered himself onto the swing next to hers and rocked lightly to and fro with a cheeky glint in his eyes.

“If I cannot know anything about you, at least I might know what you know about me.”

Sophie pondered a moment. Her immediate thoughts were what Genevieve had shared. That he was sensitive, talented and good. But of course she could not reveal that she had learned such things. She had to rely on what had been reported in Whistledown, which had conveniently been confirmed by Colin. “Your name has not been seriously linked with any young lady, and your mother despairs of ever seeing you married.”

The way his shoulders slumped banished her assumption that he simply didn’t want to end a rakish bachelor lifestyle. The burden to marry weighed on him more heavily for some reason.

“The pressure has lessened a bit now that my brother’s gone and gotten himself a wife,” he explained.

“The Viscount?”

“Mmmm,” he nodded. “And anyway, I’m sure at some point I’ll find the lady suitable enough to keep my house and bear my children.” He kicked at the grass, dispirited.

“Among the ravenous wolves?” Sophie chuckled, trying to brighten the mood and coax the truth out of him. “It sounds as if that traditional sort of life would be unappealing to you.”

Benedict shook himself out of his ruminations and sat up straight. He felt so at ease with this mysterious guest that he had let the mask of debonair suitor slip. He must be cautious in revealing his true feelings especially if he hoped to secure her hand, the only one that was making the prospect of marriage seem in any way appealing. He spluttered, “Well…I only…”

She cut him off. “Do not worry about offending me, Mr. Bridgerton. I am not here to find a husband and I’d much rather have your honesty than your flattery.”

Who on earth was this miraculous woman? A young lady who was not scheming for a proposal but rather seeking to know him better. The first and only he had encountered in the marriage mart. He felt as if he had discovered a unicorn and effortlessly opened his heart to her.

“I suppose there are other pursuits in life that interest me. To travel the Continent and see the artworks of the great masters. To seek out beauty in all its forms and capture it. To do something worthwhile with myself, have an occupation. Shocking as that may be, I feel that I would find it fulfilling.”

While his desires may have confused many of her peers, the lady in silver only smiled. “I think it’s admirable for anyone to hold an occupation. It shows a great deal of character, not to mention independence. And in this independent life of yours, there would be no room for a wife?”

“I didn’t say that,” he clarified. “I have never disdained romance, as it appears you do. If you’re not here to find a husband, then what are you here for?”

“To enjoy myself.”

“Simple enough,” he smirked.

“Yes,” she sighed. “If only I knew how to dance.” The pointed challenge in her eyes lit a spark within him. She was a smart little thing, a force to be reckoned with. He would not shy away. He bounced to his feet and stood before her.

“I would teach you gladly but be forewarned, I will teach you badly. I never took to it.”

Sophie laughed. “Have you two left feet, Mr. Bridgerton?”

“Why do you think I find myself still unmarried?”

“Surely your dancing skills cannot be that atrocious. Could it be you have some nefarious personality traits that are driving the women away?”

Benedict sniggered. “Hmmmm. Perhaps I am too rakish. Too predisposed to indulgences.”

“Does that not describe just about every gentleman in the ton?”

“Are you saying that I’m indistinguishable?” His lip folded into a hilarious pout again.

Sophie was enjoying their sparring immensely. “I’m saying it must truly be your dancing that is to blame.”

Then he bent and extended his hand. “Let me show you and you can judge for yourself.”

She rose with a rustle of silver skirts and allowed Benedict to guide her back across the lawn to the paving stones, the two of them walking in comfortable silence. She felt like a princess - a reckless princess - and so when he asked her to dance, she put her hand in his. And even though she knew that this entire evening was a lie, that she was a nobleman’s bastard and a countess’s maid, that her dress was borrowed and her shoes practically stolen - none of that seemed to matter as their fingers entwined. For this moment, at least, Sophie could pretend that this gentleman could be her gentleman. It was nothing but a dream, but it had been so terribly long since she’d let herself dream.

Standing across from the house window once more, they turned to face each other. Sophie swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how tall and how close he was. The moonlight shone behind him, cutting a striking silhouette with glinting pale blue eyes set behind his black mask. Never releasing her hand, he guided it into place.

“Put your hand here on my shoulder. Just a touch lower, there you are.”

Then his hands moved, one to her waist and one to extend their arms to the side. Sophie couldn’t help but shudder at the expanse of his grasp.

Benedict dropped his voice, instructing gently. “Now, listen to the music. Do you feel it rising and falling?”

Drifting out from the house Sophie could hear the musicians’ strings playing something light and hopeful. She concentrated and began to sense its rhythmic pattern.

“I feel it.”

Benedict smiled. “Good. Now watch my feet and let me lead you. One, two, three; one, two, three.”

As if on queue Sophie stumbled after just a moment, tripping over Benedict’s feet. “Oh! I’m sorry!”

His hold tightened around her to keep her from falling but he couldn’t help bursting into laughter. “See? I am an awful teacher. Perhaps you should return to watching the dancers inside. What are they doing now?”

Sophie couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across her own face, realizing she had never met such a good humored man. A nobleman who didn’t scold her for a misstep and even blamed himself instead. He was so playful, so easy to talk to. Despite the outrageous risk she was taking with this entire evening, she had never been more comfortable around a member of the gentry. She turned to peer into the ballroom and watched the flurry of dancing couples moving around one another. Their hands and arms entwined in a series of looping motions, palms meeting to raise over their heads before sliding back down to wrap around the ladies’ shoulders.

Knowing they were entirely unsuited to the task and giggling at each other with mischief in their eyes, she and Benedict attempted to mimic - or rather mock - the dancers inside. They grasped at each other’s elbows and wrists, fumbling to change holds and laughing as they found themselves tied in ridiculous knots and unable to glide into the next motion. Benedict pranced like a peacock and overexaggerated a deep bend of the knee as the men inside artfully swept a leg behind themselves. Next, the ladies twirled, grasping the mens’ hands and floating in a circle to revolve around their backs. Benedict extended his hand with a flourish, Sophie took it and then began skipping like a child around him, skirts bunched in her fist. They were laughing so much she was sure the champagne was to blame, which was practically confirmed when she rounded Benedict’s other side and promptly tripped on her dress, pitching to the ground.

But he caught her, swiftly and easily moving to cradle her in his arms. Their laughter died away as they gazed at one another, catching their breath. For the first time Benedict was close enough to determine the color of her eyes - they were green. A deep emerald green that sparkled as richly as her silver costume. He was nearly overcome with their light and the feeling of how perfectly she fit in his arms. Barely keeping his wits about him, he lifted her gently back to her feet.

“Lord, I never expected to find the one person worse at dancing than me,” he chuckled, trying to tame the maelstrom of emotions swirling within.

The woman returned a shaky smile. “Well I hope it serves as a boost to your confidence.”

The tremor in her voice gave him a glint of hope. Could she be feeling the same way he did? Did she too sense an overwhelming connection between them? Something he was ready to label as destiny. She hadn’t spurned any of his advances. No indeed she had flirted back at him, toying and challenging, matching his wits and his energy. She was not eager to marry him for his family or position, she was able to pick him out among his brothers and she supported his dream to do more with his life than simply wile away in domesticity. She made him laugh, she made him feel alive, she made him feel visible. Everything he had been searching for and had abandoned hope of ever finding, all embodied by a nameless lady in silver who had appeared in his garden like a gift from the heavens. She was a star, and he wanted to pick her up and hang her in his sky to guide him.

He stepped close and wrapped an arm around her waist, just wanting to hold her again. “Shall we try again? In earnest?”

Sophie was transfixed, something blooming inside her chest from the moment he caught her. This already exceptional night had taken so many unexpected turns. She had never expected to speak at length with any attendee of the ball, much less the most prized bachelor in society. And she certainly never expected a private audience with him for the whole evening, nor the feelings it would stir within her. So quickly he had banished her assumptions of what such a man would be like. He was nowhere near as snobbish as she imagined he had a right to be, nor was he the dour figure she had supposed when Gen told her he probably disdained attention. He was passionate, animated, with a comic disposition and a large heart. He disdained attention because he wanted more and felt out of place - feelings she could relate to very well indeed. He was good-natured, forgiving, gentle. And as if that weren’t enough, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen despite that she could only view half of his face beneath his mask. Though she knew the Bridgerton siblings were famed for their looks and she had only seen one brother to compare him to, she knew that Benedict would always have drawn her eye above all.

She was in danger of losing her heart to him. She feared it may have already happened. But there was no happy ending to this story. She could not reveal herself nor enjoy his company for any longer than this one night. But with his arm around her and his blue eyes holding hers so warmly, she could not bring herself to care. The musicians inside were playing a new song, something resonant and soulful, full of longing and magic. She would fit an entire lifetime into this night.

“Alright, one last go.” Bringing one hand to his shoulder and lacing the other with his, she took her position and stared down at their feet again.

“Look up,” Benedict encouraged.

She shook her head. “I will stumble.”

“You won’t. I won’t let you. Look into my eyes.”

She followed his soft command and raised her eyes to meet his. Mesmerized, she couldn’t look away. She could barely breathe. She was dimly aware that they were moving, that he was guiding her through a waltz slowly and fluidly. Suddenly their feet knew precisely how to carry them. Benedict never blinked, determined never to let this silver blessing out of his sight or his arms until she understood how she had enchanted him. Everything around them was bathed in moonlight, making her shimmer like a precious jewel in his hands.

“What do you feel?”

“Everything,” she breathed.

“What do you hear?”

“The music. I hear the music as I’ve never heard it before.” She moved light on her feet, the romantic call of the strings making it seem as if she were floating across the paving stones.

Benedict’s heart was pounding, desperate for her answer to his next question. “What do you see?”

Sophie froze, paralyzed by the impossibility of putting it into words. As their steps gently stopped and they stood inches apart, everything about him was thrown into sharp focus. She saw everything she had never dared to hope for. A man who showed interest, a man who was kind, a man who could free her from her miserable life. If only she was not who she was. Her skin tingled where he touched her, and the air grew thick and hot. This was desire, Sophie realized. This was what she’d heard fellow maids whispering about. This was what no gently bred lady was even supposed to know about. But she was no gently bred lady, she thought defiantly. She was a bastard, a nobleman’s by-blow. She was not a member of the ton and never would be. Did she really have to abide by their rules?

As Benedict’s lips parted and his head lowered toward her, she knew he was moving to kiss her and she would allow it. She craved it. It was enough to ruin a reputation, but what sort of reputation did she have to begin with? She was outside society and she wanted one night of fantasy. One kiss to savor for the rest of her pitiful existence.

Their breaths gusted across each other’s skin, lips barely an inch apart. Sophie was certain her heart was thundering loud enough that he may hear it. The music swelled. She closed her eyes. Then she felt his long, slender fingers cup her face and begin to slip under the ribbon tying her mask.

Alarm bells sounded in her mind and she lurched backward, bringing a hand to press her mask firmly to her face. She could not be discovered. Despite how everything in her body was crying out for him, she would not allow it. In the commotion a lock of her hair fell loose and dangled over her shoulder. After securing her mask she began trying to pin her hair back in place, fingers slipping in her silk gloves.

Benedict stood befuddled, watching her fumble with her gloves and hairpins. She was truly committed to not revealing her identity. A thought flashed through his mind that perhaps she was hiding some kind of deformity. At this point, he did not care. It would not make him feel anything less toward her and he was determined to woo her.

“Blasted things…” Sophie cursed under her breath as her hair continued to slip out of her grasp.

“Allow me.” Benedict reached forward and softly took her wrist, slowly sliding the glove down from her elbow to pull it off. Sophie stood trembling as he kept her hand in his and brushed his thumb across her knuckles, their skin meeting for the first time. Then he bent, keeping his eyes locked on hers as he pressed a deep, warm kiss to the back of her hand. Her breath hitched, feeling an electric current spider out from his lips across every inch of her skin. This was already a bold move but he took it even further, turning her hand over and lavishing her palm with another sensuous kiss - making his intentions clear without a single word.

“Who are you?” Benedict rasped. “I have to know.”

“I can’t say.” Sophie felt torn in two - her heart and body tugging her forward into his arms while her mind and reason held her back.

Benedict felt the heat rising under his collar. He didn’t want to learn her name simply to beat her at her game. He wanted it so that he could know who had stolen his heart so quickly and completely. So that he could keep her in his life and sing her praises. He would not end the evening without making his feelings known.

He gripped her hand tighter, pressing in close, his voice urgent. “I want to see you tomorrow. I want to call on you and meet your parents. Do you understand what I’m saying? I need to know you. I want…”

“Don’t say anything more! Please. Not another word.” Sophie cut him off, tears pricking at her eyes. This was all a mistake, a dreadful mistake. She never should have remained in the garden with Benedict, should never have flirted with him, should never have let it go this far.

“Then tell me your name,” he pleaded desperately. “Tell me how to find you tomorrow.”

The sobs were rising from her throat, anguished at how much pain she was causing them both. At how unfair it all was. “I…”

Her voice was drowned out by a booming clang from within Bridgerton House, followed by the guests inside erupting into cheers and laughter.

“What is that?”

“Midnight. Time for the unmasking.” Benedict explained, turning to her with hopeful eyes.

“Unmasking?” Sophie’s mind whirred, horrified. No one had ever mentioned an unmasking. It wasn’t reported in Whistledown and Gen hadn’t warned her. Perhaps it was something that everyone of good breeding inherently knew about a masquerade. Clearly she was not one of them. She had been so wrong to attempt this, so ill-prepared for what would happen. Now she would be out of place for not revealing herself.

As she panicked over what to do, Benedict pulled off his own mask and her crisis deepened. He was beautiful. Impossibly more beautiful now that she could see the boyish mirth in his face, the inquisitive slant of his brow, the way his crystal blue eyes were framed by the most endearing creases, evidencing a lifetime of smiles.

Benedict’s hope deflated as the woman stared at him, stock-still. “Are you alright?”

“I have to go,” she choked, barely audible. Then she gathered her skirts in her hands, turned and fled into the house.

“Wait!” Benedict leapt after her, feeling like a man possessed. He could not lose her, the only woman who had stirred him to the depths of his soul. The only one who he could be prevailed upon to marry. She held his future. She held his heart. He couldn’t let them vanish.

He tore back through the house, catching glimpses of her silver form sweeping around each corner. She was remarkably fast. He burst into the ballroom and had to scan to find her among the riot of costumes and noise. The candlelight glinted off her dress as she pushed steadily through the crowd, already halfway to the door, and he dove in after her. He abandoned any care of being polite and began shouldering his way past guests, even knocking into his brother Anthony who promptly began to admonish him but Benedict pressed on, deaf to anything but the chanting in his mind. No, no, no. He could not lose her.

Sophie dipped and sashayed around the crush of partygoers, moving as quickly as she could for the exit but not wanting to cause a scene. The genteel crowd proved their manners by parting easily as she passed. She cast glances back over her shoulder, seeing Benedict trying to catch up with her but people were less inclined to clear the way for a man. Her heart was in her throat, unsure if she could escape without being caught by Benedict or the Cowpers or anyone else who found her behavior curious. The large front doors were in sight and she turned one final time to see Benedict’s path blocked suddenly by a severe looking woman with a scarlet costume and a cane. She would make it.

Barely maintaining composure, she slowed her pace as she approached the doors and nodded politely to the footmen who opened them and ushered her out into the cool night. She scurried down the stairs, mask still on her face as she began to soak it with tears. Confused and frantic, she gave over to her instincts which were drawing her away from Grosvenor Square and back to the modiste shop. Though she knew it was her only course of action and she knew she had let the entire evening get out of hand, she couldn’t help but feel fractures splintering her heart with each hurried footfall on the cobblestones.

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