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“Your Highness.” You greet him as you enter his chambers, a lavish room fit for the Fire Lord indeed. This wasn’t the same chambers that previous Fire Lords had resided in, when Zuko took the throne, he had the Princely palace wing that he grew up in converted to his chambers. The place is beautiful regardless, endless sea of different shades of red that come together just perfectly.

Zuko doesn’t look up from his paperwork as you also greet and then dismiss the guard. “Zuko.” You call out softly after the door closes, leaving you two alone during this beautiful night. There were several lamps lit across the room, illuminating the entire space in a warm glow, but the moonlight tonight is strong too.

Zuko finally glances up at you at the beckoning of his name, the tip of his lips quirking up in the faintest smile. He has disregarded his royal regalia for the day, the crown and heavy robes resting on the other side of the room. Now he’s in simple, comfortable sleepwear, which does nothing to hide his well-built muscular form underneath.

It was no surprise the friendship between you and Zuko. You’ve known eachother since you were children, you weren’t particularly friends, you were just his father’s advisor’s daughter that he interacted with occasionally. The only reason he picked you to be his advisor very early into his reign was the fact that you were critical of his father’s practices since a young age, privately of course, words only Zuko would hear.

It was only after then that a friendship blossomed. You were around him so much that it was inescapable, you were his closest confidant. You knew everything this about him, you were the only person he felt truly open and comfortable around in the Fire Nation, so it also wasn’t quite the shock when Zuko realised the ache in his chest when he saw you was not only platonic or professional but romantic too.

He greets you back with a soft whisper of your name, going back to skimming through whatever the document in front of him was. Zuko cherished moments like this. When it is just the two of you alone, when you could too let your guard down with no watchful eyes and just call him ‘Zuko’.

You were too dressed in casual wear, robes and the pins and medals that are usually decorated on them missing, simple red dress with a hem that kissed the ground and you walked, like you always were during these meetings with him.

“Avatar Aang sent a letter through.” You announced as you walked across his room, one hand holding up your dress so you don’t trip on it and the other waving a piece of parchment around. Zuko is situated in the floor, on a cushion with his legs crossed, a small, short table in front of him with ink, documents and a lamp rested on it.

“Read it out for me?” Zuko asks in a low voice, sleep infecting it and making it gravelly, enough to send a chill down your spine. You feel a slight rush of heat to your cheeks, feeling lucky that he wasn’t looking at you. Is it really your fault? Has anyone taken a look at this man? It’s unfair!

The way the light from the lamp was illuminating his side profile, in the way you could see every contor of his face and scar. He grew up, losing his childish features, replaced with sharp contours of his cheeks, nose and jaw. Zuko glances up at you again, wondering why you’ve suddenly gone silent, with you looking away before he caught you staring.

“Flameo Hotman. How goes running the Fire Nation?” You begin to narrate dramatically as you sink into the floor, tucking your legs under the table on the opposite side to Zuko so that you sat facing him. You continue reading, the two issues that the Avatar requires help with, something in Republic City and something related to food. You converse with Zuko, talking through the problems, his sassy remarks extracting chuckles and giggles from you occasionally.

“And lastly I am curious, did you tell—Oh.”

The documents he was examining earlier is now left abandoned as Zuko was solely focused on you, and now your reaction has his eyebrows scrunching. You were smiling till a moment ago, but whatever you read at the end had the joy leave your face and…a smirk stretching across your lips.

You glance up at Zuko from behind the piece of parchment, an odd glint in your eyes, maybe even…heat? Your teeth bite into your lower lip as you glance back at the letter and then back at Zuko. “What is it? What does it say?” Zuko questions, the furrow between his eyebrows deepening.

A soft huff of amusement leaves between your bitten lips, trying your best to keep your composure. Zuko watches as you fail and burst out into a giggle, your face reddening slightly. You look back at him, the same glint still in your eyes.

“Lastly I am curious.” You start and pause dramatically, the look in your eyes darkening a little. Agni, Zuko swears in his head, this is not helping the ache in his chest, the way you were looking at him, the smile stretched across your lips.

“Did you tell your royal advisor of your romantic feelings…for her?” You read out, voice dipping by an octave.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, Zuko is fucked.

“And asked if she is a bachelor or not? Seize the opportunity before it slips out of your fingers, my friend!” You finish reading, silently folding it before pressing the letter into the table, looking up at Zuko’s expression of being caught off guard.

The silence is very loud as you two just look at eachother, all color drained from his face and pure amusement on yours. Zuko’s eyes bare into yours and you can almost see the way he’s not only registering what you said but also working out on what to say, clearly unable to think of anything to say.

“Do you have other Royal Advisors I am not aware of…or?” You start, smirk still stretched across your lips. Zuko just blinks at you, his hetrochromatic eyes shining, his adam’s apple bopping as he swallows nervously. “He was simply…jesting.” Is somehow the only thing he can come up with currently, the usual sassiness you see in him completely disappeared.

“So you’re not in love with me?”

You say, a little too quickly causing Zuko’s eyes to widen, his scar stretching because of his surprise. “Uh…” Zuko quirks, but you smile smirk at him sweetly. “I…Its not…That’s, it’s. Um.” His hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck as you look at him expectantly.

You can see him buffering in real time, the machinery in his brain short circuiting as it’s unable to process what’s happening. You stay smiling at the Fire Lord as he just stares at you, probably praying for the earth to open up and swallow him whole.

You roll your eyes at his stupor, taking it into yourself to make a move, you prep yourself up into your knees, pressing you palms flat onto the mahogany wood as you lean cross the table as Zuko sits as still as a statue. You lean close enough for your nose to hover right over his cheek and partially his scar.

“I am a bachelor, Your Highness. Veeeery lonely.” You whisper as his face reddens even more before you rush forward to press a kiss his cheek, his skin soft beneath your lips. You feel Zuko let out a harsh exhale as you pull away, standing up to your full height, looking down at him a moment before turning to walk away.

“Goodnight, Zuko” You wave as you leave.

first time writing for him and i hate this cause it’s like 4am and i need to sleep😔😔 yeah no i just hate this BUT I MADE THE MISTAKE OF SNEAK PEAKING IT SO NOW I HAVE TO POST IT- anyway. adult zuko has me KSKSKKDKDKDJDJDK

Sylus raised a brow as he held his cellphone tighter in his hand. “Crow Man?”

“Is this not Ca-Caw Man?”

“…are you drunk, sweetie?”

“Mr. Big Ca-Cawk, please pick me upppp!”

Sylus set his phone down on his desk and leaned back in his seat, already massaging his temple in slow circles. He had lavished you with such sweet pet names, and in your darling little head, you had just affectionately bestowed upon him the nickname…Big Ca-Cawk.

Sylus inhaled sharply.

He knew he let you get away with a lot of mischievous things, but perhaps this might be the one time he needed to put his foot down. He held his phone next to his ear again, hearing you sniffled:

“Caw-Caw, do you not like me anymore?”

Damn. You were good.

Sylus huffed softly, finding your drunken speech pattern rather endearing now. With a soft smile on his face, he spoke low, “Far from the truth, sweetie. Now, give me your address.”

You relayed to him the address of a late-night restaurant you were at in Linkon City.

“Stay safe,” Sylus responded, “I’ll be there in twenty.”

The call ended and Sylus heaved another heavy sigh before he stood up. He walked pass where Mephisto was roosting on his perch, and Sylus mumbled thoughtfully to the mechanical crow, “Maybe I should just assign you to monitor her 24/7 from now on.”

Mephisto tilted his head to the side, clearly confused by his owner’s odd words. He cooed quietly in response, watching as Sylus left.

With no speed limit in the N109 Zone, Sylus breezed through the city on his motorcycle in a matter of less than fifteen minutes. Through Linkon City, the street was mostly vacant, and he managed to avoid many of the cop hiding spots. It took him roughly another ten minutes to finally pulled up to the restaurant you said you were at.

As he parked his motorcycle, he took his helmet off, eyes instantly narrowing in anger when he noticed you were backed into a wall by a couple of sober sleazebags. Sylus started to walk up to you, his temper flaring when he heard your feeble protests:

“No…I don’t like this. Go away...”

“Aww, come on, sweetcheeks, you look like you could use a rest at a motel with us.”

“Yeah, it’d be in bad conscious of us if we leave a cute girl like you hanging around on the street like this—”

Sylus had heard enough. His hand tightened into a fist, and thick, dark tendrils wrapped around the two men’s necks, easily lifting them up and sending them hurtling down the block. When they gotten up, ready to assault their attacker, they were instantly frozen with fear from just a simple sharp glare from Sylus. He merely snapped his fingers and new tendrils shot straight down the block at the two men, the sight enough to send them running away in terror.

How fortunate for them. Sylus had other important things on his mind this particular night, or otherwise, he would have felt no qualms with ridding the world of two lowlifes.

When Sylus turned to look at you, his gaze softened considerably, a look of exasperation settled on his handsome features. He approached you slowly, his voice soft and gentle, “Sweetheart…”

His eyes widened in shock when you flung yourself against him, arms wrapped around his waist tightly. You sniffled softly, “Sy-Sy…”

Sylus regained his composure and he smiled down at your head, his hand rubbing your back soothingly. “So I am Sy-Sy now?”

He waited for you to calm down, speaking gentle, comforting words to ease your fears. When he noticed you appeared calmer, he led you to where he had parked. After handing you a helmet, he made sure your arms were wrapped tightly around his waist again before he took off, heading to your apartment.

Once he had arrived to your apartment building, he led you upstairs to your floor. He watched in amusement as you attempted to open the door, unable to get your thumb aligned correctly with the biometrics.

“Here,” he murmured, grabbing your wrist and guiding your thumb to match up with the small screen.

There was a click.

The door opened.

You stared in absolute awe. “Sy-Sy is so amazing…”

Sylus chuckled as he led you inside. “Sweetie, how much did you drink tonight?”

You shrugged. “It was Tara’s birthday…and it was our 5000th wanderer kill…and it was also pay day…and—”

Sylus immediately cut you off, laughing. “I get it,” he said, leading you to your bathroom to help you wash up, “You had a lot to celebrate today.”

He watched you smiled happily as you splashed some cooling water on your face. He helped you removed your jewelry before leading you to your bedroom. Sylus crossed his arms over his chest as he eyed you up and down in your black bodycon dress.

“Now, while I do appreciate seeing you in this dress,” he said with a teasing lecherous smirk, “I don’t think it’ll be comfortable to wear to bed, right?”

You giggled. “Nope!”

Sylus’ eyes widened, completely unprepared when you decided to shamelessly take the dress off yourself and flung it at a chair in your room. You smiled sweetly at him as you stood there in just your bra and panties.

Sylus covered his face, groaning softly. “This girl…” He took another look at you happily smiling away at him with not a single sober thought in your head. He turned away, mumbling, “Stay put.”

He sighed and walked into your closet, muttering to himself as he searched for some sleepwear for you, “You suck at drinking, sweetheart, and yet you let yourself get this drunk…”

After spending about five minutes of searching for some decent sleepwear, Sylus came back out to find you on the bed laying on your side, half-asleep. Sylus sat down on the edge of the bed next to you. He gently shook your shoulder. “Come on, sweetie, as cute as you look like that, you need to get dressed.”

You mumbled sleepily, and Sylus took it upon himself to help you get dressed in an oversized shirt and some shorts. This task felt rather foreign to him, since he was honestly more used to doing the complete opposite. As if reading his mind, you fell against him giggling again once you were fully dressed. “Are you going to take my bra off, too, Sy-Sy?”

He groaned again, his brain about to explode. “Sweetie, you are testing me.”

You giggled again and batted your eyelashes at him.

He smirked, slipping his hands under your shirt from behind and expertly unhooked your bra, tossing it to the side with your earlier abandoned dress. “It’s a good thing I am such a gentleman who doesn’t like taking advantage of intoxicated women.”

“Sy-Sy is the sweetest,” you agreed solemnly. You leaned up and clumsily kissed him, catching him off-guard for just a few seconds before he chuckled against the kiss, pecking your lips lightly. He pulled away first, amused when he saw your look of disappointment at how quickly the kiss ended.

Sylus pinched your cheek, eliciting a pained yelp that stirred you fully awake. “Next time, you are not allowed to get yourself drunk without me around,” he scolded you firmly, though his facial expression was more gentle than angry.

“But it was pay day…”

One sharp look from Sylus had you clamming up. When he turned away, you let out a soft whine, “Wait…are you leaving me?”

He turned back just in time to see a pout forming on your face. He sighed for what seemed like the umpteenth time that night, giving you a slow shake of his head. He knew he was coddling you too much tonight, but he couldn’t bear to leave you alone in such a disoriented state. “Of course not, sweetie,” he answered with a smile, “I’m just going to turn off the lights.”

Once the lights were out, Sylus made his way back over to the bed. He chuckled in amusement as you scooted to the center, giving the empty space next to you an enthusiastic pat. Sylus climbed into bed, happy when you cuddled up to him.

“Caw-Caw, I have a question…”

“So it’s Caw-Caw again?” he asked bemused, and then muttered more to himself, “I think I’d rather you call me Sy-Sy instead… What is it, sweetie?”

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“Sweetie, I would feed you to Mephisto,” he answered, not missing a single beat.

“Noooo…” you whined at him with tears brimming in your eyes. You weakly pawed at his arm with little fists, pleading, “Don’t feed me to Mephy…”

“Mephy?” he laughed, astonished that now you had taken the liberty of nicknaming his mechanical crow.

“I won’t taste good,” you insisted with a sweet pout.

“Personally, I think you taste divine,” Sylus teased with the double-entendre, but in your drunken state, you didn’t catch the double meaning. You could only sniffle sadly at him. He rubbed your cheek affectionately with the back of his hand, his crimson eyes seemed so bright in the darkness.

“Sy-Sy…”

“Hmm?” Sylus propped himself up on his elbow, his chin cradled in his hand as he peered down at you snuggled up close to him again.

“Where does the light go when you close the fridge door?”

“Drunk you is just full of silly questions, huh?”

You continued, not caring that he didn’t give you an actual answer to your previous inquiry, “Why do we make round pizza, put it in a square box, just to eat it as a triangle?”

Sylus blinked, sighing, feeling at a complete loss for words. “When you are sober, I’ll make sure to look up the answer for you, sweetie.”

“Sy-Sy?”

“What now?”

“Life is soup.”

Sylus raised his brow in complete confusion, not understanding a single damn word out of your mouth now. He didn’t even know how to respond to the odd comment, so he just continued to stare at you, hoping for a follow-up.

“And I am a fork.”

Sylus pulled you into his arms, laying on his back with you on top of him. “Alright, sweetie, it’s time for bed now.”

You giggled, rubbing your face against his soft shirt, inhaling deeply the faint scent of cologne on him. You sighed happily, smelling the familiar comforting, warm and woodsy fragrance on him. “Would you…” You yawned and rubbed your drowsy eyes, “love me if I shrink down to the size of your thumb?”

“Sweetheart, I’ll just have to keep you safe in my pocket.” Sylus brushed the flyaway hair away from your face, his expression tender as he gazed at your sweet, sleepy face resting on top of his chest. Even though he knew by morning, you wouldn’t remember a single thing from this night, Sylus still couldn’t help but voiced his thoughts and feelings aloud.

“I adore you,” he said, hushed, the weight of his words hung heavy in the stillness of the bedroom, “More than you will ever know.”

You yawned again, burrowing deeper into his embrace. “I love you, too, Mr. Big Ca-Cawk.”

and when it’s not at premieres, satoru’s supporting you during tours, press conferences, galas, meet and greets, sitting backstage or in the front row of the crowd or at times by your side as though he can’t bear to be away from you. when you’re being showered in appreciation, he’s flicking thousands of pictures, capturing the way you interact with your adoring admirers

satoru's grown rather used to the array of roles you have played. he's seen you in rom-coms, dramas, thrillers, actions, you name it, and though he doesn't necessarily get jealous when you have to kiss someone on screen anymore, he doesn't always appreciate some of the intimate scenes you do. despite so, he trusts you. he knows it's your job and that none of it is real, and above all, he knows the faces you make when you're truly experiencing pleasure. while you're an amazing actor, those faces you make on screen could never begin to compare to the ones he draws out of you

ever the arrogant man, however, satoru always makes it a point to remind you of who makes you feel good- who has you crossing your legs under the table as you meet with colleagues over the computer, his fingers working their way in and out of your sopping cunt off camera as you try your damndest to keep a straight face while your entire lower half is squirming- who makes a point to fuck you over the dresser of your trailer in between shoots after having brought you some coffee to help keep your energy high, rambling on about how one of the tech assistants had been looking at you for too long- who, at any event possible, will never fail to lay you back on the seat of your limo before even stepping outside, scrunching up your obscenely priced gown to eat you out as he gazes up at you over your legs

"you're so gorgeous, pretty. my pretty girl," "how lucky am i to be the only one who gets to see you like this, hm?" "fuck, baby, they have no fuckin' idea how good you feel"

even with his habits, satoru will never turn his nose up at any role you play simply because you're far too talented and simultaneously devoted to him for him to ever feel put off by your occupation. besides, he's managed to bag one of the most famous actors in the world. he truly does not think he has anything to worry about when it comes to you

satoru finds himself rather surprised, yet excited nonetheless, when he hears that you are to be playing a dislikable character in the upcoming film of the summer. you warn him that it's drastically different, that you'll be tapping into a morally poor side of yourself for this role that you have never delved into, nor really favored before

"pretty, you'll do amazing. trust me. do i get to watch you be mean to other guys? do you get to beat anyone's ass? honestly, that sounds like a dream come true" "i mean, yeah, but toru it's more than that. my character is actually a bitch. an unfaithful, abusive one. i don't know how i'm gonna do that..."

satoru knows that behind all the glitz, glamor, and fame, the occupation of an actor can be incredibly emotionally and physically taxing. you don't tell him much more about the role before rehearsals and filming starts, but he can tell over time that you're struggling with this particular film. simply because you're just too kind of a person despite how large your presence is

well into the filming process, he decides to visit you on set to serve as some extra emotional support. he's watching from behind the cameras intently as you go through a scene that's way more intense than he had previously expected, and his jaw practically drops as he watches the scene play out before him

your character is being confronted by her husband about her infidelity, and all the while as your acting partner screams at you in tears to beg you for some remorse, you lay back on a sofa with a cigarette pinched between your fingers, face completely dull and apathetic

"how could you do this to me?! to us? why won't you look at me! I say something!"

"whatever i say won't change the fact that i fucked someone else."

"...do you even care? do you care that you've ruined our relationship?"

"let's be real, there was no relationship to begin with."

"w-what do you mean?"

you stand, stubbing your cigarette into a mug, and walk over to your sniveling scene partner. the camera zooms on your face, your dead eyes, your angled brows. "i never loved you. don't you get it? you're just a pet, and you know it. so don't go crying to me about breaking something that was never promised"

satoru's eyes are wide, completely enraptured as though this scene is a real moment he is witnessing from afar. your fake husband he breaks down, dropping to his knees and clinging to you, but you curl your lips in disgust.

"get the fuck off me," you hiss, shoving him rather aggressively away. he falls, sobbing. "pathetic piece of shit."

you go to turn away, but stop and stumble. immediately you break, and gone is the merciless woman that was acting before the crew seconds ago. the light returns to your eyes as you cover your mouth in embarrassment, looking up.

"sorry, i forgot my next block," you say sweetly, timidly. "how was that?"

"perfect! let's pick up from when you turn away. once you say that last line, you-"

satoru is baffled, the director's notes falling into muffled white noise as he stares at you. he's never seen you in such a position before, one that has him questioning everything about you. and though you claimed to have a hard time with it, you were doing fucking phenomenal

he sees now what you mean about your character being... well, a horrible person for lack of a better term. he doesn't even recognize you, and he's sure your fans are going to have a field day when this film comes out. you're being shown in a drastically different light from your heroine and emotionally relatable love interest positions, and it will surely be a sight for the world to see.

during your break, you walk up to satoru tiredly and burrow your face into his chest. he wraps you up immediately, babbling about how insane you were in your scene. you look up at him with those big (e/c) eyes as he runs his hand over the back of your head.

"you think so?"

"baby, my jaw was dropped the entire time. i don't even know how you did that. you played that a little too well."

he's joking, but you still make a face of slight fear, as though you're scared of offending him. "you think it's too much?"

"no- it's a lot, but no- it's perfect. it's bold, and you do it so well."

"it doesn't make you uncomfortable?"

"why would it make me uncomfortable, pretty? i know you're acting, and it's not like you'd ever cheat on me let alone act like that," he tilts his head as a remorseful look flashes through your eyes. "are you uncomfortable?"

"i don't know... i'm just scared of how people will react... mostly because i could never picture saying this stuff to you, and i've had to do a lot of exercises to get into this toxic mindset that just... eugh. trust me, you haven't even seen the half of it."

"have you been able to take long enough breaks?"

"kinda..."

"alright, let's go chill in your trailer 'til your next call. i don't want you stressing your pretty little head about this, princess. you're doing amazing and remember, it's just a movie."

and yes, it's just a movie. a movie that has satoru twitching in his seat during the premiere at how uncomfortably awful you're acting the entire time in the film. by now, you've eased into the feel of things and are rather proud of the work you''ve done, but also happy that it's all over. you hold satoru's hand tight during some of the worst scenes, sneaking glances at him as the screen flickers intensely over his glassy eyes. you can tell he's rather moved by it all, by seeing you in such a position, and you chew harshly on the inside of your lip

when the lights come up, you're given a standing ovation initiated of course by your rather emotional husband, but in his defense, the entire room has tears in their eyes as well. satoru's clapping harshly, and you try to hide your face as grateful tears spring in your eyes, grateful for this opportunity, for your accomplishments, for the support that surrounds you

satoru wraps you in a huge hug and whispers in your ear "don't ever do what you just did in that movie to me," he whimpers, and you laugh loudly because both of you know the thought is inconceivable. "you did so so good, baby. m'so proud of how far you've come"

that night, you shower each other with love. you're wrapped up in each other's limbs, your lips meeting every part of his skin to remind him that you are still you despite the realism of the character you played, and that satoru will always be your one and only you devote yourself faithfully to for the rest of your life. when the two of you have spent yourselves, satoru holds you in the moonlit darkness of your bedroom, arms wrapped around you from behind with your back to his chest. he kisses your shoulder softly, then your cheek

“I bloody well put you back together in one piece!” Jean snapped and you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen so much anger in your friend’s eyes. “You nearly got yourself killed, and you’re complaining about a couple of bandages?!”

“A couple is enough to render me completely useless?!”

“You’re not useless.” Jean rolls her eyes. “You’re just forced into recuperation.”

“Well, it’d be fucking nice if I could at least scratch my nose.” You scrunch your nose unpleasantly.

“Your right arm still works, you know.”

“Oh.” You blink. “Right.”

Jean sighs deeply and goes back to focusing on something on your night table. Feeling awkward, you stretch out your right arm the best you can and reach up to scratch the itch on the bridge of your nose.

“What’s that?” You point at the stack of small withered leather pouches and tiny vials of potions.

She lets out a grunt of frustration. “It’s your medicine. You lost so much blood, I thought you turned into a bloody ghost.”

“Well, blame that on—”

“It’s both of your faults,” Jean cuts you off with a sharp glare. “Don’t go blaming Seungcheol when you put him in an equally bad position.”

You can’t help but smirk at the news. “He strapped down onto his bed just like me?”

Glass bottles click and clatter as Jean slams down your medicine. “Wake up! This was all meant for training, not to cut each other’s throats and bleed each other dry.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn away to avoid her glare. “Did you give him the same lecture?”

“I’m serious, can’t you just listen to me?” 

“It’d be nice to not, but I don’t think I have a choice.”

She scoffs. “We’re not at school anymore. There’s no more petty house rivalry, no house points to fight over, or exams to stress over. We’re on the same side of the war, we can’t keep fighting with the boys.”

“Don’t be a fool.” You snap back at her with furrowed brows. “You want me to trust these boys? Thought you were supposed to be the smart one—”

A click— the door opens and Wonwoo walks in as if he were coming in like routine.

“Ah,” he says in quiet surprise. “You’re up?”

A brow quirks. “What are you doing in my room?”

Jean clicks her tongue and goes back to refilling your medication.

He holds up an amber glass bottle. “To heal you back into a functioning human.”

You place your good arm under the back of your head and prop yourself up a little to get a better view of your two housemates.

“Jean’s already got my medicine here.” You nod over to the glass vials on your night table.

“Yes, but this one—” Wonwoo holds it closer to your face, the clear glass has no label but contains a sticky, thick liquid. “—is for those cuts that Seungcheol gave you.”

“Of course,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Even the cuts he gave me aren’t ordinary. I need a special potion just for that?”

Wonwoo takes a seat at the end of your bed. “You lost a lot of blood.”

“A lot.” Jean glowers.

“Stop worrying,” you chide. “I feel fine!” You cough, embarrassingly, your throat still raw and dry.

“Fine my fucking arse,” Jean curses, and you know she’s truly mad because when was the last time your friend has ever cursed? “Fine isn’t being completely incapacitated for days. I had no idea when you would even wake up.”

“Wait a sec—” Your forehead wrinkles as your face contorts into confusion. “How long have I been out?”

“Only three days,” Wonwoo sighs, and uncorks the bottle in his hand. “He’s just as immobile as you, thought you’d be interested to know.”

“That is good to know.” You can’t help the grin spreading on your face. Jean’s scowl only deepens.

A cup is conjured out of thin air, and Wonwoo pours some of the amber liquid into it. “This is going to be hard to swallow, but drink the whole thing, okay?” He hands you the cup.

It looks even darker in the cup and moves like molasses. “And what is this supposed to help with? All the blood that I lost?”

“It’s to make sure your wounds heal completely,” Jeans explains. “Unfortunately… you won’t be able to get rid of the scars, but at least they’ll be completely closed.”

“That spell he used on you…” Wonwoo says quietly, his face looking serious as he tries to word it properly in his head before saying it out loud. “It’s— it’s not a spell to take lightly. Obviously, it would have been best to use the counterspell right after you got hit, but you continued fighting—”

“Absolute blockheads, the both of you!”

“— and the lacerations only went deeper and deeper as they spread. It’ll take a few days of rest before you’re fully healed, but just hold your nose when you take the potion because it—”   

“Tastes like fucking shit!” You gag.

“— tastes pretty awful…”

//

Mandatory bed rest for the rest of the week.

Those were the orders from apparently everyone else in the house. Sneaking out was not an option because there was a spell that made the entire house ring when you tried to sneak out. It was equally both embarrassing and frustrating, seeing as how you couldn’t even take a piss without having Jean come over to help you over to the bathroom.

The only good thing about being imprisoned inside your own room was Wonwoo’s cup of tea. 

He brought you a cup of tea every morning. Earl grey. Always piping hot, and with just enough cream and sugar to make anyone else’s tongue curl from the sweetness.

It was the perfect cup of tea.

The damn snake was slowly creeping his way up your ladder that goes from enemies to acquaintances to just barely being friends. He was still low on the ladder though, just marginally above the other snakes.

But the cup of tea did nothing to make you feel any better. Any less useless.

The wounds have healed completely when you finished up the rest of the amber liquid, and the bandages were finally all released with permission from Wonwoo and Jean, but no one allowed you back into another round of dueling. Not yet at least. They all said it's because you needed more time to get better, but you knew it was because they all thought you weren’t mentally stable enough to go back.

“You almost died!” You remember wincing in pain when Jean readjusted your bandages. 

No matter how many times you insisted that you were feeling better and thinking more clearly, she stayed firm in her decision. 

“Not. Yet.”

You can only hope that the same was happening to Seungcheol.

//

Minghao sips on his glass and the candlelight illuminates the grimace on his face. “This is not what I meant when I said they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off each other.”

“I was hoping they’d just fuck each other’s brains out,” Mingyu shrugs. “But I guess this is another way of them taking their anger out on each other.”

“How could you joke like that when they both nearly died?” Trinh scowls, smacking the back of his head for the comment.

“Hey!” Mingyu rubs his head with a groan. “You think I wanted that to happen? I nearly shit myself when I saw the amount of blood in here!” He shudders dramatically. “But they’re both healed now, yeah?”

“Doesn’t make the situation any better.” Trinh tiredly rubs her eyes. “We can never pair them up again for training. I refuse to clean up that much blood again.”

“The reality is,” Minghao sighs, reaching over to pet her hair. “They fucking hate each other. I’m sure they’ll find another excuse to get into another bloody fight.”

“As much as I hated the fight as well, I can’t say that I’m not surprised.” Mingyu sighs. “This was a fight years in the making. We put those two together without any supervision of the professors, and what did we expect? Sunshine and chocolate frogs?”

“Their fighting in Hogwarts was child’s play compared to this,” Trinh groans, looking more tired by the second.

She shifts in her chair just enough for her to lean her head on Minghao’s shoulder, and he suddenly laughs. “Remember that time he spiked her ale with some babbling beverage right before potions class?”

A light chuckle comes from Mingyu. “Or that time she used locomotor mortis right before he leaned in for his first kiss with that Gryffindor girl and he fell right into her breasts?”

Minghao throws his head back with a loud snort. “Then there was that brilliant prank where he charmed her quill to write everything backwards during our O.W.L.S!”

“See? I’m telling you, they just need to fuck.” Mingyu lays his finger on the table to make his point. “They’ve already beat each other bloody.”

Minghao’s laughter slowly fades until his smile is no more, and reaches for his glass again. “Yeah, but he’s not the same boy as before.” He takes a final swig and downs the whole drink. “He’s changed.”

“We’ve all changed.”

Their heads all snap up to see Wonwoo standing at the end of their table. Minghao grimaces, and all traces of laughter have disappeared from his face. Looking forlornly into his half-empty glass, Mingyu stays silent as well.

“Done drinking for tonight?” He asks the trio, looking just as solemn as his crew of snakes.

Trinh throws her head back to finish hers and slams it back on the table. “Now I am.” 

Mingyu holds up an empty glass for Wonwoo in offerance. “How are they doing? Still, being stubborn?

Wonwoo declines with a shake of his head and sits down to join them. “I don’t know what I expected from either of them,” he sighs. “She’s still fighting tooth and nail to get out of the room, and Seungcheol’s… well, you know how he gets when he’s moody.”

“Got the temper of a five-year-old.” Trinh shakes her head.

“But thankfully the medications are working well,” Wonwoo continues. “Wounds are pretty much all healed. I still think they need more time to mentally recover from their fight.”

“I’ve got high hopes for the Princess, but Seungcheol? Like that stubborn dickhead has any space in his thick skull to even comprehend how to do that.”

“Mingyu.” Wonwoo places a firm grip on his shoulder. “We’ve got to do something. He can’t keep going on like this, he’s only going to get worse.”

“Well, what do you suggest then?” Mingyu snaps. “Like he’ll listen to any of us. 

Minghao’s expression is grim. “I’m afraid the only way he’ll get any better is if he is dead, my friend.”

//

Days and weeks flew by in the cottage and the house was slowly coming into action once again. Mingyu and Jean were still flirting around in every room, Trinh could be found giggling away with Minghao whilst pretending to not care about anyone else. 

And yet, you haven’t exchanged a single word with Seungcheol. It was harder than you expected, pretending like someone doesn’t exist under the same roof as you, but you were determined to see past him like a ghost. Unsurprisingly, he had shown you the same courtesy. Seungcheol even ate his meals alone in his room or in the room down in the basement.

Walking around the house post near-death-fight was an even bigger pain than before. There was an unspoken mutual agreement between the two of you, and that was to be completely oblivious to each other’s existence. Although the entire household was pushing for the both of you to make amends, it was clear that they have all underestimated both your stubbornness. You bet you could go months, maybe even years, pretending like Seungcheol didn’t exist within the same home as you.

While the lack of contact with the miserable imp was nice, the tension still weighed heavy in the air, and you knew it was beginning to suffocate the others as well. But as much as you felt bad for your housemates, they were the ones who forced you into this whole situation in the first place.

And so, he continued to act as if you were nothing but an echo in the hallways. He didn’t even sneer or frown, or show any physical signs of threats or discomfort. He simply acted as if you didn’t exist.

And you were fine with that.

Until, well, everyone else wasn’t.

//

The night hung heavy, and the moon cast a haunting glow on the house as you readied for sleep. You were seconds away from slipping under your covers when a timid knock echoed from your door. Wearily, you trudged over to answer, revealing a Wonwoo poised to knock again.

“Wonwoo?”

“Hi.”

“Can I help you?”

Wonwoo’s arms fall to his sides, his body rigid and expression wavering with hesitance. It was clear from his eyes that he was unsure of his presence at your door, especially at this late hour.

The past few weeks have admittedly been easier with the help of Wonwoo’s presence. He took care of you in little ways that you did not expect. He brought medicine with a cup of hot tea on the side for you every day. He would accompany you in silent book readings in the common room, discreetly sitting across from you in your favorite armchair to keep you company. And whenever you felt yourself about to be overcome with anxiety, somehow, almost miraculously, Wonwoo would appear to chase that sinking feeling of fear in your chest away.

Most times, he would ask if you’d like to accompany him in some tasks, like baking muffins for breakfast the next day, or flying on the broomsticks to help clean up the roof, or even picking flowers outside to make bouquets around the cottage.

Other times, he would make you a cup of tea and simply just sit by your side. He would make small talk if you felt like talking, but if you didn’t, he would just sit in silence with you. Sometimes, you would sit in silence for so long that your tea would grow cold, but by the time you noticed, Wonwoo had already gotten up to make you a fresh cup of tea to replace the cold one in your hands.

He had such a keen sense of your anxieties, you wondered if it was because he had the same fears as you.

A heavy sigh escapes you, heart feeling pity for the boy who has diligently stayed by your side everyday since the duel. “What is it?” Your voice is soft, speaking low to not be heard by others. “I was just about to go to sleep.”

“Oh— I’ll come back another night then—”

“Nonsense. Come inside.”

“I… I don’t want to take up too much of your time…”

“You spent the past three weeks putting me back together. You are allowed some of my time.”

He still seems hesitant. A jitteriness that was now making you nervous.

“What is it?” You ask in a tense whisper. “Did you get any news? Has someone else—”

“No! No, not at all,” He waves his hands quickly, immediately banishing the thought of losing yet another classmate. “I just— well, I’m not sure if this may come as a shock to you, but you must know that your fight with Seungcheol is making everyone else in the house deeply uncomfortable—”

You let out a deep sigh of relief.  “Is this what you came in the middle of the night for?” Turning your back on him, you wave your hand back, motioning for him to leave your room. “Go to bed, Wonwoo.”

He grabs your left hand, making you halt in your tracks. Turning to face him, you saw the strain etched into his expression. His other hand pauses for a second before reaching over to pull up your sleeve. “Look at what's happened to you.”

Your hand whips out of his and you bring the sleeve down in a defensive rage. “What are you here for, Wonwoo?” You demand this time.

He gathers in a shaky breath as if he were afraid to speak another word out loud. “Have you ever heard of that spell?” His voice drops to a whisper, making sure that you are the only one that can hear him. “That was dark magic, nothing like what we were ever taught in school. Who do you think taught him that spell?”

“You think I care where you learned all your demented spells from?”

“Well you should! I know there’s been a difficult history between our houses, but we’re all here together now. We’re all classmates here, why can’t you just—”

“Just what? Want me to pretend like everythings okay? Like the outside world isn’t burning up all around us? Want me to forget what he’s done to me?”

“I’m not asking for you to forgive him or any of us, but I am asking you to just… accept the situation that we’re all in. Whether you like it or not, we are on the same side now.”

“Acceptance doesn’t come that easily, it’s something to be earned.”

His face falls.  “Haven’t I?” Wonwoo’s eyes turn soft, yearning and desperate. “I was hoping that— that at least I am…”

Your heart clenches with guilt. “No… you’re right.” Shaking your head, you reach over to grab his hands in yours. “You’ve— you’ve been a great friend to me the past few weeks, and I can’t ever deny that, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

His shoulders relax, and he gently returns your grasp. Giving him a faint smile, you guide him into your room as he quietly closes the door behind him. Taking a seat together on your bed, facing each other, a sense of solemnity settles between you.

“This situation in the house…” Wonwoo’s voice is still cautious. “I felt like I needed to come to you, and tell you… if you and Seungcheol continue on this way, it will break us all apart.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“People are starting to walk on eggshells around here, and it’s because of you two.”

“Did you give him the same talk, or are you just lecturing me?” You snap, unable to hold down your annoyance at how everyone’s been treating you since the duel. That loathsome fuck was the one who almost killed you, and yet everyone’s coming to you to try and make amends?

“Oh, trust me,” Wonwoo almost chuckles. “He’s getting lectured by both Mingyu and Hao. You got the lucky end of the stick.”

You bit back a smile at that.

“But you know it’s true. We have to split up with dueling practice, we don’t gather anymore to hear Jun’s nightly news, and we just eat our meals separately now. There needs to be some unity between us in order for us to work together.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Since when did you become so pragmatic?”

“I’ve always been,” he responds in exasperation. “I might be friends with those idiots, but don’t lump me in with their antics.”

“You’ve revealed your true self to me six years too late,” You say wryly. 

Wonwoo reaches over to grasp your hands again. “I know, and that’s exactly why I refuse to let this chance slip away.” His look is so serious, your smile drops. “Besides, haven’t you ever noticed? I was always the one to pull the boys out of the fights.”

You pause, genuinely considering his words. “I can’t say I have.”

Wonwoo scoffs lightly. “Course not. Your attention was always elsewhere.”

“Like where?” You raise a brow.

“You know where,” he raises a brow back at you. “But now your attention is needed here. I came here because I need you to understand.”

“Understand what, Wonwoo.” Frustration starts to build. “That we’re all in this together now? That we aren’t enemies anymore because we’re fighting on the same side? I get it,” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm. “I still hate the bloody ass, but we’re stuck in this damned house for the same reason.”

The corner of his lips quirk up. “Glad to see that you’re not in denial anymore, but it’s important you know why we ran away in the first place.”

“Because your malevolent Dark Lord is out there murdering people left and right?”

“You’re not wrong,” he says, his eyes darkening. “Believe me when I say that even his most devoted followers feared him. It might have seemed like we were just taking Dark Magic lessons from the Death Eaters, but we were prisoners there. We— we were taught all these different ways to torture, sometimes even forced—”

Your face contorts in confusion, a sick feeling starting to settle in your stomach. “Have you ever…”

“Never.” He shuts you down before you could finish your question. “But… we came close a few times.”

Your hands draw away from his as a chill runs down your spine. Wonwoo looks ashamed, his hands clenched into fists.

“They trained us to be like them. They wanted us to just be another soldier. They taught us how to fight, how to torture, how to kill. They tried to poison our minds.”

A familiar panic starts to fill in his eyes, and guilt washes over you. The fear you’ve developed since running away from the Death Eaters was nothing in comparison to what he went through. How could anyone come out of that normal?

“They made us watch every night. We watched every single muggle, muggle-born or “traitor” be tortured until death. The Death Eaters were creative for sure, I watched some of their bodies be twisted in ways they shouldn’t and others lose their sanity. And on nights where the Eaters had a bit too much to drink, they would make us test the curses out on each other.”

A silence falls on your face, horror-stricken.

“One night… I saw him, Seokmin’s father. I recognized him from the platform before boarding the train. Seokmin looked just like him, the same eyes and smile… I had no idea he was a Muggle. I tried to help him escape.”

Your hands finds his again, gripping his fingers, apologetic for pulling away in the first place. The panic slowly rising in Wonwoo’s eyes.

“I had no idea he was a muggle,” he repeats, the pained look in his eyes begging you to believe him. “I thought we were almost out, but I got caught. Cicero— he was the one who caught me.”

His fingers felt cold in your hands.

“That was the last time I saw his father,” he murmurs. “And Cicero took me away.”

He pulls one hand up to his buttons on his shirt, a slight tremble as he starts to undo them. “Right here,” he guides one of your hands up to the center of his chest. “Is where I have the same scars as you.”

Your heart shatters at the revelation.

He laughs bitterly as you trail your fingers down his disfigured skin. “We all have them. Mingyu has them on his chest as well. Minghao is growing his hair longer to hide the ones on his back, and Seungcheol…” he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I never knew… I never imagined… the things you’ve been through,” your words fracture, not knowing what to say.

He’s back to smiling, a maddening reassurance you know he’s trying to give you despite the panic still in his eyes.

“Jean and I may have mended you back together, but Seungcheol cast the counterspell. He’s the one that saved you.”

“Seungcheol? But he’s the one who—”

“I know,” he nods. “He’s the one who used it on you in the first place, but when you were bleeding out in the common room, shirt torn apart and lifeless, it woke something back up in him.”

You shook your head, not saying anything. You didn’t want to believe him, but there was a quiet stirring in your head.

“He was the Dark Lord’s favorite. He trained the most out of all of us, the Dark Lord wanted to use him for his plans, and after months and months of enduring his training… he just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Tears start welling up in his eyes, his voice a mere whisper. “Something inside him… just snapped.” A tear falls from his face. “He didn’t want to kill the headmaster, but he had no choice. He had to. My closest friend is broken now because of it, and— and I don’t know how to fix him.”

Your chest crumples at the sight before you.

Small, pained whines caught your attention, and you froze in your steps, trying to identify where those noises were coming from; those complaints definitely seemed not human. Drawn by a strange force, you changed your original direction, your feet walking towards those little cries almost as if something was steadily pushing you towards that way.

«Oh, no.» you whispered, catching the attention of the creature –a large grey wolf, which immediately sapped its head towards you, big and inquisitive red eyes staring back at you with a wary snarl.

Your brows furrowed, wondering what to do. Wolves and witches had never been on good terms, but how could you leave it to die? Your eyes shifted on its form, laying on its side, grey fur covered with blood, which slightly pooled around its frame.

“Screw that,” you thought as you swallowed loudly, slowly placing your basket on the floor, and taking a hesitant step closer. The wolf growled at you, still wary of your presence, and you halted your steps once again. You knew it could not attack you due to the amount of blood staining its side – you deduced that it was a quite big wound, but nothing guaranteed you that the wolf would not try to bite you as soon as you were within its reach. You were enemies, after all.

«Okay, I-I’m not trying to hurt you,» you lift your hands, taking off the hood on your head, so that the wolf could see that you were not challenging him, in fact, your eyes never once tried to hold its gaze, «I know you don’t understand human language, but I want to help you.» you said, sincerity transpired through your voice, and since his growl momentarily stopped, you took it as a sign to get closer.

For a single second, you thought that maybe, just maybe, the wolf understood what you said, but that thought disappeared from your mind as soon as, kneeling next to its side, you hesitantly touched its grey and bloody fur, drawing your hand back as the wolf whined again, painfully. To your dismay, it was indeed a large wound, and judging by the look of it, it must have been pretty deep, too. Your shoulders fell in dejection, you could not heal the wolf using a spell, it would take too much time and neither of you were safe out in the open; you needed to take him to your house to treat him back to health.

“It must have been the King and his men,” you concluded, “may Artemis curse them.”   You were never particularly fond of wolves – you basically grew up both fearing and despising them due to your mutual and unmotivated hatred, but you couldn’t stand how humans decided to make a ricreative activity out of something like hunt.

«I’ll take you to my house to heal you. However… I fear the way back won’t be comfortable for you.» you mumbled the last part, getting back on your feet and untying your cape by the small, neat ribbon in the middle of your collarbones. The wolf was still cautiously looking at your every move, and you ignored him, carefully spreading your dark green cloak on the ground. The wolf was far too big and far too heavy for you to lift it up and carry it all the way to your cottage, so you decided to move it on your cape – with extreme difficulty, so that you could at least half drag, half carry it. Your eyes flashed golden as you casted a spell on the both of you, making the wolf’s weight partially non-existent and also, that any human that crossed your way back would not have seen you. It took you a lot of effort and all the strength you had in your body to walk back – your basket full of herbs obediently floating in the air and following the both of you.

You made sure to be as careful and attentive as you could, trying not to worsen the wolf’s wound and stopping as soon as its whines seemed more painful. A part of you wanted to wonder why the wolf seemed so obedient and less wary of you, but the part of you focused on getting home unharmed had the upper hand.

Your cottage was not particularly big; in fact, it was quite humble to belong to a powerful witch. You could have had any house you wanted and yet, you decided to settle there: two floors, grey and uneven bricks, a large garden around the perimeter of your house – part of it served as a small vegetable garden, everything surrounded by a wooden fence.

It was humble, but it was fairly distant from both the woods and the closest village, and you loved it.

You dragged the wolf’s still whining frame – which you found out being a he, all the way to your house. Your forehead was sweaty, your body completely ached, you most definitely needed a bath, and you were sure that your cape was definitely damaged, but still your main thought was to check his wounds, since the fear of them being infected made way into your brain.

Your eyes flashed golden once again, and some pillows and blankets re-arranged themselves on the floor near your small sofa, in order to create a bed large enough for him to be comfortable.

Carefully, you laid the wolf on the makeshift bed, taking a deep breath and slowly stretching your arms in the vain attempt to get rid of the ache and soreness on your limbs. Absently, you kicked the bloodstained cape out of your reach, and quickly knelt next to him. You took another deep breath, aware of the wolf’s red eyes plastered on your face, watching your eyes flashing golden once again as you casted spells, once after the others. Next to you, immediately made their appearance a small basin full of steaming water with a white cotton cloth immersed in it, you reached out to the tools in mid-air, focusing on the wolf’s wound.

«This is going to hurt, please don’t bite me.» you mumbled, barely above a whisper, unaware that he heard you loud and clear. You carefully began to wash his wound with slow but firm strokes, your heart skipping several beats anytime he whined and writhed in pain. Trying to be as delicate as you could, you meticulously wiped away all the blood, the steamy water in the basin now of a reddish colour, and once the wound was clean enough, you quickly stood up and walked towards you small kitchen, hastily creating an herbal compress using your marble mortar and pestle.

What you feared the most ended up being the truth: the wound was infected. You massaged a side of your temple; you have never felt so stressed in your whole life. The wolf’s life at this point was completely in your hands. The wound was too big and infected to heal by itself.

«Okay, big boy. It’s gonna hurt – like, a lot.» you dared to look at him in the eyes, feeling a random sensation in your stomach, but didn’t gave it any importance as you kneeled once again next to his side and coated your fingers with the herbs, slowly spreading the medicine on his would while casting a healing spell. Although you were completely focused on what you were doing, the wolf’s painful whines raised goosebumps on your skin.

You closed your eyes, running a hand through your hair and trying to ignore the sensation of exhaustion spreading around your body, and as you also tried to ignore the headache you got anytime you used too much magic in so little time, you felt a tentative bump against your skin. Your eyes shot open, and your gaze locked with the wolf’s big, red eyes. He repeated the action, nudging his nose against your knee, noticing how the emotions behind his eyes definitely shifted from wary to gentle, almost as to say “thank you”, and you let out a short, breathless laugh as you erupted into a wide smile.

«It’s still infected,» you hesitantly reached towards the cotton bandages floating next to your head, «But at least, you won’t die.» you muttered to yourself as you proceeded to create a tight bandage around his side.

Once you finished, your brain finally took notice about the huge grey wolf now asleep in your living room, and you decided to take a hot bath and get a nice change of clothes. Your new provisory bed became the small sofa right next to the peacefully sleeping wolf, so that you could check up on him every now and then.

A week passed pretty quickly, and you most definitely ended up giving up the majority of your sleeping schedule in order to watch over the wolf – not like the strained howls coming from the woods nearby would have let you sleep anyways. The fact that he was not conscious most of the day worried you more and more, not to mention that the infection had not yet gave any sign of healing despite the herbs compresses and the continuous use of magic.

What surprised you, was that anytime the wolf was conscious, he seemed to somehow search for your presence. If you were kneeling on the ground, busy with his bandages, he would place his large and fluffy head on your legs, making you giggle because, «don't be silly, how am I supposed to heal you like this?» Therefore, he would just nuzzle his nose against your thigh and settle for placing his paw above one of your legs. It was not an unpleasant feeling, instead, something about it made you feel warm, somewhere among all the concern you were feeling.

You’d still spend your days with your nose buried in all the books in your house, some of them scattered on the floor in a disordered way, desperately looking for a way to definitely help him.

As your Mentor always taught you, infections irredeemably lead to fever, and the wolf’s fever irredeemably led you to one of the biggest scare in your life.

You woke up around the middle of the morning due to a loud noise of bones cracking right next to you, and you opened your eyes just in time to see the big and grey wolf you have been treating for over a week, shifting into a brown haired boy around your age.

Needless to say, the loud and shocked scream that instinctively left your lips woke him up, and to your surprise, instead of threatening red eyes, your gaze was met big, brown and confused eyes.

«Y-You!» you shrieked, unable to move due to his head still on your lap. The boy, which you just realized being stark naked, groaned, reaching over to rub his face with his hand.

«Chris.» now, you didn’t expect his voice to be so… Beautiful.

«What? Who is that now?!» you tried to keep a calm voice, frantically moving your gaze around the room and trying to look anywhere but the boys’ toned and pale body.

You felt him chuckle, «It’s my name, witch.» he mumbled, his voice strained due to him still being in pain. «My body shifted back due to the fever, I’m sorry.»

You stared at his face as he slowly shifted around, laying on his back and turning his head so that now, his nose was almost pressing against your navel.

Before you could even think about a proper answer, he doze back to sleep, mumbling a soft, almost inaudible «thank you.» before falling back into unconsciousness.

Mindlessly, your right hand reached out to gently caress the other’s brown hair – a gesture that you did quite often with his wolf form since his grey fur was so incredibly fluffy and relaxing to caress, as you stared into the void for several minutes.

«He’s a werewolf,» you mumbled with a frown, the fingertips of your left hand carefully hovering above his features, «and he’s hot.»

Chris eventually shifted back into his wolf form within the next hours, and you tried to ignore the loud noise of bones cracking, since it seemed really painful.

The routine fell back into normal, even after the shocking news. A blush would sometimes cover your cheeks anytime the random thought of him having a human form crossed your mind, but you focused on his infected wound, which luckily started to heal.

Chris managed to spend at least half of the day awake now, and your spells were finally more effective than they were before. Your magic mixed to wolves being able to heal faster, resulted in Chris spending a bit of the day in his human form, and you being incredibly flustered about it.

You grew up with your mentor witch, who was a woman; the only boys and men you have ever met were the villagers, but you have never been alone with a boy, let alone having one inside your house and, well, completely naked. You resolved the matter quickly, giving him a blanket and excusing yourself for not having clothes that suited his body. Chris just shrugged, thankful for being alive in the first place.

«I’m not going to lie, witch.» he spoke in a soft, tender voice as you helped him sitting on the wooden chairs of your kitchen. «I literally owe you my life.» You laughed loudly at his statement, sitting down in front of him on your small wooden table, after placing two plates full of food in front of the both of you.

«Indeed you do, wolf.» you answered with the same tone, playfully pointing a wooden fork towards him. «I hope I didn’t grow white hair due to all the pent up stress and lack of sleep.» You mumbled, more to yourself. «Even if I could definitely embrace the title of “scary, lunatic witch”, now.»

An unexpected and melodious sound naturally drew your eyes back to his face, making you almost drop your spoon. Chris was chuckling, his eyes closed in two crescent moons and his mouth tightly closed as he kept chewing his food, but yet his smile was incredibly cute and the dimples that framed it contributed to make him even more handsome.

«How did you manage to end up like that?» you asked, clearing your voice, secretly hoping that by changing the topic the blush covering your cheeks would have faded, and your quickened heartbeat would have slowed down.

Chris sighed, heavily, «Me and my pack were on a hunt, we stumbled upon some hunters which had… Enchanted weapons.»

«And they just left you there on your own?» You asked, incredulous, watching as Chris nonchalantly shrugged before answering you.

«Alpha’s orders are pretty absolute, you know.» he explained, politely smiling as you got up from your chair, collecting both your plates and spoons and casting a quick spell so that they’d wash, clean and set back into their place by themselves. You noticed Chris watching in awe your eyes flash golden once again, and questionably raised an eyebrow at him.

«It’s cool,» he immediately explained, «Your magic, I mean, it’s pretty cool.»

You smiled at him, before shaking your head. «You can shift into a wolf, I believe you’re the cool one.»

Butterflies erupted into your stomach as Chris’ dimples showed up again, beautifully framing his wide smile.

Even if Chris’ wound was healing, you still did not move back to your bed upstairs. Instead, you would rather spend your days talking to him, both of you occasionally sitting on your sofa facing each other. You tried to confront Chris about why even if you were supposed to dislike each other due to centuries of mutual hatred, you got along pretty well and anytime, Chris would brush it off, adverting his gaze with a nervous laugh and saying that he really had no idea. He did not convince you at all, but you let it go.

«Do you think they’ll come looking for you?» your hands brushed against Chris’ ribs, as you changed cleaned and disinfected the wound once again. You were both sitting on his makeshift bed, a blanket covering his crossed legs as he obediently kept his arm in the air, so that you could easily finish.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him nod. «They most definitely will. We recently started living nearby, so it won’t be too hard for them.» the goosebumps on Chris’ skin anytime your hands brushed against his skin definitely didn’t go unnoticed.  «I could still come visit you, sometimes.» he added, tentatively.

Hearing his words, you felt once again that familiar sensation of unexplainable warmth, wondering why in the world could seven words even made you happy, your heartbeat soaring because “Yes, I’d love to see you again”.

«The feeling of falling in love is very like the feeling of fear. Your heart beats fast. Your senses are heightened. You grow light-headed, maybe even dizzy. Be wary of it, young witch. It might make you immensely powerful, it’s true. But, it might also mark your downfall.» you briefly lost yourself in thought, as you recalled what your Mentor had once told you. You did not notice how the arm that Chris was obediently keeping in the air eventually lowered, until he took your hand in his.

With hesitant, gentle movements, he silently kept his hand on top of yours, guiding it above his heart, your wide eyes meeting his soft gaze. His heartbeat was matching yours: rapid, wild, fearless.

Chris’ soft gaze was locked with yours, his gentle and warm eyes giving you the confirmation that he knew you were falling for him, and he was falling for you, too.

You breathed out a sigh, your eyes glued together and shy smiles plastered on your faces. As if you were magnets, your lips eventually met, slowly, tentatively. Chris firmly kept your hand above his heart as he other snaked around your neck, weakly gripping your nape. You and Chris kissed like two distant lovers meeting after painful lives spent looking for each other. You could feel his soft breath against your cheek, helping you realize that it was real, and you balanced yourself, placing your hand on Chris’ naked shoulder as if it was your only anchor to reality. The kiss was soft, almost shy. Chris would giggle against your lips anytime your noses brushed together a bit too roughly, and you would giggle along with him, before kissing each other again, feeling already intoxicated and addicted to his soft lips and warm skin. Chris pecked your lips once, twice, before placing your foreheads together, your fingers now interlocked above his heart.

«I don’t want to sound cheesy or anything, but,» Chris unexpectedly raspy whisper broke the silence. «I knew you were the one as soon as you found me in the woods.» he smiled, rubbing your foreheads together as he was met with your confused expression «Wolves just know who they are supposed to spend their life with.» he mumbled. You lips met, parted, and met again for countless times that night.

Sunny spring days were your favourite. The weather was not too hot, the wind would gently blow and most importantly: laundry would dry quickly. The amount of covers and blanket you have been using to create Chris bed was insane – you did not even know why you owned so many blankets in the first place.

Lost in thoughts – wondering if using your magic to collect the blankets instead of doing it manually, you definitely did not realize that a pack of wolves made their way towards your house, not until, as you collected one of the blankets from the clotheshorse in your garden, you suddenly faced a large, black and threatening wolf.

You instinctively shrieked, the wolf’s deep red eyes staring into your soul. It was like a deja-vu, but now the wolf had a black fur and by his side appeared another black wolf out of nowhere, but its eyes were mismatched: one was deep blue, and one was yellow.

The more you walked backwards, the more they followed you while growling menaciously, as if they were on a hunt and you were their prey. With the corner of your eyes, you saw more of them, and as you were about to cast a spell to stop them, you heard Chris’ authoritative voice.

«Oi! Why don’t you stop scaring my mate?» Chris was leaning on the doorway, a blanket hanging loose around his hip and white bandages hugging his stomach. «Changbin, Hyunjin, back off. Now.» You were still hugging the blanket close to your chest, as you saw them obey immediately, lowering their heads and putting a reasonable distance between you and them.

Chris’ arm draped around your shoulders. «I hope you have seven spare blankets.» he told you, an amused giggle on his lips.

«Why would I need more blankets-» the question died in your mouth, as they began shifting in front of you. Seven naked boys took place of the seven threatening wolves, and your gaze immediately shifted to Chris’, as your eyes flashed yellow and immediately made blankets fall over their heads.

Chris laughed loudly, kissing your forehead. «Do you want to meet them?» as you answered with a shy nod, he raised his voice, «Come on, boys, let’s go inside. Family meeting.»

“I’m gonna have to do the laundry again.” You sighed, and let Chris walk you back inside.

As your eyes met, you both erupted into shy giggles, and Chris pressed your body closer to his, affectionately kissing your temple.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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“As I like to know as well, father.” – Sherlock interrupted. – “That includes me too!” – you came standing between your brothers, arms crossed. All three scowling in your father’s direction. He swallowed nervously. He gestured for a member of the staff to enter. – “Will you be so kind as to escort the gentleman to his carriage.” – the maid nodded with a bow. Asking for the lord to follow her out of the parlor, outside. – “Father!” – Sherlock spoke loudly with furrowed brows.

Mister Holmes got in motion with a deep breath. Your brothers and you following him out of the parlor into the hallway into the study. You shut the door behind you. Mycroft and Sherlock positioned close to the desk. Your father revealed a letter from his inside pocket, laying it down on the desk. Both Sherlock and Mycroft reached for it, but Mycroft was the one to snatch it up first. – “I received it yesterday.” – mister Holmes started while Mycroft unfolded the letter. – “Your aunt was very specific in the matter.” – he added making you widen your eyes.

The mention of your aunt send a shiver down your spine. Mycroft desperately moved his grip on the letter while his eyes read down quickly. Words whispering out of his mouth. – “With none of my sons married…” – he sighed out coming to sit down behind the desk. – “The prospects of my health unclear.” – he continued pressing a hand against his forehead. You swallowed already having a feeling of where this was getting.

“The chance of losing your dowry.” – he leaned forwards, palms pressed against his eyes. Mycroft gritted his teeth, moving the letter away from his eyes. – “That deceitful woman!” – he hissed out. – “Mycroft!” – Sherlock called out. – “She is still your aunt.” – he made clear that Mycroft should not curse her despite her character. Mycroft puffed loud, tossing the letter onto the desk.

“She’ll have our dear sister engaged to Lord Hill.” – Mycroft made clear. – “Engaged. To be married?” – you repeated in disbelief. – “Yes of course Y/n. What other kind of engaged is there.” – your brother replied slightly annoyed. You turned your gaze towards your father. He lifted his head up, feeling your stare pierce right through him. – “Oh for heaven’s sake Y/n, don’t look at me like that.” – he breathed out with pain in his heart. – “It is what your aunt requires of you. She requires my daughter to be wed to this man for else she’ll take you away for proper preparations of finding a suitor.” – your father explained.

“I barely know him.” – you called back, getting in defense. – “Oh hush!” – he breathed out, silencing you. – “None of us can afford your aunts meddling. The prospect of this family relies on you Y/n. With Sherlock and Mycroft not wed, nor do I see them wed any time soon. It is up to you to do so. You are getting older my dear Y/n.” – you gasped silently knowing how he was close to comparing you to an old spinster. A woman unsuitable of finding a husband. – “He’ll offer you a comfortable home and protection.” – Mister Holmes continued. – “There is a lot to be thankful for.” – he made clear despite not liking his sisters proposal much.

“Father!” – you called out as he cut you off. – “You are five and twenty of age Y/n!” – he jumped up, slamming his fist on the table. In doing so he started coughing loud. Sherlock coming to his aid to assist in sitting down calmly. – “You’ll have no money and I’m…I’m frightened…” – he said after a deep breath. – “So please… don’t judge me daughter… don’t…” – his body started to shake from the intense feeling coming up. Sherlock wrapping a comforting arm around him.

“Papa please… you cannot allow this.” – you begged. Mister Holmes taking a deep breath. – “What if she were to marry someone else?” – Sherlock interfered. – “Sherlock!” – you called out, stepping towards him. Sherlock ignored your call, kneeling before his father. – “What if Y/n were to marry someone else. Someone she truly has a heart for would it please our aunt? Would it settle her with the comfort of knowing our dear Y/n is not lost. That she’ll have the prospects of a good home, money, and protection.” – he pleaded trying to offer you a way out.

A way out of a settlement set long ago by your father and your aunt. When the loss of your mother came, they set up an arrangement that your aunt would be in charge of your engagement when you would not be married within the first few years since your debut. Your father exhaled loud and deep. Mycroft setting his hands on the desk, looking over it. – “Would it father?” – he asked hopefully. You smiled with teary eyes at how well your brothers thought about you.

How they would take your opinion into matter. Something not so long ago seemed unattainable. Mister Holmes looked at both his sons. Then his gaze moved towards you far behind Mycroft. Standing quietly with your hands folded in front of you. Head lowered to the ground. – “I’ll… I’ll give it a chance.” – he told them. – “If this gentleman is willing to engage himself to her.”

Sherlock motioned with his head to the door. Mycroft and you nodding. – “I’ll request some tea to be delivered to you father.” – Sherlock spoke squeezing father’s shoulder tightly. Mister Holmes exhaled weary, clear it was weighing down on him. Mycroft and you were already making your way to the hallway. Sherlock joining after. He addressed a maid to deliver tea to his father before joining the two of you. – “What will we do?” – Mycroft asked. – “Not here.” – Sherlock responded, grabbing his brother and you by the elbow.

Pushing the both of you into the library. He shut the door firmly, even closing the curtains. – “I am under no circumstance to marry Lord Hill.” – you outed, crossing your arms. – “You won’t.” – Sherlock breathed out. – “What the did letter say.” – Sherlock asked his brother as the three of you joined together in a circle. For the first time in a long time agreeing on a matter. – “Simply that Aunt Mathilda has set in writing that our sister is to wed Lord Hill. The suitor of her choice because she is becoming of age of the agreement she made with father.

If she does not agree or is still unmarried by the end of the season, she’ll come for Y/n. Taking her away and comfort herself over her as a proper parent should in her words.” – Mycroft explained. – “She’ll take me away to mother me and force me into more matchmaking.” – you repeated to be clear. The panic slowly worrying you. Sherlock noticed it, taking you by the arm. – “She won’t take you away from us Y/n. You are a Holmes, and you are to remain here with us.”

Sherlock pulled you against him, wrapping an arm around you. – “What will we do?” – you asked frightened of your own future. – “It is quite easy.” – Sherlock responded. – “Anthony Bridgerton will have to marry you.” – he outed as you pushed yourself off him. – “It is undeniable how much you care for him dear sister.” – Sherlock continued as you had turned yourself away from them. – “All we want is for you to marry for love, I will not have you have a relationship like our aunt and uncle.” – Mycroft interfered. – “I am nothing like my aunt!” – you said snappy.

Sherlock and Mycroft moving their hands down. – “We know…” – you slowly turned back towards them. – “What if he does not propose?” – you questioned out loud. Sherlock took a deep breath, laying a hand on your shoulder. – “Then we’ll make him.” – your brother made clear. – “Can we even ask such a thing of him? I never want to force him… no matter the value of my future.” – Both your brothers approached, wrapping an arm around you.

“You are too kind for this world.” – Sherlock whispered. – “Witty and stubborn too.” – Mycroft added, receiving a slap against the back of his head from Sherlock. You laughed loud, hugging them tightly. – “I promise I’ll do my task as matchmaker perfect Y/n. No more slip backs.” – Mycroft spoke pinching your arm.

Birds were chirping loudly. The sun leaving a warm glow upon this very earth. Tents set up around a large garden estate. Suitors walking closely to their hoping beloved. The Bridgerton’s were present as well. You arrived arms in arm with both your brothers. At the sight of Anthony, you looked down at your own dress. – “You look lovely Y/n.” – Sherlock commented. Looking up to him, you smiled. – “Shall we?” – Mycroft proposed. Suddenly the doubts started kicking in. – “What if he does not want me in return? What if I make a fool of myself… perhaps it wouldn’t be that bad if Auntie would take me away.

It would certainly rid me of everlasting shame.” – you tried to stay humorous about it, but deep down you feared it might become truth. – “Hush!” – Mycroft breathed out. With each step closer to the Viscount, your heart thumped louder. It would take one more step for it to fall out of your chest. Swallowing nervously it felt as if you couldn’t think properly. Then you spotted Lord Hill. You signaled to your brothers with a head motion. Sherlock and Mycroft both nodded.

They let go of your arms, walking steady over to Lord Hill. You watched as they grabbed him each by an arm, pulling him away before he could even reach you. Alone and frightened you made your way over to the tent where Lord Bridgerton was. Palms sweaty as you moved them behind your back. – “Miss Y/n.” – Anthony bowed as you curtsied. – “How… how… are you feeling?” – he asked nervously.

Curling up a nervous smile you replied. – “Much better, my lord.” – Anthony smiled hesitantly, letting his gaze settle down. Hands behind his back. Blinking quickly before settling them upon you once more. Was he perhaps feeling nervous as well? You looked briefly away, unsure how to act around him so suddenly. Before it was quite easy. Whatever came out of his mouth, you responded to it. Not afraid to insult the man if he needed a proper lesson in keeping his ego in check. Now that things have changed, you were more hesitant to speak.

Not wanting to scare him off. A wave of relaxation washed over you when his mother approached. The same seemed to be the fact for Anthony. – “Miss Y/n what a delight to see you.” – Violet spoke. – “Anthony has spoken many times of you.” – she confessed as you watched Anthony’s expression tensed. – “Mother.” – he hissed out, trying to keep up his smile. – “Is that so?” – you teased with a chuckle. – “I do pray only good.” – flashing a smile at the Viscount. – “Oh most certainly he did.” – Violet responded as Anthony looked nervously away.

“He told me all about how good of a shooter you are Miss Y/n. Although I did not expected a lady such as yourself to exile in the matter, but my son had high praises of you.” – she continued to compliment you and her son. You smiled. – “Lord Bridgerton is an excellent shooter himself and player of cards too.” – you responded. – “He bested me once.” – Anthony cleared his throat, meddling himself into the conversation. – “Twice.” – he smirked, holding the amount up with his fingers.

You held up the number of three with your fingers. – “Shot three birds.” – you clicked your tongue with one eye closed. Anthony started chuckling. – “Do remind me Miss Y/n how many points was shooting a peacock?” – he asked. You started laughing. – “I do not know, perhaps we should ask lord Enfield.” – Anthony and you were smiling at each other. Violet observing with a smile of her own. She was not needed anymore. She left quietly as Anthony and you moved closer, loosening up.

Anthony took in a deep breath, almost haven forgotten how delighted it felt to laugh in your presence. He noticed his younger siblings running over. – “Please excuse me.” – he said meeting them half-way. Your smile faltered reminded once more of your future that seemed not so bright. You tried picking up hints of lord Bridgerton’s mutual affection. Trying to see if he would be in character to propose any time soon. Yet it didn’t seem like it. You took your leave from the tent, coming to sit down at a bench.

Watching Lord Bridgerton play around with his younger siblings. It made you breath out short with a smile on your lips. Seeing how tentative he was around his siblings. Exhaling deep, you fidgeted with your fingers on your lap. Till the end of the season you had. If you declined Lord Hill. The very suitor your aunt set you up with. Perhaps you had taken all the chances at love that you deserve. All declined to be left with nothing more.

You got back up, slowly approaching the crowd once more. Remaining in the background, not participating in any games or conversations. Your eyes became teary when you saw your brother Sherlock approach. – “Any luck?” – he asked. You shook your head with a forced smile to stop yourself from crying. – “Then I simply will have to do more.” – Sherlock spoke out to reassure you. – “Brother please… you cannot force him… he does not love me… not romantically. Not good enough to propose.” – you told him blinking your tears away.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around you. – “I know you are frightened sister, yet I promise you I won’t let you go down the path set out for you.” – you hugged him tightly, closing your eyes. Mycroft joined moments later to escort you inside. The sun had begun to set as it announced the ball. Everyone entering with loud chatter. It didn’t take long for dance cards to be filled in and dances to begin. Violet furrowed her brows, gathering with her other sons by the candles.

“Benedict why is Anthony not dancing with Miss Y/n?” – she asked confused. Benedict pulled his shoulders up. – “I do not know mama, was he supposed to dance with her?” – both of them watching Anthony dance with another young lady. Clearly getting annoyed and agitated by how unsuitable his dance partner was. She was rather clumsy in her dancing and too short for his height. The dance had the visual of being clumsy and sloppy rather then graceful.

Violet looked around for any sign of you. The dance came to an end as she clapped mindlessly, occupied in looking around. She found you in the crowd, moving to the dancefloor with a gentleman. You had accepted Lord Hill’s request of dance as he led you up to the floor. Anthony who was just finished stepped away from his dance partner, coming face to face with you. His eyes widening at the gentleman holding your hand. He stepped back but kept following your movement with his eyes.

He joined his siblings sight still staring in disbelief. You curtsied as Lord Hill bowed. There was no smile on your lips when you danced. Hands held against each other as you circled around with him. They lowered as you stepped in a circle around. Your eyes falling briefly on Lord Bridgerton. He gasped silently at how pitiful you appeared. As if all the sunshine had been sucked out of you. Lord Hill placed your hand on his shoulder, moving a hand to your lower back. Waltzing he let the music take over. Performing the steps numbly as if someone else was operating for you. Lord Bridgerton keep his gaze constant on you.

Violet noticed it how yearningly her son was staring at you. How infuriating it was for him to see. A loud rumble outside startled you. It snapped you out of the pitiful dream you were having. – “Miss Y/n is everything alright?” – Lord Hill asked having come to a stop. You were breathing loud, looking over your shoulder to Lord Bridgerton. To his mother and his siblings. Turning your head you looked at your own family. Then back to Lord Hill. This was not what you wanted. Far from.

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