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euaphoric · 9 months

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lust.

✩‧₊˚ pairing — jungkook x f!reader, strangers to ??? (wtv they got going on in this dynamic)

✩‧₊˚ warnings — i was planning to make this way happier but i was in a sad mood so im sorry if it’s a little angsty? some fluff ig, sm*t, mentions of alcohol & smoking (cigs), dom!jk & sub!reader, hookup culture, slight corruption? oc cries a lot, spanking, ch*king, just a lot of freeky stuff, koo is a little mean in this oops

words: 3.2k // literally the longest thing i’ve wrote so far. also irdk what this is but i just kept going and couldn’t stop, kinda feels rushed toward the end cause i just wanted to get to the freaky parts sfsfjgs i’m sawry y’all

it happened 2 years ago, yet the memories of that fateful day still carry on with you as if it were yesterday. vibrant recollections of those slender, jewelled hands clasped around your neck as you cry out for him, body subconsciously submitting to all of him - breaking every barrier you’ve built up within. of all your years of existence, that night was the only time you’ve felt truly alive, shedding every ounce of innocence away in one night for a man whose name you didn’t even know.

do you regret losing your virginity to someone who only saw you as a temporary plaything? partly yes and partly no. you were conflicted on the fact you never exchanged info after he left but other than that, nothing regrettable came out of it. the only issue was that he’s set your standards far into oblivion, you’ve yet to find a lay as memorable as he was. it’s not as though you haven’t tried getting over it in the past - you’ve been desperately wishing to forget. suppressing your inner desires with all kinds of self pleasure methods; even going so far as to banging other hot strangers you meet from the bars/club - but even then, you couldn’t replicate how you felt with him and you still couldn’t reach your climax without thinking of your first time.

you catch yourself daydreaming of him daily. the raspy tone of his voice, the intoxicating scent of expensive cologne, the fluorescent, animated ink that adorned his arm along with a silver pierced lip and eyebrow, his sublime sense of style. everything you could’ve ever wanted, slipped away from your grasp forever. that was, until you were met face to face with him again - a total of 882 days later (yes you did the math). you went bar hopping downtown with all your girl friends, looking for an eventful weekend. little did you know you’d be running into him again, the nameless man that gave you a night to remember. you were definitely the first to notice him, it felt quite peculiar but as soon as you walked in you got struck with a weird deja vu moment. it all felt so familiar to you, even down to the symphonic melodies of jazz music playing in the distance, everything brought you back to that gloomy autumn night.

you’d try your dearest not to stare but your mind was not complying with any rationality, one look at his broad physique and it was endgame for all your sanity. it didn’t help that your body went inert, lost in a trance of him indefinitely, wanting nothing more than to worship him and give in to his every need. you reminisce about him telling you how much of a good girl you were for taking all of it, sucking on his fingers as you completely come undone underneath him. he left you begging for more that night, crying and pleading for at least a goodbye kiss - which you never got the pleasure of getting. “i told you this was a one time thing only.. besides, i’m leaving the city tomorrow for good so you’ll probably never see me again. it’s for the best anyway.”

his cold last words left more than a lasting impression on you. it sent you into an endless spiral of overthinking, analyzing any and everything you could’ve done wrong. did that night really mean absolutely nothing to him at all? all the countless times you’d touch yourself to vivid recounts of his face pressed into your thigh, plastering wet kisses all over them and sucking on your bruised skin. he’d spank each thigh one by one as a punishment, proudly smirking at the way you’d wince out in pain mixed with so much pleasure. he thrived off the idea that he was the first to corrupt you like this, a girl he hasn’t even known for a span of 24 hours willing to give up just about anything she had to offer. had you shamelessly wrapped around his finger like an brainless puppet.

you still don’t understand how someone can look so divine, even when doing nothing but just standing. you watch as he sips Viognier out of an oversized wine glass, gazing at the crowd, ruffling his fingers through his hair from time to time. then it became unreal when you locked eyes with him, catching him stealing a glance when he realizes who you were. you look almost exactly the same as you did a few years ago, the only part that’s different about you now is the recent butterfly tattoo you got on your lower back. that’ll be a pleasant surprise for him to find out. his eyes never drifted once they landed on you, he was in just as much shock as you were - maybe more. he’d made an internal promise to himself to keep you as a forever one time fling - nothing more just that, but if fate wasn’t real then why would the universe send you back into each other’s lives?

no, not a romantic kind of fate. the fate you get when someone you’ve mindlessly lusted over for ages has finally found its way to you again. a fate that doesn’t occur by chance, or coincidence, it was pure destiny awaiting to happen.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

“wow, you haven’t changed at all have you?” he says nonchalantly, acting as if you were an old friend he was catching up with. you weren’t sure how to respond, the surrealism of the moment brought you everywhere but reality. all you really could do was blink, fluttering your lashes at his towering figure over you. though there was a sea of people in this packed, lively bar, it felt like only you two existed in this confined space. he tried striking up the usual basic conversation with the typical, how’re your studies going? work’s been treating you well? anything exciting happen in your life recently? you gave as much of a vague answer as you could, barely putting any thought or effort, you were only giving him the same treatment that he gave back then. he would often come off as bored or condescending at times, it felt good to take back just the little bit of power you upheld.

you quietly observe as he orders another drink, two actually, not even bothering to ask what you wanted. he hands you a glass with a salted rim, the clear liquid made you believe it was either vodka or tequila, either way you gulped it down in no time and squeeze the lime on the side as chaser. you didn’t have much to drink but his presence alone was already enough to make you feel tipsy. “i thought you said you were never coming back to the city?” you blurt out, instantly scolding yourself for bringing up the past this quickly. it was just the undying curiosity of wanting to know the inner depths of him, not the stonewall of a persona he portrays to be. “i don’t know, guess i just felt like visiting. also had some unfinished business to attend to.” there he goes again with those subtle answers, toying with you so easily. his responses have always annoyed you to a certain extent but this feels even more strange for some reason. what’s the “unfinished business” he’s referring to?

“so” he pauses, never actually finishing his thought. “so..” you awkwardly mimic, hoping he’ll spit out whatever the hell he has to say. it took some time before he clears his throat and takes a sip of what seemed like his fiftieth drink tonight. “soo, do you…maybe wanna get out of here?” you’re not sure what’s with the shy act suddenly, he wasn’t this timid when you first met him. it’s like you’re meeting a whole new person. “uhm, sure i guess” you spoke hesitantly, taking his hand as he reaches out for yours. bumping into loads of drunk people while he weaved you through the crowd, it felt like multiple eternities before you’ve found the exit. he lights a cigarette before heading down the vintage spiral staircase, still hand in hand with you. “goddamn… look at your fine ass. still just as sexy as i remember you last time mamas.” he gracefully compliments, walking slightly behind in attempts of getting better sight at the back view of the form fitting dress you wore. his hand left yours in favor of wrapping around your waist. “t-thanks.” you reply sheepishly, hoping that he doesn’t notice how flushed your cheeks are.

before getting in his car, there was one more thing you needed closure with, the one thing that constantly kept you up at night. “i don’t mean to be this straightforward but, i want to know your name. i know this probably sounds really lame and pathetic but it’s been eating me up inside since the day we met and… i just- i think i deserve the right to know is all.” you wanted to scream at your poor delivery, sounding nowhere near as confident as you did in your head. the cigarette was still tucked between his lips, taking another long drag before answering you. “damn, even after all this time i still occupy your mind sweetheart? that’s adorable,” he teases, reveling in on your confession. “but i suppose i can agree with you since i did keep you guessing for so long. it’s only fair you should know, right?” that sly little smirk never left his face, he knows exactly how to mess with you. “it’s jungkook. and you are?” ah, so he really does have a name. “y/n.” you mutter, looking down at the pavement. “that’s pretty, i like it. suits you well.” his hand raises yours to his lips, kissing it gently, “nice to formally meet you y/n.” your eyes dart at him reluctantly, hoping your palms weren’t too clammy. “you too, jungkook.” none of this still felt real to you, you wanted to pinch yourself and wake up immediately. “it’s kinda hot the way you say my name.” he casually admits, the grin on his face deepens, “that won’t be the only thing you’ll be screaming at the top of your lungs tonight though.”

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

this certainly wasn’t the first (or last) time you found yourself like this. getting severe brush burn from the carpet by being obediently on your knees, swiftly bobbing your head as tears stream down your face, ruining your precious mascara. the only audible sounds were his groans echoing in the room of this giant suite at the four seasons. it gave a sense of familiarity, and oddly enough you found comfort in being in such a compromised situation. especially with him again. “fuck, you’re so pretty,” he grunts, grabbing a fistful of hair, never taking his eyes off you. “look even prettier with my cock stuffed deep in your mouth.” his words sent chills, all you wanted to do was keep pleasing him. your mind goes hazy from the end of his shaft hitting the back of your throat, other than the tears, you showed no outright emotion—you had to endure this, you’ve been praying for this moment since your first ever encounter. big doe eyes look up at him innocently as you suck the soul out of him, all the shiny gloss you wore on your lips now completely transferred onto him - in this perspective, you were utterly perfect.

“shit- you’re so good at this..” he hisses, watching as you kneel beneath him, saliva glistening on your chin as you gag all over his cock. you do the best you can to fit all of him, you did learn from the best after all. you hum against him in response, feeling his cock twitch from the sudden vibrations. if you keep going like this he’s bound to cum for sure, but he doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction - he wants to have all the power and control. “get up.” he spat harshly, if you swirl your tongue around him like that one more time he feels as tho he’s about to combust. the choice of only taking him further in made him even angrier. “did you not fucking hear me? i said get. the. fuck. up.” he pulls your hair tighter to yank your head back, forcing a semi-loud *pop* with your lips as you detach from his cock, swallowing the string of drool from the corner of your mouth. silly you for keep going, you should’ve listened the first time. now your forever fantasy of getting to suck him dry and drink his cum has sadly been cut short... “since you’re so damn greedy for this cock why don’t you go stand up against that window while i fuck you, hm?” your face becomes mortified when you haven’t realized just how big those windows truly were. it took up a quarter of the living room and the curtains were never closed which you also failed to notice. you were at the top floor of this 52 story building but still, you were rightfully nervous out of your mind.

the next thing you knew, your body’s pressed up to the cold glass, his big hands caressing both sides of your waist and trailing kisses to the exposed skin on your back. you watch the faint reflection of him toying with the hem of your mini dress, slowly pulling it up then stopping when he gets to a certain point. “oh.. what’s this here?” he asks, glancing down at your butterfly tattoo, his fingertips lightly brushing over the fresh ink. “guess you aren’t so innocent as i thought you were.” you shook your head, biting your lip when he gropes your ass, “n-never was i-innocent.” you quietly mewl. “oh yeah?” he breaths warmly against your neck, hiking the dress up further. “then be a good little slut for me and don’t speak unless i tell you to.” the palm of his hand slaps your cheek hard enough to leave a visible print, pushing you up against the window more. you were enjoying every single minute of this, you were so elated that you could cry again. you feel his touch down lower, grazing over your folds to feel how wet you are. “shit, you’re already dripping like this just from sucking me off? always knew you were such a filthy whore.” two fingers slid into your heat with ease, pumping them in and out. “nngh~” you moan lowly, “shh, quiet for me doll. wait ‘til i fill you with my cock then you can scream all you want.” when he pulls them out his chest collides with your back, rubbing himself between your folds and bringing his drenched fingers up to your mouth. of course, you open eagerly to suck on his sleek digits, you remember doing this exact thing last time. history truly does repeat itself.

once he fully settles in, the clench of you around him makes his brain all fuzzy, you feel so warm and inviting, could stay like this forever. “fuck.. so fucking tight” he husks, firmly gripping at your waist before he begins moving. first he goes at a normal pace, stuffing you nice and slow with delicate kisses to your shoulders. he soon built up more momentum, thrusting in and out of your soaking cunt as bodies clash together. you arch your back more as he his cock hits your walls deeper, mumbling a bunch of gibberish as he fucks you completely dumb. “what’s that doll? i can’t hear you, speak the fuck up.” he orders sternly, producing another harsh, loud slap to your ass - never letting up on his stamina. “ughh f-fuck! you’re so b-big, feels sso goood.” you whine, feeling nothing but cockdumb at this point. “yeah? you like the way i stretch this pussy out? gonna cream all over my cock just like you did for me last time baby?” his strokes get rougher with each question. “yes…yes.. oh fuck- jungkook! jungkookk!” you chant over and over like you’re casting a spell, the ring of his name slips on your tongue smoother than the pungent liquor you drank earlier. “only i can fuck you as good as this right? have you acting this obedient and submissive? bet you were manifesting this shit all long, just can’t enough of my cock can you?” the questions just won’t stop, and the waterworks soon start up again, you’re not sure how much more you can endure.

“don’t even fucking answer, i already know anyway.” his cockiness really pissed you off but at least he had the evidence to back his arrogance up. his pace grew relentless as he watches himself disappear in you, still gawking over the pretty design of the butterfly. you felt so close - that same knot tied in your stomach like you felt before; you haven’t had this feeling since the very first time, as if only he was the one to unlock this level of passion out of you. “g-gonna cum s-soonn.” you alert him, tasting the faint bitter saltiness from your tears pooling down. a pair of strong hands connect around your neck, wrapping tightly as he rams in harder, making your whole body tremble and shake. “go ahead, do it.” jungkook encourages supportively, “cum with me doll face.” those words were all you needed to hear to let go, screaming out his name and a slew of more curses. you feel your release drip down your leg, mind completely blank from the buzz taking over you. he quickly pulls out, dumping all his white seed onto your back as you whine from being empty again. you could honestly go for another round if he asked you to right now. it was fun while it lasted though, looking over at the skyline view while getting your back blown out - seemed like a literal dream come true.

the aftermath was quiet, you didn’t say much and neither did he, you reverted right back to your shy demeanor. when you cleaned up yourself in the bathroom you grabbed your purse to rummage for your house keys but he stops you mid action. “where’re you going?” that only confuses you more, where else would you be going? “uh, home?” you meekly respond, unsure of his real intentions. “don’t be like that, you can stay the night here.” he suggests, “my plane leaves in the morning though but you can sleep here for as long as you’d like, i’ll book this room for an extra day.” it was sweet of him to do that for you, it was the least he could do to mellow your sorrows. you were hoping to be with him for a bit longer but what were you expecting really? he’s just someone who comes and goes, taking everything you had to give, just to leave you high and dry all over again. “come here.” jungkook directs assertively, patting his thigh for you to sit on his lap, you waste no time in propping yourself onto him. “don’t be sad doll, cheer up. we’ll meet again sometime yeah?” you nod, feeling so hopeless and broken inside, he’s only saying this because he probably just wants to fuck again. that’s all you are to him, a fucktoy and nothing more. even though he sees you in that light, it still makes you feel validated in some twisted kind of way. at least right now you have all of his attention, it may just be momentarily but it felt so good. one thing was definitely made clear by him though - he was deeply, undeniably, in pure lust with you.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts x f reader #bts x reader #jungkook fic

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oh-nostalgiaa · 3 months

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Writing Prompt Masterlist, Part Nine

Masterlist of Writing Prompt Masterlists

The Prompts

18+ Phrases & Actions Prompts

100 Indulgent Trope Prompts

Acts of Service Prompts

Affectionate & Aggressive Biting Prompts

Angst Prompts

Angsty Prompts

Asking for Permission Prompts

Blood, Blood, Gallons of the Stuff! Prompts

Celebrity Fake Dating Prompts

Confrontation Prompts

Cuddly Starter Sentence Prompts

Delightfully Domestic Starter Prompts

Domestic Bliss Starter Prompts

Emergency Fluff and Softness Starter Prompts

Emotionally Charged Sentence Starter Prompts

End of the World Sentence Starter Prompts

Fake Dating But Crossing Way Too Many Lines to be Considered Fake Anymore Prompts

First Kiss with an Experienced Lover Prompts

Fluffy Prompts

Fluffy / Reassuring Sentences for Your Needs Prompts

Formidable Fluff Starters Pt. 2: Needy Edition

Friends or More? Sentence Starter Prompts

From the Hero Sentence Starter Prompts

From the Villain Sentence Starter Prompts

Have a Hug Nonverbal Starter Prompts

Have a Hug Verbal Starter Prompts

Hugs Sentence Starter Prompts

I Love You Dialogue Response Prompts

I'm Fine, Just Go On Without Me Prompts

I'm in the Mood, Babe Prompts

Ideas for a Date Prompt List

Ill & Injured Sentences Vol. 1

Ill & Injured Sentences Vol. 2

Ill & Injured Sentences Vol . 3

Is This Really Meant to Be? (Enemies to Lovers Arranged Marriage) Prompts

It's Fate, Right? (Arranged Marriage) Prompts

Injury / Hurt Prompts

It's Christmas Time Prompts

Just Some Fluff Starter Prompts

Kinda Spicy Prompts

Kiss Me Prompts

Kiss Roulette Prompts

Late Night Prompts

Laughter Prompts

Love Confession Prompts

Morning vs. Night Starter Prompts

Nearly a Kiss Prompts

Nightmares Prompts

Non-Sexual Forms of Intimacy Prompts

NSFW Emoji Scenarios Prompts

Oblivious Idiots in Love Prompts

Physical One-Liner Prompts, Part III

Physical Touch Prompts

Post-Breakup AU Prompts

Prompts for Asking Favors

Prompts for the Big Misunderstanding

Prompts for Carrying / Being Carried

Prompts for Curious Hypotheticals

Prompts for Emotionally Stunted Idiots

Prompts for People Who Refuse to Let Anyone Care About Them

Prompts for Playful Affection

Prompts for the Grumpy vs Sunshine Tropes

Prompts for Workaholic Characters Who Push Themselves Too Hard

Quality Time Prompts

Quiet Moments of Affection Prompts

Random Dialogue Sentence Starter Prompts, Part 1

Reasons for There to be Only One Bed Prompts

Receiving Gifts Prompts

Scenarios for Those Stuck in the Hospital Prompts

Send a Number to Touch Prompts

Set the Scene Prompts

Shared Desires Prompts

Shippy Autumn Prompts

Simple Acts of Love Between Lovers Prompts

Simple Acts of Love Between Lovers Pt. 2 Prompts

Smut & NSFW Prompts

Smut Dialogue Prompts

Smutty Starter Prompts

Soft & Sassy Starter Prompts

Soft Fluff Prompts

Soft, Fluffy Prompts

Soft Touch Prompts

Soft Starter Prompts

Some Valentine's Edition Intimacy Prompts

Spicy Enemies to Lovers Prompts

Spring Vibes Prompts

Subtle Love Prompts

The Last Time I Saw You, You Hurt Me Prompts

Tis the Season for Christmas AU Prompts

Together Prompts

Undercover Prompts

Valentine's Day Prompts

Ways to Kiss Prompts

Ways to React to an Injury Prompts

We Constantly Flirt Every Time We Meet But It's Never Gone Anywhere Prompts

We Could Be Together, Forever Prompts

What Are You Hiding From Me? Prompts

Words of Affirmation Prompts

You Were Asleep / Unconcious / Comatose Prompts

#masterlist #prompts #writing #writing prompts

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scummy-writes · 6 months

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Autumn Daze

Pairing: Gilbert/Mc (Pre-relationship)

Word Count: 1890

Tags: Fluff, Pure straight fluff, Gilberts kinda a weirdo, desecration of Chev's poor book

Summary: It's finally time for you to have a full day to yourself- and Gilbert decides to join in. Written for the Ikepri Gift Exchange, hosted by @ikemenlibrary and @sunnyikemen ! I received @daegupaksu as my giftee- I hope you enjoy it!

Out of all the rooms in the palace, the space that you deemed your own was not just the guest bedroom they had provided you with, but a lovely secluded seating area. Despite the fact that it was a bit out of the way and clearly unused unlike the others, the fireplace was still maintained well enough to light, much to your delight.

It was there that you snuggled in on an early autumn afternoon. The temperature was low enough to justify all of your favorites: the lit fireplace, comfortable blankets, and a warm drink to sip at while watching the colorful leaves blow past the window. Warmth cascaded down your throat, and you smiled, forever grateful Yves begrudgingly taught you his hot chocolate recipe.

The star of the show that tipped your mood into excitement sat beside you, cover glinting in the autumn rays, was the coveted book you had been seeking for months now. Found in Chevalier's library, all you had to do was promise a new book in return for him to let you borrow it. Your luck had been running high lately, and you counted your blessings for it as you cracked open the book.

Of course, perhaps planning such a day proved your hubris. Deep in the pages of a torrid romance, you missed the gentle tapping of a cane coming closer to the couch you sat at. No- you didn't notice the outside world at all until a puff of air hit your ear, Gilbert's voice tickling.

"I found you, little rabbit."

As much as you wished you could say you calmly faced the visiting beast, that would be a bold lie. Because when Gilbert spoke in such a low, teasing voice, your body's first reaction was to yelp and clap your book shut- effectively losing your place.

And control over the now rapid beat of your heart.

"Prince Gilbert!"

Hand over your chest, you wearily looked at him, frowning as he laughed.

"Ahaha, you're so easy to scare. What are you doing in such a secluded room?" His eye scanned the area, landing on your plate of snacks.

"Enjoying my free day… alone."

"I'd like to join you."

"...."

With the games that Gilbert played, you knew the only options for this were to accept letting him linger, or deal with the consequences of being 'forced' to let him cozy up with you. And out of those options, you quickly relented, wanting no arguments.

It wasn't as if spending time with him was awful. Past his 'threats' when you ignored him, he seemed oddly interested in you, so there wasn't too much bickering between the two of you. The more you thought about it, the less you could recall having a genuine bad time with him. There were too many moments between the two of you where he patiently listened as you talked about the latest book you read that clouded your memories. When the two of you were alone, he seemed different than described.

Plus… if he was here with you, others were far less likely to interfere with your day off. You'd gladly sacrifice a book and some of your snacks to ensure more peace today

So you relented, scooting to make more room on the couch, moving the pile of blankets you had gathered.

“I was expecting a little more bite from you.”

Even with admitting that, he shamelessly sat beside you- close enough to where the only space in between was excess from the blanket you had draped across your lap.

Resisting rolling your eyes, you settled in a bit further against the arm of the couch, trying to ignore how Gilbert toyed with the blanket.

“Sometimes, I don’t see the point in getting into an argument when the peaceful option would benefit me more.”

“Hehe, what an odd way to say you’re enjoying our time togeth-”

“There’s some snacks on the table, though I didn’t account for more than me, so there isn’t a wide selection.” You cleared your throat, searching through the pages of your book to locate where you had been interrupted.

“What’s this?” Gilbert lifted the kettle left on the table, inspecting.

“Yve’s hot chocolate-” The excitement in your voice dwindled as he wrinkled his nose, setting it back down immediately. He downed sweets at an alarming pace, a feat that made those witnessing it stop and stare, but he didn’t like hot chocolate? “...and also water, in the jug beside it.”

Without further prompting, he took the glass you had set aside for yourself and sipped at it. You tried to ignore how he deliberately drank from the spot your lips had touched, the faint coloring of your balm leftover on the surface gently coating his lips.

"And are these books from Chevalier's library?" He asked, reaching to pluck one from the stack resting on the table.

"Yes, he usually lets me borrow the ones he's already read."

A hum was your only reply. Gilbert promptly accrued a pile of snacks from your supplies, resting the stack on his thigh as he cracked open the book. Seeing how he finally occupied himself, you went back to your novel, seeing where you had left off.

Steady munching brought you out of your mesmerized state, echos of the fantasy you had been reading fading away as you focused on something much more important: being able to borrow books from Chevalier again.

You looked in horror as Gilbert ate while reading, uncaring that small bits were settling into the crevice of the book he read.

"Prince Gilbert… If you get crumbs in that…"

"What do you mean?" Another page flipped, crumbs surely caught between.

… Well, at least Chevalier never reread books. Maybe you could find a replacement if cleaning up was a disaster.

Gilbert cocked his head as you continued to frown, an innocent smile playing on his lips. For a moment, you wondered why you fathomed he would care about Chevalier's books.

Giving up with a sigh, you set to find where you left off, trying your best to remember what was going on in the story before the conquering beast attempted to stop your heart.

But… curiosity always got the best of you. Rereading the same passage for the fifth time, thoughts preoccupied, you realized with both of you 'distracted', you could potentially see a rare sight: Gilbert with his guard down.

Or, as close as you could get, anyway.

Pretending to be entranced by the text in front of you, you tucked your hair behind your ear, using the motion to peek at the man beside you.

And…surprisingly, he did seem relaxed. His one eye scanned the pages in front of him smoothly, a cookie poised at his lips as he contemplated the words he read. It was a bit difficult to discern if he was enjoying the novel, but with how he was reclined into a comfortable position, you were hoping that was the case. Suddenly, it felt important that he respected your reading tastes. A feeling you tried to muffle quietly.

And with that same 'glance' that had turned into a soft stare, you began to understand that the tight feeling in your chest wasn't one due to the conquering beast sitting beside you.

It was due to Gilbert, idly thumbing the corner the page, his focus making your heart flutter.

Had…he always been so attractive?

"You've been on the same page for a while now, little rabbit."

That red eye of his flicked towards you suddenly, making your heart thump painfully. You tried to ignore his grin as you hurriedly focused on your book again, ears burning.

“What did you do that for?” The woman exclaimed, looking disdainfully at the man before her. His brows furrowed as she set her hands on her hips, frown set firmly as he sheathed his sword once more. “Figured you might be more grateful. The man was bothering you, was he not?” “Well…”

Ah, nothing ever seemed to go right between the two in this story. But you could feel the main character’s defenses slowly lowering, as the gruff man forced to accompany her on the daily showed his respect in newfound ways. Yet, just as they got closer, one of their emotions would get in the way, halting all romantic progress.

You were sure there was more explanation to be had, however you couldn’t help the fantasies of being in her position instead- working to understand such a man.

Breath held, you read onward, devouring how the male lead seemed to stumble over an apology for his assumptions, having to accept his brash actions were not always the answer. Each new tidbit of information regarding him made your heart beat sound louder in your ears, and just as you reached the telltale dramatic sigh before the true apology was spoken…

Gilbert’s hand came into your view, brisky stealing the book out of your hands.

“I-what? Huh?” You had to blink for a moment to register the absence of pages within your grasp, turning to him in confusion.

“I’ve been talking to you, little rabbit. After you never responded to my declaration of war, I thought I would give another chance-”

“But it was getting good…”

In response to your pout, you thought you saw a flash of a strange emotion in Gilbert’s eye, one that wouldn’t make much sense given how the two of you weren’t close enough for it.

“I’m bored, little rabbit. How do you intend to make up for ignoring me?”

This position was…

Settled between his legs was one thing, but Gilbert had gone so far as to set a new book in your lap, resting his chin on your shoulder. It felt like you were just a stuffed toy of his, being held close to his chest as he read.

Your initial offer of letting him have the rest of your snacks didn’t go over well. Instead, he just smiled until you looked over at the table, seeing how every last crumb had been devoured. Of course…

And in your annoyance, you muttered he could choose what he’d like for atonement. An idea you assumed you’d regret the moment it slipped past your lips, but now here you sat. Shared blankets over your laps, Gilbert’s steady breathing against your back, his soft sigh of contentment tickling the shell of your ear.

It was surprising, how your muscles eased so instinctively in such a position.

"Have you finished the page?"

"We're reading together? But my other book-"

"You're done with that one, aren't you?"

… For today, it seemed. Overlooking the text, a memory slowly reformed as you picked up bits of the story. Combined with the striking black cover of the book peeking from behind the pages, you were sure of the answer before you spoke.

“Is this that book you recommended a while ago?”

You could feel the way his lips curled into a smile, his hold on you tighter for just a moment before he hummed an affirmation.

Well… It did seem interesting. Perhaps reading it like this wouldn’t be too awful?

Accepting ‘defeat’, you let yourself sink into his embrace, considering that while maybe that flash of jealousy in his eyes felt misplaced, what spawned from it was a rather comfortable end to your day off.

I hope you enjoyed this, Daegupaksu!! If there are any details or mannerisms you'd like me to change, please let me know 🙇‍♀️ For clarification sake, the little '.' randomly between paragraphs are supposed to be scene breaks - tumblr always gives me trouble and doesn't space them out for me properly if I don't put Something down.

Taglist (Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed!): @yarnnerdally @katriniac @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @bakaneko-chan @skoetiepoetie @bestbryn @nightghoul381

Ikepri Masterlist || Ikevamp Masterlist || Ikevamp/Ikepri Server

#ikepri #ikemen prince #ikepri gilbert #ikemen prince gilbert #for a very long time this was labeled as 'giftobert' in my drafts

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lovingmattysposts · 2 months

Note

Listen. If you wanna make the decision to make your next fic Matt X OC!fem reader. As your next fanfiction.

Though clearly your polls say people prefer Y/N & all the angry & down right scared people are to see you their favorite author, join a sub group (OC writers), that they don’t subscribe to.

Autumn? Have you imagined that your stories are bigger than YOU? It’s odd to think about because Christ your the author, right? Your the person who owns your account, correct?

I’m my opinion. to a girl reading for example YDKM. Y/N is/was in self harm. To ANYONE regardless is of age, it helps to see thing’s written you can heavily relate to.

Me included it’s to weird & awkward reading about Matt moaning a random girls name. It just feels wrong in my brain.

Or Chris kisses Self harm scars, people who your stories SAVE their nights, their moods, hell what about people who read your stories instead of Self harming aka you saving their lives.

You may be taking away from those girls who just don’t feel good hearing Chris kiss idk a random name like “grace” scars, it may add to that feeling that it will never be them to HAVE ANYONE love them like that. Because it’s not, Y/N & the person on Tumblr will struggle to hear Chris who is the object of their escape cuz they would be choosing to read either a Matt or a Chris fanfiction & that’s reading for escape.

I’m a Chris girl… & I guess YDKM was the last work you’ll write with Y/N used. It saved me a lot it helped when I was in bad depression this winter. At times I wanted to relapse in self harm & i just re read Chris & Y/N relationship in YDKM.

I know you’ve gotten a lot of hate on the OC aspect of where you take your writing style & your account from here on out…. I thought before you made permanent changes you’d be grateful to likely hear a hot take on changing, Y/N to OC that you haven’t heard before.

The only further compromise I can help you out with, is 2 weeks or so before you actually start a new work or a new writing process. Make MULTIPLE POLLS over a 4-5 DAY PERIOD.

If on day 1-3 Y/N wins & days 4-5 OC wins. That way we have say so….. idk I’m part of that people honestly scared to see you change your account because it’s a safe place people like me may loose forever :/

- well wishes Anon..

wow okay

first and foremost—— I am so happy to hear that my stories helped you so much in a personal way and if you ever need someone to talk to my DMs are always open.

I didn’t realize how much of an effect it would have on people from me changing from y/n to OC. I see you point throughly, but I feel like at the end of the day it’s just a name

You guys tell me all the time that my stories could be actual books and actually authors (I am not claiming to be one pls don’t send hate) don’t use y/n they use actual names and I thought it would make more since to use a name rather than y/n, because with longer stories it can become annoying to write. When reading does it make you less attached to the characters or relate because she has a name?

But as much backlash that this has caused me I think I’ll just keep Y/n because I want you guys to love the story and not hate the fact that I’m using a real name.

I didn’t realize how attached you guys were to y/n I just want to give you the best quality stories as possible. I don’t wanna let you guys down

autumn🧡

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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little-peril-stories · 5 months

Text

The Queen of Lies: Faith and Freedom

Story Intro | Contents [Warnings] | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

Contents: blood, injury, illness, guy whump [all just leftover stuff from the last few chapters :) no new bad stuff]

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Word count: 3650 || Approx reading time: 15 mins

Faith and Freedom

Teaser: “Just give me a minute,” he said, grunting and coughing as he sat up. After a moment, he drew up his knees and rested his forehead there. “Feels like I’m dying.”

The world beyond the prison walls was cloaked in shadow, with thick cloud cover blocking out the stars, leaving only the yellow gas street lamps to illuminate a city that had mostly gone to sleep. Two frantic figures, a boy and a girl—a thief, a prisoner who had been set free, and his rescuer, who had spent four long year being Baden Hatchett’s wife and who no longer knew what she was—stumbled through the streets. He did not speak, nor did she; rather, they fled in silence, letting their ceaseless, hurried footfalls break the peace of the autumn midnight. It was not long, however, before the boy’s strength waned, his steps growing unsteady and his breathing more laboured.

The hand that was still clutched in the girl’s went slack.

And the thief fell.

Fear spread through her, so strong it sent numbness to her toes and fingertips, as the boy hit the ground. “No!” Dropping to her knees, shaking his shoulder as gently and urgently as she could, she breathed, “Please, please, no, no, no, wake up, wake up—”

He groaned, blinking open eyes that in the gloom appeared a much darker hue than the gold-and-green colour she knew them to be. “What?”

She almost collapsed to the cobblestone, too, but not with exhaustion; rather, it was with relief that she’d been able to rouse him. “You…you scared me.”

He glanced around, seeming to perceive that he was on the ground and woozy. With a soft groan, he took a deep breath and let his head fall back against the stone. “Fuck. Just…”

The girl swallowed. “I’m scared you’re…” She wanted to say, too weak to keep going, but how would he react to those words? If she’d ever said such a thing to Baden, he would have slapped her hard enough to leave a bruise for a week.

“Just give me a minute,” he said, grunting and coughing as he sat up. After a moment, he drew up his knees and rested his forehead there. “Feels like I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.” He couldn’t be; she wouldn’t allow it, not after everything she’d gone through to get him out of that awful prison cell. She glanced around, wishing it weren’t so dark. It had been a blessing as they crept from the prison grounds, but now it served only to make the towering houses and unlit storefronts seem dingy and menacing. “We need to get somewhere safe. It’s only going to get colder, and you need to eat. And drink. And rest.”

“What?” he said, half-heartedly mocking. “Can’t I stay at your house?”

She clenched her jaw and refused to take the bait. It was too cold, and she was kneeling in a puddle, and the wind was picking up into a sinister sort of howl, and she was too frightened to chase down whether the teasing was good-natured or not. “I’ve got an inn room booked, but we need to make it there.”

The secret note for Alice, hidden in the returned copy of The Scarlet Letter—tucked into the last marked page and written in the tiniest hand she could form: As I am unwell and cannot make the arrangements myself, could you please visit the Whitemoor Inn and book a room for my cousin, Lucy Cooper, for one night? I’ve enclosed enough funds to cover her stay.

One night for a young woman named Lucy Cooper to fleetingly exist, and come morning, she would dissolve into the ether, gone forever—as would the girl and the boy who’d occupied her room.

“A room booked?” he repeated, holding his head now. “You—you actually got some kind of plan? Seriously?” His eyes were still hazy with pain, but he was alert, and his gaze had gone wide. “You got money?”

“Yes,” she said, “I do.” She’d had one chance, one, between Baden letting her out of her room and him taking her to the prison to beg for forgiveness—one fleeting blissful moment when no one’s eyes had been on her. She’d taken as much money as she could from the safe in his study, the one he thought she didn’t know about.

That wasn’t all, though. In her coat pocket, sewn into the lining, there hid as much jewelry as she’d dared to take from the box on her dresser—enough to pawn for extra funds, not so much that it would weigh down her clothes or jingle as she walked.

Finally, there was the second half of her entreaty to Alice: if her friend had come through for her and done as she asked, a parcel waited for “Lucy Cooper” at the inn, containing a necklace and a ring, all she could reasonably and surreptitiously fit into Alice’s book. They would fetch a good price somewhere. Of course, the girl had no way of knowing if Alice had acquiesced, but she’d picked that friend over the other for a reason. Marguerite would never have gotten involved, but Alice was sensible and kind, and she knew—she knew. So surely, surely, she’d made the arrangements.

As long as that was true, and as long as the innkeeper didn’t turn them away at the sight of her companion, they would have somewhere warm and safe to sleep for the night.

If only the thief didn’t look like he had just stumbled out of a street brawl.

“Do you think you can keep going?” Her voice slipped out high-pitched and breathy. Too many worries, too few answers to soothe them.

He fixed her with a look of pained, miserable resignation. “Gonna have to.”

She pressed a hand to his face again. Despite the chill of the night, it was still hot. “I’m scared...” She couldn’t finish her thought.

The thief groaned again as he got cautiously to his feet—not pulling away when she held his good arm to steady him—and said, “Scared? Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

For a moment, she didn’t even know what to say. Her eyes roamed from his blood-flecked shirt to his black-and-blue skin to the entirely useless arm in Mrs. Bristow’s apron-sling.

They landed on his lips, which were ever so slightly quirked upwards.

“Well, good,” she finally managed. “If—if we are set upon by an army of kittens, I’m very glad you’ll be here to defend me.”

He choked out a laugh, coughed, and took a few wary steps, letting her cling to his arm; he wobbled slightly, but he stayed upright. “Lead the way, princess.”

She was going to have to do something about the name problem.

As they moved through the winding streets, she stuck close to him, partially because she feared he would pass out again, but also because she had never wandered the city at night before, by herself or with anyone else, and the warm presence of his body—beaten and worn-out though it was—gave her a peculiar sense of security. She knew it was probably false.

Still, she clung to it anyway.

“What am I to call you?” she dared to ask after a while. Although she was, indeed, desperate for an answer, she also worried that if she remained too quiet, he’d slip back into unconsciousness. “Am I allowed to know now?”

“Don’t get all uppity about that,” he mumbled. “Can you blame me for being suspicious?”

No, she thought, but she didn’t say it. She merely pointed the way down a nearby street. Almost there. They had to be almost there. “That’s not an answer.”

It was a long while, it seemed, of something happening behind his eyes that she could not decipher, some tug-of-war between giving a real answer and not until he at last told her, “I don’t have a name.”

Another lie, of course; he had a name, but he didn’t trust her with it. What a surprise. Why should he? All she had done was give up her entire life and risk everything to break him out of prison. “Please.”

He bit his lip and again took a long time to answer. “I…I can’t.” His gaze flitted around, as if he expected someone to burst out of the dark and streak towards them. As if he feared they were being followed.

Why should her chest feel so tight? He came from a life of crime—of course he was perpetually suspicious. Surely, he had to be. It had been foolish to hope for he might give a straight answer. “Something. Anything.”

After a moment, after a third agonizingly long pause, he said, “Fox.”

“Fox?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

A phrase she’d heard the day Baden found her in his cell drifted back to mind. “Fox-thief…”

He stiffened. Yanked his hand from her grasp. “Don’t—don’t. Don’t call me that. Please.”

“All right,” she said, horrified. “I won’t.”

When silence fell again, she didn’t chase it away.

He stumbled once more, dropping to his knees but staying conscious, and when she pulled him up, her tears blurred her vision enough that it obscured the strain in his features and the violent shaking of his limbs.

Finally, when the inn loomed before them, she pointed at its dimly lit door. “This one.”

“This one,” he repeated. Voice weaker now, words slightly slurred. He was failing by the second, she realized, perhaps having depleted the frenetic, urgency-fuelled strength that had helped him run once Mrs. Bristow got them beyond the prison gate.

“Let me go in first,” she said. “I’ll settle up if I need to and come get you.” That, she supposed, was the best course of action. The innkeeper might not notice her bruises—but Fox? A superstitious person might take one glance and conclude that he had risen from the very pits of hell.

“Okay,” he said, bracing his good arm against the wall, and she turned on her heel and hurried inside.

The woman who presumably ran the inn was dozing, and no wonder; it was the middle of the night. Her eyes snapped open, however, at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“My name is Lucy Cooper,” said the girl whose name was not Lucy Cooper. “One Mrs. Wright made arrangements for my room a few days ago, I believe?” Too late, she remembered she was wearing trousers. “I—um—please excuse my appearance. I’ve been...um...I’ve been travelling.”

The woman peered down at a piece of paper in front of her, appearing merely drowsy and rather bored. “Just one night?”

Relieved that the woman either hadn’t noticed or did not care what she was wearing, the girl said firmly, “Yes. Only one.” Once Baden learned that she was missing, he would search for her, and at some point, he would speak to Alice, and Alice, not knowing what else to do, would lead him here.

He would find neither Breanna Hatchett nor Lucy Cooper in this inn.

Instead, the boy called Fox and the girl who was called—well, who was called something—would be long gone.

“You’re already settled up for the room.” The woman tapped a list of meals and their fees and turned it towards the girl. “You want to pay for food, too?”

“Yes. I would.” The answer rushed out. “Whatever you have now, if you please, and some breakfast, too, before we depart.”

The woman raised her eyebrows and glanced toward the grandfather clock behind her, which displayed an hour not typically associated with taking a meal. “Now?”

“Yes,” repeated the girl firmly.

The woman frowned. “We might have some broth still,” she said. “It won’t be hot anymore.”

“That’s all right.” She paused. One more inquiry before she paid. “Did Mrs. Wright leave a parcel for me, by any chance?”

With a sigh, the woman turned away to rummage somewhere behind her. After a few moments, she returned with a wrapped box, slightly crumpled but intact. “There you are, Miss Cooper.”

“Thank you.” The girl took it gratefully, promising silently that she would one day find a way to repay Alice for her kindness.

As the innkeeper took the money and filled out the rest of the paperwork, the girl tried to steady her breath, bracing herself against the new fears that rushed in. Never mind the fact that she was renting a room for herself and a strange, half-clothed, terribly battered man who bore only a false name and who was not her husband. Now she had to contend with bringing him inside without drawing attention. What if the woman took one look at his bloody skin and the tattoo on his arm, and threw them out?

“All finished up, Miss Cooper.” The woman handed her a key. It lay cold and heavy in her palm.

At first, she couldn’t find the man in question at all. It took a few moments to realize he had sat down on the ground, back against the wall, slumped and half-conscious.

“Fox,” she whispered, tapping his uninjured shoulder, eliciting a moan. “Wake up.”

His eyelids fluttered open. “Hmm?”

“We can go in now.” He groaned, and she tried again to rouse him. “Do you want to sleep out here in the cold?”

“Not really,” he mumbled, letting her help him to his feet. “I’m so fucking tired. Everything…everything hurts.”

“I know,” she said, her heart cracking open in her chest. “We’ve got our room. Let’s find it.”

In the narrow, lamplit corridor where she located their room, he leaned against the wall, waiting for her to finish struggling with the key in the lock. With his head resting on his good arm, as he breathed heavily from the climb up the stairs, he watched her, or seemed to, although his eyes kept drifting closed.

“Bed. Now,” she said, pointing toward it when they made it inside. His exhausted gaze swept the room, obviously counting.

“Just one. It’s for you,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be absurd.” She pulled him toward the lumpy-looking mattress with its yellowed sheets and woollen quilt. “You’re hurt and sick. Lie down.”

“You gonna sleep on…what? The floor?”

He really thought she would be able to sleep? After everything? “Never mind about me. Get yourself in that bed, now, before I throw you into it.” She resisted the urge to clap a hand to her mouth and backtrack as she realized she had practically shouted at him. “Uh—” Fox was staring at her with a wide-eyed expression she could not read. “I mean…please.”

He laughed. It was weak and riddled with coughs, but it was genuine, and relief swept over her like a warm wind, because…

Because if she’d ever ordered Baden around like that…and threatened him like that…no matter how empty the threat was…

“There should be a meal waiting downstairs,” she said. “I’ll go get it. You can rest, but you must at least drink. If you fall asleep, I’m going to wake you.”

Fox sat heavily on the bed. “You’re the boss, princess.”

By the door, she paused. Princess. The name was silly, and she got the feeling he wasn’t using it to be cruel, but her thoughts on the matter of her name had been boiling over since she gave the innkeeper her false one. The girl closed her eyes, imagining who she would have to be once the light of dawn broke. Someone courageous and clever, someone who faced her fears instead of burying them or running scared. Someone who was bold enough to grasp the life she wanted with both hands.

Hopes and memories flashed in her mind, bringing with them disembodied faces and disjointed pictures—flames, ink, books, blood, and a heavy sunrise filled with promise.

She let her eyes fly open, the answer to the question Who am I? coming to her in a sudden burst.

“You can keep calling me Bree,” she told him, and he raised his eyebrows. “I decided I like it after all. So that’s—that’s my name now. Bree. Bree Scarlett.”

Fox nodded slowly, his eyes on hers, repeating the name to himself, at first under his breath, then a touch louder, as strong as his weak and tattered voice would go. “Bree Scarlett. I…I like it, too.”

Cheeks suddenly blazing hot enough to be unintentionally—and newly—eponymous, Bree Scarlett hurried away, closing the door behind her. As she bounded down the stairs, tempted to take them two at a time like a giddy schoolgirl, she repeated her name to herself, and she found that the very taste of it on her tongue filled her soul with glee.

***

Defying her own prediction, Bree did fall asleep, the siren’s song of slumber suddenly irresistible the moment she let herself rest, and she awoke curled against the wall, which was where she settled after determining that the room’s wooden chair was even less comfortable than the floor. She startled awake with a gasp, trapped for a moment in the dizzying space between the waking and sleeping worlds, wondering where on earth she was and how she had gotten there.

She took one look around, and reality came crashing down: she had run away from her husband, set his prison on fire, and sprung a thief from jail.

Bree waited for the panic to set in, for the bone-breaking terror that, at any moment, Baden would burst through the door and tear her to shreds for her betrayal and her crimes.

It did not come.

Instead, she felt strangely calm, detached from the chaos she had wrought in her pursuit of freedom. Her eyes wandered over the room, with its wood-panelled walls, slightly uneven floors, and inarguably paltry sleeping spaces, trailing her gaze over the door and the window that by some miracle remained silent and unassailed by constables pounding and breaking through. It was a veritable marvel, how unafraid she felt.

As she looked around, her inspection paused upon the boy who called himself Fox.

He was still asleep, lying on his side, looking for all the world serene despite the blood still crusting his skin. Her throat tightened, horror creeping through the short-lived peace she’d just been enjoying as she took in the sorry sight of him again.

How many of those wicked bruises had been dealt by Baden himself?

She forced away the thought. There was little she could do right now about the guilt that stole through her and would not retreat; however, she had a new problem to contend with that she could solve. Fox had fallen asleep so quickly after she brought him water and the inn’s lukewarm broth that he hadn’t even gone under the wool quilt, and now he shivered in the chill of the night air.

Bree searched for something to keep him warm. Ah—there—her jacket, abandoned in a crumpled heap near the door.

How furious, she thought, her fatigue doubling as her husband invaded her thoughts again, Baden would be if he could see how carelessly and messily she’d flung aside her clothes. And how furious he would be if he knew how much she wished she could simply escape the thought of him for even a few minutes.

How furious he would be to see her pausing at the bedside of his foe, gently laying her own clothing over his body and tucking in the sides to keep him warm.

For a moment, it seemed as if her mission to blanket Fox’s shivering form without waking him had been a success, but as she turned away, his fingers curled around her wrist, the unexpected touch sending a jolt through every limb.

“Why?” His voice was rough, thick with sleep and whatever sickness ailed him. But the word was intelligible.

“You’re cold,” she said. “I could see you shivering.”

“No.” When she turned slowly back to him, his eyes were open. Bleary, yes, but he knew her. And he remembered what she had done for him. “Why. Are you. Doing this. Hel… Helping me?”

Good god, what was she supposed to say to that? What explanation was there?

“Because,” she said, failing to banish from her mind the image of him chained and on his knees, horrified at the sight of her for fear that it would bring him more agonizing pain, “you didn’t deserve what he did to you.”

He watched her, still shivering. “I…am. You know.”

“You are, what?”

“A criminal. A thief. In. In…IA.”

The cough that had been so quiet while he slept returned. Bree bit her lip, wondering what to say to quell his anxieties and allow him to rest. “Sleep more,” she said, deciding to ignore what he had mumbled—what he’d told her like she didn’t already know. “I’ll be here.”

“Bree.” He winced, overtaken by some phantom pain whose source she could not discern. “Bree. Don’t…”

He didn’t finish, and for a moment she thought he had fallen asleep mid-sentence. But his eyes were still on her when she looked back down. “I won’t leave.”

“No.” He closed his eyes. “Don’t fuck me over. Please.”

Even now, he feared she would betray him. Bree blinked back tears.

“You won’t, right?”

“I promise I won’t,” she whispered. Gently, she tried to pull her arm away, yet his fingers didn’t let go.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. So quiet, so indistinct, it was difficult to make out. “For saving me.”

Unable to bring herself to speak, and uncertainly unable to give the reply that came to mind, Bree swiped at her face with her free hand, her treacherous tears spilling over despite her efforts to hold them back.

She did not move until his fingers loosened and fell away—until the boy called Fox was asleep once more, perfectly still save for the rise and fall of his bruised, battered chest.

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#lps the queen of lies #whump #whump story #whump writing #original writing #original story #original content #lady whump #guy whump #romance #angst #blood #injury #illness

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kiryoutann · 2 years

Text

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

I appreciate the likes, replies, and reblogs! Thank you so much. You can buy me a Kofi to give me tip for my writings (no pressure!) I’ll forever be grateful to u! <3

The thin clouds that had previously covered the moon finally left, giving it a chance to shine Snezhnaya under its pale light. The wind howled, moving the branches that knocked on the windows of the classic building.

Childe lay with a woman in his arms. They both share one thing in common—naked under the covers after their love-making. Although the burning fireplace had provided enough warmth for them not to shiver in the Snezhnaya autumn chill, neither one wanted to let each other go.

Lumine closed her eyes while enjoying the rhythm of his heart beating against his chest. She hoped that time would pass slowly, because tomorrow she had to return to Monstadt with her twin brother. Which meant she didn't know when she would see Childe again.

Therefore, Lumine chose to open her mouth despite the possibility of spoiling the atmosphere. "I heard you talked to the Princess." She says.

As expected, Childe groaned in annoyance from her words, not hiding his annoyance in the slightest. “Really, Babe? We just had a nice sex and you have to spoil the mood by bringing that up?”

“You have no intention to tell me so, I guess I should ask.” Lumine watched as he let go of his embrace and lay staring at the ceiling. "So, what did she say? What did you say?"

From the question, he lost his mind to his fiancée who had probably arrived in her country after sailing home for four days. He remembered that day. The day he knelt before her, apologizing and begging for her to continue the marriage. She melted her heart for him after he made a promise to leave his lover, and yet now he is in bed with the said woman.

"Childe." Lumine brought him back to reality. "What did she say?" She demanded, getting impatient now.

Childe was a liar to the Princess but an even bigger liar to Lumine when he said: "She said she wouldn't call off the wedding." A shrewd lie without hesitation.

Lumine furrowed her brows, "She said that?" She shook her head in disbelief. "And here I thought she was going to curse you."

Crazy that he thought that would be better if that was the case. However, let alone cursing, any negative expression didn't stop on her face even for a second. Childe clenched his jaw from irritation as soon as the memory of the calm Princess played back. She really made him look like an idiot, kneeling begging like she was the most important thing to him.

"What did you say afterwards? Why don't you just cancel the wedding?" Lumine still has her questions.

Childe sighed as he closed his eyes. "And here I thought you know it's not that easy." He got up to sit on the edge of the bed, picking up his shirt which was hanging carelessly on the nightstand. She had already started with her interrogation session and he had to leave before this got any longer.

Lumine sat on the bed, “Are you going home? When I asked you questions?”

“Babe, let's not end this with a fight.” He said while buttoning his shirt.

Her golden eyes did not hide her displeasure at his response. He was way too calm even though he knew the wedding that would separate them would take place shortly after the Princess' coming-of-age banquet—which would be two months away. He had the authority to cancel it, but he didn't.

Or maybe that's what he wanted too. So, is all their talk about the future just nonsense then? Where should Lumine throw those dreams?

Childe who dodged the questions put a doubt in her heart.

"Do you really love me?"

Childe paused for a moment from her question, turning around to find her head hung low. He didn't need to see her expression to know she was sad, the trembling in her voice was enough to represent that.

“Hey, what are you talking about? Of course I love you, you know that."

"Do I?" Lumine raised her gaze. "Then cancel the wedding."

Childe laughed dryly, crawling to her. "I can’t do that." He told her.

Those golden eyes glared at him, "Why? You don't love her, do you?"

Childe choked on his own laughter. What Lumine said was by far the funniest joke he had ever heard in his entire life. Him loving the Princess? If that day came, then he believed the sun would rise from the west and the entire universe would collapse.

"You're so funny." He pinched her cheek lightly. "Don't worry about things like that. You know I’ll marry you once I have full authority as king.”

Lumine raised her eyebrows asking for more explanation. “Can you imagine what those bastards would do if they found out I threw away their princess for you? I don't want to put you in danger when I'm just a prince."

Apart from being a liar, Childe is a sweet talker. He brushed off her irritation and doubt, which was replaced by a nod and a smile.

"Fine then."

Childe kissed her lips, then her knuckles. “You have my word on that.”

The ginger haired man got up from the bed. He walked towards the dressing table where Lumine had put the things she hadn't put in the suitcase. A smile was carried on his face when he found the pink perfume he had given her. Lumine watched him pick it up, spraying it all over his body before setting it down slowly.

“Gotta smell like my girl.” Childe gave her a wink.

Lumine suppressed her smile. "Just leave already."

"Alright, alright." He picked up his jacket from the floor and put it on. "Don't miss me too much, okay?"

Childe turned the doorknob. He stepped out of the room, greeted by a dim hallway supported only by a row of wall lamps. He descended the carpeted stairs one by one and ended up in the voyer, where a man he recognized stood as if waiting for him.

Even though he couldn't see it clearly, Childe had grown familiar with Aether—Lumine's twin brother. The Duke bowed respectfully, then continued to glare at him.

"Your Highness Crown Prince Childe."

Childe wore a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "Duke."

Aether didn't reply. He had always been one of those people who dared to show his distate for him. "I see you are still visiting my sister."

"What's wrong with that?"

Golden eyes closed to relieve anger from his rhetorical question. "You are someone else's fiancé and will be getting married soon." Aether hoped it would knock some sense into him.

"Oh, don't be so cold, Duke!" Childe laughed, placing a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "You talk as if you don't know how marriage works in our world."

Aether paid no heed to his attempts to make the situation less hostile. “With all due respect to you, please stay away from my sister. This will only bring bad things not only to you and Lumine but, to the Princess as well.”

From his words that sounded commanding, Childe erased the fake expression he was wearing, now not covering the cold gaze from those blue eyes of his. He was just a duke from another country, and he had the audacity to speak in that way to the heir to the Snezhnaya throne? Aether must know his place.

There was so much he was holding back from not strangling him right now. “Apparently there are some people who have forgotten their position.” He took a step closer to Aether. "If I was in a bad mood, that would have been your last breath."

This was precisely why Aether didn't want Childe anywhere near Lumine. Besides the fact that he will justify any means to get what he wants, he is the most selfish human he has ever met. Despite having the achievement of becoming Snezhnaya’s war general, it does not rule out the fact that he is one of the most dangerous people in Teyvat.

Feeling that his point had been made, Childe walked past him, leaving a cold wind blowing against his face. Aether watched his back as he headed towards the horse carriage that was waiting for him.

Sooner or later, Lumine will be pulled down with him. Aether had to stop him before that happened.

Two months later, Childe set foot on the famous Liyue capital pier. He took off the red scarf that was wrapped around his neck when he realized the temperature here was much warmer than his home country. The voices of the merchants around greeted his ears.

“This way, Your Majesties and Your Highness.” Viktor—his right hand man—said after bowing, leading him to the waiting horse carriage.

On their way to the imperial palace, boredom hit him. Even so, he made no effort to bring up the conversation with his parents sitting in the opposite direction. Blue eyes looked out the window, hoping that Liyue would cheer him up.

A country that seems more lively than Snezhnaya. He thinks it's because of their favorable climate. Many people on the roadside peddling merchandise in the form of spices and fresh fruits. Lanterns hung above with other decorations they were trying to put up as they climbed the wooden stairs.

Childe couldn't help but comment, "Is Liyue always this colorful?" He smiled mockingly.

His mother stopped fanning herself and looked outside, realizing what he was talking about. "You didn’t know? They have a tradition of holding a festival every time a member of the imperial family has a birthday.”

"Is that true?" Childe put on his bored face again. "That's troublesome."

His father laughed. "What can we do about it? Their daughter's birthday is today. Soon enough, she will marry into another royal family.”

Marry into another royal family. Childe doesn't realize how close he is to letting go of his single days. After today, the days where he would be busy taking care of the wedding preparations would come. He wanted to speed things up to finish quickly.

"Make sure to look good in front of the Princess." His father reminded him.

Childe smiled bitterly. "Of course. After all, she is my fiancée."

Although he had been waiting for her coming-of-age in sight but, Childe found himself wishing for a postponement. However, time stops for nobody let alone him. Morning turned to night in the blink of an eye—Childe was now standing in the celebratory hall.

The walls of this large open hall were carved in gold, either because the royal family saw its artistic value or simply showing off its wealth to guests. Beneath the solidly colored chandelier, the people were lost in their conversation. The waiter who passed by was carrying a tray filled with Liyuean's drinks and food.

"Your Highness!" A shrill voice called out for him to turn around.

Childe found a woman—if she could enter here, she was definitely royalty—smiling so wide that he felt his jaw hurt from looking at her. She was the fourth woman to approach him tonight. In fact, none of them hide their intention to flirt with him.

Childe replied with his typical fake smile. How did people do that even though they knew he was the fiancé of the host of tonight's banquet?

"Good evening, Lady..?"

The woman was gloomy from him asking her name. “Your Highness, we have met before. Have you forgotten me?”

Oh, can you just give me your name and get out of my sight? Childe wanted to say however, did not. He laughed in an apologetic way, "If I didn't have a bad memory, I couldn't have forgotten the name of a woman as beautiful as you." He slipped a flirt that made a blush rise to her cheeks.

"I-it's Sophia, Your Highness. The daughter of Count Lancaster of Monstadt."

From the mention of that country, his mind wandered to a certain someone. He looked at Sophia again, remembering that Lumine had introduced her to him at a banquet earlier.

"Ah, Lady Lumine's friend." Childe felt strange calling her that.

Sophia nodded, "That's correct, Your Highness!" She cried out in joy. “Ever since you stepped foot here, I wanted to greet you right away! However, Lady Lumine is holding me back from doing that.”

There is a tug in his heart. “Lady Lumine did that?”

The brown-haired woman nodded not noticing the change in his expression. “I don't know what's wrong with her,” She said softly before getting excited again, “But, isn't that good? We can talk alone.”

“Where is Lady Lumine now?”

Regardless of the words or the smile that fell from her face, Childe looked her straight in the eye with his blue eyes. Even though he wasn't sure it would be a good choice to look for Lumine right now, he wanted to take a quick look. Is she wearing that blue dress he sent last week? The necklace that he specially ordered must have graced her neck beautifully, right?

Just as Sophia was about to raise her index finger to show where he could find her, the trumpet sounded without warning. Guests automatically face the large door.

"His Highness, the Crown Prince and Her Highness, Princess (Y/N) have arrived!"

In the arms held by your older brother, you passed through the door so gracefully wrapped in a traditional Liyuean dress that is more majestic than the one you wore in his coming-of-age. Your hair was styled and tucked in accessories that glowed under the light. After descending a few wooden steps, people see the makeup that adds to your beauty.

You captured all the attention of those in the room, Childe was no exception. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath this whole time.

Every time you swept your eyes across people who weren't him, Childe still wouldn't admit he wished those beautiful eyes landed on him. He just stares at you, standing in a sea of people who didn’t do much for you to notice his presence.

Without even realizing it, he had forgotten his intention to search for Lumine.

After the emperor raised his glass high to give a toast, the floor that was left empty was filled with professional performers. They danced gracefully, slender hands decorated with various striking jewelry that entertained guests from all over the world. On the sidelines, there are still many people who come to you to congratulate.

"Someone's getting older today."

You turned quickly when you heard a voice you would recognize everywhere. Within your line of sight is Zhongli. To support the appearance in his traditional dress, the long hair that is usually tied is loose but, neat enough to still show the earrings in his ears. You smiled even though you couldn't remember the last time you saw him like this.

"Zhongli!"

Your enthusiasm from his presence widens his smile. "I congratulate Your Highness' coming-of-age." He bowed politely.

You laughed at his formal way of speaking. Nonetheless, you nodded in acceptance of his words, “Thank you, Duke Zhongli. Though, I have to admit I was quite curious about what you gave me as a present this year.”

Of the many people who give you gifts every time you get older, Zhongli's is the one you care about the most (or you could say the one that doesn't end up being kept in an empty palace room). He has a strange taste in choosing what he wants to give, the proof of which is that he gave a flower statue made of gold last year.

“Something different from previous years. Considering it will likely be your last year staying in the imperial palace.”

The line does its job to put a burden on your heart, erasing that smile for a moment before being replaced with a fake one. You notice a change in your mood, trying to ward it off by repeating the reasons you would do it. However, it is undeniable that lifting your foot from where you grew up is not as easy as turning your palm.

"Oh, he's coming."

Zhongli's voice took you from your long thought to turn to Childe who was walking towards you. He put on a smile that didn't sparkle in his eyes as usual to make him look friendly to you. Before he arrived, Zhongli thought of leaving first. He excused himself from your presence, reasoning that he wanted to talk to Duchess Ningguang.

"Who is that?" One of the nobles whispered curiously.

"I think it's Crown Prince Childe of Snezhnaya, the Princess's fiancé." Another one answered.

From the movement and gazes he doesn't take away from you, Childe gathers people's gazes on the two of you. You pay attention to him, examine his clothes and thought that grey is good on him. If you weren't capable of seeing the future, you'd think he was more like a golden retriever than a wolf in sheep's clothing.

You bowed slightly as he stood before you, “I greet His Highness Prince Childe.” Your facial expression is no less fake than his.

Childe holds out a hand which you welcome with yours. He lands a kiss on the skin of the back of your hand, then looks up with a smile. "Congratulations on your coming-of-age, Princess." His voice has honey and sweetness in it.

You slowly pulled your hand away as he let go. "Thank you, Prince Childe. I hope you enjoy the celebration.”

"What do I not enjoy when my fiancée stands so beautifully in front of me?"

You laugh at the compliment which is actually one of his camouflage as a future love-struck partner. Even if you're not convinced yet, it's enough to make the nobles around you whisper behind their glasses and fans. Maybe you should give Childe some credit for his hard work.

"Prince always knows what to say." You said.

"Your Highness." You both turned to the bespectacled man whom you recognized as your father's confidant. He bowed to the two of you before saying his point into the conversation. “Pardon for the intrusion, Your Highness. His Majesty asks for your presence."

"Oh, is that so?"

You look the other way in search of your father but, back to Childe when you can't find him. "That is unfortunate, I'd love to talk to you more, Prince." You speak to him so apologetic despite knowing the possibility he finds pleasure in this.

Childe smiled. "So do I. However, I can't be selfish when the Emperor is asking you."

You nodded, “Thank you for understanding. Then I'll go." You curtsied to him.

Childe reflects what you do. He watched you turn around, walking away with your long dress sweeping the hall floor. Once he sensed you were far enough away from him, he dropped all his exhausting fake expressions.

Blue eyes scanned the entire room. He noticed the fireworks exploding in the sky over the capital. It was golden in color, reminiscent of someone's eyes.

Lumine. He had to find Lumine.

His guess was right about looking for her in the gardens of the Liyue imperial palace. It was far enough away that he felt safe to approach her who was standing under the gazebo by the lake. He had sneaked glances at the hall before, however, being in front of her like this made him notice the glittering details of the blue dress he had chosen for her.

Lumine recognized his presence behind her but, for some reason chose to keep staring at the moon's reflection in the water. "Turns out it's not that easy."

"What is?" Childe walked over.

The blonde woman turned around, finding him looking handsome and not so far away. “Seeing you with the Princess, kissing her hand and praising her in front of the crowd.”

"I can give you more."

A bitter scoff slipped out of Lumine, yet, she wasn't worried he'd hear it. "Have you both set a wedding date yet?" She asked, hoping that at least a shake of his head was the answer.

Maybe Aether was right. That not everything is worth holding on to the end. Choosing to be with a man who was soon to be married was wrong, Lumine should know that. However, she still thought it would be unfair for them who loved each other to just give up when Princess's relationship with Childe didn't have that.

As if reading her complicated thoughts, Childe lifted her tiny chin. He stared at her beautiful golden orbs, then landed a kiss that hoped to ease the pain in her chest.

People in love mostly do unreasonable things. People who have their partner in their arms tend to forget about their surroundings. However, the two of them should have known not to think they were completely alone.

"Princess?"

Childe didn't know what was wrong with the room the Liyue empire had prepared for him. He judged the furniture and atmosphere as very comfortable for him. However, no matter how much he tossed and turned on the bed, his eyes refused to close to go to sleep.

That was the reason he chose to take a walk in the garden at the very end of the palace even though his bones ached from the banquet that ended four hours ago. However, he did not expect to meet her here.

You turned your head from his call, "Prince Childe?"

The man approaches you. You notice he's wearing a long robe, while he wonders where you're going in a hooded robe like that—not to mention the absence of bodyguards around you.

"Are you going somewhere?" He couldn't help but ask.

For a moment he thought you wouldn't answer him, feeling it was none of his business to know. He watched you nod before setting your sights on the fireworks exploding in the sky outside the high walls of the imperial palace. The festival of celebration that the Liyue people hold whenever a member of the imperial family gets older.

"The festival." You answered.

Childe didn't expect you to sneak around at night just to visit the festival, alone. You don't seem to think about the risk of being kidnapped or killed. Isn't this very reckless of you? Have you not yet realized your value to your own people and your enemies? Many people will do anything to harm you (him included).

"Alone?"

You nodded again, "I've done this many times."

“However, it is still dangerous.” Childe reminds you.

You don't want to hear his protests, so you ask him a question: “What about you? Why are you here?”

Childe looked back at you, "I can't sleep."

A frown on your face. "Is the bed not to your liking?"

Childe shook his head quickly, “It's not like that. I'm just not sleepy." He says.

"Oh."

Silence fell upon you both. You are lucky enough that the wind blows even though it doesn't wash away the awkwardness between two people who are about to get married but, doesn't quite know each other. The cool night brings new ideas to your brain.

“Would you like to join me?”

"Allow me to come with the Princess."

Unexpectedly, the two of you are talking at the same time, with the same topic. Two pairs of different colored eyes stare at each other for a few moments before you are the first to laugh, finding the situation amusing.

As soon as your laughter died down, you spoke up saying: "Okay, I'll be your tour guide, Your Highness."

This night is full of strange things. At the banquet earlier, there was a guest who was too generous to offer you a large gold-plated frog statue. Then a group of noble ladies asked you to have a tea party tomorrow morning and made you order your ladies-in-waiting to prepare it. And as the closing, you sneaked out of the imperial palace with your soon-to-be husband who was secretly planning to kill you in the future.

Even if you believe that many stars stretch across the dark night sky, the light of the lanterns seems to dim them. On the streets where people pass by, you feel the warmth in your chest when you see their happy smiles.

Your birthday.. do they like it that much?

Crowds crowded the festival. All around them was the rhythm of musicians, echoing softly as drums were pounded to enliven the atmosphere. Meanwhile, the fireworks they continued to launch seemed endless. People carrying a variety of Liyuean street food in their hands.

To Childe, Liyue was a foreign land. However, now that he was standing here, he no longer found it a bad thing if it meant that he would continue to discover new things every day.

"Very crowded." You commented to yourself but, Childe who heard it realized the potential for the two of you to be separated or lost.

His hand is stretched high enough for you to catch it from the corner of your eye. Under the hood that shielded his face from the light, you stared into his blue eyes with yours widening.

"Take my hand. I don't want us to be separated here." He said followed by a smile.

At first, you looked at his big, naked hands with some doubt. However, when the fireworks exploded in mid-air once again—showcasing their colorful crown and making you excited to go further into the festival—you let Childe hold your hand.

Strange. Didn't you say you'd be the tour guide for this festival? Then, why was he the first to walk through the sea of people? Protecting you from colliding with others by putting you behind his broad back.

You end up visiting several tenants including one selling street food. From end to end you make sure your special guest try the sweet and savory that Liyue has to offer. Oddly enough, Childe has no problem with that other than not being able to use chopsticks (which you both solve by buying food that doesn't require one).

Your next stop is a person who sells various accessories and jewelry. Although it can't be compared to what you usually get from your father and other nobles, it's enough to make you approach enthusiastically.

“Come and find what you want! Lady, what kind of accessories are you looking for?” The merchant greets you as soon as you stand in front of his desk.

"Ah, let me have a look."

You swept your eyes at the merchandise. From brooches, necklaces, rings, bracelets, to hair accessories he sells. Your hands want to take a closer look at the pink hair pins, but you remember having something almost the same to this. You're not a big fan of jewelry so you have no intention of collecting anything similar.

"How about this one?"

Childe opened his mouth when you were about to excuse yourself for not finding what you wanted. When you turned around, you found him picking up a brooch. He lifts it close to you to reveal its leaf shape with diamonds that coincidentally have the same color as your eyes.

"It has the same color as your eyes." Childe said. The diamond he was talking about reflected the light of the lantern on it.

You smiled amused, "Do you think it's beautiful?"

Childe nodded, "Yes." You think he's referring to the diamond.

You took one more glance at the brooch. "Hmm, I guess that's not bad."

“No,” Childe said suddenly, making you look up at him in confusion. "I was talking about your eyes. I think you have beautiful eyes, Princess."

You didn't expect that, at all. And so, your mouth hung open for a few moments before muttering the quietest thank you. You watched as Childe showed the brooch to the old merchant, said he would buy it and then took some gold coins out of his pocket.

The warm wind blows again. The petals of the cherry blossom tree that you didn't even know existed danced in the air. As soon as you look up, you find the dark sky still stretched out, making you wonder if the night is still long.

After leaving the merchant earlier, Childe again cupped your hand in his. He splits the crowd and makes sure you stay behind him. That broad back... you wonder if he has the scars from all the battles he's survived. A battle that spreads fear at the utterance of the name 'Tartaglia'.

Then, you’re curious about one more thing.

If the circumstances were different—if he wasn't the same person who would wage war on your homeland, where would you two stand?

@thelovelydiviner @r0ttenhearts @tsunotaro-san @yguchild @a-random-bored-person @hoshikechi @dandelimoonus @cherlynono

(i don't know why there’s some username that I can't tag(´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀), i’ll try to do it in the reply if it’s possible.)

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presleyhearted · 5 months

Text

Yours Truly - Chapter 13: People and Promises.

・❥・pairing: Elvis x original female character

・❥・genre: slow burn, mystery, angst, fluff.

・❥・wc: 5.1k

・❥・summary: In which a 21-year-old girl suddenly finds herself having consecutive dreams of a particular rock ‘n’ roll star whom she has never met and who died 45 years ago.

・❥・ ratings & warnings: SFW. none.

chapter index | prev | chapter 13.5

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

"For a long time, she held a special place in my heart. I kept this special place just for her, like a 'reserved' sign on a quiet corner table in a restaurant." - Haruki Murakami.

NOVA

THE HOURS PASSED by in fruitful conversation with Great Aunt Odette. It fluctuated between earnest expressions and sentences, to ignition of laughter that centered around silliness of memories past. I was grateful that after unearthing my secret to someone, to her, she did not push me further with questions. It didn't mean she brushed off my confession, nor showed any signs of dubiety towards it. It was like I kept a firm, tightly secured room and I let her inside. By opening the door for her, she encouraged a breath of fresh air to travel into the room of my mind. That is and always will be the magic of Auntie Dottie - you know she believes you, you just do, no matter how incredulous you may seem. And if she doesn't, you'll know too. But in the aftermath, she prevents your mind from racing into a spiral of thoughts - she is flitting in getting a burst of laughter or two out of you, smoothly transitioning both topic and mood to lighter subjects.

"It's disgraceful that it's already half four." Auntie Dottie shakes her head, looking down at the watch wrapped around her pale wrist.

"I know." I sigh, "Sorry that I've got to go."

She chuckles, "Oh, hush child. This is the true antagonist of all, " She gestures at her watch, "Time."

And I know that she purposely used literature terminology.

"The invisible enemy you can't defeat. " I chuckle.

She nods, "No, you cannot. . . but you can run against it." Her lips slide into a wide smile, the type of smile that evokes a sense of secrecy. This, paired with a twinkle in her eyes - a look that has surpassed my childhood.

Auntie Dottie steps forward and wraps her arms around me, a bundle of warmth swims around my body. It's a while before she parts from the hug, and when she does, she remains in her place. Her hands cup my cheeks, amidst the rising coldness of the autumn wind.

"You are always running, Nova. I do not think you have realized it, hm?"

I say nothing, unable to detect what exactly she is saying. Instead, I shake my head.

"When you stumble upon a question, don't you chase for those answers? I believe you do. I also believe. . . that is no different from searching and embracing the newness in life. You chase knowledge quite ardently, why not chase life? However, yes, certainty is sparse when you do that. But you'll know, that when the parallels of time and life do meet one day, you can be certain that you know you did all you can."

I release a deep breath that I didn't acknowledge to be holding. Auntie Dottie releases her hold of my cheeks and takes a step back. She tilts her head at me with a knowing smile on her face. At that moment, my parents' words flood my mind, but the thought quickly speeds past me as Great Aunt Odette speaks again.

"If you remain in the mundane, in the expected - it leaves no room for magic. " Her voice reduces to a whisper at the end, "And well, you and I both know that there is a part of you that still wants to chase a little bit of magic."

Her eyes flit over to the hardbound cover of literature that I am holding in my right hand.

Peter Pan and Wendy.

The very book that was once forever lost in the corners of my childhood mind.

I am at a loss for words, but I know myself well enough that her words will be circling my mind for a number of days.

"Thank you, Auntie Dottie. "

She nods and with another gust of wind, assembling the rustling of auburn leaves on the ground, Auntie Dottie's smile turns into a smirk.

"Well, dear, you best go now. The clock is ticking." She says.

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

The journey back to the city was filled with the quick darkening of the sky, making me miss summer skies. I had my playlist playing quietly in the background as I drove, just enough to keep me company. But not at a volume that shuts out my thoughts.

None of what I rehearsed to say actually made the cut. The drive to Great Aunt Odette this morning involved practicing the multiple ways in which I could tell her about the situation. Nonetheless, the fact still stands that I have finally revealed it to someone. Hearing your own thoughts in your head, and actually omitting them into sentences? Both are vastly different. I'm glad that I did, albeit how nervous I was, it gave me this immense relief. Of course, it wasn't surprising that Great Aunt Odette listened, but for her to wholeheartedly believe me? I guess, I wasn't quite ready for that and for the feeling of relief that it brought.

Even more so, a walk down memory lane - the book. The book that she explained was basically my favorite thing in the world as a kid. That was an unexpected part of my visit, but then again, I should've seen it coming - seeing as Great Aunt Odette's forte is the unexpected.

I suppose I can't quite believe that I didn't remember that book. Sure I was a kid, but It wasn't like I was three years old, making me inevitably forget about it. Why can't I recall it? I suppose I'll blame it on the ladder of growing up, and the stresses that slowly creep into one as one enters adulthood. To blame it on time.

Time.

Great Aunt Odette's words regarding it, and its correlation with life - I was at a loss for words. She knows me all too well. I knew that there was an inevitable end for everyone, but hearing how she explained it woke me up more. The realization that time will pass, this life will end before I know it and that will be it. A terrifying concept that makes me shake my head, as I grip the steering wheel.

It lies in the question of; if it ends today, am I okay with that? Am I content with how I lived?

Not entirely.

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

After two hours, the driving finally came to an end. I turn off the ignition, grab my small purse and the book, and walk up to the entrance of the building. I was in no mood to climb two flights of stairs, as my body craved the comfort of my bed after the hours-long drive. But with the building's elevator under maintenance, I had no choice.

As I insert the key and swing the door open, I am immediately greeted by the exclamation of my roommate slash friend. He appears in the doorway at lightning speed it seems.

"Oh my fucking God."

"Hey." I let out a yawn, "Oh gosh, I'm so tired."

"No shit, Nova. You just drove for TWO hours? Well, actually FOUR hours. But still, holy shit?" He exclaims in disbelief, grinning brightly at me.

I walk to the living room and place my stuff on the table, as I flop my body onto the couch.

"Yeah, I did."

"You hear that Lottie?" He says to the phone in his hand, as he faces the screen to me.

"Oh! Hi, Lottie!" I say, waving at her despite the exhaustion slowly taking over me.

"Nova Katerina Sinclair, I am in complete shock." She laughs.

I look at both of them quizzically, "At my driving?"

"No, you idiot!" Charlotte replies, shaking her head at my confusion.

"Then what?"

"When you texted me saying that you'll be visiting your Great Aunt, and won't be able to meet me for lunch. . . I shit you not, I thought your phone was stolen." Luke raises his hands in defense, emphasizing his points.

"What?" I let out a laugh, "What are you on about?"

"Then imagine my reaction when Luke told me about it." Charlotte chimes in.

"Guys, I still don't get it."

"It's just- it's so unbelievable. When did you make the decision to go?"

I shrug, "This morning. Spur of the moment decision."

Luke turns the phone screen to himself, eyes wide, and returns it back to face me.

"It just sounded so un-Nova of you."

I had to laugh, "Un-Nova?"

"Yeah. You don't just go somewhere just because. You literally have a whole damn color-coded calendar for fuck's sake!" Luke says, dramatically.

"Oh." The realization settles in me, they found that unusual. Was it really that out of character?

"Then I asked Luke to make sure it wasn't an emergency because that would explain your sudden spontaneity. But when he said that you messaged nothing of the sort, I was like, " Charlotte's eyes widen as she retells the situation, "Well, holy fucking shit."

"I didn't even. . . " I shrug, "I don't know, I just felt like it."

"Are you sure you are Nova?"

Luke looks up at the ceiling with his hands in the air, "Has the Earth just shifted its fucking axis?"

I laugh at his dramatics, "Is it really that big of a deal guys?"

"Yes!" They reply simultaneously.

"Bad or good?"

"Definitely good."

"It's fucking fantastic, bestie."

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

After much interrogation from Charlotte and Luke, I was finally able to settle down into my bed. Their shock at my actions didn't phase out quickly, even if I retold the entire ordeal in detail. Well, of course, leaving out the part about the actual reason I decided to visit Great Aunt Odette. I love them to death, but revealing that whole situation - revealing him - that's absolutely out of the question.

I glance at the clock opposite my bed, reading the time : 8:45PM.

Some say that is far too early to be going to sleep, which even I can agree with. I normally find myself drifting off to sleep at 10.30PM most nights, purely because of assignments and how I can't seem to completely escape my thoughts. It's like a thousand sealed vaults in my mind all suddenly opening at the same time, and endlessly overlapping one another. It's when I then tend to believe that the mind, and the brain are independent of each other. The brain generates knowledge and helps you process through the essential, practical things of life. The mind on the other hand, that's where all your deepest thoughts wander in. The mind houses the thoughts that is centred around yourself. Constantly editing and rewinding how you were before, right now, and in the future. It's the source of both reflection and destruction.

The mind is a maze that you can so easily get yourself lost in, and I am all too familiar with that. Except for this time, where the fatigue of my physical body has fortunately pulled me into a slumber before any overthinking can generate. My eyes were heavy with tiredness, I felt this lift slowly as I shut them.

"Woah, so pretty!"

"She's just like a princess!"

"Oh. I know! She's like snow white!"

"Shh. . . we might wake her up."

"But she's been asleep for so long-"

"What if you need to kiss her, Mister Elvis?"

Voices. I hear multiple voices, which only makes me open my eyes in curiosity. I seem to be lying down, with the blue sky right above me. My head turns in all directions, as I find the owners of the voices. A few children surround me, but their chatter seems to have come to a stop at the sight of my opened eyes.

"Lookin' for me?" A familiar voice catches my senses, as I turn around to my right to see him a few feet away. He stands facing me, but the left side of his body leaning against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest. His foot so casually crossed over the other, as I saw that lopsided grin prominent on his face.

I don't fail to notice that it's another version of himself that he's showing me. His hair was still stark black but with very noticeable sideburns accompanying it. Definitely 1970s. He wears a black shirt with a floral design, black pants, and boots. It's always interesting to see how he appears to me in each dream, but one thing I'm certain about - Elvis Presley was unapologetically fashionable.

Elvis quirks an eyebrow at me, no doubt awaiting my response. I just hope he didn't notice that I stared for a while, well, only because I was curious about his attire. An attire that I am well aware of has a few buttons opened at the front, clearly exposing his tanned chest.

I find myself clearing my throat.

"And what if I wasn't?" I say jokingly, as I feel an uncontrollable smile pull at my lips.

He chuckles quietly to himself and nods. Elvis takes a few steps before he is right beside me, as the children part to give him space. He takes a glance at the children and releases a dramatic sigh, "Well, kids, it looks like we have a liar among us."

I gasp, "Elvis!"

They giggle.

Elvis laughs, "Yes, honey?"

I push off my hands, sitting myself up. It appears that I am wearing a short, white summer dress with roses adorning the design. In my previous dream, it was the colder season, which is far from the outfit that I seem to be wearing at this moment. But then again, the sky is blue and clear, and the chilling bite of the cold appears to be absent. So, I guess it's summer now in this dream?

"Oh, look! Miss Nova, you and Mister Elvis have flowers on your clothes!" One of the children, the girl with a beautiful, dark complexion alerts me in glee. Her finger pointed enthusiastically at my attire and Elvis.'

My eyes cast over his shirt and my dress, and evidently, we seem to both be wearing a floral design. My cheeks heat up unexpectedly.

I exchanged a look with him, which he returns with a proud smirk, "Why, I believe you're right, lil' Dorothy."

"But mine looks better, right?" I ask, smiling at the girl, whose name I know now is Dorothy.

She nods vigorously with a cheeky smile.

"Ouch," Elvis says.

"B-But yours looks nice too Mister Elvis!" Dorothy quickly sputters out.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

"I think you look cool, Mister Elvis." One of the boys, with sandy blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, says encouragingly.

"I appreciate it, Ollie." He smiles, patting the boy on the head.

Elvis throws me a triumphant grin, "Oh, how the tables have turned."

"You're unbelievable."

Unbelievably gorgeous.

My brain echoes a thought, in which I furiously shake my head noticing my cheeks heat up.

Elvis swiftly pulls the conversation into properly introducing me to the children. There are four of them in total, two boys and two girls. I would guess they are around five or six years old, but that's just judging by their heights. Nonetheless, if I believe that Elvis is real and he's appearing from the afterlife, then that must only mean one thing - these children are those of the afterlife too. All of them died young. I feel my eyes water the slightest bit, which I quickly shake off. My sadness at the thought can't be displayed, not with the children's happy smiles as they chatter excitedly.

"Dorothy, Ollie, Maisie, and Alfie!" I say, pointing at them one by one, learning their names.

"Yay!" They cheer in glee. They run up to me and wrap their arms around me, well, more like my legs because of their height. I am taken aback and laugh, finding myself bending down a little to wrap my arms around them as best as I can. Not even a minute later, they are chattering amongst themselves, still not letting go of me though.

I look up, feeling his eyes on me. Elvis' eyes pierce through mine, his tongue smoothly swipes over his lips as he mouths words to me.

I arch an eyebrow in confusion.

He chuckles and mouths it again but with more exaggeration.

"I've missed you." He mouths.

Oh. Oh.

Wait. . . did I interpret that correctly?

It's really only been twenty-four hours.

Suddenly, I feel the need to blame the sun for the sudden heat that I feel bleed on my skin. That would've been simple if it weren't for a slight skip that I feel in my chest. . . because that certainly cannot be the sun's doing.

I tilt my head at him, "Really?" I mouth back, smiling.

He doesn't say anything back like I thought he would. Instead, he strides forward until he's right behind me. Effectively finding a space, despite the bunch of kids that surround me.

His chest is pressed to my back, a fact that only escalates the thump I feel in my heart. My breath seems to be trapped in my throat. His hands brush slightly against my shoulder, as he takes a lock of my hair and tucks it behind my ear.

I feel his breath tickle my cheek as he leans in to whisper, "Always."

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

Not too long later, I found myself sitting down on a field of grass with the children in a circle. I sat with the girls and the boys sat with Elvis. So, technically, not a circle as they sat quite a few feet away from us. The children insisted on a girls versus boys team. Upon hearing this, I expected to be playing a sport. But instead, here we are, making friendship bracelets.

"This is really fun, " I admit to them honestly, "I haven't done this in so long."

A box full of a variety of beads, elastic bands, and sticker sheets sat on the grass. I smile at Dorothy and Maisie, as I loop some beads through the elastic band in my hand - starting a new bracelet. It reminded me so much of my childhood, how during breaks in elementary school, we'd all be crowding around the craft area to find ourselves what we needed to make DIY 'friendship' bracelets.

"It's my favorite thing in the entire world, Miss Nova!" Maisie says enthusiastically, as she leans over to a few shiny beads from the box.

I chuckle, "I see that. I'm guessing your favorite color is pink?" I gesture towards the three finished pink-colored bracelets, which mirror the same color as her dress and shoes.

She nods, smiling widely "Yes. Yes."

So adorable and so young. They didn't deserve to leave the world so young, with so much joy and life they never got to live.

I feel a tug on the skirt of my dress, I turn my head to see Dorothy.

"You okay, sweetie?"

"What is your favorite color, Miss Nova?" She asks, her hazel eyes awaiting my response.

"Hm. . . um, I guess red. Yeah, I like red."

"Okay! I'll make you a red one!" Dorothy replies, taking a handful of red beads, stickers, and an elastic band from the box.

It's quiet for a while, in which I find myself taking a curious glance at Elvis and the boys. It seems that each boy is holding each of his arms, as they fit the bracelets on his wrist. It also appears that he has several bracelets on either arm, which I couldn't help but chuckle at the boys' enthusiasm.

"Can I tell you something, Miss Nova?" Maisie asks me, as I turn to face her finding her tilting her orange-braided hair at me. Adorable.

"Of course." I smile.

"It's nice to have another girl to make bracelets with us, " She then pauses to release a sad sigh, "Because it has only been me and Dorothy."

"I am happy to be here, Maisie."

"Maisie's right," Dorothy jumps into the conversation, "It's really nice. It was nice when it was me and Maisie, because we are best friends forever. Mister Elvis is nice and makes bracelets with us, b-but he's a boy." She sighs.

The braided girl nods agreeing with her friend's words, "Yeah, he's on the boys' team. We needed one more girl."

I chuckle at how adorable they are, "Here I am."

"Thank you, Miss Nova. For being on our team and for Mister Elvis."

They nodded to each other.

"Mister Elvis?" I repeat, not quite understand what the kids meant in the latter of their sentence.

"Yes, for making him happy," Maisie replies cheerfully, as she ties the end of the newly-finished bracelet in her hands.

"Oh, well-"

"He's happy when me, Maisie, Ollie, and Alfie see him. But when he's not looking," Dorothy pauses and whispers, "You promise to keep a secret?"

I accept the pinky promise, "I promise."

Dorothy then continues, but making sure to keep her voice lowered.

"Sometimes we spy on him. We find a wall or a tree or a bus stop, and we hide. And he's not smiling no more. He's crying a lot, Miss Nova. And if he's not crying, he looks very sad. But now you're here, he smiles," Dorothy explains.

"All the time," Maisie adds.

My heart simultaneously crashes and mends at their words. It reminds me of Miss Esther's words to me at the cafe. How she described Elvis being 'very down' before I appeared. Now that the same words have come from more than one person, it almost makes me want to ask him about it. Not too directly, because I fear it's not something he wants to talk about. But I just feel this need to know what was it that made his emotions blend so easily with the dark of the night sky. For his eyes to cascade with tears so endlessly like the rush of a waterfall. I didn't need to know, but I want to know. I want to know what so desperately what hurt him enough for his emotions to slip out of the confines of his heart, and out into the open.

But I know that will be easier said than done. Answering serious questions isn't exactly something that Elvis is fond of. It reminds me of the time when I asked him a series of questions, and he responded with only one word. But that didn't end well, with him being in a flood of tears. I don't want to cause that. I'll ask him eventually, but not now. . . just not now.

"That's seven, Dorothy!" Maisie's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, I know!" Dorothy claps her hands excitedly.

I look down and sure enough, the girls have made seven friendship bracelets combined.

"Wow, that's a lot. You girls work fast." I say, clapping for them as they grin proudly at my compliment.

"Thanks, Miss Nova. But not as many bracelets as Mister Elvis." Dorothy admitted.

I glance over to Elvis and sure enough, friendship bracelets take up the entirety of his right arm. His sleeves rolled up. Elvis must've felt my eyes on him, as he looked up with a mock defeated look in his eyes. Those boys are really on their way to decorating his arms like the lights on a Christmas tree, and I can't help but laugh at the expression on his face.

"Yeah, I can't exactly argue with that."

"Not those bracelets, Miss Nova."

I turn away and face the girls.

"Oh, then which ones?" I furrow my eyebrows.

"You don't know?" Dorothy questions with a frown.

Well, isn't that a million-dollar question? Seriously.

I shake my head.

"The ones he made for you," Maisie says casually as if it's the most obvious answer in the world.

"For me?"

They both nod, as they use their fingers to count. No doubt counting how many bracelets Elvis made. . . for me.

"Twelve. I-I think?" Maisie says, nodding with Dorothy.

"Wow, that's um, that's definitely a lot." I chuckle.

"That's what we said too. People make friendship bracelets for people they care about. " Dorothy shrugs, "Mister Elvis made twelve for you. He must care about you like, I don't know, like a trillion times more." She chuckles, holding her fingers up as if she lost count.

Every time I'm with him, in these dreams - I can never predict what will happen. The spontaneity of his character blended with the reserved nature of mine. That is a stark contrast. Each dream that I spent with him so far, has been full of experiences that I've never had before. All quite. . . grand and eventful. But this one right here, this unknown discovery, this small surprise - renders me speechless just the same.

No matter how uncertain I am about many things related to my dreams, I am certain about one thing. Nobody makes a dozen bracelets for a random girl. For a stranger. It brings me back to the question I asked him, a while ago, but feeling so long ago now:

Who am I to you, Elvis?

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

After what felt like an hour, we said our goodbyes to the children. The time with them wasn't only filled with making friendship bracelets, but also playing along with their games of hide and seek, and games at the park. They were an adorable bunch, but soon enough, daylight turned into night. In which, we found the children had lost their energy, and were ready to close their eyes into a slumber.

Now, Elvis and I walked down a long stretch of rural road. The gravel released a 'crunch' sound each time my feet met the ground. On either side of the road, a row of cypress trees accompanied the landscape. A picturesque atmosphere of solitude and beauty, with the blanket of the night sky overlaying everything around us.

"Elvis, no! That's horrible!" I gasp, hitting his arm playfully.

Elvis simply laughs. He laughs and even though, I've heard him laugh quite a few times before - but I notice something different this time. Well, not anything new, but just something I've never noticed before. He has a kind of hiccup to his laugh, it's just so distinctly him. It's melodious, as it always is. To the point where I semi-forget what he just told me, and end up laughing along with him.

He points at me, "But you're laughing, honey!"

"No! It's just- it's horrible!" I try desperately reinstating my disagreed expression.

We were talking about what more was on my list, and what was the next thing. This then went down the topic of conversation around theme parks. Now, I think theme parks are great, they are wonderful. But definitely not a fan of. . . rollercoasters. In this case, Elvis tells me he has a story about rollercoasters. He tells me how he'll get on a rollercoaster with a friend, or a date, and just before halfway - he jumps out. Logically, whoever he's with, ends up screaming and thinking the worst has happened to him. But there he was, on the sidelines, all safe and laughing his ass off at their reaction.

"It was hellavu lot of fun," He defends, shaking his head as he grins at the memory.

"Well, It's clear that you and I have different definitions of fun."

"Just try it, honey."

I squint my eyes at him, "I, well-"

He puts his hands up in defense, "I promise. . . no surprises." He says, with a smirk on his lips. Elvis sure does love the unpredictable, almost crazy things that he comes up with - it makes it impossible to believe him when he says this.

"No jumping?"

He shakes his head, "Nope."

"Here, gimme your hand," He urges, and I do so.

He takes my hand in his and intertwines our pinkies, "What do ya want me to promise?" Elvis questions, a pure smile wrapped on his face, all void of playfulness.

"That if. . . if I go on a rollercoaster with you, or that matter whenever you're with me - you won't do something batshit crazy. If you do, because I swear if you do, I-I'll never-"

He cuts me off, "Speak to me again?"

"Recover, " I say, my tone quiet as I look away from his gaze. I know this is all a dream, but I also have to face the possibility of things treading beyond what I think a dream is and what it is not.

I am aware that Elvis does not. . . physically exist in the real world anymore. But here, right now, with me he's very real. And as far as I am concerned, if I can control one thing - in this mayhem of dreams - it's his safety.

I swallow as I try to find my voice again, "I don't want to see you hurt."

I gain the strength to face his way again, and his mouth begins to form words - seems like he's figuring out how to say something. But he holds himself back, resulting in a simple nod, "Okay, I promise." He whispers, intertwining our pinkies together.

I clear my throat, in an attempt to dissipate the tense atmosphere. Elvis doesn't let go of my hand, instead effectively intertwining our hands together. The warm press of his palm on mine, as he squeezes my hand in reassurance. He has held my hand before, but this time - it doesn't fall loosely. It's tighter, but not heavy and unbearable. There's more urgency and a sense of security in this one, like an invisible armor separating us from whatever treacherous obstacles we might encounter.

The purest message of a promise.

His gaze joins mine, as I look down at our joined hands.

"I'll be right beside ya. No one's gonna be hurt. " Elvis says, softly.

I nod.

I clear my throat, "Right then, where are you taking me?" I smile curiously at him.

And just like that, in a flash, his cool laid-back demeanor returns.

Elvis bites down his bottom lip, as he slowly tugs onto my hand - walking a few steps before me, but nevertheless, still facing me.

"Just one question, darlin'."

"Which is?"

"Do you trust me?" He asks, with a mischievous grin along with that beautiful twinkle in his blue eyes.

"Always." I breathe out in reply, without a second of hesitation. And perhaps, it's a word that is so easy for me to slip out of my mouth - so easy to say to him. Almost as automatic as breathing in air.

Elvis chuckles, swiftly planting a kiss on my knuckles and tugging me forward until my chest is pressed against his. I squeal at the action.

"Let's go."

・‥...━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━...‥・

taglist:

@literally-just-elvis-fics

@obsessedwithurlove

@simplyamberj

#elvis fic #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #presleyhearted #elvis x oc #elvis fics #elvis x original female character #slow burn #fluff #mystery #angst #on-going series

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detectivedrewshouldgetaclue · 1 year

Text

G’day, Clue Crew! Dropping in, to talk about one of my favorite artists: Alphonse Mucha. His work can be seen in several Nancy Drew games.

Alphonse Mucha, was a Czech painter, illustrator, and graphic artist, living in Paris during the Art Nouveau period, best known for his distinctly stylized and decorative theatrical posters, particularly those of Sarah Bernhardt. He produced illustrations, advertisements, decorative panels, as well as designs, which became among the best-known images of the period.

The slider puzzle box, as seen above, was featured in The Final Scene. The tiles have Mucha’s Zodiac decorating them. But this was not Zodiac’s debut in a Nancy Drew game—oh, no, no, no. She can first be seen in Abby Sideris’ bedroom, in Message in a Haunted Mansion.

Zodiac is again seen in the gift shop of Castle Finster in The Captive Curse.

However, Zodiac isn’t the only piece of Alphonse Mucha’s work to be displayed in a Nancy Drew game. Emily Crandall, from Secret of the Old Clock, has no less than 5 Mucha pieces, in her bedroom. She displays every print from The Seasons series, on her walls.

This was Mucha's first set of decorative panels and it became one of his most popular series. It was so popular that Mucha was asked by Champenois to produce at least two more sets based on the same theme in 1897 and 1900. Designs for a further two sets also exist.

The idea of personifying the seasons was nothing new - examples could be found in the works of the Old Masters' as well as in Champenois's other publications. However, Mucha's nymph-like women set against the seasonal views of the countryside breathed new life into the classic theme. In the four panels shown here, Mucha captures the moods of the seasons - innocent Spring, sultry Summer, fruitful Autumn and frosty Winter, and together they represent the harmonious cycle of Nature.

You’ll notice that the picture that “mysteriously keeps moving,” is not part of aforementioned polyptych. This Mucha piece is called Friendship. It was featured in the New York Daily News on April 3rd, 1904.

The New York Daily News referred to him as "the world's greatest decorative artist," and dedicated its Sunday Art Section to Mucha on April 3, 1904. For the illustration on the cover of that section, Mucha created a wonderful allegorical image entitled Friendship, in which America and France are each depicted as women. America, with stars on both her tiara and gown and red and white ribbons cascading from her hair, appears as the young protégé of France, who watches over her, protectively adorned with lilies in her hair and fleur-de-lys patterns on her dress. As Jirí Mucha points out, the two women are jointly "holding a wreath of lime leaves, [a] national symbol of Czechoslovakia.”

I personally adore Mucha’s allegorical style and really appreciate that he’s featured in the Nancy Drew PC games. One might even argue that Art Nouveau influences us, to this day. Perhaps it even played a part in the design and illustrations of some aspects of the games. Art is always changing—artists grow upon the backs of their predecessors. Mucha is still highly influential and relevant.

His work and the style he developed during the period of 1893 to 1903 came to define an era and forever serve as an influence to future illustrators

I loved the Alphonse Mucha pieces from the PC games, long before I went to university and wrote papers, on his work. I’d like to think I, in part, owe my love of Art Nouveau, to Nancy Drew. 🔎🖼

That is all. Happy scrolling.

#nancy drew #her interactive #clue crew #nancy drew pc games #nancy drew art #art nouveau #clk #mhm #fin #cap #alphonse mucha #secret of the old clock #message in a haunted mansion #the final scene #the captive curse

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moonchild-in-blue · 2 months

Note

went outside to let one of my kitties play in the snow while the train was passing, the neighborhood was very peaceful and quiet. 💚

(i dressed appropriately for the cold, I promise)

Like street lamps, we glow so dim Like four walls, you've shut me in

I took a while to reply to this because I got weirdly emotional (what a surprise, pathetic wet cat girl is crying again), and rambled waay too much, so I'll spare you all and keep this under a cut.

Warning, this is Long and makes very little sense - I drafted it earlier this morning but wanted to get a picture of that ^ before posting. Also ignore my mistake lol, I should've double checked the lyrics beforehand.

You, know I spent a very long time last night looking at this picture. Something about the orange glow on the white layer of snow that is just... so peaceful and melancholic. I have a weird attraction to street lights - can't really explain why, but something about them makes me weirdly emotional (when I say I easily cry at the weirdest things, I'm not kidding in the slightest).

And then the snow.

Where I'm from, where I live, we don't have snow. Ever. Save for a small part of the very north of the country, the rest of us never get it - plenty of hail, and 5 minutes of barely-snow during a particularly cold day if you're extremely lucky, but never the real deal.

The first time I saw real, white, fluffy snow was during the autumn of 2016, right after moving to the UK for my studies. I was 19. It was such a beautiful moment - me and a bunch of other students from the dorms went out in our pjs at like, 4 or 5am to play in the snow. The first heavy snow I experienced was 2 years later, November 2018.

For the few years I lived there, I got to live through some wonderful snow days. It was amazing to wake up, look out my apartment window, and see the whole street covered in white. It's the one thing I genuinely miss about the UK.

Seeing this picture, the cars covered in white, the golden orange light, the night, dark and silent and peaceful, brought back so many memories of my early 20s nights. Getting home at 1am, exhausted and on the verge of tears, after a shitty shift at work. Me and my flatmates singing on the streets after one too many drinks at our favourite pub. 3am runs to the dingiest takeaway possible for oily chips and disgusting pizza.

So much of these seemingly ordinarily experiences are things that I will never get to live again. And that's fine and expected - I can't be 22 forever, and thank God I'm not! But I do get nostalgic about those times.

Sometimes I feel like it was just yesterday that I was waiting on the cold for a taxi after a house party, annoyed at myself for not kissing the guy I had a crush on. Sometimes they feel so distance, like forgotten memories belonging to someone else. And I don't know, this kinda brought back so many emotions, I had to take a moment to sort them out.

This also reminded me of a Midwest Emo album cover. Like, I can 100% see this picture on the next Real Friends / The Wonder Years / American Football / whatever band cover.

In particular, it reminded me of these two songs (aside from that first song I shared. Which btw I can't reccomend them enough). They're a bit sad (no surprises there), and not really related to your photo at all, but uhhhh yeah. I'm sharing anyways. Because why not.

Something about midwest emo/pop-punk bands that just puts you in a hyper contemplative mood 👍

If you read this whole nonsense ramble, I apologise. Once I get sentimental, it's hard not to pour over. I will never not be a sad emo girl, no matter how much time it passes lol 💙💚

Here's a nice cookie for your troubles 🤲🍪

#I'm so sorry for the unsolicited story time #also GOOD FOR YOU for being dressed warmly 😤 we don't want you to be sicker 🤧 (just sicker 😎)#<- i realise now i'm turning into a grandma 😐 sorry. i blame it on the Eldest Daughter Syndrome #anyways i love this picture so much. getting all emotional for no good reason #darya answers #soft with halo #darya's mixtape #<- i guess #special pocket post

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fanmoose12 · 2 years

Text

It feels strange to call Hange his lover.

It is strange, because Hange- they are so many more things, they're his friend and a shoulder to cry on and a crutch to lean on if ever needs one. They're his laughter in the dead of the night, they're his smile in the early morning, they're his warmth during cold, winter evenings. They're a cause for his fear and brief bits of sadness, they're his happiness. They're his everything, not just a lover.

But Levi doesn't know how else to describe them; the feelings they ignite inside him, the emotions they so expertly pull out of him, he's not quite sure if words to name them even exist. Do other people have the same problem too, he wonders. Are their bonds just as indescribable as his? Do all of them settle on the word lover, simply out of lack for the better alternative?

Levi is oh so curious to know the answer, but who can he ask? Asking Hange is equaled to pointless, Levi knows them like the back of his hand, he knows that his dilemma doesn't concern them. Whatever Levi is for them, they are not shy to say it out loud. Levi is their sunshine, their love, their cutie, their saviour, the list goes on and on, depending only on Hange's mood and context of situation. He envies them, a little; their emotions, their words- they are flexible. Hange always says what they think, what they feel, they know no shame, have no limitations. And even without words, they're able to perfectly convey what their heart is saying.

But nothing can be further from the truth, so Levi tries - hard as he can - to show his devotion in other ways, in areas he excels.

Levi envies them, but also- he's distressed, he feels like he's lacking, like his inability to let out what is inside is somehow failing Hange. Makes them think that he's cold-hearted, like he doesn't care, not as much as they do.

He can't say "I worry, you work too damn much", so he makes their bed in the mornings, cleans their room, does their laundry if they get too caught up in their work. He brings them food, forces them to take a break, to go to sleep. And when the color in their cheeks starts to fade, he nags and pesters them until they agree to go for a walk through the park.

He can't get the words "You're beautiful" out, so he presses himself to Hange, kisses them on the lips, on the cheek, on the nose and on every part of them that he considers to be beautiful, sometimes not stopping until his lips taste every inch of their body.

He rarely can gift them with a smile he knows they love so much, so, instead, he dedicates himself to making them laugh and smile as much as possible. He bickers with them, gathers stories about his ridiculous subordinates, participates in every stupid stunt they want to pull - all of that just to see a spark of humor light up their eyes and to hear that sweet, sweet laugh. And, really, it is a testament of how far he's gone because sometimes Hange snorts or straight-up cackles, and, by all means, that should not be attractive, it should revolt him. And yet- it makes his chest tingle in the most pleasant way possible.

He doesn't know how to confess the simple truth of "I think about you, almost every minute of my life", so he brings them flowers from nearby gardens, buys their favorite pastries each time he goes to the market, carries tones of books from the library to their bedroom.

He hasn't been taught the right words to express simple things like "I need you" or "I am here for you" but he hopes that Hange knows what he's feeling every time that he holds them.

It is during one of those times, on a chilly autumn morning when the world itself seems grey and unkind, and the most vivid part of it, the only reason to keep going is Hange's brilliant smile, that his dilemma gets solved.

And not in a million years, Levi thinks, he'd be able to learn how to show "I love you. You're the best, the brightest part of me, without you I'd be lost and I'm forever grateful that fate has thrown us together" better than by brewing Hange a cup of tea.

He had just brought him a fresh cup of tea, and just after they've thanked him, they grasp his hand, interlace their fingers and keep him frozen in one place.

"I was thinking..." a lazy smile plays on their lips; it is so enticing, looks so sweet that to restrain himself from tasting it Levi has to call upon all of his willpower. "Maybe we should get married."

"Married?" the topic certainly comes out of the blue, it surprises Levi, but does not disturb him. It is another eccentricity, one of the many that Hange possesses. "Where this comes from?"

"Dunno," Hange blows the hair out of their face, looking utterly bored - if not for a mischievous spark that shines behind the lenses of their glasses. "People just do this kind of stuff at our age."

Levi very nearly scoffs. "Since when do you care what ordinary people do?"

"It's not that I care. But I thought it'd be kinda nice," they pause to first grin at him, then touch with that grin the back of his palm. Levi almost squirms - he feels like he's melting, that tiny point of contact spreads warmth all throughout him. "To call you Levi, my husband."

It is then when everything clicks into place. Of course, he was a fool - what word can better describe a person who is your lover, your friend, your partner, your equal and simultaneously your better part? What other word can encompass that wider than life range of emotions?

Levi feels a smile tug at his lips. He doesn't fight it, although- he does hide it: first in the crook of Hange's neck, then against their temple and hair and cheek before, at last, he allows Hange to see it, to feel it.

They giggle into his mouth. "Is that a yes then?"

Levi's not good with words, he's quite terrible with them, actually. So he only murmurs, "Make of that what you will, my spouse," before he pulls Hange on top of him and kisses them until his toes start to curl and stars dance before his eyes.

And all the while only one thing refuses to leave his mind is spouse, what a wonderful word.

#levihan

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mcgeeki · 2 months

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Resident Evil - Liberation Fanfic

Hi! First time publishing my work from AO3 here. Disclaimer: English is not my first language and I have no one that could proof read. :-) It's the first part of my fanfic that I published years ago. Enjoy!

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Resident Evil - Liberation

Prologue

Autumn 2013

The Arklay Mountains - the last remains of Raccoon City or rather the last thing that reminded you of the wiped-out city. For the two BSAA agents Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine it was a strange feeling to be back at the place where bioterrorism originated. Before their eyes they could still see the old villa in Raccoon Forest, whose memory would haunt them forever. "Jill, we should keep moving," Chris suggested. His partner, however, was still looking at the crater where a town stood a few years ago. She had barely made it out of the city then and can hardly believe her luck until today. Who could escape from a B.O.W. that was especially fixated on S.T.A.R.S members? "I...", she began to speak, but she was missing the words. Fifteen years just wasn't enough or did her incarceration make the subject of Raccoon City worse? "I'm sorry, I still can't believe we lived there back then... in that crater."

"Hardly likely in that crater," he tried to lighten the mood with humor. "But yes, it's crazy." Chris sighed. He could understand her. Jill was literally going through hell while he was on 'vacation' in Europe. "Hey..." He put his hand on her shoulder while she was still looking at the crater. "We really should move on and not let the past stop us, huh?" Jill turned her head slightly in his direction. "You're right. We need to check a dead, completely destroyed environment to see if there are any infected people walking around." She shook her head in disbelief. "I'm going to assume that no infected person has survived, if you can even speak of surviving." She pointed to the crater and looked at Chris with a raised eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that. They just don't want to burden you completely yet," he replied. "Chris, I've been back on the job for a year. They must be beginning to realise that I'm resilient." Jill followed her partner, who decided to move on. While she watched the surroundings. You could reasonably see that nature was trying to recover from the bomb. "Shh," he whispered to her and took cover. She did so immediately and hid behind a big fallen tree trunk together with him. He pointed a little further away at a figure limping around. "Impossible," she breathed. When she tried to get up carefully, he pulled her down again. "I think we should stay under cover. I have a bad feeling about that joker over there." Not a second later, the two agents saw the Horde following the single figure. "No..." she shook her head in bewilderment. You gotta be kidding me. How did the infected get into the Arklay Mountains? The bomb was supposed to get everyone. "Okay...we should approach slowly and maybe throw a grenade into the mass," Jill suggested, but then she noticed a follow-up problem. "We don't know if there are more."

"Right. I suspect there are more of those things lurking around the bay." He put on a thoughtful face. "There's a huge stone over there. Maybe we can get a better view there," he suggested this time, whereupon his partner nodded. On his signal they ran for cover to the stone. "A house?", Chris asked in surprise after he had gained an overview. Suddenly, a zombie appeared behind Jill and grabbed her. He quickly pulled out his knife with the ulterior motive of not making any noise and rammed it into the infected person's head. "Probably lost his way," he said as he pulled the knife out of the infected man's head. A startled thank you from Jill followed. "Oh...bloody hell. It's getting more and more. We can't deal with them alone," Chris cursed. He closed his eyes to find possible solutions.

"Shall we go back?" Jill asked quietly.

" Good idea, but it's getting dark soon and we actually have to go to the meeting place with the Alpha team."

"You're not seriously thinking about going into that house. It screams "Villa à la Infected." She looked over the edge of the stone and watched the infected. There were just more zombies forming a huge horde. They wouldn't make it to the house unnoticed. They'd rather be dinner for those monsters.

"The only possibility. We'll go to the dogs out here after dark. My plan: I throw a grenade near the horde, but so far that it must move away. That gives us time to run to the house. Agreed?"

"Okay." Jill pondered for a moment. What if that moment was the last one with Chris? Should she confess her feelings to him? Of course, that was an absurd thought in such a situation, but since she had escaped from Wesker's captivity, she thought differently. "Chris, there's something I have to tell you," she began to stutter slightly.

"Jill, tell me when we get to that house over there." At that very moment he threw the grenade, which ignited a few seconds later. "Go!" he shouted during the explosion that attracted the zombies. Jill, on the other hand, stayed behind the stone for cover. "What are you doing? What are you doing? Come on!" She sat there petrified. Angrily he pulled her with him towards the house and into the house. "Jill...Jill." He shook her out of her trance with an angry expression. Perplexed, she shook her head. "That's why you should only go on this mission," he hissed in horror at her approach. She didn't even draw her gun to secure the house. Instead, Chris had to do it, nodding to assure her that the house was safe. "Damn it, Jill. What the fuck was that?" He was no longer angry, but worried. Something was bothering his partner.

"I... don't know," she replied embarrassed.

"Why didn't you pull your gun? Why did you stay behind the rock?"

"It was all... it was all so fast... and..."

"Jill!" Chris became louder because he was convinced that they were alone. "Damn it! Stop stammering to make up an excuse!" He knew his colleague too well for that. She stared at Chris with an open mouth.

"Chris, I'm sorry," she apologized. What kind of idiot does that, she thought, and looked at him embarrassed.

"What's gotten into you?" Chris' expression didn't change a bit.

"I don't know!" she drove nervously through her hair, obviously embarrassed. Things were going pretty well for them at first.

"How do you not know? You sound just like Jessica!" What did he just say? Did he really just compare her to that traitor? She countered, "How dare you compare me to this traitor?"

"No... oh, boy... Jill." For a brief moment he turned around for a deep breath of air. Not knowing what to say, he suddenly changed the subject. "You try to contact the BSAA, I'll see if we're safe here for the night," he sighed and left. Not only did he leave the problem there, but so did Jill, who couldn't cope with his reaction.

"Oh God. You really want to close your eyes with the situation out there? Wow..." Jill shook her head in bewilderment. Chris came back just a moment later to face her with his arms crossed in front of her chest. "At least I'm not going out there in the dark. They have an advantage that puts us at a disadvantage." Good point. Still, it made her feel uncomfortable. What if the monsters out there realized that they were in the house? That would be a death sentence for Chris and Jill. "Now, may I barricade the windows and doors? Thanks." He rolled his eyes in annoyance and went to work. Meanwhile, Jill contacted the BSAA.

"Parker, we have a problem," she started talking to her old colleague Parker Luciani.

"I know that. Alpha team has not confirmed your arrival. What happened?" he asked with his usual Italian accent.

"We encountered a horde. Distracted them with a grenade. We don't know if it will last long, though."

"What? I thought it was just a joke about the infected. I didn't think the satellite image would confirm the suspicion. Are you all right? Is anyone hurt?"

"Yes, we're housed in an old wooden shack. Located in a bay in the middle of the Arklay Mountains."

"Jill...ca...u...ple...rep." Reception got worse and worse. The former S.T.A.R.S. member fiddled with her radio.

"Parker?"

"Where r...u...-" You were cut off. "Shit!" Jill accidentally cursed out loud. Carefully she looked out the window to make sure that no infected person out there had noticed anything. For a moment she closed her eyes to think. "Chris." After a moment of calm, she went back to search for her partner. When she found him, she looked at him with a questioning look. He was rummaging through the cupboards in the kitchen. If you could even call it a kitchen. She had come down, there was rotten food on the table and the smell was unbearable. "What is it?" he asked and continued his investigation. "I need your radio. Mine seems to be broken." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. Why wouldn't he look at her? Of course, she had made a big mess earlier, but punishing her with such behaviour was not nice. "What are you doing? It's just a run-down old wooden shack."

"In the middle of a mountain." He stopped rummaging through the cupboards for a moment and looked at his partner. "What does this tell us?" he sighed.

"That we should stop searching this shithole? "Not that we're gonna attract those things out there."

"The barricade is up. Let them come."

"You're not serious, Chris. That old thing will never stand up to a mob."

"Hm." He turned away from his partner again. To be honest, he didn't feel like talking to Jill anymore, because she didn't seem to be herself anymore. "What huh?" she went and took a few steps closer. "Here take this... shit, I lost my radio." Chris searched his pockets again and did not find it. "If we go out there now, we are the found dinner. Give me yours, I'll check it out." A few minutes later he had also found the problem. Apparently, there was a signal that disrupted communications. "Your radio is not broken. Something's interfering with the communication. Come on, let's check for a possible source of interference." The two-member team left the kitchen and looked at the other rooms. For a house that looked so small on the outside, it was quite big on the inside. They were in the study when they heard a clattering noise in the entrance area. They both looked at each other at the same moment and drew their weapons. Carefully Chris looked around the corner and gave his partner a signal that they could go on. Soon they were able to locate the cause of the problem. A zombie had broken the window and tried to get into the house. However, he impaled himself on the remaining glass. The BSAA agent slowly approached the infected person and killed him with his knife. He then carefully checked to see if any of the Horde had followed the infected man. Terribly, other zombies had indeed followed the zombie. As quietly as possible, he returned to his partner, who gave him cover from the hallway. "And?" she whispered. "Four infected are still outside the house. We should avoid noise as much as possible. I have no idea if these are normal infected or modified." He pushed his partner back into the study to continue her investigations. Quietly he closed the door behind him and turned his flashlight on again. Of course, they could have switched on the room light, but they didn't know if that would cause an additional source of noise.

"Chris, here's surveillance footage of us." She showed her colleague the photos she had found in a drawer of the desk. "This is before Africa." He looked at Jill in disbelief, almost embarrassed, because one of the pictures showed him drunk in a bar at the time. Most likely shortly after Jill was declared dead. "And that's..." He stopped. He was actually being shadowed at the time without him knowing it. This picture just went too far. Incredible, he thought and shook his head in horror. This is a picture of him at Jill's funeral. He then hugged his sister Claire, who wiped the tears from his face. "Chris... I didn't know that..." She too paused. Words failed her. She had already heard from Barry that Chris was in a pretty bad way, but it was hard for her to realize that now. He was usually the confident, controlled BSAA agent. But in this picture he was anything but controlled or confident. A few seconds later, pictures of Jill came up, "Is that you and Wesker?" He stared at her in shock. In the picture, his partner was wearing a tight red dress. Her former captain put his hand around her waist and grinned mischievously into the camera. "Chris," she began, but her partner turned away from her once more. "By then he had already drugged me. "It's not my fault I'm there in his arms." Not again, she thought and sighed softly. They had already chewed over the subject several times. Chris never got over the idea that Wesker was still influencing her. "Chris...," she sighed again, but the brown-haired BSAA agent searched the bookshelf instead of listening to his partner. She walked toward him and put her hand on his shoulder. "I swear to you I never did anything for Wesker voluntarily."

"Then tell me exactly what he did to you. If you don't tell the BSAA already."

"Chris... I can't." She hated herself for saying that, but she still couldn't talk about it. What Albert Wesker had done to her then was just too deep in her and couldn't get out. Thanks to him, she had nightmares every day and lived through this time over and over again in her mind. "It's been four years, Jill." He turned to her and looked at her sadly. Yes, it was an asshole move, but he couldn't stand that excuse for long. At that time, he still understood. Who would question a freshly traumatized person about the event? Of course, the BSAA, but Chris had campaigned after Africa for the BSAA to leave Jill alone for now. Later on there were interviews, but they understood that Jill did not want to talk explicitly about the events.

"Yes, four years. Can you talk about the time I disappeared?"

"Jill...not that way." he admonished her with a threatening undertone.

"Why? "I'm just asking you about your past... now you know how it feels. You have to feel ready to talk about it." She crossed her arms in front of his chest and looked at him disappointed. "I know you mean well, but please be patient. Maybe one day I can talk about it, but not here and now. Raccoon City... and... this... is just too much. Please understand that," she asked him and relaxed her attitude again. "Now let's keep looking for suspicious things," she smiled sadly. Chris nodded and then continued his search discontentedly. He would so much like to help Jill get over the troubling memories, but even after four years she was still not willing to talk about what happened with him. He just wanted to have his old partner back, but in reality, this was not possible anymore. Wesker had done so much damage to her that could not be repaired.

"So? What do you think happened here?" Chris asked to ease the tense mood.

"I have no idea. Judging by the kitchen, there hasn't been anybody here for a long time. And to be honest, I have a bad feeling about this room. It looks very familiar," she said. She really had the feeling that she knew this room as if she had been in it before.

"Umbrella?"

"Yes," she pursed her lips and thought. If she was already in the room, it must have been before she was freed. That means there must be a laboratory here. "Search for switches. Try the bookcase. Take a good look at the titles. If one doesn't fit, it should be a secret lever. I'm looking at the other shelf." No sooner said than done. Jill searched the books, and no title caught her attention. Was she wrong in her hunch, because Chris hadn't found anything either. Sighing, the brown-haired agent looked at the room again. Something had escaped her notice. Every secret entrance to an Umbrella lab had a specific feature that had to be noticed. Her gaze wandered to the bust on the desk she had previously searched. If it wasn't the bookshelves, it was definitely the bust.

"Jill?"

"In a moment," she said quietly, ignoring Chris' questioning gaze. She carefully examined the bust. It wasn't long before she found a switch that revealed a secret passage in the wall. She looked again at her partner, who gave her an impressed look. Now the question arose whether they should explore the passage or rather find the source of the interference signal. "Now what?"

"We should-" he began to speak but was interrupted by a dull thud. It didn't take them long to figure out what it was. Apparently the infected had found a way in and were now looking for a snack. Quickly they looked for an object, which they placed as quietly as possible in front of the door. It was only for safety, to protect themselves from further attacks. "Well, I guess we'll have no choice but to explore the passage," he sighed and pursed his lips. What would she expect in the darkness?

#resident evil fanfiction #chris redfield x jill valentine #chris redfield #biohazard

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hiccanna-tidbits · 1 year

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Jackunzel February Special Week 3 - Autumn Life and Death

Life and Death have been in love for longer than we have words to describe. Life sends countless gifts to Death... And Death keeps them forever.

Some say that Life and Death meet most often in the winter, when the bitter cold and the wilted plants and the hibernating prey can kill even the toughest of creatures. In actuality it is autumn that is most dangerous to those on their last leg, the first chills of the season being just enough to push the elderly and the struggling over the edge.

How ironic, Death thinks, that it’s seen as a jubilant time. The trees deck themselves out in gold, scarlet, and flame-colored gala gowns. Apples and pumpkins ripen, growing fat and delicious just before their mothers shrivel away into winter sleep. Townspeople hold celebrations where they light maple-scented candles and make pies and roasts and warm drinks.

Even Death himself is often as not in the mood for festivities.

It’s among the chilly breezes and biting morning air of fall that Life bids adieu to the last of her children. It’s not uncommon to see her flitting about the forest, long blonde hair adorned with the last of the trees’ bright leaves. It’s autumn when life sits beside old, limping foxes and squirrels who didn’t store quite enough acorns for winter and trees who stood through one freeze too many and gives them one last glorious, colorful day.

One last burst of beauty before they go cold and still. Then Life kisses them gently on the head, cradles them in her arms, and searches the woods and the plains and the cities until she finds him.

Death is not loved by many. His hair is stark white, like the early season frost that kills the last of the crops. His eyes are icy blue and set all who see them on edge, like a frozen river that you’re not quite sure is safe to cross. His skin is pale and cold to the touch, like a corpse. He emanates a deep, chilling dread that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you suddenly become certain there’s something monstrous just around the corner.

He takes friends and family away. He brings cold and sickness and starvation and rot wherever he goes, and much of the world wishes they could do away with him completely.

But Life loves him. She believes that without him, she has no purpose.

She gazes at him with eyes as warm and green as a summer day, and she always gives him a beam full of sunshine. When she passes her children to him, she intertwines their fingers and her touch is soft and soothing and and makes him forget for a moment how terrified the rest of the world is of him. When her mouth connects with his, he tastes vigor and energy and innocent, bubbly affection and he’s reminded why he sticks around in this bleak existence.

Life and Life alone looks at Death like he’s the most beautiful and perfect thing she could imagine. Like something of value and worth and importance, and not something to run from.

And when he gets to see her, everything is worth it. When he gets to see her, he feels as light, airy, and joyous as the villagers dancing around their town square and drinking in the last of the sunny days.

“Take care of them,” Life always whispers, watching as Death walks away with his lover’s gifts gently cradled in skeletal palms.

“I will,” he always promises.

And he does. He couldn’t imagine otherwise.

He will, after all, look after them forever.

***

Inspired by that one comic about Life and Death being in love <3 (I don’t have a link on me, but I think we all know the one XD) And also inspired by a Jackunzel ff.net one-shot based on said comic that I read back in like 2018-ish (a very crappy year for me, btw, so that one-shot was definitely one of the few redeeming aspects </3) that has since been deleted :(

Ngl a liiiiittle inspired by the Puss n Boots Death Wolf™️because like. Yes, he’s hot, we all know it, but the idea of the embodiment of death as a physical, interactive character is just SO!!! Intriguing!!! And the angst potential??? The idea of Death-as-a-person suffering from the psychological burden of being near universally feared and hated over the millenia??? And life, his more popular counterpart, the yin to his yang, being the only one who really loves, values, and appreciates him??? Yes yes YESSSSS I am DEVOURING like the discount VALENTINE’S CANDY And I mean. Jackunzel’s already a pairing perfectly suited for angst, so. GOTTA MILK IT MY DUDES, GOTTA MILK IT

Anyways, enjoy this very orange-and-yellow-but-with-a-splash-of-gray moodboard that I tried to make as nature spirit-y as possible! I do love the idea of Rapunzel (or maybe Jack, possibly? might fit him better) having a little fox friend. Maybe I’ll write it sometime.

Moodboard pic credits available upon request!

#jackunzelfs23 #jackunzel #jack x rapunzel #rapunzel x jack #moodboard #aesthetic #jack frost #rapunzel #jackxrapunzel #rapunzelxjack #rotbtd #rise of the brave tangled dragons #the big four #tangled #rotg #rise of the guardians #crossover

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dangertoozmanykids101 · 1 year

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Which comes first: The Science or The Fiction?

You gotta love when fiction ignites innovation. Doesn't The Original Star Trek Series get credit for several technological advances inspired by the show?

It's just as exciting when modern day scientific breakthroughs send your brain reeling with more creative juice than a bunny farm in the spring time.

BRING ON THE PLOT BUNNIES!

Prompt time: Look what I came across today.

That's right. Let's look at the scientific breakthrough where plastic artificial wombs are saving premature lambs. Using this to help premature human babies is an exciting hope and dream that's not as far off today as it was yesterday. Wow! Right?

NOW LET'S IMAGINE FURTHER.

Spring will be coming soon for the Northern Hemisphere, so let's get hopping and talk about making babies!

Then Autumn is just around the corner in the Southern Hemisphere, right? Are ya ready to start harvesting all those seeds and wild oats sowed several months ago?

I love the way Kaila Hale-Stern's brain works when presented with scientific news as this. Quoting the article I linked to above:

"The possibilities and ramifications therein are endless in terms of reproductive rights battles, infertility, surrogacy, maternal death rates, adoption—I could go on pretty much forever. If you could grow your baby in an artificial environment under ideal circumstances, would women choose to give birth naturally anymore? Would this become another province of the wealthy, already a concern in countries where surrogacy “farms” are the rise and childbirth is being “outsourced”? Would there come to be a cultural divide and battles between “old-fashioned” vs. “artificial” births? So many questions. BRB I’m pitching this TV show to Syfy."

Fun, right? This could be fascinating! NOW...

KEEP GOING. MORE BUNNIES!

I would LOVE to know what any of y'all might come up with. In fact I dare you to read this article and NOT have at least a couple baby plot bunnies start thumping around in your head begging for attention.

Dramatic, heartwarming, tear-jerking, sad, stressful, infuriating, inspiring, exciting, stimulating, arousing, kinky, scary, cheery, funny, dark, soft dark, suspenseful, thriller, terrifying, horrific, encouraging, adorable, fluffy.... ANY genre! ANY trope! ANY tone. ANY mood. ANY flavor.

Yep, one of the hops my plot bunnies did was wondering about an adult size womb. This sent my mind in the direction of sensory deprivation chambers with nutrient exchange for long term stasis. For Short-term or Long-term confinement. Latex and rubber kinks come to mind, of course. There are always plenty of full bodysuit images on the internet in a full range of colors. But don't mind me. Hope this didn't lose people. I'm just trying to illustrate possible extremes of the many many ideas some of y'all might come up with. There are wild kinks out there.

But also consider life support systems for space travel, storage, shipping, cloning, boy-in-a-bubble scenarios. Maybe an alternative to cryogenic storage. Matrix type of tropes. Genetic wars. A/B/O political conflicts or extinction prevention solutions. Medical drama, mad max, apocalyptic ramifications, utopian, dystopian, alien, modern day, futuristic, victorian medical steampunk innovations, mad scientist experimentations, fantastic fantasy witchcraft mixed with modern medicine, collector preservation specimens, genetic experimentations or manipulation. Political issues, religious issues, ethical issues, moral issues, big picture discussions, individual POV stories. Fertility problems. Society norms. Societal evolution. Breeding kink. Family starting. Genetic survival.

I think I'm starting to repeat myself. Oops.

@nildespirandum @caffiend-queen @latent-thoughts @redfoxwritesstuff @so-easy-to-love-me @muddyorbsblr @lokisgoodgirl @xorpsbane @nonsensicalobsessions @mooncat163 @frostbitten-written @boredbrooder @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @jtargaryen18 @myoxisbroken @imanuglywombat

I just tagged a handful of friends I thought might find this interesting or even Inspiring. Or maybe they'll just get a kick out of the random stuff I post? Give me a holler if you'd rather I not tag you, or if you'd like me to tag you. (I'm not too organized, but I can try.)

#tooz prompts #tooz ideas #the mary sue website #plot bunnies

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theladyofbloodshed · 2 years

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Au Acosf - Chapter 75

@a-court-of-valkyries @sv0430 @mis-lil-red @nesquik-arccheron @emily-gsh @sunsetsofanemoia @swankii-art-teacher @moodymelanist @nestaarcher0n @my-fan-side @c-e-d-dreamer @nestaspegasus @champanheandluxxury @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @lyzriel @dustjacketmusings @sugardoll22l22 @gwynethhberdara @embersofwildfire @witchsouth @faeriebambula @lady-winter-sunrise

Perhaps sensing that Nesta was withdrawn, when they returned to the rest of the Night Court, Azriel brought her into a one-armed embrace. If Nesta - or the others - were surprised they didn’t let it show, not as she burrowed her face against him and let out a wearied sigh against his skin. After all, it had been Azriel who’d found Nesta wandering through Velaris drunk out of her mind and whisked her to Rosehall to keep her safe. Cassian would be forever indebted to his brother for doing what he could not.

‘I will just say goodbye to Eris and Adeline.’

Nesta shuffled through the crowd, her hands clamping over her ears as she went.

‘Fires,’ Cassian stated.

‘Still?’ Azriel asked, not unkindly.

Cassian nodded his head but the need to defend and explain rose in his chest. ‘She’s thinking of that day against Hybern too. About what she saw.’

Feyre gave a look of pity, but Rhys kept his eyes on Nesta who was embracing the lady of the court. Eris glanced their way then a leering grin was shown before he wrapped his arms around both females, squeezing tightly as he pressed them to his chest.

‘Snake,’ Rhys muttered.

Cassian only shrugged with indifference. ‘Nesta’s going home with me. If she wanted Eris, she’d have already picked him.’

‘Cass? Did something happen in those trees?’ Az regarded him curiously. ‘Has he hit his head? Who is this male speaking sense?’

‘The power of females,’ Rhys crooned then he kissed his mate on the side of the head, throwing a wink to Cassian.

Rhys winnowed them to the edge of the cabin while Feyre and Azriel aimed straight for Velaris. The brisk night was a contrast to the heat of the fires in the Autumn Court. The moment they landed, Zasha set off barking, the noise echoing in the emptiness surrounding the cabin.

‘I’d like to speak to Nesta briefly. Alone.’ Rhys raised a brow. ‘Just for a moment, we won’t be long.’

Reluctantly, Cassian entered the house to feed the dog, but Zasha was too excited to bother with food. It was not often that he left Rhys and Nesta alone together. He’d avoid it whenever possible. He had visions of Rhys being hurled back to Windhaven by Nesta’s silver flames. Or Nesta receiving a verbal reprimand for the political significance of aligning herself with Eris at an Autumn Court event and returning to him in a stinking mood.

The front door opened and Rhys called through that he was leaving. At least he’d ensured Nesta crossed through the threshold into the cabin. He’d do the same for Feyre.

Nesta found him in the kitchen where she slunk her arms around him to tuck herself against his body. ‘Why him?’

‘Too vague.’

Nesta groaned. ‘Why must I train my magic with him?’

‘Is that what he said?’

‘Well, he asked. But I can’t really say no, can I? Eris will too busy for the foreseeable future. Tonight reminded me of how volatile my magic can be. Eris did his best to train me, but I only know how to jail it – and even then it still can act of its own accord as if it has its own feelings.’

It was a burden he’d never wish for her, though Cassian was not afraid of that terrible magic within his mate. Rhys was the best person to train her magic, he’d always known it. ‘You want me to be there too?’

Nesta moved to Zasha to fuss the dog with both hands. ‘Actually, I think not. I think we need to just hash out our differences without an audience.’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘He’s your brother and my sister’s mate. I’d rather try to be civil than constantly avoid interacting with him. He’ll come tomorrow.’

‘That bastard said I had the day off.’

‘He said you would say that and he swears that the day after is your day off entirely.’

Nesta needed a moment alone, so he left her drinking tea at the table with Zasha trying his best to drag his body up into her lap despite the tight space.

He’d showered and washed away all traces of the Autumn Court as well as his paranoia. He could have lost everything through his own insecurities. He had to be better, calmer. Had to trust Nesta. Eris Vanserra as high lord was not the worst thing in the world; he knew the prick well enough now to not be blindsided by him. In the early days of a high lord’s reign, he’d be busy establishing his court, examining laws, passing through new ones or scrubbing old ones. Knowing Eris, all of this was already planned. Cassian did not think for one second that Beron had slipped away quietly in his sleep, but if Nesta knew, he’d keep quiet for her sake rather than risk incriminating her in anything.

She entered the bedroom with a yawn, but her eyes were bright. Water dripped from her hair, running down her skin to the towel wrapped around her body.

‘You promised me that I wouldn’t be sleeping last night,’ she said, coming to lay on the bed. ‘And you rejected my advances.’

Cassian trailed a finger along her collar bone. ‘So, I need to make it up to you.’

He kissed his mate, long and deep. One hand wove in her damp hair, holding her where he wanted her but the other peeled away her towel, tossing it on the other side of the room. Would his breath ever not catch when he saw Nesta naked?

She raised her chest to graze it against his own. No longer did they feel any trepidation around each other’s bodies. Cassian knew Nesta well. Knew when she wanted to go slow and kiss and kiss until their lips were swollen. This was not one of those nights. Nesta’s nails clawed into his shoulders. He could feel her ankles digging into his back where she’d wrapped her legs around him, claiming him.

Cassian flipped them so Nesta was on top. Was there a greater sight than his mate naked on top of him? He reached to touch her breast, unable to resist the bounce of them, but Nesta swatted his hand away. Her body writhed on his, kissing his lips fiercely, her insatiable desire scorching through their bond. Cassian gripped her hips then – showing off slightly – lifted her higher and higher up the bed until her knees pressed into the feather-filled pillows.

‘I’m sitting on your face.’

‘That’s kind of the point, sweetheart.’

The muscles of her legs were taut where she was lifting her weight from him so he tugged her down and ran his tongue up her core.

‘What if you suffocate?’ She asked breathlessly.

‘I can’t think of a better way to go. Hold onto the headboard.’

For once, Nesta followed his instruction without complaint, her breathing already shallow and noticeably audible. Cassian’s tongue licked lightly then he let out a small noise of contentment, knowing the vibration against her sensitive skin would drive her wild. He needed no more encouragement than seeing her fingers grip the headboard until her knuckles turned white.

He used his thumbs to prise apart her sex, pride rising as he felt the thick wetness already building in anticipation. Nesta Archeon had wanted him tonight.

Cassian’s tongue circled against the fire of her sex, savouring the heat, then gently pushed inside. It was only a brief taste before drawing his tongue away. He’d never tire of the taste of her. Sweet and thick, all he ever wanted. But he wanted to tease her tonight.

His hands gripped her hips, moving her in a steady rhythm as his tongue lapped at the wetness seeping from his mate. Briefly, he teased her entrance again before swirling his tongue back to the apex of her thighs, sucking hard.

He exchanged spiralling his tongue for tender kisses. Nesta shifted her position, as if trying to force him to return his tongue to her. It only made him go slower, to deny the release she was seeking.

Languidly, he trailed his tongue up her centre again, savouring the satisfied moan that it created. It was a siren’s call that he could not help but answer.

‘Cassian,’ she whimpered, voice thin and reedy, coming out like a prayer. ‘Stop teasing.’

***

Thoughts left her entirely as Cassian’s tongue thrust in and out of her core, making her entire body jerk on his face. Every moan that came from her mate sent tremors rippling over her skin. Gone was any teasing. Cassian’s lips kissed every part of her they could reach, the pleasure building inside of her.

She could barely breathe. Her hips moved independently, rocking and grinding against her mate’s face, now that Cassian’s fingers were beneath her, spreading her open to access better with his mouth. A molten heat had settled low in her core, curling tighter with every pulse of his tongue.

His tongue stroked all of the way from the top then down, low enough for Nesta to lurch upwards from the sudden shock of what his tongue had discovered, the direction it had ended up.

‘What are you doing?’ She said, accusation seeping into her tone.

‘Sit down.’

From beneath her, Cassian was grinning with plump, wet lips. He kissed her thigh to soothe her nerves. In the dim light, his eyes appeared completely black and with the wings sprawling out beneath him, Cassian reminded her of a wicked creature from a story. One that had her completely at his mercy and was willing to do anything for her too.

‘Sit.’

Cassian was in no rush. His tongue arced back and forth, tracing Nesta in order to learn every inch of her. It softened over the most sensitive parts then lapped harder at the parts that could take more pressure until Nesta was completely comfortable again.

Any sense of decency had abandoned Nesta as she shamelessly rode his face into oblivion. The endings of her nerves were catching fire, as she sought release. Cassian feasted like a male starved. A hand curved around her ass spreading her wider. Nesta’s jaw went slack. She didn’t even know her own name anymore. Not as Cassian’s tongue and fingers stole all of her sense. This male knew exactly how to please a female.

The final tether snapped. Heat flooded Nesta’s body. Her legs quivered against Cassian’s face so his hands went there at once, holding her while she came on his tongue.

Nesta blinked down at Cassian; words were unreachable. With black hair spilling across the pillow and her thighs still clamped around his face, he managed to grin up at her.

He made a noise of protest when Nesta finally managed to stop straddling him and lay against his chest, breathing heavily. She kissed the scorching skin to express her gratitude because he’d stolen her ability to speak.

At the contact, Cassian wrapped his arms around her and let out a satisfied sigh. It was a testament to his will power that he could lay beside her while she gathered her scrambled senses.

His body demanded its own pleasure, hard and needy pressing against the material of his underwear.

She asked him to stand. He preferred to lay down when he came, but she needed him on his feet for what she had planned.

In her hand, Nesta lightly brushed against the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft then a featherlight touch against the darkened tip. Gentle kisses were painted along the velvet skin working down across his sac then back up. Cassian groaned with relief when Nesta finally sealed her lips around his cock, the underside of her tongue pressing down on the tip.

‘Keep your eyes on me.’

The dominant side of Cassian did something to Nesta. The need to please had her raising her grey eyes to meet his hazel ones, admiring them as she took every inch into her mouth, even as she gagged on his size.

‘Good girl. Take it all.’

Hearing the praise from his lips sent an arrow of heat lancing towards her core. They were in new territory tonight. It was a place she was keen to explore.

Nesta let the tip of her tongue trace along the delicate skin where his shaft met the head before taking it again in her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed, sucking hard, knowing Cassian liked it that way. She was rewarded with a low moan and him bucking his hips.

His hips chased every intake, pushing his cock deeper into her throat. With pride, Nesta heard how unsteady Cassian’s breathing was coming from his chest. How the muscles of his stomach tensed each time she swallowed his length. How his pupils dilated when she gagged but still kept him in her mouth.

They were made for each other. The bond had been something Nesta had wanted to run from, hated feeling as if she had been made for a male, but Cassian had been waiting for her all of his life, had been waiting over five hundred years for the female he could call his equal.

A thumb caressed her face as Cassian held her in place to fuck her throat. Nesta didn’t dare look away. She was rewarded with praise, rewarded with the view of her mate towering over her with a body hardened by centuries of training.

Cassian liked her loud. Liked her moaning even when all she could produce was a muffled vibration against his shaft. From the way he screwed up his face at every slurp of her tongue against his rock-hard cock, he was seconds from coming. The ache in her jaw was irrelevant. There was one force driving Nesta onwards – gifting her mate with as much pleasure as she could.

Nesta swallowed down every drop of his seed when he came, proud to do it, glad to taste him on her tongue. His wings had stretched out involuntarily but now they came to cradle her, protecting her.

‘So beautiful,’ Cassian said, leaning forwards to kiss her. ‘All mine.’

‘Lucky you,’ she smirked, catching her breath.

They grinned at each other, both giddy and happy. Cassian settled himself onto the edge of the bed while she headed towards her towel on the floor.

‘Where are you going?’ Cassian grabbed her, a strong hand gripping her wrist and he lay her over his lap. A big, warm hand took a generous squeeze of the softness of her rounded ass then a flattened palm smacked it, the force of it stinging.

‘Round two,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘Get on your knees.’

She moved to her knees and Cassian spread them further on the bed to the position he wanted to take her in. Nesta had no time to prepare as Cassian was driving all the way to the hilt, her moan spilling out of her at the feeling of him stretching her. It didn’t matter if he had just come to climax, he was ready immediately.

Cassian hissed with pleasure, dragging himself out, all the way to the tip then burying his cock as deep as it would go inside of her.

On the fourth thrust, Nesta’s knees gave out so she lay prone on the bed, taking Cassian’s punishing rhythm. The press of his weight on top of her, caging her to the bed, sent a thrill racing through her chest. His. She was his. She would let him do whatever he wanted to her in this bedroom. Take her however he wanted. She was his.

His hands pressed either side of her shoulders, his chest slick with sweat against her back, driving home with every thrust. The noises of Cassian plunging in and out would shame Nesta if she wasn’t already so far gone in lust. Their bodies rocked together. She reached for one of Cassian’s hands and he moved to lace his fingers with her own but Nesta didn’t want a sweet moment between lovers now. She wrapped his hand around her throat, squeezing it once, setting the pressure she wanted.

‘Fuck.’

Cassian’s body behind Nesta’s, his hand around her throat, the feel of his hair brushing against her shoulder, all of it was right.

‘Harder.’

She didn’t even know if Cassian could go any harder, but she wanted him to. Needed him to.

Roughly, he hauled her up onto her knees again then dragged her hands behind her back until it arched, sticking her chest out. Cassian slowed his thrusts but they were no less demanding. He was on his knees behind her, using her arms as a lever so she could sink down onto his cock.

Lips pressed over the pulse fluttering in her neck. She felt Cassian’s teeth scrape against the skin, the slight pain had her eyes rolling back in her head with an electrifying thrill.

Nesta took the hand that had found her breast and tore it away, guiding it hurriedly to the swollen pink pearl above her entrance and started moving Cassian’s fingers in circular motions, chasing the climax she was desperate to reach again.

When she came with a mewling whine, Cassian pushed her into the mattress, giving one hard thrust then his wings splayed out with his own orgasm.

He stayed buried within her for a while, their heart beats answering each other with a thunderous rhythm. By him, she was completely undone.

The male rolled onto his back, panting. The whorls of black ink shone from the sweat glistening along his torso.

‘You knew exactly what you wanted tonight,’ he said, clutching a hand over his stomach.

Nesta laughed and tugged the blanket around her. ‘You made me wait a few days for it.’

‘I think I’ll keep you,’ he murmured, peeling her sweat-slicked hair from her temples to kiss her delicately.

‘Forever?’

‘Always.’

***

It was an unexpected end to the night. There had been signs in the past that Nesta wanted him to take her a little harder or treat her a little rougher. He’d always been afraid to hurt her so only ever did it when she encouraged it. Females in the past had struggled with his size, but the Mother really had paired them well because Nesta had no trouble at all. Soon, he’d let her touch his wings; he’d teach her how to make him see stars.

They’d both had to shower again – and took each other once more with Nesta’s back pressed against the cold tiles and her legs wrapped around his waist - but smiley and sated they slipped beneath the covers, curling up against each other. A smell of apples wafted from Nesta’s damp hair beside him. They’d allowed Zasha into the room so the dog had bedded down beside Nesta where he was already snoring lightly.

‘Did Eris speak to you about Lucien?’ Nesta made a murmur that he took as a no. ‘He wants Lucien as part of his council.’

‘Of course, he would. Lucien is brilliant.’

That answer took Cassian by surprise. As Elain’s biggest protector, he thought Nesta might not have any warmth for Lucien – yet the male was capable of winning everybody round and looking good while he did it.

‘He serves us well enough.’

‘Yes, he does. Lucien makes many friends. He’s beloved still in Spring. Despite Feyre’s meddling, he’s been able to salvage his reputation there. He’s welcomed in most courts because he’s clever, and quick, and kind. Eris is not a fool, Cassian, Lucien is one of the most valuable males in Prythian.’

‘What about Elain?’

‘What about Elain?’ She echoed, turning to face him. He expected Nesta’s expression to be like a cat bracing itself to hiss or swipe with a claw, but Nesta seemed completely disinterested in the conversation. ‘Elain has had long enough to make an effort with Lucien. He has been nothing but polite and respectful, keeping his distance because she demanded it. I daresay he is more respectful than you ever were to me. Nobody has pushed her or forced her to interact with him. I say tough luck if Lucien’s had enough and wants to go home. He deserves to be happy.’

‘Who is this female in my bed? Where is Nesta Archeron chief defender of Elain?’

Nesta rolled her eyes. ‘It’s high time Elain grew up and had the decency to tell Lucien the truth. She’s a grown woman – the time is ripe to act like one.’ She burrowed closed to him in the blankets, pressing cold fingers against his warm chest. ‘I still have Feyre wittering at me over how unfair it is that I haven’t accepted a bond with you, meanwhile Elain won’t even sit by her mate for a group dinner. Utterly ridiculous.’

In her razor-sharp truth, Cassian supposed that Nesta was correct. More allowances had always been given to Elain because she took up less space, she was quieter and more pliant to her new way of life. Nesta had always been more of an obstacle who put up resistance. Yet Nesta had always told the truth, she had never shirked away from it unlike her sister who shied from it. Nesta had weathered storms to protect Elain, and it seemed that his mate had had enough of soaking herself to keep another dry.

Rhys arrived early to Illyria the next morning. A blood-red sky encroached on the horizon. Another downpour later that day then. Nesta was still in bed, groaning at Cassian to tell Rhys to go away when he rapped on the front door.

‘It absolutely reeks of sex in this cabin,’ he said by way of greeting when Cassian welcomed him in.

‘Aren’t I lucky?’

‘Celebrating Beron’s life?’ Rhys helped himself to a green apple from the bowl. He tossed it into the air casually then took a bite from it, the juice spraying into the air. ‘She said anything about his death?’

Cassian shook his head. ‘And I’m not asking.’

‘I’d put good money on her knowing something.’

He raised his hands into the air. ‘No comment. If you’re brave enough, you ask her. She’s already grumpy because you woke her up after a late night.’

‘I don’t need to know about your late night. It’s bad enough that I can smell it, Cass.’ Rhys shook his head. 'Tomorrow, you can have off. I promise. High Lord's honour. Az is in Iron Crest for the next two days so then I'll need you to spar with him before he loses his sanity.'

***

A one-on-one morning with Rhysand filled Nesta with no joy at all. They watched Cassian soar across the horizon, saying he had to go to Velaris, neither speaking until he was just a speck in the distance.

Rhysand asked her what sorts of training she’d done with Eris then asked for the odd display of what she could do. She let her silver flames lick over the tips of her fingers like a wisp of fog then she pulsed her power so her entire hands were covered in fire. To demonstrate the control that she’d worked so hard to cultivate, Nesta halted her power like throwing a wet towel over the top.

‘Can you use it to defend yourself?’

‘It’s too dangerous.’

Rhys waged an internal war to not quip something sarcastic and managed to hold himself back, giving Nesta a smile that resembled more of a grimace. His hands hung awkwardly at his sides, likely feeling as uncomfortable as she did. Nesta hadn’t even realised that she’d shifted her feet to plant them into a stance that Cassian had taught her until Rhysand had drawled that she looked as if she was about to throw a punch.

What did they have in common besides Cassian and Feyre? Nothing. Rhys had formed his opinion of her before meeting her – and it had never shifted from its position. Nor had hers that he was an arrogant prick who swanned about like he owned the world.

She waited in the garden, feeling the odd spit of rain falling from the grey clouds, until Rhysand returned. He’d brought the fruit bowl into the garden then placed an apple onto the ground.

‘Use your power on that. Just the apple.’

Nesta furrowed her brow but did as he told her to. Eris and she had worked for a long time on building a dam to block the flood of her power. It had become second nature to turn on a tap and little some of it trickle out in the direction she wanted. The apple rotted, the skin turning brown and soft before the flesh caved in on itself leaving only a withered core.

‘Good. You’ve trained well with Eris. Will you do it again?’

As Rhys placed another apple on the ground, she tried to decipher whether his tone had been sarcastic or not. Instinct had her believing it was the former. He folded his arms expectantly until Nesta repeated the parlour trick.

‘This time, I want you to push through my power to rot the apple.’

‘Cassian will be disappointed. They’re his favourite type of apple.’

‘I’ll buy him some more,’ he replied, eyes twinkling, but there was a wariness to his expression. That day in Banhurst, Rhys had gone into her mind to calm her magic. He had seen the endless depths of it, knew what it was capable of.

Magic slithered from him, black and slick, shrouding the third apple like a veil. Nesta met it with her silver flames. It probed and caressed his magic as if searching for a way in. She felt the brush of his own against hers, forcing it back.

‘Keep going,’ he urged, despite the resistance.

The defence came stronger. With each pulse of her magic, Rhys’ pushed his harder trying to suffocate the flames. Nesta’s magic pushed at the walls she had created, determined to find a way out for all of it to wipe Rhysand’s magic off the map. It was difficult to concentrate on sweeping away Rhysand’s magic and to manage her own that was trying to fight its way out of the cage she kept it in.

A sudden flare scorched the ground and a wave of blackness smothered it.

Nesta stepped back panting. ‘Sorry. I have to stop.’

‘Fine.’

Her hand sought the rough feel of the one lonely pine tree in the garden while she re-built her mental walls, coaxing her magic back inside of it like a wild animal. Rhys had been into the house and held out a glass of water for her.

‘You did well, Nesta.’

‘I rotted two apples. I’d hardly call that spectacular.’

‘I am the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history and your magic nearly restrained mine. I’ve had five hundred years to practise. What’s more, you were incredibly controlled. You did well,’ he repeated, pushing the glass of water into her hand to drink.

It had only been a small thing, but already Nesta felt weak and shaky from using her magic against Rhysand’s own.

‘Did you begin to lose control?’

‘Not me, it. It always wants to come out. I can manage it well enough like this, but if I’m upset or angry, it can break out easier.’

Rhys nodded, eyes roving over her. ‘I know the burden of so much magic. It’s not an easy thing to carry. Your magic is part of you – it wants to protect you. When you threw me on my ass in Windhaven, it was your magic responding to a threat.’

‘I stole it. It’s not mine.’

‘It is yours. Trust me, if that magic was not happy residing in you, it would let you know about it. There are stories of fae throughout history who have seized others’ magic to make themselves stronger. It never ends well for them. We have histories of it in the library in Velaris. Feyre said you read everything. You should come soon and explore the books.’

A thought came to her. ‘If one could take another’s magic, could I give mine away?’

‘You do not want your power?’

‘Why would I want this? None should wield the power of death, Rhysand.’ Nesta swallowed. ‘I never wanted any of this. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t stayed with Elain. That I followed Feyre and took your offer of safety as a mortal in Velaris. That Hybern didn’t drag me from my bed. That I hadn’t been so full of anger that I clawed at the Cauldron until it bled.’

A hand touched between her shoulder blades but then he thought better of it. They were not there yet in their budding relationship, but the regret on his face was genuine.

Her vitriol towards him that first day they met was simply a fear of faeries, a fear of what could happen to her and Elain, a fear that Elain’s happy ending with Graysen could be snatched away. All of them had been proved to be true.

‘Let’s go inside. You’re getting rained on.’

Zasha leapt up at them, tongue lolling from his mouth, in the kitchen.

‘Would you like breakfast?’

‘You can cook? I’m only surprised because Feyre can barely heat up leftovers.’

Nesta inhaled. ‘Who do you think cooked all the carcasses she brought home?’ She cracked eggs into a jug, whisking them with a fork until her arm ached then threw in green peppers, onion, and chunks of ham. ‘My speciality is rabbit or wood pigeon - the finest meats Feyre could rustle up from the forest. I hope an omelette will be good enough, high lord.’

Rhys’ mouth opened and closed. Nesta caught him blinking several times until he busied himself with stroking Zasha. She poured half the mixture into a sizzling pan slick with butter.

‘Do not tell Cassian I’m cooking for you.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it. I will tell Feyre though.’

Nesta snorted. ‘Did she ever tell you about the mystery soup?’

At the shake of his head, Nesta continued. ‘Sometimes we had so little to eat that I’d make mystery soup. It was anything I could find. The last bits of dried meat, bones for stock, tired vegetables that had seen better days. None of it ever tasted nice, but it stopped the ache in our bellies. We’d call it mystery soup and Elain and Feyre would try to guess what could possibly be in it. It was better that they didn’t know. We even had squirrel one year. It caught in one of Feyre’s snares and she planned just to use the fur because it was so skinny, but in it went to the mystery soup.’

She didn’t know him well enough to understand his expression as she set his breakfast in front of him. Nesta turned back to the stove to cook the rest of the mixture for her own meal.

‘I had a sister,’ he said quietly. ‘She was a bit like all three of you; strong-minded, independent, spoilt rotten by my father too. One time, I warned her not to go flying. A storm was coming in and we had to go to the Hewn City with my father later. Seren came back – late – absolutely drenched, she’d hurt her wing too. My father was furious. Not with her. With me. For not stopping her. For letting her go flying.’

Nesta sat opposite him. Perhaps they were more alike than either had ever realised – or wanted to admit. She ate quietly, allowing him to continue. Nesta knew his mother and sister had been killed by Tamlin and his family. Their heads had been sent in a box down a river. The rest of their bodies had been disposed of somewhere else without dignity.

‘I remember being so outraged that he could dare blame me for it. I’d warned Seren not to and she didn’t listen. I was her brother, not her keeper. I think what I am trying to say is,’ he breathed out, setting the fork down, ‘that Feyre has her own mind, just as Seren did. And if I couldn’t prevent my sister from flying in a storm then you could not stop yours from hunting. I’m sorry that we haven’t always seen eye to eye.’

Nesta was too stunned to even speak. Her omelette lay forgotten on the plate while she gripped the fork tightly like Elain had the first time they’d met the three bats when their sister had returned as one of the fae folk.

‘When Feyre returned to the Spring Court, I wasn’t thinking of anything except her. You and Elain needed support and care to manage your new life. You are my mate’s sisters,’ he said, swallowing. ‘And I didn’t do enough to help you. I should have known that your anger came from pain because that was me. When my mother and sister were murdered, I wanted to set the world on fire. And – do not tell him I said this – I should have told Cassian to back off and leave you alone, to give you time to adjust.’

‘We have both been horrid to each other.’

Rhys nodded. ‘But I am far older and wiser and should have known better.’

‘So modest. Do all males do this when you feed them? Should I expect a lamenting monologue from Cassian when I feed him?’

‘Will you feed him?’

Nesta sighed with despair. ‘You and Feyre are perfect for each other. Both such busy bodies. Eat your food, I have a friend to visit in Windhaven.’

‘And you and Cassian both like to boss others around,’ he winked.

‘Yes, well, as long as he understands that I am in charge in this relationship.’

Rhys laughed, the tension between them feeling non-existent for once. ‘Nesta, don’t worry, we all know that.’

#please don't judge me for the smut i feel like i need to bathe in holy water #au acosf

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