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peachpitfics · 1 year ago

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Cruel Summer

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Following your romp with Benedict Bridgerton in his art studio, he asked your brother for your hand! Now you're on your honeymoon, and you're getting a little bored, posing for him. A lady must find ways to amuse herself!

Length: 2.1k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Penetrative vaginal sex, unprotected sex, light bondage, food play.

a/n: This is an anonymous request for a continuation of 'Guilty as Sin'.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Benedict Bridgerton escorting you to view his artwork, at his private studio, was just the beginning of your story. After sneaking around behind your family’s backs for a small while, Benedict gathered enough courage to ask your eldest brother’s permission for your hand. This seemed strange to the y/l/n family, not one of them had ever seen the two of you together, which showed how much attention was paid to the middle child. Benedict made sure to ask you in the Bridgerton drawing room, just before family tea, for everyone to see. He made such a big to-do, confessing his love to you, before every member of the Bridgerton family in attendance. It felt particularly safe there, amongst people who took interest in who you were as a person.

It was bittersweet to have siblings who offered their time, their attentions, and their hobbies freely. You learned so many new things from each of them, from pall-mall, to sewing, even horse riding. In six months, you were married and moved into the Bridgerton house for the meantime, until after your honeymoon. You would never outright tell Benedict you did not want to move out, but he felt it, he knew.

“My love” Benedict whispered, shaking your shoulders gently. Honeymooning in Paris was something the two of you had instantly agreed upon. So far, two weeks of sleeping late, making love, and eating copious amounts of divine food was your only concern. Of course, there were a lot of other lovely things Benedict had planned for your honeymoon – river boat rides and romantic dinners, every moment between locations filled with fine bread, wine, and cheese.

“Yes, my love?” You grumbled, rolling away from him, clearly having not had enough sleep.

“You must wake up, it is midafternoon!” Benedict exclaimed with a chesty laugh, rolling you back into him and tickling your sides. You howled with laughter, pushing him away playfully, leaning up to distract him as only you knew how. His lips were warm and wet against your own, seductive, and luscious.

“You must come downstairs! The housekeeper has left us a feast and I wish to paint my gorgeous wife” Benedict slid his hands around your naked body, lifting you out of bed as you groaned.

“Again?!” “My darling, I’ll be painting you until death takes me” Benedict chuffed, sliding sideways between doorways and down the stairs to the sitting room.

“What if death takes me first?” You smirked back, figuring you had him cornered here.

“I have made God promise I am to go first. And even so, I’ll have every detail committed to memory and these paintings and sketches of you now to keep me company” Benedict squeezed you in his arms, he didn’t like to joke about parting ways, in any sense. It was his truest nightmare, his deepest fear.

Benedict set you down in the sitting room and gestured to what he and the house keeping staff had readied. Paint, canvas, a staging area - littered around the room were bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of wine, candles surrounded by plates of cheese, oil, and bread. You relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, cupping your breasts sweetly. You giggle a little, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He nodded to your position for the rest of the day, a chair with the back faced to a very high window, casting a streak of sunlight down upon the spot.

There you sat, for hardly an hour before your mind began to wander, circling Benedict in your mind like a shark in open water. You had learned to become comfortable being nude for long periods of time these days, however Benedict had learned nothing of your persuasion or power when your attentions were dashed. Your movements started slowly, daintily taking your hands to your knees, and spreading your legs wide upon the chair. Resting a little, relaxing your back and cupping your own breasts. Your fingers gently grazing your nipples. But nothing, no attention from your husband. He sat close to his canvas, squinting into the detail of his work, his realm of perception clearly inhibited. With a huff and a light moan, you continued to palm at your own breasts, fingers trapping your nipples in a pulling motion- you decided to pretend Benedict wasn’t here. Suddenly, taking notice, you watched as his brush left the canvas, his mouth hung open a little and he removed his glasses, almost tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing, darling?” He mumbled, swallowing hard. Your hands ran down your mid-section, over your belly and down your thighs sensually, soft mewls slipped from between your lips. Benedict loved the sounds you made.

“I’m just amusing myself, continue on with your painting my dear” Your replying comment was nonchalant in the best way. Benedict almost looked offended that you would suggest he could go back to painting.

“How do you suppose I paint, while my wife ravages her own body before me?” He blinked at the audacity of you.

“Well, dear one, this is what you have chosen for this afternoon’s activities… Now, you must endure” You smiled, sliding your hand between your legs, dipping your finger in the wet warmth there. Benedict shuddered, wishing any part of him were exchanged with your finger.

If there was anything you had learned about Benedict in the last six or seven months, it was that his desire for you was consistent and all encompassing. Benedict watched on as your fingers circled your clitoris, you moaned and exhaled gently - his paint brush never did return to the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his brow line, the hot, French summer finally taking its toll in the late afternoon. You reached to the small stool next to you, extracting the tiniest jar of honey. You looked into Benedict’s eyes, holding the jar above your body, dangling your head back and pouring a steady stream of honey over your chest. The sun glistened, reflecting little pools of light off your sticky, sweet skin.

Taking your finger, you swept up your belly from your navel, placing your finger on your tongue in clear view of him, and that was his very last straw. Benedict threw his paintbrush to the ground, thrusting himself up and out of his chair, to march across the room to you.

“What do you think you are doing, wife?” Benedict’s voice rasped, his eyes were so dark, the colour had all but gone.

“Playing, my love” You replied cheekily, sucking another nip of honey off your finger. He all but growled watching your finger slip between your lips, his breath quickening in sheer lust for you.

“Are you punishing me for getting you out of bed?” Benedict’s face was so close now, his nose tip to tip with yours. There was such tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched hard in his fierce need of you. You fluttered your lashes back at him, refusing to answer with your words.

“Do you have even a semblance of an understanding of what you are doing to me? This is unbelievably cruel,” He breathed heavily down on you, desperation flooding his body and adrenaline surging behind, “You can’t begin to imagine the things I want to do to you right now” His stubble gliding across your ear and cheek, making you shudder.

“Show me then,” You challenged, “You are my husband after all”.

Benedict’s hands slowly moved to his shirt, shedding it, and throwing it somewhere behind him. He acted with a sureness and a strength you hadn’t yet experienced, but it was drawing you in. Undoing his pants, Benedict took his hard member into his hands, stroking himself against your chest, lathering it in honey. His other hand wove into your hair, tangling the perfect hold, bringing you forward.

“Oh. Goodness. Seems I’ve made quite a mess of myself… Wife, help me clean it up” He smiled smugly down at you.

Something feral, untamed, was unleashed inside you, your eyes darkening, “Certainly, my lord”. As your tongue reached out to meet his tip, his head lulled back in pleasure, his hand still wrapped around the base of him. Your lips parted slowly, encasing his first inch, and swirling your tongue around to suck the honey from him. Benedict exhaled headily, his breaths deep, but quick with the slightest grunt mixed in. The way he sounded, even now, made you wetter and wetter.

There was something maliciously keen in Benedict’s eyes as he watched from on high, your pretty mouth sucking all the honey off him and then some. His body gently rocked forward, his hand heaving your head forward, onto him in a more perverse manner. His head hung back in greedy caution, grasping to the very last straws of his gentlemanly nature as you sunk to the base of him, your tongue wriggling slyly underneath.

His fingers grew taut in your hair, reefing you backwards. His laugh was low, both impressed and challenged by your ministrations. In the next moment, Benedict had hauled you up and over his shoulder, he was charging up the stairs, mad with temerity.

Entering the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, scrambling for any piece of material in reach, he began ripping. Four pieces of silk fabrics in his hands, he loomed over you in profound ownership. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Benedict taking each wrist and ankle, tying them to each to their respective corner post of the bed.

“There” He stood, hands on his hips, proud of his work, “There’ll be no more of that”. Clearly touching yourself had had a dire effect on Benedict’s work ethic.

Kneeling between your thighs, his naked body unjustly out of reach, Benedict’s supercilious smile sick with goofy dominance. He thumbs over your folds, his finger descending, extorting whines of pleasure you never knew existed within you. Broad strokes of the most painful, unapologetically evil gratification. Benedict’s tongue flicked over his lips hungrily.

“I need you” The words escaped you violently, the thrill of his touch, his charming smile becoming all too much for you. He ignored you and continued another moment or two, reducing you to a begging mess beneath him.

“Shall I oblige you, my marvellous bride?” His grin was jubilant and all knowing, his hands came down on your wrists, pressing them into the bed. Benedict’s brutal, familiar kiss sown into your lips permanently, as he pushed inside of you with surprise.

“Y/n” He groaned, growled with unrepentant lust. Your eyes cast wide, the length of him stretching you mercilessly while he thrust in and out. His villainous face claiming your entire consciousness as he used your body to his pleasure, decadent facial expressions, and damnable sounds he was delivering straight to your right ear.

“You feel unimaginably perfect” Benedict groaned, your moans joining in alongside his.

Hands grasping for silk to hold onto, you longed for your own release, grinding your hips back against Benedict’s. His movements became more ferocious, keeping up with the sounds you were making. Frenetic energy began to move through your body, your ravenous thirst for him finally quenched. Every muscle in your body engaged in vivid contortion, Benedict pressing into you as deeply as he possibly could before his own body found its own powerful release.

Covered in sweat and honey, you laid tangled together for a moment before Benedict recalled your wrists and ankles were tied. He chuckled with giddiness, sitting up to admire his knots.

“You look fantastic like this, perhaps we should do this more often” He suggested sweetly. His thumb caressed the side of your face, your panting, tired body unable to give a response. Benedict littered your face and neck with loving pecks.

“We could be one person and I still would never be close enough to you. No amount of time with you will ever satisfy me. You are the centre of my world” Benedict whispered gently. Every day you were reminded of the intoxicants his poetic mind dabbled into every sweet thing he said to you.

In another instant, Benedict had sprung from the bed, running downstairs. You laughed, thinking he must be returning with some of the food the housekeeper had left strewn about his romantically planned afternoon. Instead, Benedict returned with a new canvas and his implements. Your mouth fell open all on its own, blinking furiously in his direction as he set himself up off the side of the bed.

“If you could just stay there, like that, that’d be great!” Benedict’s grin, excruciatingly exquisite, and concocting. He held himself with such pride in his agendum, cockiness seemed to fill the room in a potent manner.

“BENEDICT!?” You squealed, tugging frantically on his bindings, your laughter filled with rich resolve.

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tagging: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

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kiame-sama · 11 months ago

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Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 6

(Quickly running out of Monster men drawings to use as my chapter pictures. May be a hot minute until I get the next chapter out since my laptop can barely stay conscious long enough to draw another one and I want to only use the monster AU versions of the characters for this series.)

Warnings; multiple yanderes, platonic yanderes, romantic yanderes, monster AU, eating Humans mentioned, more AU history, Cater is not having a very Cay-Cay day, food is an excellent way to bring groups together, Fauns, Satyrs, Kelpies, Crow Fae, Unicorns, Water Nymphs, vampire bats, dragons, cervitaurs, Raiju, Mermen, Cecaelia, Gnolls,

~~~~~~~~

Lunch finally rolled around and you were surprised that Ace and Deuce had actually taken Trey's words seriously and accompanied you to classes. Ace had loudly complained about his volunteering for a little bit but once he saw how many students actually took an interest in you, he stopped complaining and started viewing the task as a kind of important role only he could do. Naturally, Deuce was far less irate about the situation though there were times he almost came across as a punk when it came to others trying to harass you. Both had adjusted well to being around you and come lunch Deuce was actually taking pride in explaining things to you.

"-and that's what makes Fauns different from Satyrs."

"So Fauns are the nicer version of Satyrs?"

"For the most part. Satyrs are known for being loud and always wanting to fight-"

Ace cut Deuce off, shoving an uncooked carrot into the Faun's mouth to silence him. You had seen the two interact and you got the distinct feeling that the Faun and Satyr had more of a brotherly relationship with one another. Where they both had different personalities, when they did agree on something it was practically a law to them.

It was fascinating to hear that these monster men had similar names to the mythical creatures from your world and you wondered why such an overlap existed. Maybe the Humans from your world did interact with this world in the past, or maybe it was just a coincidence. Still, it seemed almost too close to be mere coincidence.

"Anyway, now that Dunce here is done talking-"

"You know my name is Deuce-"

"Like I said, now that Dunce is done talking, I have questions for you, (Y/n)."

You almost laughed at the back and forth banter of the two Goats- Faun and Satyr respectively- as their voices fumbled over one another. Truth was, you had been expecting far more questions than the few they threw at you between classes, so now was as good a time as any to ask.

"Okay, what do you want to know?"

"So, you don't have magic? Like, at all?"

"No magic whatsoever. Where I came from, magic is a myth and no creatures have magic."

"Okay. But how do Humans survive? No horns, no claws, nothing to protect themselves from bigger creatures."

"We make weapons. I know you all have bows, arrows, and knives, we have the same. Guns too, but I haven't seen any guns used here."

"Wait, what is a gun?"

"Basically an automatic bow that fires little pieces of metal using explosive powder that needs a spark which launches the metal through their target."

Ace seemed almost excited by your vague explanation of a gun, opening his mouth to ask you another question. His voice died in his throat as his gaze locked onto something behind you, prompting you to turn around to look at whatever it was that had unsettled Ace.

Standing not too far from you was the large figure of the Horse-man Trey. Ace told you he was a Kelpie, but you just couldn't make that connection seeing as he looked like a big white horse and not a water kelp-horse like Kelpies were supposed to be. He was clearly making good on his threat to check in as he approached you with a patient smile on his face.

"Hello (Y/n), have Heartslabyul's first-years been adequate guides for you today?"

"Yes. Grim doesn't even have to try half as hard to keep me safe now and I haven't been late to any of my classes other than the first one."

Trey gave a genuine smile at this, nodding his head as he was pleased to know his choice had been a good one. Seeing the centaur made you wonder about Cater and what may have become of the air-head student. In some ways, you worried asking would have a negative effect, but you were so curious you couldn't help but inquire about him.

"So... What happened to Cater?"

"He is being dealt with by the Headmage. He's lucky he isn't going to get expelled for what he did, but once the Headmage is done with his punishment, he's going to be turned over to Riddle."

"Is Riddle mad about all of this?"

"Well... I actually haven't told Riddle yet. He has a short fuse and isn't going to take Cater's actions well, especially since he asked both Cater and I to protect you if we happened across you. Odds are Cater is going to be collared and kicked out of his room for the foreseeable future."

This made you frown in contemplation at the prospect of the Red-haired student being punished too harshly. Though you were upset Cater took photos of you without asking and likely set several poachers on your trail, you didn't want harm to come to him. Sure, he was stupid and made a stupid choice, but he shouldn't be hurt or kicked out of his home for it.

"... If he is kicked out of his room, is there anywhere else he can go?"

"No. Riddle is very strict about rule-breakers being banned from the dorms so long as they have one of his collars on, and most other dorms aren't keen to house a student that isn't theirs. He's probably going to be sleeping in the Heartslabyul lake if Riddle doesn't ban him from there too."

The morality of the issue weighed on you and made you worry about the ditzy redhead. Though you didn't really trust Cater or his clearly impaired decision making skills, you still felt like he deserved basic decency despite his actions. You knew firsthand how the creatures that lived around campus were genuinely terrifying and dangerous, so you didn't want him thrown to the metaphorical or actual wolves.

"Can... can Cater stay in my dorm?"

Your question earned you several dubious looks from the Goats and Trey as if you had grown another head or said something unhinged. Even Grim had to pause his hesitant raw veggie medley- the only thing the cafeteria served today- to stare at you in surprise.

"You- you want Cater in your dorm? Why?"

"Well, it wasn't like he knew what he was doing was bad, and I don't think he should be left outside for his poor choice."

"(Y/n), do you realize how vicious poachers are in Twisted Wonderland? You will be hunted every moment of every day because Cater couldn't keep himself from posting you to that stupid Magicam app he is obsessed with. The second you are unguarded you will be attacked. The Headmage is even considering assigning Sam and Vargas to your dorm just to make sure poachers can't get in, or even moving you to Diasomnia so Malleus can protect you. I don't think you understand just how seriously we need to take your safety."

"I'm just a Human though, I'm not a princess or someone important. Why all the fuss?"

Your comment made Trey let out a long and exasperated sigh, his gaze leaving your confused form as he tried to keep in mind just how new you were to their world. Humans were never just Humans in Twisted Wonderland, and them simply dying out has made a far felt ripple in the history of every known species. For so long, so many species had adored and tried to protect Humans, but even they couldn't save the fragile species from the hunger so many magic users had for their very flesh.

Most things in the technological realm and cooking realm- pastries and phones included- only existed because Humans led the way to them being invented. Even now, technology has been mostly stagnant for over a hundred years with only the Shrouds having any aptitude as far as advancements were concerned. Trey himself had Humanity to thank for his family's bakery and the many cuisines local to the Queendom of Roses.

"(Y/n), Humans have never been 'just Humans' to us. Maybe to Sunset Savana, but never to the Queendom of Roses. Even Briar Valley had laws in place to protect your kind from everyone else. I get you may not understand it, but compared to most other species, Humans were better than most in the emotional and critical thinking department. It was Humans creating new inventions, coming up with unique ideas, and above all else, peacekeeping between the various species and races to the point they were called Beast-Tamers. Most wouldn't even speak to their Fae counterparts until Humans got the two to interact amicably."

You were somewhat surprised to hear all of this, having been under the impression that Humans were mainly pets to the other species. It was interesting to hear what Humans were credited for and that despite all they did to help, they were still hunted as food until extinction. The few from Savanaclaw you interacted with had been both sides of the spectrum of threatening you or being peaceful to you and it made you wonder just what kind of species were still keen to get a taste of your forbidden flesh.

"Honestly," Trey continued, "I wouldn't be surprised if several Kingdoms and Queendoms sent ambassadors to take you away from Night Raven for your own safety. I just know the international law makers are going to have a field day the moment it becomes common knowledge that you're here."

It made sense that Trey was stressed about this, you knew from your own home how aggressively endangered and near-extinct species had to be protected, but you still felt Cater shouldn't carry all the blame. If it wasn't Cater, it would have been someone else. Just because he was the fool to do it first didn't mean that others wouldn't have tried or succeeded in the same endeavor.

"Still, if he gets kicked out of the dorms tonight, will you at least tell him I will let him stay with me?"

"If you really want me to," he sighed heavily, "I guess I can tell Cater about your offer. I won't tell Riddle though, knowing how that Unicorn is, he will actually harm Cater for even thinking about taking shelter with you after what he's done."

~•§•~

"HE DID WHAT?!"

Riddle was beside himself with rage and even stomped his hooves against the marble floors of the Headmage's office, almost cracking the stone with his rage. Cater was trying to sink into his chair and hide from the Sophomore Housewarden who was beyond the point of furious with the water Nymph. Not only did he get a dressing-down from the Headmage, but he was going to be thrown at the mercy of his own Housewarden who was known for being an absolute hard-ass on rule breakers.

"It wasn't like I was trying to target her! I just-"

"SILENCE! YOU WILL SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO, CATER DIAMOND!"

The firm tone Riddle used made Cater shut his mouth and bow his head, trying to avoid upsetting the Unicorn further. There was no way he would be able to go back to his room at this rate and odds are he would be sleeping in the forest if Riddle had anything to say about it. Plus, he still had that essay to write for Trein that was due tomorrow.

"He apparently took a selfie with (Y/n) and posted it to Magicam with hashtags indicating she is Human. By the time I got him to delete the post, it had been downloaded several thousand times. Since then I have already received a call from the Royal Sword Academy Headmage to confirm a Human lives here now, and what we as the heads of our schools can do to protect her. No doubt representatives from Briar Valley and the Queendom of Roses have already been dispatched and will arrive on the island soon enough, not to mention how many poachers are likely on their way here as we speak."

Cater knew how upset Riddle was given the fact the Unicorn's horn was humming loudly with magic and the Unicorn himself was a bright red. Things really weren't coming up Cay-Cay today.

"OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!"

~•§•~

You felt a bit more comfortable with the school as a whole by the time classes had finished for the day. Practical Magical Theory was an interesting class, even if you really didn't have the faintest idea what they were talking about. According to Ace, you were lucky you didn't have Flight Class because there was a high chance you wouldn't be able to participate in the class itself. Still, you were happy to have a moment to let things settle down for a bit.

Ace and Deuce walked you to your dorm, but had been called to Heartslabyul by a quick text from Trey, leaving you alone in the dorm with Grim. Despite the beginning of the day being an absolute wash, the rest of the day hadn't been too bad. It was around this time you decided you may as well start on making some dinner. You could hear Grim's stomach growling already as you both went to the kitchen.

"Are you gonna make something good like you did for breakfast?"

"I'm going to try to."

"What are you gonna make?"

"Well, I was thinking we have the stuff here for a really nice soup-"

You were promptly cut off by the Kitchen door swinging open with a loud bang. Clearly, you were going to have to tell the professors or even the Headmage Crow about securing that side door given how it had already been used twice by others seeking to get into your dorm. Luckily for you, those that walked through the door had at least two familiar faces in the group.

"Sorry for interrupting," Lilia called out, happily making his way over to you in an almost bouncy gait, much like a bird hopping around, "hope you don't mind I brought Malleus, Silver, and Sebek too. I heard one of the Heartslabyul students blew the whistle on you being here in NRC. Figured you could use a bit of extra protection in case any poachers try their luck. Besides, the nest here is just as big as Malleus' nest in Diasomnia."

It was then Malleus spoke, his voice a deep rumble in his chest as he looked over you.

"They will not lay a hand upon my hoard without paying with their lives for such a transgression."

It was clear the Dragon was not happy with the events that took place and he seemed to be quite content claiming you as one of his Hoard. When Lilia explained it to you last night, apparently the moment Malleus decided he was adding someone to his Hoard, he became extremely attached to that person and would even become violent in their defense. Given the way others talked about him, he must have been a genuinely frightening and powerful person to command such fear and respect.

"... So does that mean I'm making soup for all of you or..?"

"If you don't mind. I certainly want another bite of your cooking, (Y/n)!"

Lilia took his perch back on the counter and swung his feet, seeming rather impish and almost childish in his behavior. You just shrugged and nodded, gathering enough ingredients to feed the group several times over. Your hope was that there would be some left over for you to take during lunches. As nice as it was to have raw foods once in a while, you'd rather your meals be cooked.

Grim clearly only trusted Lilia and sat next to the Bat to watch you bustle around the kitchen. He even let out a soft purr when Lilia began to pet his forehead and ears. Where you would have scolded them for sitting on the counter, it wasn't like you didn't have enough counter space already. Starting the broth and preparation was rather simple for you and it was clear those standing around you were keen to watch you prepare the soup.

"(Y/n)," Grim meowed, "where did you learn to do all this fancy stuff?"

"Humans usually cook their food. So I just learned while growing up. Of course there are some things you can have without cooking, like a sandwich or a fruit salad, but most big meals are better cooked. Now, that doesn't mean every Human can cook well, but most are good enough at it."

"So does that mean I can have more of the food you cook?"

"Like a bigger portion? No. But you will always get to have some of whatever I make, okay?"

Grim purred loudly at this, his face lighting up with an excited smile. Clearly the little creature was pleased with your arrangement even if it meant he had to go to boring classes with you. The food was absolutely worth it and he got to sleep in a mountain of pillows and blankets after a long day. It was all way better than the hole in the ground he occupied when he wasn't actively running for his life before he met you.

Once you got most of the soup started, you knew it just needed to be covered and cooked, listening idly to Lilia talk with the others about the events of breakfast and the Gnoll that invited himself in. It was when you finally got this moment that you took a good look at the other two visitors who were either Silver or Sebek, seeing as Lilia didn't point out who was who.

Much to your surprise, one of them reminded you of the Kelpie and Unicorn you had met earlier but he had an obvious three point antler rack attached to his head. His lower half was that of a reindeer and was fairly fluffy compared to the short coats of the Kelpie and Unicorn. Part of you wanted to test if he was as soft as he looked, but you figured it would not be considered appropriate to pet him.

The second new face was an almost canine like man with pale green hair that was slicked back and spiked up at the ends. His eyes were intense as was the apparent scowl that held his features, two sharply pointed dog ears atop his head. Bright yellow-green eyes tracked your every move and regarded you with as much curiosity as you regarded him. The similar medium length tail fur swayed lazily as his tail slowly began to wag when you looked at him.

The soup was beginning to smell rather good and it was clear four of the five others in the kitchen were taking note as they occasionally sniffed the air. Lilia, Grim, Silver, and Sebek were clearly keenly interested in the scent but it was Malleus' behavior that caught your attention. Instead of sniffing or lifting his nose as the others did, his forked tongue slowly slid from between his lips like a snake as if he were tasting the air. You almost laughed at the oddly reptile behavior before his gaze suddenly snapped to the door of the kitchen.

Standing in the doorway was a curious looking man that seemed to have fins on the sides of his head. His almost scaled skin had a kind of faint green tint to it with intense blue undertones, his eyes being two different colors with the right one being a pale gray and the left one being a bright gold. Atop his head were tousled blue-green locks with a singular black stripe that crossed over his forehead above his left eye.

"Oya, it seems I'm not the only one with culinary interests. Apologies for intruding, but the lovely smell drew me in. Would you mind telling me what it is you're making?"

You were surprised to see the almost Fish-like man despite how polite he was being with you. Instead of hopping in to defend you, Lilia looked at you for what you wanted to do with this interloper. Malleus seemed rather keen to rid you of this newcomer's presence but you held up a hand to stop him from acting. Part of you worried this new visitor was dangerous, but because he was wearing a school uniform you figured he was just another student.

"Soup?"

"... May I ask what kind?"

"Only if you tell me your name first and what you were doing around my dorm."

"Ah, forgive me. It seems in my haste to get to the heart of the matter, I forgot my manners. My name is Jade Leech, I'm the Vice-Housewarden of Octavinelle. I'm going to assume from your appearance you are the highly talked-of Human now living on campus. Azul informed us that you would be remaining here for the time being. As for what I was doing, I am rather interested in the foods that grow wild above water, so I was out gathering some mushrooms to sample."

He lifted the foraging bag that hung over his shoulder, showing you the contents within. He was right in that he had gathered up a fair few number of mushrooms and there were several that you actually recognized. You were no master of mushrooms- of course- but you still recognized a few species that were safe for you to eat, seeing several button mushrooms among the many gathered.

Those would be great in the soup you were making, and it was early enough that you could add them right in and they would cook just fine.

"Okay, Jade. I believe you were at least out gathering mushrooms which is innocent enough. I'm actually curious if you wanted to trade for some of those button mushrooms you have, they'd go great in the soup I'm making. In return I'll tell you about it and you can have some to eat if you'd like."

Jade actually seemed to brighten up at this, his smile becoming less strained and his expression smoothing from the stressed way his brows had been pulled together. It was almost as if he had been wanting to ask for some soup but was far too polite to actually inquire. He nodded and set his bag on the counter, letting you pick out the little rounded white mushrooms from the selection he gathered.

"I'm quite partial to the cuisines the different kingdoms have to offer. Rare as it can be to find those who are masters of their craft, I would still like to sample the meals above the ocean waves. I would be grateful for whatever knowledge you can share with me. It isn't every day that someone adept at cooking graces this school."

"Hey," Grim interrupted loudly as you set to dicing the mushrooms, "that's my Hooman you're talking to! She only cooks for me, but I'm kind enough to share with all of you. Don't forget it, got it?"

Jade gave a rather patient simper to your primary companion, resting his right hand over his heart in an almost polite gesture.

"But of course. I'm simply interested in learning to make such meals for myself. I'm certain Azul and Floyd would be keen to taste such a wonderful smelling dish."

This seemed to satisfy your little companion as he nodded with a pleased smile, watching you add the mushrooms to the rather large pot you decided to make the soup in. Thankfully it was a cauldron type pot made for cooking soups over firepits. The fire so dutifully warming your meal crackled pleasantly even as you stirred the bubbling mixture.

"Do you want to ask them to come over, Jade? I made way too much. Honestly, everyone here could all have a bowl, a second bowl, and I would still have enough soup for the rest of the week. I think I went a little overboard in the food department. Should have probably started with a smaller pot, but we're already this far..."

Jade seemed surprised at this, but nodded respectfully and pulled out his phone. You were curious just what Jade was as you really hadn't seen many fish-men during your day, but you weren't going to ask him. If he wanted to tell you what he was, that was his business. Didn't make you any less curious though.

"If you're certain? I'm sure Floyd will be thrilled to have something new to try. He doesn't like some mushrooms, but I don't believe he has tried the ones you've selected, and he certainly hasn't tried cooked mushrooms yet. Azul may try to heckle you into a deal, however. He is always looking for new ways to improve the Mostro Lounge."

"Yeah, of course I'm certain. I offered, didn't I?"

He nodded and began tapping away at his phone, but Lilia seemed rather keen to speak up. The Bat had been listening keenly to the conversation and felt he needed to make himself clear to the notoriously crafty student.

"If Azul threatens (Y/n) or tries to force her into a deal, we will have more than a few problems, understood?"

"He is aware. Believe it or not, those of us from the Coral Sea are actually quite fond of the legacy of Humans. Even Floyd has been babbling excitedly about meeting (Y/n) here."

"That's right, Humans were popular among the various merfolk kingdoms. You all even have a famous story involving the mermaid princess falling for a Human and joining him on land."

"Yes. She struck a deal with The Sea Witch to gain legs she could use to dance for the Human man she fell in love with, too bad the deal didn't hide her gills or fins though. Still, the Human loved her."

You listened to the conversation as you stirred the soup, glad that all of the flavors seemed to be coming together rather well despite the large amount of food you found yourself making. Judging from the conversation Lilia and Jade happened to be having, Jade was a Merman of some kind and apparently Mermen were one of the 'safe species' for Humans to interact with. Though you knew not to judge an individual by the species, it did put you at ease to know he was one of the safer ones.

It was as you were taste testing the soup that the door to the kitchen once again flew open as another visitor invited themselves in. It was official now, four times proved it was far too easy to get into your dorm through that door. Maybe Lilia would be able to fix it for you, or Malleus seeing as Lilia said it was the Dragon who had mostly fixed up your current abode.

"(Y/n), you're an absolute angel! I thought I was going to have to sleep in the woods once Riddle temporarily banned me from Heartslabuyl! He won't even let me sleep in the lake even though I'm a Lake Water Nymph because of what happened. You believe me when I say I didn't mean to put you in danger, right?"

Cater had thrown himself at your feet, holding onto your legs as if he were some abandoned pet seeking shelter from a blizzard. Around his neck was a thick metal collar that extended out to the sides in black and red colors, forming a heart-shape that locked in the front with a golden and black padlock. He was careful not to get in the fire that was dutifully cooking your soup even as he groveled at your feet.

"O-oi! What's the big idea with everyone coming in that door? It's dangerous to leave that thing unlocked."

"That's what I'm saying! So much for protected and safe with that thing in here."

You couldn't help but slightly grin at Grim as he voiced your own concerns out loud. Lilia simply regarded the door, snapping his fingers to close it as a large metal bolt affixed itself to the door before clicking into place.

"There. Now it can't be thrown open anymore. But why is Cater here? Cater, when did Riddle collar you and why?"

Cater seemed to realize there were others standing around you as he suddenly straightened up, clearing his throat and taking several steps back from you. He tried to play off the desperate display he had just shown and was failing miserably. Cater looked much worse for wear than you remembered him being and you genuinely began to hope the Unicorn hadn't actually harmed the ditzy redhead.

"Well... I may have 'accidentally' posted a picture that told everyone that (Y/n) was a Human and was on NRC grounds, but I totes didn't realize it would put her in danger! Honestly!"

Lilia's bemused smile almost instantly fell away into a glare as he regarded the man standing by your side. You added a bit of salt to the soup as you waited, watching the thick broth bubble and roil with vegetables and diced meat. There were a lot of things you could do in that moment, but something told you it was best to let Lilia handle this situation.

"And what did you think was going to happen, Cater?"

"Tbh, I thought that I would just get a follower count boost and everything would be fine. The Headmage and Riddle sure made it clear I was wrong for thinking that. Lessons learned!"

"It only cost us the safety of the last Human left in Twisted Wonderland."

"I said I was sorry!"

Everyone except Cater seemed to be exceptionally upset as they all glared at him, making him duck behind you as if you were the best shield from their rage. You just let the tall student try and fail to escape the ire of the others. For once, a polite knock came at the kitchen door, breaking off the aggressive stare down taking place.

"Hey, why are we here, Azul?"

An almost sing-song voice hummed from somewhere on the other side of the door, prompting Jade to walk over and open the door for who you assumed to be the two he was talking about. In strode a rather lovely looking man with snow-white hair and shining mauve blue eyes hidden behind thin framed glasses. Around his face were lovely and intricate black markings that reminded you quite a bit of the tentacles of an octopus. Behind him lumbered a rather tall man who almost looked identical to Jade if not for the swapped eye color and slight difference in height.

"We're here because Jade told me there is a profitable venture to be had and I am not going to miss out on this chance to make the Human's acquaintance, Floyd."

The shorter one hummed in a smooth voice and you almost giggled at the rather fact-of-the-matter tone that the white haired one spoke with. You felt it was safe to assume the rather lovely man was Azul and the near identical to Jade fish-man walking with him was Floyd.

Floyd almost made a show of sniffing the air, following his nose to where you stood in front of the pot of soup, watching him curiously. Once his gaze fell on you a wide grin overtook the slight frown he had been pouting with. You could see the way his eyes trailed over your figure due to the bright yellow of his right eye highlighting his pupil as it darted up and down.

"Ne ne, what is such a cute little Shrimpy doing this far above the water? You're so small I just want to squeeze ya."

He took a single step towards you and this seemed to be enough for the two- Silver and Sebek- to suddenly intercept him with swords drawn, creating an 'X' that blocked the tall Merman from approaching further. It was more than a little surprising to see weapons suddenly drawn, but maybe you shouldn't be all that surprised. Lilia did say he came over to guard you again and even brought the others for the same purpose.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt them, I just want a little feel on if Shrimpy is as soft as they look!"

"Floyd, that's enough. She was polite enough to allow me to invite you and Azul over and she is quite the rare specimen, you can't threaten her so casually and expect those guarding her to not be upset."

"I didn't threaten, I just said I wanted a big ol' squeeze."

"Same difference where you are concerned."

"Eh, you're so boring sometimes, Jade. Anyway, what is Shrimpy making over there? Smells good~!"

You were stunned at the almost aggressive behavior from Floyd given how calm and level headed Jade had been thus far. Maybe it was just a quirk of Floyd's to be a little more hands on than others. It honestly made you glad to know your self-appointed guards took their task seriously as they still refused to let the large Merman near you. Speaking of your guards, Floyd didn't seem put off by their aggression in the slightest and almost seemed amused by them as if it were all one big game.

Tension was thick in the air as the almost aloof Floyd smiled at you, watching you grab several bowls and begin ladling out ten total servings. You were not really all that surprised when there was still more soup to go even after you filled enough bowls for yourself and the ever increasing number of guests.

Maybe you were right to make so much after all. Hopefully your surprise guests had all shown-

"Why is the door locked? Hey, Human, I smell food in there! I already ate all the Dandelions from this morning! Can I have some of whatever you're making? Please? I'm starving out here."

Peaking through the windows to the kitchen was a familiar grizzled muzzle of the Gnoll you had met that morning. Ruggie was staring with those unsettling bright blue eyes and you were unsure if you wanted to laugh or scream. You scolded yourself in the back of your mind, remembering that animals would often return to places if they were given food prior and no doubt the Hyena man sought to do the same.

"Should I let him in, (Y/n)?"

Lilia asked, eyeing the lock on the door as Ruggie began to loudly whine and cackle for attention. You just sighed and nodded, knowing the Hyena wasn't going to leave now that he knew there was food ready and waiting just inside.

"May as well."

The Gnoll was quick to enter once the door opened and he happily grabbed one of the ten bowls, immediately scarfing down the soup without even glancing at the now large group of men standing in your kitchen. You didn't bother offering a spoon to Ruggie as it was clear he didn't need or want one. Despite the odd group that had gathered under your roof- technically it was the school's roof, but now wasn't the time for semantics- they all seemed keen to dig in when you passed out the bowls.

Getting yourself a bowl- seeing as Ruggie had taken one of the ten- you were able to finally take in the meal of your labors. It wasn't half bad and those button mushrooms added just the right earthy flavor that really brought the soup together. All of your visitors clearly liked the soup as well and Grim was the first to ask for seconds.

"Miss (Y/n)! This is a fantastic meal! I don't think I've had such flavors in anything I've eaten before! I would only think a meal from my liege could possibly taste better!"

"Sebek," the white haired one interrupted the shouting one, "you don't need to yell at her."

"I'm talking at an adequate volume, Silver. You dare say this meal isn't divine?"

"That's not what I said at all."

Lilia giggled as the two odd characters argued, hopping off the counter to serve himself another helping of the plentiful soup. Despite the absolute lack of respect for your personal space they all seemed to share, you couldn't help but smile as well. The many men you had met were odd and so unique in many ways but none of them actually seemed all that bad once they relaxed and got talking.

Maybe these monsters weren't as monstrous as you thought when you first met them. Hopefully their worries of poachers would just prove to be worries, but you knew you weren't truly safe yet and anyone could be a threat if they genuinely wanted to be. You just hoped there wasn't another shoe waiting to drop on your peaceful evening.

~•§•~

"Trey?"

"Yes, Riddle?"

"Invite (Y/n) to tomorrow's Unbirthday party. It has become rather clear to me that no one can look after her the way the Queen demands, so I will step up and take on that task."

"Riddle..."

"She will be safe with me, I will do whatever it takes to ensure it."

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #my monster au #twst monster au #Humans Are Extinct TWST AU

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sutorus · 2 years ago

Text

OFF TO THE RACES

DESCRIPTION: toji takes you to bet on one of his races.

PAIRING: toji x reader

WC: 1.9k

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, afab terms, age gap, implied free use, heavy implied dubcon, in public, fingering (f! receiving), come eating (f!), crying, pet names (babydoll, honey, s!ut), heavy objectification

A/N: yes i grew up on ldr i love my (((strictly fictional))) old men sue me!

“you better start praying number four catches up soon, babydoll,” he whispers into your ear, snaking a hand around your waist.

a chill runs down your spine and your body rattles violently in response.

he had told you to dress up today.

how naive you were, thinking he’d just said that because it was a nice date, because the type of people that enjoy horse races don’t usually wear flip flops or show their midriffs.

if only you had known.

you’re trying to hide it, but you’re nervous.

you can’t help it, constantly sneaking sideway glances at the two imposing men who have been staring at you this entire time.

it would be an unbelievable situation, if it wasn’t toji. not for the first time, you wonder why you ever got involved with him.

the lip scar should’ve been enough of a warning. the intentionally vague answer he gave about his job should’ve been enough, the decades — plural — that separated you two should’ve been enough.

but he was a smooth talker. and he was good looking. and he made you feel safe, mostly because, well… who could be more dangerous than him?

that feeling has never been more prevalent to you than it is right now.

toji’s gaze follows yours, his fingertips sneaking under your skirt just barely.

“don’t look so spooked,” he instructs, and you swallow around the lump in your throat. toji laughs low, letting his head loll sideways on top of yours. “you scared of dick or somethin’?”

you hate this. you hate this so much. you hate the way your body’s responding to it the most.

the heat in your gut spreads all the way up to your cheeks, and you stop yourself from soothing your burning face with the back of your hands.

he’d told you not to draw too much attention. not to make any sudden movements. you thought it was because — you thought, you thought, you thought. but you were wrong.

you can’t decide if you can even blame yourself for that.

you knew toji was running out of money. you knew he was involved with some shady people.

but when in your wildest dreams could you have imagined he was planning on using you as a betting chip?

the disapproving click of his tongue pulls you from your thoughts, and your eyes lock dreadfully on horse number four.

it’s falling behind, number six stealing third place from it.

the heat inside you spreads further.

“if it’s any consolation,” toji says, conversationally. “i don’t think they’ll be too mean to ya.”

it reminds you of a nature documentary you watched, once. the gazelle, trying to act nonchalant, looking for an escape route, when faced with a pride of lions. a dangerous dance. and everybody knows who’s got the upper hand, there.

“not meaner than i am, at least,” he adds.

your shut your eyes tightly.

you haven’t even dared to look at them properly, at toji’s sponsors or loan sharks or whatever the hell they are.

you want to scream at him, at how embarrassing it is that they’re younger than him and richer than him, having fun at both of your expenses.

you realize suddenly that they’re not even here to watch the race. this place probably doesn't entertain them anymore, more of a chore than anything else.

they’re here to watch you, sweating and fidgeting on your seat with the knowledge that your body was theirs if the damn horse didn’t win.

a one in eight change.

god, you hoped it was toji’s lucky day.

you catch a glimpse of a wild, tall figure to the left of you, swaying in gleeful laughter as the horse falls to fifth place.

“let’s go home,” you grip the hand that’s resting on your leg in a last ditch effort.

it’s useless, of course.

toji’s jaw is tensed, every muscle tight in anger.

he doesn’t want this, either. he doesn’t like sharing you.

but then again, he doesn’t really care about you, does he? cares more about his money, at least.

your breathing starts to pick up, legs shaking in anticipation. in a way, you just want this to be over.

you’re so caught up in your dread that you don’t even notice toji’s fingers crawling up your thigh until his knuckles are grazing your clothed pussy.

your body immediately seizes up, your straightened spine glued to the back of your chair.

he gives a low, mean chuckle when he feels how wet you are.

toji rubs you there almost soothingly, and tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

your fists are clenched tightly on your lap, legs squeezing together in an attempt to — what? you don’t know.

stop him? encourage him? it doesn’t feel like it matters anymore.

toji shifts in his seat to face you, slipping the pads of his fingers into your panties. you huff, only able to watch the movement of his hand underneath your skirt.

he rubs lazy circles on your clit, eyes on your face and showing no emotion at all.

no remorse at all.

it feels good. it feels good and you hate that it does, that it feels good with him, that he can get you like this anytime, anywhere.

you bite down on your bottom lip when two fingers slide down, just teasing your entrance, gliding over your pussy.

your chest burns from the inside out with uneven breaths, and defeatedly, willingly, you spread your legs just a little bit.

you’re not watching the race anymore and you think that’s for the better. you focus only on toji’s veiny forearms as the muscles there work over and over with every stroke of his fingers.

someone clears their throat loudly and your legs kick out in shock.

an initial wave of panic washes over you but then you’re glad.

surely getting caught fingering your girlfriend at a horse race would get you kicked out, right? and then the deal is over, right? and then you won’t have to—

before you can even vocalize your thoughts, toji’s rolling his eyes and, with a sigh, settling back on his seat to face the race.

but his fingers don’t leave you.

no, he continues pumping them lazily in and out of you, thumb pressing down on your clit and rubbing little circles.

and that’s when you realize the sound had come from the left of you. from the men. not a horrified gasp, a dignified warning, no.

if anything, an entitled demand that toji stops blocking their view of you.

you wish you could cry right now.

instead, you tuck your chin into your chest as toji speeds up his movements, going a little faster, a little meaner. you swallow your wails, thighs shaking.

those men, they don’t look like they kill. they probably get other people to do that for them. you haven’t gathered a lot from your stolen glances but that much you’re sure of.

you know you’ll return home to toji. despite everything, you’ll run back to his arms, for better or for worse.

“you likin’ this?” he’s asking, like he doesn’t know the answer. “y’like that i bet your slutty little cunt on that rank, good for nothing horse?”

you let out a sob, chest lurching. he pumps his fingers in and out of you at just the right pace, hitting just the right patches despite how hard you’re squeezing around him.

“please…” you mewl, not sure what you’re asking for.

his thumb is relentless on your clit, rubbing it over and over again. your hips buck on their own, wanting more, more friction, more filling, more.

“you’ll get more soon, whore,” toji spits out like he can read your mind. there’s no point in hiding how much you’re enjoying this, being in public, being eyed hungrily like a prize, when toji knows your body so well.

it feels almost like he’s prepping you, physically and mentally, for what’s to come, and it makes you weep harder.

when a wave of astonished cheers break out in unison, it sounds miles away to you. all you can is the blood rushing inside your ears, toji’s huffed out breaths, the crinkle of bills being passed around from one hand to another.

you’re slow to notice the commotion is due to horse number four miraculously catching up, coming in at number two now.

dangerously close to first place.

it’s a rush, all at once, when toji turns your head to kiss you.

you come undone on his fingers, right then and there, whining crazed moans into his mouth. he groans when your cunt clenches, fluttering around his fingers as the last waves of your orgasm hit you.

if you focus hard enough, you can hear the shlick of his fingers lazily helping you ride out your high. you can’t help it but to let your head fall on his chest.

when toji pulls his fingers out of you, there are webs of slick in between them. you feel almost embarrassed, even more so when he brings them up to your mouth quickly, pushing in between your lips with ease.

you suck efficiently to clean him up and toji hums in approval, petting your hair.

there’s an instant where you two look in each other’s eyes and that’s all there is, your fucked out brain forgetting everything except for his touch.

“ahh,” then a merry voice breaks you out of your trance, its owner casting a shadow over both your bodies as he stands in front of you. “i hate to ruin the moment, really, but…”

the man points his thumb over his shoulder.

the race is over.

horse number four came in at fourth place.

how fitting.

his partner approaches and there’s no denying it, they’re extremely attractive. individually, yes, but maybe even more so together, side by side, looking like opposites who came together due to being... likeminded.

but still. are they really going to—

“collect,” the other one says, sternly, with his hands up like he’s a good guy. “satoru. we’re just here to collect. no need to rub salt in the wound.”

toji chuckles, but you catch the way his shoulders tense.

“hey, a deal’s a deal. but no wounds here,” he looks at you briefly before squinting up at them. “doubt you two kids can do half the damage.”

that i can is left unsaid. you fight hard to keep the horrified look off your face.

toji was already pimping you out to these random men, essentially. did he have to provoke them, too?

you resent the fact that the dread in the pit of your stomach isn’t big enough to push away the arousal growing next to it.

there’s another reason why you and toji fit so well together, after all.

the taller one — satoru — laughs, and this one’s genuine.

he reaches out tentatively, as if he were petting a stray cat, and twirls a piece of your hair around his finger.

toji looks at him in understanding, in agreement.

when he doesn’t react any further, satoru’s finger trails down to your lips, still glistening wet. he traces them, jutting his own out in a pout.

“she better be worth every penny you cost us, zen’in.”

toji smirks.

you notice the other man, the one with black hair and a bun, is hard in his tailored slacks.

you swallow down the last of your sobs.

“oh, she is," toji's hand gives your thigh a departing tap. "i might have shit taste in horses but i know how to pick my sluts."

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beenbaanbuun · 1 year ago

Text

country boy w/ mingi

thinking thoughts about country boy mingi who talks to you in a southern drawl as he leans his upper body on the bonnet of his truck. he’s so shameless with the way he looks you up and down, and you really don’t mind at all. in fact, you almost wish you could swap places with that stupid toothpick he keeps dangling from his pretty lips.

“don’t you think you ought to be getting home, doll?” he croons at you as you push yourself up to sit on the hood. the way your thighs spread against the red metal makes him salivate, but he’s a strong man. he can control himself, “i don’t think your daddy is my biggest fan; he wouldn’t appreciate you hanging around someone like me after sunset.”

as much as you hate to admit it, mingi is right; something about the farm boy from the neighbouring ranch just didn’t sit right with your daddy. maybe it’s his cocky way of speaking, or the rumours that get passed around town by all the pretty buckle bunnies who had their turn with him. the cowboy had built quite a reputation for himself, over the years. he likes to fuck and chuck; he’d rarely beds the same girl twice, and never more than three times. those brief encounters seem to be enough for most of the women you come across in the local bars—they do nothing but rave about how nonchalant and uncaring the cowboy is in bed. apparently, the way he fucks them hard and rough makes him all the more attractive.

yet he was never anything but soft with you. soft smiles, soft words, soft touches. just soft. if only your daddy could see the way he grins at you as he pulls the hat from his head and settles it atop yours, or the way his lithe fingers tighten the string around your chin to secure the hat in place. the deep chuckle that leaves him as the brim falls over your eyes goes straight to your chest, your heart beating unhealthily quick.

“my daddy doesn’t control me,” you push the brim up so you can see his pretty face. his skin is gorgeously tan from all those hours he spends in the field with his boss’s horses. you often watch him from your window, sketchbook in hand as you messily draw him over and over. he doesn’t look quite as good in graphite as he does through the glass of your bedroom window. seeing him like this, so close that you could touch him, is even better, “and i’m not ready to go home yet. besides, didn’t you promise me a ride on mr campbell’s prize pony?

he smiles and it shines brighter than the sun that’s taking its time in sinking below the horizon. his laugh puts the sound of morning birds to shame. his skin is smoother than your daddy’s whiskey, and his eyes sharper than his switchblade. nothing compares to him, you figure as you gaze into his deep hazelnut eyes; you could watch him and never hunger for anything else. you’d be sustained for life.

“sure i did, doll,” he takes the toothpick out and flicks it to the ground. you watch as it lands in the dirt by his dusty leather boots before letting your eyes drag themselves back up his body to reach his eyes. every part of him is just as pretty as the next and you find that the more you stare, the more you want to have him, “but it’s getting to be dark soon, and like i said, your daddy doesn’t approve of me. i’m not quite good enough for his little princess, am i?”

“i think you’re good enough for me,” you blurt out, heat immediately rising to your face as you take in what you’ve just said. humiliating yourself in front of the man you’ve been dreaming about for years is never good, especially not when you see the man almost every day. you look to the floor, cursing yourself as you hear mingi hum in amusement. it’s not for long, though. he catches your chin on one long finger, drawing your eyes back up to his.

“i’m sure you do, doll,” his voice is teasing, as is his lopsided grin. it sends a shiver down your spine as he taunts you, “precious little thing, thinking i don’t see the way you stare at me from your window. i see the hearts in your eyes, y’know. the way they turn green whenever you see me with one of those towny girls. it's cute; you’re cute.”

a huge hand comes to rest on your exposed thigh. you freeze in place, eyes on his, heart in your mouth. then his other hand meets with your other thigh and without any resistance from you, he parts them just enough to shuffle his body between them. you swallow down the knot in your throat as he invades your personal space.

“part of me wants to agree with your daddy; you’re too good for me, doll. you deserve someone better,” his face is too close to yours. you’re holding your breath as if you might blow him away if you were to exhale. his own fans across your face, the scent of mint and menthol filling your senses. suddenly, it’s your favourite smell in the world, “but then again, i tend to be possessive over things i consider to be mine… and i don’t think i could bear it if i were to see my doll hanging off another man’s arm, hm?”

he whispers that last bit, the slow drawl of his accent echoing through your brain, turning your thoughts to mush. you’re sure he can see the effect he’s having on you; the shallow rise and fall of your chest, your swollen lip from where your teeth continuously tug against it, your glazed-over, thoughtless eyes. you’re also sure that it’s only serving to encourage him.

still, even if mingi currently has your legs in a gelatinous state and your heart ticking like a time bomb, your daddy didn’t raise a pushover. a princess, yes, but never a pushover. one of your (extremely shaky) hands finds its way to his chest, pushing at the linen-clad muscles ever-so-gently until he stumbles just a few inches back. despite your eyes not being able to find his face, you know you can do this.

“well, what about you?” your voice is feeble. you clear your throat in the hopes of making it stronger, “you think i like watching you flirt with other women? to hear all those nasty stories about what goes down in the bed of your truck?” the more you talk, the more your courage builds. you look him in the eye, only to see he’s still smirking. that beautiful, infuriating smirk, “you’re not the only possessive one, mingi. if i’m yours, you’re mine—”

the next few seconds happen in a flash, but you can pick out three key events. first, he bullies his way between your thighs again, pushing them wide and pulling you close until his pelvis is flush against yours. then, with a determined hand, he rips the hat away from your head, slamming it down onto the hood of his truck and making you jump. there’s almost no time between that and the final event, though, as before you can say a single thing more, a pair of determined lips find your own.

they’re hot as they trap you in a kiss, moving quickly and sloppily against your own. he’s quick to take charge, fingers pressing deep into the flesh of your thighs as he moves his lips against yours. it’s like he’s been waiting for this for years, and now that he’s finally got it, he’s not willing to let it go. desperate, and hard and fast, it makes your head spin in the most delicious way. so much so, in fact, that you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck to act as some sort of stability as you melt into his touch.

he pulls away for mere seconds, just enough for you to catch your breath, before diving in for more. this time, he leads with his tongue, bullying his way into your mouth as soon as his lips are on yours again. there’s no fight for dominance, the both of you already knowing that he’s the one in charge of this whole ordeal. you just let yourself sink into it, enjoying every second of him devouring your mouth.

all you can hear is moans mixed with the sound of lips smacking against lips. you can’t tell where your moans finish and his start, but perhaps it just goes to show how in sync the two of you really are.

he finally pulls away again, for good this time, and a heavy sigh falls from his lips, “i’ve always been yours, doll,” his wet lips meet your neck, and you tip your head back as a moan tumbles from your parted lips, “from the moment i met you, i was yours.”

“what about—”

“gossip spreads in a small town like this,” he cuts you off, “not everything you hear is true. you have a one-night stand to get over a girl once and suddenly you’ve slept your way through the whole town. honestly, i’m kind of glad the story focuses on how good i am in bed and not on the way i cried about you after i came…”

you can’t stifle the giggle that bubbles from your throat as he nuzzles against your neck.

“you cried about me?” you laugh.

“multiple times, doll,” he confirms, “what can i say, i’m a softie at heart.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez fic #mingi x reader #mingi fluff #mingi fanfic

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minette-darling · 4 months ago

Text

Not Just a Name

in celebration of waves of ithaca reaching 10k reads on wattpad

art used: mine! :DD

dividers by: @thecutestgrotto

Ithaca shimmered beneath a rare golden sky. The sea lay still, the wind carried warmth, and for a brief moment, the weight of worry lifted from the island’s shoulders. Banners unfurled from every archway, dyed in deep ocean blues and the burnished orange of fading embers—hues steeped in history and hard-won glory.

It began as a celebration meant to welcome those returning from Troy: fires lit along the shore, songs rehearsed on wind-chapped lips, hearths prepared for the weary. But not all found their way home. In time, the festivity changed. What once was waiting became remembrance; what once was hope, now reverence.

Now, the day belongs to heroes—no matter their legend, their legacy, or whether they still draw breath.

Y/N stood in her room, one hand resting on the windowsill, watching as Ithaca readied itself. The courtyard below bustled with movement—flowers being strung into garlands, linen banners raised along sun-bleached stone walls, a slow rhythm of drums marking the start of remembrance.

The sea breeze tugged at the edges of the curtains, carrying with it the scent of salt and thyme. She stayed quiet, letting it wash over her.

Something shifted in the corner of her eye. There, draped on the old chest beside her bed, was her grandmother’s shawl. The dye had long faded from deep ocean blue to a soft, smoky azure, and the fabric smelled faintly of lavender, though it hadn’t been worn in years.

Her feet carried her to it before she could think. She lifted it gently and wrapped it around her shoulders, the weave snug and warm like an embrace across time.

The door creaked open.

“You’re not ready,” came Penelope’s voice, fond but unimpressed.

Y/N turned slightly, an eyebrow raised. “I am, actually.”

Penelope stepped in, graceful as ever. She paused, then smiled at the soft blue shawl. “Your grandmother would’ve liked that,” she said, brushing a bit of lint from Y/N’s shoulder. “It always suited you better than red.”

She reached up, starting to fix Y/N’s hair with deft, familiar fingers. “Honestly, you’ve had servants dressing you for years, and still—nothing beats a mother’s touch.”

Y/N said nothing, but didn’t pull away. The quiet gesture said enough.

Later, as they passed through the hall, Penelope reached up to adjust the laurel wreath slipping sideways on Telemachus’s head. He huffed out a long-suffering sigh.

“I’m not a boy anymore,” he muttered.

“No,” Penelope agreed, her voice warm. “You’re taller and older—but still can’t figure out how to wear a laurel without it tilting.”

Y/N smirked, and Penelope glanced between the two of them. “At least you still match,” she added. “Same earrings. And those braids—you always had to have them the same.”

“They look better on me,” Y/N said, voice dry as dust.

Penelope laughed, and even Telemachus cracked a reluctant smile.

The moment lingered, warm and light, like a breath before ceremony.

“You’re both grown,” Penelope said softly, her hand lingering just a heartbeat longer on each of them. “But you’ll always be my children. That’s one of the things no war, god, or time will ever take from me.”

The palace gates opened to the public square, already filled with people. Dancers spun in spirals, their anklets ringing in rhythm. Merchants handed out fresh figs and olives to passing children. The smell of roasted lamb and honeycakes filled the air. Laughter echoed alongside the bards' first verses.

Bards and poets took turns in the circle, their voices rising with pride and passion. Names were sung—Achilles, Hector, Ajax, Odysseus—each legend a chorus passed down. Odysseus, king of Ithaca, master of guile, man of the horse. The Trojan Horse tale was recounted like a mythic hymn, the war that made men into stories.

Penelope’s face tightened. She didn’t look away, but her fingers curled into her palms, an instinctual defense. Y/N’s gaze shifted to her mother, and for a moment, she saw her as she had been years ago—fragile, holding pieces of herself together.

Without turning her head, Y/N said in a low, dry voice, “At this rate, they’ll say he was born from Zeus’s knee and weaned on ambrosia.”

Penelope’s lips twitched. It was a subtle thing, barely a motion—but it was enough. A breath of quiet amusement broke through her tension, her shoulders easing just slightly.

Telemachus, beside them, chuckled under his breath. “Careful. Say that too loud and someone will put it in a song.”

Y/N arched a brow. “Let them. I look forward to hearing about how he tamed Cerberus in his spare time.”

They sat together, quietly watching as the crowd cheered the stories.

But the crowd, ever eager, moved on. And so too did their praises.

“Odysseus’s daughter,” someone declared mid-recital. “A sailor, they say. Bold as her father. Though far too stormy, some whisper.”

Another laughed, “Or perhaps just desperate to be remembered. Can’t hold a candle to her father’s cunning.”

The suitors nearby sneered. Antinous clapped mockingly as another added, “She thinks herself Poseidon’s chosen. But what is a wave to a storm like Troy?”

The words stung like brine in a fresh wound. Y/N stood stiff, eyes glazed. Her jaw clenched. Was this how the world saw her? Was this all that would remain when her sails stopped catching wind?

Behind the crowd, older sailors and grizzled merchants murmured. “They don’t know her,” one said. “She’s navigated waters half those boys couldn't name.”

“Aye,” said another. “Saw her reroute a storm without blinking. They only speak of what they think a hero should be.”

Then, a new voice entered the bard’s circle—a traveler, face half-shadowed, steps so light it seemed he walked on air. No one noticed where he’d come from, only that suddenly, he was there.

He flipped a small coin between his fingers, smooth and practiced. It caught the firelight—a flash of gold. Y/N blinked once. She knew that coin. It had been hers.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

“They speak loudest of what they understand least,” he said. “They recite names and victories, as if legacy were louder than truth. But I’ve seen a different kind of strength—one that doesn’t ask for attention.”

He stepped into the firelight, still toying with the coin.

“She is not her father’s shadow. She is the lantern lit in the wake of his passing. She doesn’t echo—she endures.”

Each word landed softly, like something sacred.

“Most never notice the kind of hero who stays after the storm, who cleans the deck in silence, who steadies hands that aren’t her own. They think loudness makes a story true. But there’s courage in the quiet. In kindness when it’s easier not to be. In keeping promises no one asked her to make.”

The coin shimmered again. His gaze flicked toward Y/N—unreadable.

“She bears loneliness like others wield swords. Wears it light, so no one else has to feel its weight. That’s a strength bards forget to sing about. But I see it.”

A hush had fallen. Even the fire burned gentler.

“She’s walked through rooms that never learned how to hold her. Laughed where no laughter was meant. Learned how to leave before she was dismissed. People like her aren’t remembered in statues. But they’re the reason others survive.”

Then softer—just for her:

“She moves like a storm at sea—not sent by gods, not summoned by fate. Just wind, and grit, and the knowing she was never meant to stay still.”

The coin spun once more. “Little storm,” he murmured.

No lightning split the sky. No wave crashed. But the wind stirred.

Not to mark divinity—but to echo something quieter. A girl who sailed both with and against the tide. Who shaped her blessing not into a crown, but a compass. Her strength was never what she carried—it was how she moved forward.

He lingered a moment, then turned to go, his step as quiet as his arrival.

Just before the dark swallowed him, he glanced back.

The coin gleamed between his fingers—a lazy twirl, half a wave.

Their eyes met. Mischief, yes—but beneath it, something gentler. Deeper. An understanding.

That he saw how fiercely she fought—not with force, but with fire. That he admired how she carried loneliness—not as a wound, but as unsharpened armor. That her refusal to bow to any god, even him, made her radiant.

That she trusted him—not blindly, but deliberately. And that trust meant more than awe ever could.

That she challenged him—not with defiance, but with presence. That maybe, for the first time in his immortal life, he didn’t want to win.

Because she didn’t just impress him.

She moved him.

And for a god who had walked through centuries of hollow praise, that was the rarest thing of all.

Her breath caught.

And for the first time all evening, her jaw loosened. Not in surrender—but in recognition.

The royal family sat on their platform, silent observers. Until Telemachus stood. A hush fell.

He walked to the center, unsure but steady. People stared. It had been years—perhaps decades—since anyone from the royal family had taken part in the performances. And now, Telemachus would be the first.

He cleared his throat, then spoke:

“I’ve never met Odysseus,” he said. “Not truly. I’ve heard his name more than I’ve heard his voice. I’ve grown up with stories—of his cunning, his bravery, his victories. But that’s all I’ve known. Stories.”

He paused. “But standing here, I realize… I’ve grown up alongside two people far greater than any tale.”

He turned toward the raised platform, where Penelope and Y/N stood together.

"My mother—she is the reason Ithaca still breathes. While others raised swords, she raised a kingdom. She has held this palace together through nearly twenty years of doubt and silence. She protected my future when the rest of the world tried to take it from us. People call her patient. They forget that patience is not passive—it’s power. Every day she chose to believe in something greater, and that belief kept this island from falling apart.”

Penelope looked away, tears threatening, but Y/N nudged her gently with her elbow, as if to say take the praise, mother. Penelope gave a half-laugh through her emotion.

"And my sister,” Telemachus continued, “is the fiercest soul I know. Not because she’s my sister, but because she’s dared to live boldly while carrying a name too heavy for anyone. She’s fought storms, led fleets, outwitted traders and nobles alike. But more than that—she’s shown me that being a hero isn’t about being remembered. It’s about showing up, again and again, even when no one sings about it.”

“She was my shield when I didn’t know how to hold one. She made sure I survived long enough to learn how to stand on my own. And whether the world remembers her or not—I do.”

He took a breath, words slow and deliberate now:

“So no, I don’t know Odysseus. I know Penelope. And I know Y/N. And if the stories forget them—then the stories are wrong.”

Silence followed. For a heartbeat, the entire square stilled. Then, slowly, applause began—not wild or performative, but genuine. Like rain falling gently on parched earth.

Penelope turned to Y/N and gripped her hand. “You both make me proud,” she said, voice tight. “You carry pieces of him, but… you are yourselves.”

As the festivities dimmed with dusk, Y/N wandered. She found herself near the quieter corners of the city. Lamps flickered. Music softened.

She turned a corner and collided gently into a man.

He smiled. Eyes the color of shadowed olive branches. Hair tied back. Simple robes, but not plain. There was something about him—something sun-warmed, and yet hidden in half-light.

“My apologies,” he said. “I tend to walk where stories linger.”

Y/N tilted her head. There was something in the way he spoke.

“And yours,” he continued, “is one I’ve watched from afar. A tale still being written.”

She studied him. “You speak like a poet.”

“Only when moved,” he answered with a soft smile. Then, more softly: “You don’t shine like others,” he said.

She glanced at him, uncertain if it was meant as praise or something else.

He didn’t smile, but his voice held something soft. “You glow like twilight. The kind that lingers. The kind sailors look for when they’re lost.”

“Twilight?” she asked, caught off guard by the image.

His gaze flicked over her—not possessive, not even admiring, but quiet. As if he were watching the last light before night and trying to remember its shape.

“That’s what you are.”

The words hung between them, gentle as breath.

She tilted her head. “Why?”

He looked at her then—really looked. And for a moment, the world seemed to still.

He saw the way her fingers curled slightly, always ready to brace for something no one else noticed. He saw how she listened when others spoke, not just to reply, but to understand. How she never interrupted, even when her silence left her underestimated. He saw how she carried grief not like a chain, but like a compass. How she folded her fears into quiet acts of courage—standing when others turned away, holding firm even when no one was watching.

“Because there’s a kind of light that doesn’t shout to be seen. It just… stays. Steady. Familiar. You carry that. You show people the way without asking for thanks. You hold space for others without losing yourself.”

He hesitated, voice gentler now. “Twilight doesn’t try to be day or night. It just is. And somehow, it’s enough. More than enough.”

A pause passed between them like the hush before stars appear.

“You remind people they’re not alone. Even when you feel like you are.”

Y/N didn’t speak. Something in her chest pulled tight—like a string tuned just right. She wasn’t sure what part of her he had seen, only that he had seen it. And hadn’t turned away.

And she didn’t look away either.

He smiled again, gentler this time, almost apologetic. “Forgive me. Sometimes I speak too freely.”

But she didn’t ask him to take it back.

They parted ways slowly, with glances over shoulders.

As night blanketed Ithaca, Y/N stepped into the throne room. The torches were low, flickering gently. She paused before the empty throne—Odysseus’s.

From her pocket, she pulled a small wooden compass. The one she had carved as a child, clumsy but full of hope. She placed it on the seat.

She lingered before the empty throne, the carved compass resting quietly at its center. It looked small there—just wood and memory—but it had been hers, once, and his too, in a way. A thing made of hope.

Suddenly, she was a child again. The throne room, silent and empty then, had been a place of quiet warmth. Odysseus sat beside her, the carving knife in his hand, guiding her small fingers on the piece of wood.

"You don’t need to be perfect," he had said softly, eyes flicking between her and the compass they were shaping together. "Just carve what you need."

She had looked at him, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Like you did with your plans?"

He smiled faintly, as though the thought amused him, and gave her a brief nod. "Exactly. Survive, think ahead. It's not always about strength, but knowing when to bend the rules."

The faintest flicker of memory passed through her. They had worked in silence for a while, carving the compass slowly, shaping it into something useful—imperfect, but strong in its own way.

"Do you think it’ll help me find you?" she had asked softly, eyes wide with hope.

"Not everything needs to be found. Just follow it when you need it," he had answered, his voice steady as always, but there was something in his gaze—something fleeting.

Her fingers brushed the throne’s edge, a quiet gesture, almost reverent.

“To the man who outwitted kings and nearly got away with staying home,” she said softly, a half-smile playing on her lips. “Until someone put my baby brother in front of a plow and ruined the act.”

Her voice held no bitterness—only affection, threaded with something older and fonder.

“You taught me that wit can be a weapon. That survival is its own kind of valor. That there’s more courage in cleverness than most will ever admit.”

She paused, glancing toward the open doors, the sea just barely visible beyond the courtyard.

“To the man who made the sea feel smaller just by promising he’d return.”

The words hung in the air. Y/N’s shoulders lifted slightly, as if to brace herself—but something faltered. Her throat tightened. One tear slipped down, trailing silent and slow along her cheek.

Just one.

She didn’t wipe it away.

“You never wanted to be a legend. Just a man trying to get home.”

Her voice caught on the last word, not enough to break—but enough to show the crack beneath all that strength.

“You’re still late, Father,” she murmured, and then, with a faint, dry smile: “Try not to make us wait another ten years, alright?”

She turned and walked away, leaving the little compass behind—quiet, steady, and facing home.

The halls were hushed now. The laughter of the festival had softened to murmurs and harp strings. Lamps flickered like fireflies along the stone walls as Y/N made her way upward, step by step, shawl gathered loosely around her shoulders. Her throat still ached from holding that one tear in place for so long.

At the top of the stairs, she paused.

Penelope and Telemachus stood by the upper balcony, silhouettes bathed in starlight. The sky above Ithaca stretched endless and dark, scattered with constellations the sailors used, the ones the sailors and merchants had taught her to name long ago.

They didn’t speak when she approached. They only shifted slightly—just enough to make space.

Y/N stepped between them, resting her hands on the cool stone railing. For a while, they said nothing at all. The silence wasn’t heavy; it was shared. Comfortable in its quiet ache.

Then Penelope reached over, wordlessly adjusting the edge of the shawl at Y/N’s shoulder, the same way she used to fix loose braids when Y/N was a child. It was barely a touch, but Y/N leaned into it, eyes still fixed on the sky.

Telemachus exhaled softly beside her, arms crossed, gaze distant. “Do you think he’s looking at the same stars?”

Y/N’s lips curved faintly. “Probably cursing them for not pointing the way home faster.”

Penelope gave a breath of laughter. A quiet, watery sound.

They stood there, the three of them, beneath the open sky—no longer waiting in silence, but remembering together. Not just the man they had lost to the sea, but the parts of him that had stayed behind: a compass, a story, a stubborn spark in each of them.

Far across the sea, beneath those same stars, Odysseus sat beside a low fire on a quiet stretch of foreign shore. His beard was thicker now, salted with time, his hands roughened by years of salt and war. In them, he held a piece of driftwood, carving slowly by firelight.

Scattered beside him were small figures—rough-hewn, each one shaped by memory. Polites, with his easy grin. Eurylochus, sharp-eyed and sharp-tongued, ever questioning, ever cautious. And others—his crew, his brothers-in-arms—each reduced now to worn wood and remembrance.

He had carved them over the years, when silence stretched too long or the guilt pressed too close. He couldn’t save them. But he could remember them.

Tonight, he carved something new.

A woman—steadfast and radiant in her quiet strength. A boy with a lion’s heart. A girl with wind in her eyes and the stubborn look of someone who never let go.

He didn’t know what they looked like now. The years had blurred the lines of their faces. But he remembered how they felt.

The gentle steadiness of Penelope’s presence, like harbor light on a storm-wracked night. The weight of Telemachus asleep against his chest, dreaming without worry. The sharp laughter of his daughter as she tried to best him in riddles, always reaching.

He ran his thumb over the carved faces, rough but real.

There were nights he feared they wouldn’t recognize him. That whatever was left of him—after Troy, after gods, after storms and blood and the sound of screaming men—might not be enough.

That he might come home a stranger.

He placed the new figures—his family—among the old. Not above. Not apart. Together.

A silent promise.

Then he looked up to the stars—steady, distant, unchanged.

And in a voice too low for the sea to steal, he whispered: “I’m still coming. Just… stay who you are. Stay bright for me.”

As if their light could guide him back to the man he used to be.

He leaned back, closed his eyes, and let the fire crackle and pop. The ocean stretched before him, endless and waiting.

Ithaca waited, and so did they.

AN: hi- surprise, i am very sleep deprived rn but here's a lil celebration interlude?? idk words rn🎊

"is this canon to waves of ithaca?" honestly, it's up to you. i just wanted to write some good ol' angst (and hermes and apollo interactions) idk if i succeeded with it being able to stand on its own, but i wanted to explore ideas i honestly scrapped. aaaa i might edit this because i am genuinely sleep deprived, i wrote this while outside as soon as i saw the milestone so it's kinda rushed. i'll upload this later on wattpad(it's 12 am) soo, yeah

i decided not to include Ctimene and Argos because there's enough angst already (i might for future chapters maybe???)

CAN YOU TELL I WAS LOWKEY PROJECTING

#epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #🌊 waves of ithaca #epic apollo #epic hermes #epic telemachus #epic odysseus #epic penelope #x reader #hermes x reader #apollo x reader

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heartbreak-hotel-35 · 1 month ago

Text

Mother’s Day

Elvis Presley x Fem!Reader

I had lived in Graceland for four years. Ever since Lisa Marie was born and Elvis hired me. There was never dull moment looking after his little girl. This job brought so much joy into my life. That and one other thing… Elvis. The past few times he’d been home, it felt… different. What it was? I hadn’t figured out just yet…

A/N: just to lay some context here, Priscilla is completely gone from this. Like, she had Lisa and Elvis and her split. I know that’s not historically accurate, but for the sake of the story, that’s what’s happened. Also, there is an age gap here, reader is 24, while Elvis is 37. 🥰 I hope you love the story!

70s Elvis / 1972

• •—•• •••— •• •••

I laid in the backyard of Graceland, eyes closed and soaking in the afternoon sun. The grass tickled my skin and the cool May breeze blanketed my body. The sounds of birds and cicadas adding to the summery feel of the day.

“Psst.” A tiny voice came from around the corner of Vernon’s office building. But I laid still, not daring to move. “Go get her, Brutus!” Suddenly I felt a large wet nose on my face, sniffing aggressively. I screamed playfully, sitting up and running away with half my power. “She’s still alive! Take her down!” I laughed, running from the large dog, pretending to corner myself against the horses’ fence.

“No, Brutus! No! She’s the bad guy!” I cried, pointing a finger in Lisa’s direction. She stuck her tongue out at me, running from around her swing set. Then Brutus jumped on me with his full weight, causing me to slide down the boards of the fence.

I rolled over onto the grass, playing dead once more, trying to ignore Brutus’ slobbering kisses. I heard Lisa laughing hysterically, her little footsteps approaching quickly. I felt her poke my cheek, checking to see if I was truly dead. I didn’t move, allowing her to celebrate her victory before she jumped on me, nearly knocking the wind from my lungs.

“Let’s do it again!” She shouted, pulling on my arm as I laughed.

“Hang on, Lisa. I need a break.” I pleaded dramatically, flopping around and drawing more laughter from her. “Why don’t we walk down and brush the horses?” I asked, moving to sit up on my knees.

“Yes!” She screeched, jumping into my arms.

“Okay,” I agreed, hoisting her up from the ground. “Let’s go!” I began jogging down to the stables, Lisa giggling the whole way down.

“I thought you said you needed a break.” She pointed out sassily. I slowed down immediately, shaking my head.

“I will never get over how smart you’ve gotten.” I commented, booping her nose with my finger. She shook her head at my touch, her blonde hair whipping around freely.

“Daddy says I’m only getting smarter!” She replied proudly. I readjusted my grip on her as I pulled the barn door open.

“Well, your Daddy is right. And you better not let anyone tell you otherwise.” I told her, giving her a small hug before plopping her down on the ground. “Now who should we brush?”

“Rising Sun!” She cried, jumping up once and pointing toward his stall. I nodded and took her hand, walking her over to the door. We grabbed brushes that were sitting on a nearby stool and opened Rising Sun’s stall. I watched Lisa carefully, reminding her not to walk underneath him. We brushed and brushed, talking about the little things in life. How much she missed her Daddy.

“When is he coming home?” She whined, rubbing her right eye. I peered out of the stall, looking at the clock that hung above the barn door. It was indeed close to her nap time.

“Well, I bet he’ll be home once you wake up from your nap.” I told her. It was true. Elvis was set to be home shortly before dinner time tonight.

“You think?” She asked, holding her arms out to me. I plucked the brush from her hand and lifted her up, resting her on my right hip.

“I do think. I might even know.” I teased, walking out of the stall and locking it behind me. Lisa clapped excitedly and rested her head on my shoulder. I walked up to the house, calling Brutus in alongside us. He trotted up, nudging me in the leg playfully.

“No, not yet sir.” I told him, knowing he was begging for food.

“He’s hungry.” Lisa muttered, almost asleep.

“I know he is, but your Daddy doesn’t want me feeding him until right before we eat.” I explained. She knew this, but she always seemed to forget things when she was sleepy.

“Oh yeah.” She answered. We got inside, the cool air hitting us instantly. I told Brutus to lay down in the kitchen and then headed toward the stairs, taking Lisa up to her room. I walked in and moved to lay her down carefully. She shifted around briefly and I covered her up, grabbing her favorite teddy and laying it next to her. Just as I was leaving, she spoke up.

“Will you put Daddy on?” She asked softly. I stopped and turned to her giving her a small nod.

“Of course.” I replied. I walked over to her little record player that Elvis had given her for Christmas and put on one of his records, dropping the needle and adjusting the volume. Can’t Help Falling in Love began to play, followed by the sound of Lisa’s quiet breathing. I smiled and wrapped my arms around myself, exiting Lisa’s room and quietly closing the door. I listened outside her door a little longer, admiring Elvis’ voice in my own way.

“Alright, shower, then start dinner.” I whispered to myself. I walked downstairs to the bright yellow TV room, my temporary living space until Elvis said otherwise. I grabbed my towel and a change of clothes and walked back up to Elvis’ room, moving to his shower. It never ceased to amaze me how generous he was.

It was certainly uncomfortable at first, using the King’s shower. Just because it felt so foreign. Like I was traveling somewhere I wasn’t supposed to. But after realizing that Elvis was simply Elvis, it became easier. I turned the water on, waiting on it to warm up. As the steam began to rise, so did the lingering smell of his shampoo. Just as it always did. I smiled and stepped in the shower, rinsing off the consequences of today’s play.

Once I was completely washed and rinsed, I turned the water off and scooped up my towel, wrapping it around my body and stepping out. I dried off, avoiding my own gaze in the mirror. Then I dressed, pulling on the corners of my shirt and gazing mindlessly at the steam on the mirror. I reached up, and drew a big heart right over the sink, smiling as I did so.

“Maybe he’ll see it, maybe he won’t.” I said to myself, picking up my towel and dirty clothes from the floor and walking back downstairs. I tossed them onto the floor then walked back upstairs to start making dinner.

—time skip—

I had mine and Lisa’s plated, with an empty third dish nearby in case Elvis made it back. I stood, gazing over the mess I had made, making sure the stove was turned off and nothing was burnt. I held my hands out, as a silent reassurance that everything was set straight. Then I picked up our plates and moved them to the table. Just as I set them down, the front door creaked open, drawing my attention.

Elvis walked in, his presence filling the whole foyer. I smiled over at him as he rolled his large suitcase in, setting it off to the side. Then his eyes landed on me and his own smile appeared. He walked over to me and opened his arms. I dusted my hands on the apron around my waist and walked to him, closing the distance between us. He hugged me close, his embrace swallowing my small figure whole.

“She still sleepin’?” He asked quietly, his left hand resting on the back of my head. I nodded against his chest.

“Mhmm.” I muttered, pulling back from him.

“You smell good.” He complimented, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead.

“Why thank you.” I answered, my cheeks flushing slightly. He smirked, and pulled his sunglasses from his face, eyeing the food. “I’ll fix you a plate if you want to go wake her up.” I noticed I was fidgeting with the edges of the apron. He nodded gratefully and turned to go upstairs. Once he was out of sight, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

This would be my fourth year working at Graceland. My fourth year with Lisa Marie. My fourth year being around Elvis Presley. But I couldn’t figure out why I get so worked up around him. It only began to happen over the last year. Nothing in particular triggered it. Or maybe it was the stolen glances. The hugs that lingered a little too long. Too long for a professional relationship and nothing more.

I shook my head clear of the thought and moved to the kitchen to fix Elvis’ plate. From upstairs, I heard Lisa’s excited squealing and Elvis’ hearty laughter. I giggled to myself, feeling my heart skip a beat. Whenever the two of them reunited, Graceland exploded with pure joy. A joy that was completely infectious. Elvis came downstairs, holding Lisa Marie upside down. I gasped, setting Elvis’ plate down in front of his chair.

“What on Earth?” I asked with a laugh.

“Look, Princess, you were right! Daddy came back!” She squealed, her laughter taking over her words.

Princess. The nickname she’d used for me for the last year. She adopted it from Elvis one night that he’d offered to take us out for dinner. I had gotten very dressed up for the occasion and when I came down the stairs, Elvis looked me up and down and offered me his right hand, his left occupying Lisa’s grip.

“Look at you, Princess.” He had said, voice smooth and low. He spun me in a circle, seemingly showing me off. Ever since then, Lisa had called me Princess.

“He did!” I exclaimed, matching her excitement. Elvis twirled her around carefully, setting her down in her chair.

“Let’s eat!” Elvis said, moving to pull my chair out for me. I sat, pulling the apron from around my waist and draping it over the arm of the chair.

“Thank you.” I said as he walked to his chair. He nodded graciously in response and sat down, laying a napkin in his lap. Just as he picked up his fork, Lisa smacked his hand.

“Daddy, we have to pray first!” She said, pouting slightly. Elvis’ mouth hung open and he nodded in her direction.

“Oh you’re right, Satnin, thank you.” He replied, a smile tugging at his lips. He looked over at me, raising his eyebrows in playful exasperation. I smiled at him and bowed my head, noting the way he held Lisa’s little hand in his. As he prayed, I felt his hand brush my left knee under the table, sending shivers down my spine. I squeezed my hands together as his fingers brushed upward, coming to rest on my thigh. It wasn’t a sexual touch, but rather a tender loving one. One that said, ‘I’m glad you’re here’. Yet, the way my skin burned under his touch, had me chewing on the inside of my cheek.

“Amen!” Lisa’s little voice rang out, pulling me from my daze. Though the prayer had finished, Elvis’ hand remained on my leg, forcing me to look over at him. His eyes were fixed on my face, as though he was reading over me, looking for disapproval. I smirked lightly, letting him know that I was not uncomfortable. He winked and gave my thigh a gentle squeeze before removing his hand and folding them both together, elbows on the table and listening to Lisa tell him about her day.

Those were the little things. I’d lived in this house for four years. I’ve seen lots of house parties and guests. I secretly studied the way Elvis would greet people. The way he’d greet women. Sometimes a side hug. Some, front hugs. A light kiss on the cheek or sometimes fully on the lips. I could never understand what made him decide to greet some a certain way, and others a completely different way.

But what I hadn’t seen, was him staring. Staring like he was mapping out every crease or freckle. Not like he did to me. Was it just because I was taking care of his daughter? Am I overthinking it completely? Or could there be the slightest chance it’s something deeper?

There were no feather-light touches on the women’s lower back as they scooted by him. No getting dangerously close to their faces when he didn’t want anyone else to hear what he was saying. I’d never seen him just place his hand on any girl’s thigh. Never seen him invite a woman to sit in his lap when there was no more sitting room.

But with me, it seemed different. Like I didn’t need any of that to know I was loved or appreciated by him. He thanks me every night that he’s home for taking care of business. His girl. His home. His dogs. That was all I needed. But there was just something about him. Something that sparked anew in me. The want for more. More of what exactly, I didn’t know. But every time I caught his gaze, I began to familiarize myself with the answer.

“Right, Princess?” Lisa said, mouth full of food. I blinked twice, pulling myself back to reality and looking over at the messy faced little girl.

“What’d you say, Hon?” I asked, leaning forward and resting the fronts of my arms against the table.

“When Brutus got you? He got you good, huh?” She asked, her nose scrunching as she smiled. I nodded.

“Oh yeah,” I peered over at Elvis with serious eyes. “Real good.” Elvis chuckled and laid his right hand over his chest.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to save you, M’Lady.” He said dramatically, bowing his head.

“Oh that’s quite alright. Next time perhaps.” I played along, drawing a soft giggle from Lisa. We finished our dinner, continuing to talk about our days. Elvis’ trip sounded as grand as ever. The bright lights, the fast paced travel, the smells of a variety of perfumes he just couldn’t shake. Lisa yawned as he spoke about a calmer point in his trip, a meeting he’d had with the Colonel.

“Tired, Yisa?” Elvis asked, leaning back in his chair. Her eyes fluttered lightly but she still shook her head.

“Nuh uh.” She whined. I stood up and gathered my dirty dishes, moving to grab Elvis’ next. Elvis stood too, walking over beside Lisa’s chair, squatting down and resting his chin on the arm of it. I smiled at the sight, stacking his plate on top of mine and walking into the kitchen. I placed the plates in the sink, and walked back into the dining room to grab Lisa’s dishes. Elvis picked her up and held her close, her head slowly sinking onto his shoulder.

“I’m gonna go put her down.” Elvis whispered, pointing with his free hand toward the stairs.

“Go on.” I whispered back, giving him a soft smile. We parted ways and I went back to the sink, beginning to wash all the dishes as quietly as I could. The ceiling above me creaked, alerting that he was in Lisa’s room and then there was a pause. I listened for a moment, but after a while of silence, I finished washing the dishes and dried off my hands. I made my way back into the dining room to wipe off the table and turn off the lights before I went to get ready for bed.

As I was wiping it down, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. I fought to keep my gaze on the table, my heart rate increasing at the sound alone. Then they stopped. My curiosity got the better of me and I glanced up, seeing Elvis standing in the doorway. His hands were on his hips and his head hung lower than usual. But his eyes were undeniably on my own.

“You alright?” He suddenly asked. Though his voice was low, it still made me jump. His voice always seemed to rip through any silence Graceland had to offer. I wiped across the table a couple more times before answering.

“Yes sir. Why?” I answered innocently. He shrugged almost unnoticeably. I stood up, holding a handful of crumbs from the table.

“You just seem quieter than usual.” He pointed out. I turned my back to him, walking into the kitchen and to the trash can.

“Like just tonight?” I asked, concerned I may have upset him in my newfound silence.

“In general.” Elvis answered shortly. I rubbed my hands together, clearing them of any dinner remnants. I turned again and he was there. Hands still on hips. Presence still enveloping. I could feel my heart in my throat. Had I done something wrong?

“Oh.” I squeaked, picking at my nails.

“Quit that.” Elvis said, nodding his head in the direction of my hands. I immediately stopped and put them behind my back.

“S-sorry.” I said, unsure of what was happening. Was I in trouble? Was he going to fire me?

“You ain’t gotta be sorry.” He said, slowly walking toward me. “You’re grown. You can do what you want.” I began stepping back with every forward step of his.

“Well, but it’s your house. Y-you’re still technically my boss.” I said, keeping my voice light, trying desperately to sound playful and not wholly intimidated. He shook his head, a soft smile pulling on his top lip.

“My statement still stands, Honey.” He said. I felt my lower back push into the edge of the counter, stopping me in my tracks. “What’s goin’ on?” My chest was tight. My mouth hung open, but no words came. This had to be a dream. Elvis stood toe to toe with me, his blue eyes examining my face, reading anything that I let slip.

“I’m not sure.” I said dumbly. I saw his shoulder relax a bit, his left foot inching backwards slightly.

“You still like it here?” He asked, turning his back to me and crossing his arms. I nodded vigorously.

“I love it here, Elvis.” I told him honestly. I heard him exhale and he turned again, his right hand on his mouth. He drug his fingers along his lips before he spoke again.

“Good. We love having you here.” He said softly. We. My heart skipped a beat and it felt like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. I wasn’t in trouble. Now it felt like a check in. A short questionnaire just because he cared. “She really loves you, you know.” My brows furrowed together and I smiled wide, his words nesting themselves inside me, making me feel warm all over.

“I really love her. She’s so much fun.” I told him, pressing my palms into the counter behind me. Elvis smirked and hung his head. He was thinking. On the not too often moments I got to be around him, whenever he stood this way, it was because he was thinking about something very important.

“Are,” I said, my own voice startling me. Elvis looked over and met my eyes, waiting to hear what I had to say. “Are you alright?” The air got thick again. The humming from the orange fluorescent lights hummed louder. The ticking from the sun clock in the living room pounded in my ears. The faint sound of Lisa’s record player drifted down the stairs. It was deafening.

“I don’t know.” He finally said. I tensed up, suddenly feeling like I’d overstepped. But something about him was pulling me to talk. To listen. I took a deep breath and stepped forward, placing my right hand flat on his left bicep.

“First thing that comes to mind?” I offered, quirking an eyebrow. He huffed a laugh and stood to his full height, moving reluctantly away from my touch. My hand hovered a moment as I watched him walk into the little hallway in front of the kitchen.

“Boy, I’m afraid if I tell you that it might be too much.” He answered, running his hand through his dark hair. I smirked, resting my elbows on the counter in front of him.

“For me or for you?” I asked, watching his movements carefully. He shook his head lightly.

“Haven’t figured that out yet.” He answered softly, looking over at me. We stared for a moment, almost like we were waiting for an interruption. But it never came. “You’ve really grown, Princess.” I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. I stood up, backing away from the overhang light under the cabinets. It was a sorry attempt to hide my blush. Elvis approached me again, reached out and gently took my hands in his.

“You know I really appreciate everything you do for me.” He said, his voice just above a whisper. My eyes darted between his, wide with curiosity.

“I- I’m happy to do it, Elvis. Always.” I told him, struggling to keep my voice steady. Could this be it? Is this where he tells me that he’s retired and doesn’t need me anymore? He began to pull on my hands, one at a time, just dancing them back and forth playfully in his calloused grip.

“But I’ve got a problem you might not be able to help with this time.” He told me, letting go of my left hand and twirling me by my right. I smiled, enjoying this confusingly beautiful moment in time.

“I could try.” I answered, moving my feet with the turn. Once I was facing him again, his right hand came to rest on top of my left hip this time. So, I followed his lead, putting my left hand on his right shoulder and gazing up at him.

“I’m in love.” He said, lowering his head toward mine. I was drowning in him. His warmth. His words. Him. Just him.

“Oh?” I asked, pushing my hand down his back. He leaned closer, his left hand brushing down my right arm, coming to rest on the small of my back. His eyes never left mine. I moved my right hand to interlock with my left on the back of his neck, holding him as close as he’d allow me.

“Mhm.” He hummed, tilting his head to the side and pressing his lips to mine in a quick, searing kiss. My eyes fluttered closed. Elvis pulled me into him, holding me like I was his lifeline.

“Deeply.” He muttered, kissing me again. Then he tilted his head to the other side. “Truly.” Again. Another tilt. “Madly.” Another kiss. “In love.” Punctuating his confession with a series of passionate kisses, he held me. I held him. Elvis was all I could feel. The way his hands roamed my back. His hair soft between my fingers. The brief flutter of his eyelashes against my cheek. The warmth of his lips.

We pulled apart, hearts pounding and chests heaving. So much said but nothing spoken. Elvis looked down at me, a smile on his lips, pink and puffy with passion. I felt flushed, goosebumps rising wherever he touched. I cupped his cheek with my right hand, staring over at my wrist.

“You’re right.” I said softly. “I don’t know if I will be able to help with that problem.” Elvis kissed my palm and wrapped his hand around my wrist, pulling it back to rest on his neck again.

“You sure?” He asked, planting another kiss on my lips.

“Mm, pretty sure.” I muttered playfully. He kissed me again.

“‘S a shame.” Elvis said, loosening his grip on me just barely. He looked totally love drunk. I am sure I look no different.

“Sorry, Honey.” I said, brushing his hair from his forehead. His eyes danced around my face, gazing at me like I was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“Took me a year to fall in love.” He suddenly said, running his hands back and forth across my lower back. “But three to tell you.” He said, sounding upset with himself. “Each one of em, I fell even harder for you, Baby.” I smiled, standing on my toes and pecked his cheek lovingly.

“You’re a treasure, Elvis Presley.” I told him. He suddenly tugged me back into him, drawing a laugh from me that I was quick to quiet in fear of waking Lisa up. I’d found it. That more I was looking for. It was this secret. The secret I knew he’d had locked up for as long as I’d been here. The one I’m sure I’d figured out long before being locked in his embrace. But I was so quick to dismiss it. So sure that it could never be me. So sure, that I never asked. But now here I was. In the middle of his kitchen, swallowed in his arms and feeling more loved than I ever have before.

—time skip—

The hum of the TV was the first thing I heard as I began to stir. The bright yellow paint illuminated by the flickering colors coming from whatever show was on. I stretched out, feeling a pillow fall gently onto my calves. Then I smiled, thinking back to last night. I felt like a high schooler finding out the most popular boy in school liked me back. Only I was an adult, and that boy was Elvis Aaron Presley.

“Shh, Baby. Don’t wake her up.” I heard Elvis’ voice coming from the doorway. I laid still, briefly unsure of who he was talking to.

“I’m not.” A little whisper said, followed by soft footsteps approaching from that direction. Lisa. I pulled the blanket over my mouth sleepily, trying to hide my smile. Then I heard Elvis’ steps and the occasional tinking sound of something I wasn’t quite sure of. The light in the room slowly came up, so I began to move around, signaling that I was just waking up. Then I groaned tiredly, really trying to sell it.

“Princess.” Lisa whispered, her tiny hand resting on my right bicep. “Wake up.” I squeezed my eyes together, blinking out what little sleep remained and looking over at her.

“Good morning, Yisa.” I said happily, rubbing my eyes gently. She began to giggle and I could see her covering her mouth. “What are you laughing about so early?” I asked her, reaching out and tickling her tummy. She screeched and jumped backward, revealing a little gold tray with assorted breakfast foods laid out on it.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” She cried, jumping up and down and clapping her hands excitedly. My breath caught in my throat and my eyes began to water.

“Oh my goodness, Lisa!” I breathed, sitting up completely and scooping her up into my lap. “Did you do all of this?” I asked, glancing over at Elvis, who was occupying the doorway. She shook her head and wrapped her arms around my neck.

“No! Daddy helped!” She told me, squirming out of my grip and running to Elvis. “It’s for Mother’s Day! See?” She asked, pulling Elvis over and demanding he sit down beside me. Once he sat, she looked back at the tray and pulled a large piece of white paper off of it. I took it from her and gasped , pointing at the drawing of a girl in between a man and a smaller girl.

“Is this me?” I asked, making note of the little crown she’d drawn over my head. Lisa climbed up on the couch beside me and pointed where I was too.

“Yes! See? You’re a princess because that’s your name!” She exclaimed, her finger finding the crown.

“This is amazing, Lisa!” I told her. “Thank you so much, Beautiful.” I told her, wrapping my right arm around her. She fidgeted and grabbed the paper, admiring her own artwork.

“Did you see Daddy singing?” She asked, moving her finger over to the other figure on the drawing. He did indeed have a black circle for a mouth.

“Oh, he is! That’s great!” I praised, brushing my fingers through her hair.

“Can I go make another one for you?” She asked, stilling completely and awaiting my answer.

“Sure, Honey, I’d love that.” I told her, helping her slide off of the couch. With that, Lisa jogged away, disappearing up the hidden set of stairs. Only then did Elvis start to move, draping his right arm over my shoulders.

“Good morning.” He breathed, pressing a kiss to my left cheek. I leaned into his touch, sucking in a deep breath.

“Morning.” I answered lowly, angling my body to snuggle into his side. He chuckled and moved his left hand to lift my chin toward his face. I eyed his smiling lips, memories of last night barreling into my mind.

“Happy Mother’s Day, Mama.” He muttered, his lips ghosting over mine. I sighed at his words as they settled in my soul, forming a moment I’d never forget. Elvis closed what little gap was between us, kissing me soft and slow. Like nothing else in the world mattered. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against my own.

“You deserve this day and more.” He whispered, dropping his left hand to rest on my right knee, which was resting in his lap. I smiled, shaking my head slightly.

“What am I gonna do with the two of you?” I asked playfully, pecking his lips once more. Elvis leaned toward me, chasing my lips. I giggled and gestured in the direction of the door. Lisa came around the corner, a multitude of papers and stray crayons in her hands. Elvis glanced over at me with eyebrows raised.

“Breakfast?” He asked, holding his left hand out toward the tray. I leaned forward, his warmth leaving me for just a moment.

“What do you want me to draw you?” Lisa asked, smacking the paper down on the table in front of us and scooting forward on her knees. I laughed, picking up the coffee cup from the tray and leaning back into Elvis’ embrace.

“Mm… how about you, Snoopy, and Brutus?” I suggested. I watched as she got right to work, little tongue poking out in full concentration. Elvis huffed a laugh beside me, pressing another secret kiss to my cheek as I sipped on the coffee, made just the way I liked it.

“I love y’all.” Elvis spoke up, leaning his head back on the couch and staring up at the mirrored ceiling.

“We love you, Daddy!” Lisa and I spoke in perfect synchronization, causing the three of us to erupt with laughter. This was most certainly the beginning of a brand new dynamic under the roof of Graceland.

#elvis presley #elvis the king #elvis the pelvis #fluff #fanfic #love #sweet #short story #x reader #elvis aaron presley #70s elvis #70s #i love him #spicy reads #lisa marie presley #mothers day #austin butler #can’t help falling in love #Elvis stories

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syndrossi · 2 months ago

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You know, we talk a lot about how the boys are amazing and skilled and are basically seen to be prodigies at everything, but are there things that they're bad at?

For instance, I was wondering what would happen if one of their maesters had to give Daemon the equivalent of an F report card for one of his kids, or even just requested a meeting to discuss a concern, and how Daemon (not to mention the boys themselves!) would respond to that.

This is a fun ask! At their age, given their huuuuge advantages/head-start, most things would honestly be nitpicking, but if the maesters had to...

Jon can't sing, obviously. Has no concept of a tune, except when one sounds nice while he's listening to it.

Both Jon and Rhaegar are given to tunnel-vision, but in different ways. Jon, for example, prefers to focus on things that actually matter or are interesting to him. If he's not interested, he tends not to apply himself very hard. Granted, by eight-year-old standards, he still looks like a savant. Whereas Rhaegar can go so far down a rabbit hole that only Jon can pull him back out, and the expense of keeping an eye on the broader picture.

Both children are considered overly combative/bossy, again in different ways. When Jon thinks someone is wrong, he does not hesitate to point it out very bluntly, and he tends to view himself as in the right. Rhaegar is far more diplomatic about someone being wrong, but his bossiness can be viewed as bordering on arrogance where he takes obedience/cooperation as his due (hello crown-prince-syndrome). Those are qualities that would be considered excellent in an heir; less so in a child as far down in the succession as he is. I'm sure Daemon gets blamed for those qualities in his sons lol.

Rhaegar is okay at sums for his age, but it's definitely not his strong suit. Jon tends to do better here, especially on the geometry side of things, where he's very intuitive.

Rhaegar is terrible at practical trades/crafts. Aka in modern terms, the "handyman" things someone would be able to do on their own: fixing an appliance, figuring out what's wrong with the car. In time period appropriate comparisons, I guess things like figuring out what to do if your horse's reins are damaged. Jon scores much higher here since it was kind of necessary in his line of work. (Rhaegar wasn't done any favors by having things generally taken care of / done for him.)

Jon hates doing literary analysis and is pretty bad at it. What do you mean he's supposed to intuit what the author was attempting to convey through prose/character interaction/dialogue, etc? Why can't it just be a story? Why does the story have to have meaning, why can't it just be entertaining? Whereas Rhaegar eats that shit up lol.

This isn't a "bad at," but at some point, Rhaegar will try to get Jon into drawing/art, which I think he would actually be quite good at! Rhaegar knows he's pretty mediocre at it himself, but he's quite content with singing/the harp.

Daemon would laugh himself sick if any maester approached him with "your sons are too bossy," though. His sons cannot help that they know better than men five decades their senior! Or that their hapless cousins require direction at all times! Why shouldn't people follow their lead?

Daemon also strikes me as someone who bursts with pride when his sons excel academically but as soon as their struggles are pointed out in an area would immediately flip to "that doesn't matter / isn't applicable outside of the Citadel." Like, he would try to help Rhaegar with his sums if that was what Rhaegar wanted, or work with Jon on his terrible pitch, but eh. Dragonriding and skill with arms is far more important!

#resonant asks

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inkempressz · 6 months ago

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Yandere older cowboy x reader

The desert wind whispered through the cracked boards of the ranch house, carrying the scent of hay and the distant growl of coyotes. The old cowboy sat on the porch, his broad shoulders hunched over a battered flask, his weathered hands clenching it like a lifeline. His face, rough and shadowed by years of sun and hardship, was a mask to most—but when you looked at him, it softened into something sacred. Something dangerous.

You were the boss’s child—soft-spoken, delicate as a petal, with eyes that seemed untouched by the cruelty of the world. He had watched you grow from a curious kid chasing chickens to someone with an easy smile and a heart too pure for a place as harsh as this. He watched you more than he should.

Your father had hired him because no one else could keep the ranch in check. He was as wild as the stallions he broke, as relentless as the sun that scorched the earth. Yet, when your sweet voice called to him, asking about the horses or offering him lemonade with trembling hands, something inside him twisted, black and possessive.

He told himself it was protection. The world was cruel, after all. People were cruel. They’d see your kindness, your innocence, and they’d tear it to pieces. He wouldn’t let them. Not the ranch hands who leered at you when they thought no one was looking, not the drifters who passed through town with eyes like predators. And not your father, who worked you too hard, made you carry burdens you weren’t meant to bear.

Late at night, when the ranch was quiet, he sat in his darkened room, staring at the moonlit photograph he’d taken of you at the last harvest festival. You’d never know he’d snapped it, nor how many times he’d traced the curve of your smile with his calloused thumb. The thought of you trusting him, leaning on him, made his chest ache with a need he didn’t know how to control.

You trusted him too much. You smiled at him like he was a gentle giant instead of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. You told him about your dreams—of leaving the ranch, seeing the cities you’d only read about in books. Each word cut deeper than the last because he knew the world wasn’t meant for you. It would ruin you.

No, you belonged here. With him.

It was a quiet evening when you found the stray kitten by the barn, its mewling cries drawing you away from the house. He had followed you, his heavy boots crunching against the dirt, though you didn’t hear him at first. When you finally turned, holding the trembling creature in your hands, you smiled at him like you always did.

“I think he’s scared,” you said softly, your voice like honey in the cool night air.

He didn’t respond. His eyes locked on yours, the warmth of your trust glowing like a lantern in the dark. You trusted him so much you didn’t even flinch when his massive hand reached out to stroke the kitten. But he didn’t touch the animal. Instead, his fingers brushed against yours, rough and calloused, dwarfing your delicate hand.

“You’re too good for this world,” he finally said, his voice low and hoarse.

You laughed, a sound so light and naive it made his stomach churn. “That’s not true.”

But it was true. Too good. Too soft. You needed someone strong to keep you safe. Someone like him.

The kitten wriggled free, darting into the shadows, but he didn’t move to chase it. His hand lingered, gripping yours now, a shade too tight. Your smile faltered, a flicker of unease in your bright eyes.

“You should head inside,” he said, his voice calm, though his grip didn’t loosen. “It’s getting dark.”

You nodded, your trust outweighing your instinct, and as you turned to walk away, he stayed rooted in place, watching your retreating figure.

You didn’t see the storm behind his eyes.

You never would—until it was too late.

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jyoongim · 1 year ago

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🎻 ℜ𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔐𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯 ℜ𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔬🎻

Chapter One

————————————————————————————————

The bitter cold of winter has finally given way to the refreshing warmth of spring. As the spring season rolls in, life and flowers are back in bloom. But that is not the only thing in bloom, no no no.

Many youth from prestigious families are in bloom as well. The refreshing air of spring has given way to the start of the biggest social event in the South.

The Marriage Market.

A time where once youthful elites, now must enter society and find a suitable match, whether that be for love or business, to secure high status.

Will this season’s market be successful? Will there be scandal? Will there be a love match made and a wedding this season?

Well, I guess that is something we should wait to see isn’t it my dear readers?

———————————————————————————————

The gentle rocking of the carriage was luring you to sleep as you watched the scenery go by. The greenery and the smell of honeysuckles always had a special place in your heart. You always loved the country, preferring the quiet hum of the bayou over the hustle and bustle of the city, but you guessed you didn’t mind the jazz and festivities that lied in the city.

“Dearest?” The sound of your mother’s concerning tone made you turn your head, not knowing if she was referring to you or at one of your sisters. She was staring at you with a quirked brow.

Yep. Definitely you.

”did you hear me?”

you gave another look out the window, shaking your head “what did you say?” Your mother sucked her teeth “I asked if you were excited. Its your first season.” A soft smile appeared on your lips “hmm I don’t know yet. Maybe it’ll finally set in once I debut. I am excited to see my friends”

Your mother smiled “I heard Charlotte was debuting as well, oh I can’t wait to see how that girl has grown”

Your sisters were chatting among themselves quietly.

Your mother continued “We have much to prepare for dearest. This season I am hoping to have a wedding to plan by the end. Your brother wrote to me that he has found several prospects for you to look into” You rolled your eyes “Oh because he has such great taste in the marriage world. Mama please.” You laughed.

The carriage stopped and your mother stepped out. The servants bowed in greeting and began to gathering y’all things to bring into the estate.

Your sisters ran ahead inside to their rooms and you and your mother walked inside, your mother calling for your brother.

”Ah! Mother! Sister!” A voice called excitedly and your brother appeared smiling. He embraced your mother, giving her a kiss on the cheek and you as well.

You figured they had business to discuss and left them be as you went to the balcony.

Many families were returning and you catch sight of Charlie. You waved once you caught her attention, sitting down watching the people.

Antony, Angel, hollered up at you when he jumped out of his car, making you laugh when his mother hit his shoulder to get inside the house.

You hoped to have a chance to speak with them while the events were happening.

The season.

You were the first daughter of the prestigious Biche family. One of the most influential and wealthy families to live in the South.

Your family made money by investing in sugarcane fields and horses.

You knew you were the potential prize to many of the men of the ton

”Why don’t you rest up dear? You have a busy day ahead of you” your mother chirped from the drawing room, unpacking a few knick knacks.

You nodded and headed upstairs to your room.

The servants already had your nightgown out and you changed and got into bed.

You read a little until the sky turned dark and laid there, staring up at the ceiling.

Tomorrow started the beginning of the season. You didn’t know what to expect, but you felt a little excited.

Will you meet the perfect gentleman? Would you be able to find a match? You hoped to marry for love, you didn’t need status or any material things. Just a nice man who loved you for you.

You remembered how your father was with your mother and you hoped to find those same qualities in a man.

After all…marriage was about love right? That’s what your mother always said.

——————————————————————————————————

Taglist:

@yourdoorisunlocked @certifiedcrybabyyy @aliyaharnold01 @alastor-simp @alastorsgirl48 @dickmastersworld @memoire-du-ciel @alastoralltruist @hazelfoureyes @kahlan170 @nkirukaj @voxsmalewife @theangeliclibrarian @purplecatsandhearts @amurtan @zombiesnips-blog @alastwhore666 @alastwhore666 @rulesareshadesofgrey @alastorsaries @alastors666creampie @thewinchestah @okay-babe @yunimimii @southern-bayou-beau @karolinda007-blog @justtnat @preciousbabypeter @vexendoe @evedenn @cxrsedwxrlds @cutiebimbo @orangethecarrotcoloredpaperred @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorthirsty @siiv3r @theangeliclibrarian @nightshadelm @blubugg13 @smoky000 @boney-horse @sweet-radio @charlottemorningstarsdarling @im-so-tired52 @nyxenyo @cinnamon-galaxies @wisteria-seal @kaylopolis @prosciuttosblog @callmeoncette

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x bridgerton #bridgerton au #human alastor x reader #human alastor

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more-sonorous · 6 months ago

Text

safer than you thought (vaguely javey)

recent discussions about trans canon era davey have put my fingers to the keys, so have this little hurt/comfort piece of what might potentially be a larger work

tw/ accidental outing (handled very well), and also davey's inner monologue isn't the kindest to himself

.....

Full sprinting across the Brooklyn bridge was not on David’s bucket list when he’d gotten dressed that morning, and he mentally cursed himself for that as his anxious feet stumbled along behind Racetrack. David felt like a horse that’d just learned how to gallop, bolting along behind a stallion in its prime. Racer was fast and graceful as he ran, one hand wrapped around David’s wrist in a vice grip that was almost bruising. Each footfall was more certain than the last and Racer's long legs were a blur of motion, his trousers (an old pair of Jack’s) hanging well above his ankles, patchwork socks still slightly on display. The scuffed heels of his boots were all David could focus on as he prayed for the strength to continue this sprint without stumbling, hearing the pounding footsteps of the menacing boys fast on their tail.

Soon David could feel his own blood pumping through his face, hot and heavy, incessantly noisy whooshing coursing through his ears. He didn’t know up from down or left from right as he devolved into helpless anxiety, letting Racer tug him along and praying they’d lost their pursuers at some point.

The moment they crossed the bridge into Manhattan territory, Race stopped dead in his tracks and David stumbled forward, hands on his knees. This was decidedly not good. His bindings were practically digging into his skin, the tightly wound bandages constricting his chest from properly expanding. Sweat beaded on his brow as he gasped feebly for air, clutching the fabric of his trousers in a wild panic.

“Yeah, fuck you!” Racer shouted incoherently, waving his fists despite the lingering pubescent cracks in his voice and the fact that they’d lost their pursuers a quarter of a mile ago. “Fuck alla you! When I tell Spot about this, she’s gonna kill your sorry asses! She’s gonna skin you and turn you into goddamn leather wallets! You better turn around and run! Go fuck yourselves!”

Maybe David would have laughed if he had the breath to do so, but the August sun was beating down hard on his back and the extreme heat in his face and ears wasn’t doing him any favors when it came to the breathing department. His clothes seemed to cling to him with sweat and every time he tried to breathe, he felt like he only got halfway before his lungs stopped expanding, trapped in the vice grip of his bandages.

“That’ll fuckin’ teach them to try an’ mug me at my own sellin’ spot.” Race griped, sharply turning his head to spit at the bridge disdainfully. Relaxed and easy as if he hadn’t just ran a mile at full speed, he turned on his heel and sauntered over to David with a bark of a laugh. “Geez, Jacobs, I didn’t figure you was so shitty at runnin’. C’mon, pick yourself up ‘n we’ll go back to the lodgings and getcha a nice glass of lukewarm water.”

David really did want to pick himself up, but the trouble was that he couldn’t exactly breathe. Black spots were starting to dot his vision. Distantly, he knew that panicking wouldn’t do him any good, but he could easily recognize his own hyperventilation. Short, shallow breaths weren’t drawing any air in and suddenly his clothes were suffocating, and a very loud part of his brain was convincing him that he was going to die. Maybe he was, because he surely couldn’t round a corner and take his binder off in front of Race. Then all of the newsboys would find out he'd been lying to them and he’d lose all of his friends only months after making them, and he’d be lonely and strange and outcast all over again, and his life would be miserable all because he couldn’t catch his goddamn breath after running over the Brooklyn bridge. Now he was really and truly spiraling, clutching at his chest and gagging around his own useless gasping.

Immediately, his blonde companion’s demeanor changed. “Shit. Oh, shit. Shit, something’s wrong, huh? Davey, buddy, you okay?”

Race’s concerned expression swam into view as he crouched in front of David, cupping his sweaty face in both rough hands. Racetrack didn’t cringe away even as he felt the searing heat and saw how red David surely was. Instead he only looked even more concerned, his street-smart brain noticing the signs of asphyxiation with remarkable ease.

“Yeah, you need’ta sit.” He grumbled, and David was flickering in and out of sensibility as Race gripped him by the arm and tugged him into a slim alleyway between two buildings, somehow both forcible and gentle as he pushed David to sit. It was only getting worse. David’s mind was starting to swim and begging him to breathe, but a childish part of him was screaming with panic and sending hot tears rolling down his cheeks. Distantly, he knew that his bandages weren’t really that tight. All of this was mental, but he’d started panicking and now he couldn’t stop. The slight inconvenience of tight binding had transformed into a murder weapon in his delirious mind. He was going to die. He was going to suffocate right here in an alleyway and it was all because he’d tied his bandages too tight this morning. Seventeen years ending in such a stupid way made him cry harder, which expelled more of his dwindling air and sent all attempts at rational thought spiraling out of his brain.

Black spots grew darker and the image of Racetrack warbled like bathwater being kicked by an overeager child. “Let’s getcha out of this tie, yeah? Can’t be doin’ you any favors.”

David scarcely registered the lithe fingers tugging at the tie done loosely round his neck, and he was barely an inch away from unconsciousness as nimble hands undid the buttons of his waistcoat with remarkable speed. Maybe, if David had been alert, he would’ve seen the slight panic on his friend’s face as he pushed open David’s shirt. He could’ve seen the tremble in Racetrack’s fingers as he laid a hand over David’s rapidly rising and falling chest, wondering why his efforts weren’t doing any good. He could’ve seen terror building in big blue eyes as Race stripped David from his shirt and then his undershirt, and maybe he could’ve seen the gentle, sweet understanding flash across his friend’s face in a split second if he’d been looking— but he wasn’t.

“Alright,“ Racetrack murmured, intelligent eyes flicking over the tightly wrapped bandages concealing his friend’s freckled chest. “Alright, Dave, ‘m not gonna look. But I gotta get these off, I think they’re makin’ it hard for you to breathe.”

He carefully looped his arms around David and undid the tight knots holding the binding of bandages together, eyes resolutely focused on the brick wall behind them. With two short, calculated movements, Race tugged the bandages off entirely and draped David’s discarded shirt over his chest. He then carefully turned his back to the other boy, making sure no curious passersby decided to peek into the alleyway.

It was wonderful to draw in a thick breath of the hot summer air. David’s chest swelled with the intake and a soft wheeze escaped his lips, oxygen finally filling his deprived lungs. He drank up gasps of the stuff as the spots began to fade and he finally spiraled back into consciousness, deep breaths evening out to a normal pace after about five minutes. He was too sapped of energy to do anything but sit there and let tears leak down his cheeks, because yes he was alive, but Racetrack knew and he was probably going to tell everyone. David let out a pathetic sniffle at the thought.

This caught Race’s attention and he turned around, concern etched into his face. “Aw, shit, Dave, don’t cry. Don’t cry, man. C’mon, put your shirt on and we’ll head back to lodgings so you can lay down somewhere comfortable.”

Man. David only hiccuped harder, reaching for his discarded bandage. He was in far too deep.

Immediately, Race snatched the bandage up and stuffed it in his pocket. “No way I’m letting you put this back on. We got at least a mile before we get back and I don’t want you suffocating again.”

“Race, please.” He begged, despising the weak vulnerability of his watery voice. This was a new low point– letting a boy two years younger than him tell him what to do. “Race, come on, I– I can’t go back without it on! Please– everyone’s gonna know! I can’t Racer, I–”

“No, Dave. I’m sorry, but it’s for the best. You’ll be okay. I promise.. Most of the guys are prolly out scrounging up dinner, anyways.” Grim and stern all at once, Race climbed to his feet with one catlike movement and stalked over to the end of the alleyway, standing with his back turned as if keeping guard.

David sobbed. He sobbed as he tugged his undershirt on and sobbed harder as he buttoned his shirt and shrugged his waistcoat over his shoulders. Everyone was going to find out when they saw the swell of his chest beneath his shirt. They were all going to recoil in disgust. He could envision it already. Sure, there were girl newsies, but there were no girl newsies that pretended to be men and lied about their gender and name for months on end just because it made them feel sickeningly good. To think he’d actually started feeling comfortable and happy– of course that was ripped away from him. Too exhausted to be mortified, he was near the point of wailing when Race’s rough hands tugged him to his feet. David really longed for Jack’s gentle touches and then mentally slapped himself for that thought.

“Davey. Davey, c’mon. You’re gonna suffocate yourself again if you cry like that.” Race patted his cheek like he was trying to be gentle but didn’t quite know how. He only thought of Jack, who knew exactly how David liked to be touched without being told. He wanted to scream. David only noticed that Race was unbuttoning his own light blue flannel once the blonde was already shrugging it off, draping it around David’s shoulders. The extra drapery essentially covered his chest area, and nothing looked amiss with the additional layer distracting the eyes. Race slung an arm around his shoulder. “Let’s go, bud. I’m thirsty as hell. Y’know– Spot’s a great kisser but she sure as hell ain’t a great hostess. You know what I hafta do to get a cuppa water ‘round those parts? Actually, you don’t want to know. Spotty’s a sick bastard. ‘S why I love her. Though, people say I’m a sick bastard too, so I guess we’re a match made in hell. Wait, do Jews believe in hell?”

David barely managed to shake his head ‘no’, unable to understand why Race wasn’t addressing the elephant in the room.

“Hah, weird. Where are evil people s’posed to go? Eternal Jewish jail? Shit, ain’t that a concept…” And he continued to yammer on, keeping David securely under his arm as they walked. Race didn’t seem to care that David wasn’t looking or really listening as they trudged through the ridiculously hot streets. David sweated his ass off and simultaneously tugged Race’s flannel down against his shoulders, despite the fact it was making him sweat harder. He probably stunk. It was the most miserable he’d been since Jack screwed everyone over at the rally.

Somehow Race didn’t ask one question about David’s secret. He didn’t inquire about his old name or why he’d been lying. There wasn’t even a subtle accusation or anything. Instead they just walked and Race talked on and on about other things, his voice loud and commanding and normal in the summer heat. When they reached the lodging house, David wasn’t quite crying anymore, but he was confused and tired and a step beyond upset.

Rave shepherded him into the bunk room, where Les instantly barreled towards them. “Crutchie and I sold two hundred papes today! Can you believe it, David, can you—“

“Christ, what happened to you, Dave?” Crutchie asked with palpable concern, crossing the room in a few short strides. He pressed the back of his hand to David’s forehead and winced— David was sure his face was red as a rose with a sheen of sweat to match. “You’re gonna catch a heat death, Davey— what’s the deal, Race? Gotta look after other fellas when you take ‘em to Brooklyn— Les, can you go fix your brother a glass of water?”

“Sure.” Les frowned up at David, his eyebrows furrowed in the adorable way they always did when he had a particularly puzzling problem to solve.

Crutchie led David over to one of the bunks and David collapsed onto his stomach, gratefully burying his face in whomever’s pillow this was. Crutchie gently patted his back before he straightened to stand tall. “On second thought, I’m gonna go wet a rag. Gotta cool you down somehow.”

His crutch plunked against the ground, quieter and quieter until David couldn’t hear him anymore. The mattress sank near his feet as Race sat, quiet for a moment. Then he awkwardly patted the back of David’s calf. “I ain’t a snitch. Don’t let that keep you up at night.”

David didn’t have the energy to react, but relief crashed into him. What had he done to deserve people like Race in his life? The newsies made him feel more whole than he’d ever felt. Being with them made the ever-present pit in his chest seem to lesson. Something within him was happy and crooning around these brash, loud, sort of disgusting boys. He wanted to cry all over again but couldn’t manage any tears, so he just breathed deeply and gratefully. Racetrack wasn’t going to tell. His secret was safe.

Their careful calm shattered as a flurry of footsteps entered the room, alongside an unmistakable voice, laced with passionate fury. “What the hell did you do to him?”

Racetrack stood to meet Jack, who barreled straight past him and dropped to a crouch at David’s bedside. Crutchie and Les trailed in behind Jack, each respectively carrying a bowl of water and a rag or a cup of cool water. David didn’t think he could handle the full force of Jack’s attention in his current state. He gulped down the water, focusing on the soothing temperature of the liquid. Race scoffed loudly. “I didn’t do shit. Some Brooklyn boys tried to mug us while we was heading home and I think the heat and the panic made Dave sick. You gotta calm down, Jack, I kept your boy safe.”

Your boy. David resisted a self-deprecating laugh. David wasn’t Jack’s anything. Maybe a very close friend, but he wasn’t Jack’s boy. Katherine was Jack’s girl. Katherine and Jack were each other’s in general. David had resigned himself to a life of awkward spectating, watching them love each other with nothing but a deep longing for Jack and pure need in his chest.

He thought about how much he wanted Jack very frequently. At first he’d assumed he was jealous. Maybe he wanted to be like Jack– gorgeous, confident, brazen, so obviously settled in his own skin. Then as time passed and they grew closer, David realized that no he wasn’t jealous. He didn’t want to be as harsh as the other boy and he didn’t need that charisma. They were different people. Different boys. David wanted to be with Jack. He wanted to kiss him and admire him openly and cling to him like Katherine did in private spaces. Jack, with his expressive brown eyes and his gorgeous smile. Jack, who deserved someone better than David. Someone like Katherine, who was gorgeous and intelligent and normal. David was broken and strange. Jack, stunning and wonderful as he was, would never return David’s affections— even in a hypothetical world where he knew who David was at home, behind closed doors, forced into skirts and called a name that didn’t really feel like his. Jack still wouldn’t want that person.

Still, David often found himself wondering… if he’d met Jack before he cut his hair and changed his clothes, would he have had a chance?

Such thoughts made him feel ill. He wanted Jack to want him as he was, with his cropped curls and his comfortable clothes and as David, not as anyone else. Though, that was entirely impossible. He buried his face in the fabric beneath him as his stomach clenched in tight misery.

“I can keep myself safe. I’m not some child that needs looking after.” He grumbled into the fabric of the pillow, earning a little laugh of agreement from Racer.

“Yeah, I know, but that don’t mean I don’t worry about you.” Jack murmured, quiet and gentle as he threaded his fingers through David’s hair and tilted his head back. David didn’t often like meeting people’s eyes but he met Jack’s and his breath seemed to slip away. ”Mierda, Dave. Look at you… rough day, huh?”

Crutchie wordlessly handed Jack the ratty old washcloth, Les trailing anxiously behind him, but it honestly felt like David and Jack were the only people in the room. David, trapped helplessly in Jack’s orbit, drawn in by his beauty and his impossible charisma.

He let out a huff of a laugh. “You could say so.”

“Well, that’s what happens when I’m not around.” Jack crooned jokingly, but David could hear the subtle notes of guilt in his voice. Of course Jack was blaming himself– he’d been working at The World three days a week, which was the whole reason why David went to sell at the Sheepshead tracks with Racer in the first place.

Normally when Jack was out, David and Les sold by themselves just fine. However, some days Crutchie and Les liked to combine their powers of ‘crippled orphan boy’ and ‘tiny orphan boy’ to sell massive amounts of papers. David would’ve preferred selling alone, but then Race extended an invitation, and people didn’t tend to invite David anywhere before he met the newsies, so he took the offer with little consideration of doing otherwise. He could tell, just by the furrow in Jack’s perfect brow, that Jack was blaming himself.

David wasn’t having any of that and reached out to carefully run his fingers through Jack’s hair, brave enough to cup his cheek. “It’s not your fault. I can see you thinking it’s your fault, Jack. Stop it. Okay? Nothing bad happened. Race was smart and he made the smart decision to run, and I’m just… well, I’m not as fit as you all, so I got winded and overheated. Everything’s alright. You can calm that protective head of yours.”

Delusional as he was, David could’ve sworn Jack angled his head further into the touch, and a guilty little smile tilted his full lips. “Read me like one of your books didn’t you?”

“Yeah, well…” David stared at the dripping washcloth in Jack’s hand, and the little puddle on the floor beneath it. “You’ll want me on my back, I suppose?”

“I’ll have you any way, Davey-mine.” Jack winked, and David felt like his whole head was resetting.

It just wasn’t fair. Jack had no right to flirt with him like that, like it was nothing, like it wasn’t ripping David apart piece by piece and forcing him to rethink how he wanted to put himself together. He wanted Jack so, so badly. It was almost ridiculous.

Race and Crutchie cackled and David took Jack’s cap off his head to whack him with it as he rolled over, making sure Race’s shirt sat baggy over his chest. Jack only winked again and caught David’s hand in his own, threading their fingers together. “Jack Kelly, you are ridiculous.”

“What are you laughing at?” Les whined, big brown eyes darting between all of the older boys. “Come on, guys, what does that mean? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, Lessy.” He sighed deeply and motioned his little brother over just as Jack carefully dropped David’s hand. He threaded his tanned fingers through dark curls to push David’s hair away from his forehead, replacing it with the damp cloth. David hummed thankfully at the cool touch and let his eyes flutter shut, wrapping his free arm around Les.

“You’re sweaty. And red.” Les remarked, carefully re-adjusting Race’s shirt to cover a bit more of his older brother’s chest. David’s heart swelled.

David cracked an eye open and glared at his sibling, who was smiling an innocent grin, freckled cheeks turning his eyes into crescent moons. “Thank you for telling me, Les-kah.”

The younger boy positively beamed. “You’re welcome. Hey- are you gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” David soothed, giving his little hand a squeeze. Les squeezed right back. “Just need to cool down, then we can go home. Ima will save us some dinner.”

“Okay.” Les glanced at the door. “So… I can go play marbles?”

He couldn’t stop his own laugh. “Yes, go play marbles.”

“Your brother’s in good hands.” Jack remarked simply, resting one of his warm hands on David’s shoulder. Normally David would absolutely melt at the touch, but all he felt was a spike of panic because Jack’s thumb was so close to something it shouldn’t be close to. David’s heart ran a mile a minute against his chest as Les pressed a kiss to his cheek and bolted off. Crutchie took his seat at the end of the bed as Jack dragged a thumb over the collar of the blue flannel draped over David. “Maybe we oughta get you out of these shirts–”

“No!”

“Wh– you’re gonna sweat to death. You got like, four layers on.” Jack argued, hand darting towards David’s buttons. David deftly slapped his hand away and Jack recoiled in shock, eyebrows shooting up because David never got rough with him like that. He was already feeling guilty. “Alright, I’m confused.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with a modest man, I always say.” Race responded easily, patting David’s ankle. “If he don’t wanna get naked for you, Kelly, y’can’t make him. You got Katherine for that, remember?”

Crutchie grinned. “Yeah, you at least gotta end things nice and easy with her before you ask Davey to go nude for you.”

Jack’s cheeks seemed to darken beneath his tan and the great, charismatic strike leader floundered for a fleeting moment before he stepped back into his easy personality and rolled his eyes. “That ain’t what I mean and you know it. Dave–”

“I’ll be fine with my clothes on. Really, Jack.” He tried to make himself sound relaxed and easy, but he was a notoriously terrible liar and Jack almost definitely heard the nerves twinging his tone. Thankfully he didn’t press– just sighed and flipped the washcloth over.

David tried to ignore his sudden guilt for keeping such a secret from these people. Part of him was curling up in shame, telling him that none of his friends knew who he was. But this was who he really was, wasn’t it? When he was selling papers, dressed in trousers with short hair, that was the most comfortable he’d ever felt. They knew the real him. They just… well, they didn’t know the version of him that society said he was supposed to be, and that was still something that caused David a wild amount of guilt.

Jack began carefully dabbing the rag over his cheeks and David felt his own eyes fluttering shut, one hand coming up to loosely wrap around Jack’s wrist. Race carefully patted David’s ankle and got to his feet, just as Crutchie spoke. “We’ll leave you two to it. Let us know if you need anything, Jack.”

“Sure, Crutch.” He murmured distractedly, and David could feel Jack’s eyes on him like a searing brand. He wanted to disappear into the fabric of the uncomfortably stiff bunk beneath him, and that discomfort didn’t go away until he felt Jack’s gaze fall away.

He’d probably have to tell Jack what Race found out eventually, though the idea of doing so made him sick to his stomach. Thankfully Jack wasn’t speaking or trying to start some pointless conversation. He just occasionally passed the rag over David’s cooling cheeks, maybe re-situating it over his forehead. After what felt like eternity but could’ve been only fifteen minutes, David felt himself starting to give in to his own exhaustion as the rag grew warmer and warmer. Jack removed it entirely to re-dip it in the water, and as David was finally falling asleep, he could’ve sworn he felt a pair of lips ghost against his forehead. Maybe.

But that would be ridiculous. Jack wouldn’t. Or at least David assumed as much.

#newsies #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #racetrack higgins #crutchie morris #trans david jacobs #jewish david jacobs #hurt/comfort #fluff #acceptance #love and acceptance #and a heaping helping of gay pining #i just love trans davey so much #newsies fanfiction #sonorouswrites

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archangeldyke-all · 2 years ago

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Did someone say cowboy Sevika?

Absolutely delicious, I have thoughts.

Theres the classic off limits farmer’s daughter dynamic, which is to die for every time, but I thought what about a farmer’s widow? All lonesome on her big empty property, she hires Sevika for some extra help and then the tension is off the charts!! I think it would be ideal for a long, slow burn style fic. Draw it out, make them drool over each other for a bit til they can’t take it anymore

For a blurb idea what about Cowboy Sevika teaching the reader to ride a horse? It could be cute and flirty or it could get nasty lol whatever you’re in the mood to write!

Also let’s take a moment to imagine her tying those fancy cowboy knots. Rope steady in her big rough hands. She’s stripped down to her used to be white tank top, you can see her muscles flexing while she pulls it taught. She’d be all sweaty and you innocently walk over to her, pluck her bandanna out of her pocket, and dab away the droplets on her forehead. You tuck it gently back into the front pocket of her tight, dirt stained jeans and saunter away so sweetly. She’d want to chase you down like a wild animal in heat after that

the last paragraph here made me dizzy. thank u.

ur the second person to request a 'teaching reader how to ride horseback', mars, @sexysapphicshopowner , being the first! so lets do that ;)

part 1 of cowboy sev here, part 2 here!

men and minors dni

you're now the only one in your little mis-matched family who doesn't know how to ride horseback.

sevika's been riding since before she could even properly walk. powder took to it like a fish to water. violet was a little more hesitant, but figured it out in time. and now all three of them are trying to convince you to learn.

you've never needed it. you were born and raised in this town, everything you need is within a mile's walking distance. but, they're insistent.

you've ridden horseback before, clinging onto sevika as she controls shimmer's pace, but you've never been in control of the reigns. it seems scary, being that high up, going that fast, the only person keeping you from going flying off shimmer's back being yourself.

and now, sevika's got you in the stable, grinning at you as you hesitantly look at shimmer. powder and violet have been asleep for hours, exhausted after working in the garden all day with you.

"can we just go for a quick trot with you in front?" you ask, pouting at your wife. she laughs. "just so i can see you do it!" you insist. she rolls her eyes, then lifts you up by the waist, helping you straddle shimmer's back, before hopping up in front of you.

you press your grin against her shoulder, quickly wrapping your arms around her waist. she laughs in front of you, giving shimmer a little tap with her spur, the mare slowly trotting out onto the main street.

"you're such a baby." sevika teases. you pinch her side, watching her wiggle.

"i'm just lucky. got a wife who knows how to ride so i never had to learn." you say. you can't see her smile, but you can tell she's grinning in front of you.

sevika slowly walks shimmer down the main street, picking her pace up to a cantor when you get out of town.

the three of you ride out into the desert, and you tilt your head up to soak in the sight of the stars above, sighing as the wind whips past you.

"you're not even lookin' at what i'm doing." sevika laughs ahead of you. you giggle.

"stars 're so pretty sev. look." you say.

sevika brings shimmer to a stop, tilting her head up to look at the stars with you.

"hm." she says. you squeeze her waist.

"what?" you ask, enjoying the heat of her back pressed against your front.

"they're pretty, i guess. nowhere near 's pretty as you." she says. you grin.

"sap." you say.

it's summer, but this late at night, the desert is chilly. you sneak your cold fingers up under sevika's shirt, watching her jump, then giggling when she elbows you. you don't move your hands. she doesn't ask you to.

for a few minutes, the two of you just stare at the sky, the vast expanse of stars and planets before your eyes.

it's a new moon, and without her shine, all the stars in the galaxy are visible.

shimmer shifts beneath you, and sevika laughs.

"she hates waitin' around." she says. you smile.

"just like you." you say. sevika laughs, nudging shimmer's side, letting her trot around the empty expanse of the desert.

you hook your chin over her shoulder, watching how her hands hold the reins, how she uses them to gently guide shimmer to and fro.

beneath your fingers, you can feel her belly rise and fall with each breath she takes. a smile ticks up at the corner of your mouth, and you turn your head to press a kiss to sevika's neck.

she goes stiff in your arms.

"what're you doin'?" she asks. you smile against her throat.

"'m watchin' you." you say. "learnin' how to ride."

"you don't need any help learning how to ride." sevika says. you laugh at her horrible joke, pinching her waist. she chuckles.

"speaking of..." you start. sevika snorts in front of you.

"yeah, darlin'?" she asks. you nip her neck.

as much as you both love powder and violet, their abrupt entrance into your lives has left your sex life in shambles.

it's not like you're not having sex. it's just that you can't have it like you used to.

when you used to spend any spare moment the two of you had sprawled out in bed, naked and sweaty and kissing, now you gotta keep your romps quick, lest the girls get in trouble while they're unsupervised.

plus, with the nightmares that violet's been having, paired with powder's separation anxiety toward her sister, a majority of your nights as of late have ended with the four of you piled up in your-- used to be-- marital bed.

you've just had to get a little more creative. you and sevika have been doing a whole lot of 'chores' in the stable, trying to avoid shimmer's judgmental eyes as you fuck against the haybales.

and now... out in the desert, with sevika pressed against you and nobody out here beside you, your wife, and the stars... now seems like the perfect opportunity to get creative.

slowly, you inch your hands down sevika's abdomen, taking a moment to admire the firmness of her rippling abs shifting with each step shimmer takes. she chuckles huskily in front of you, and you begin sucking a hickey against her neck.

"insatiable." she says. "'y had me this morning while we were 'pinning the laundry to dry'." you hum.

"want me to stop?" you ask. she laughs out loud, a bright, echoing thing.

"hell no." she says. you grin, and continue trailing your fingers lower, fiddling with the button of her chaps.

shimmer continues her aimless trot, slowing occasionally to munch at spare patches of grass, knowing that you and sevika are in no rush to get anywhere.

when you slide your hand down her pants, she sighs, leaning some of her weight back against your chest. you pepper kisses against the side of her face, trying to give every branch of the scar on her left cheek a solid smooch. she giggles against you, then moans when your fingers start working against her clit.

"you're wet already." you mumble against her. she hums.

"knew this is what you were workin' up to the second you asked me to ride in front first." she says. you chuckle. "i'm never gonna get you to learn to ride, am i?" she asks.

"mmm, maybe someday. don't need it now, though, do i?" you ask. "not when i've got you." you say.

sevika sighs and turns her head to capture your lips in a kiss against hers. you hum against her mouth, nipping her lip as you start rubbing her clit in slow circles.

"fuck." she sighs, turning her neck back around to watch where shimmer's going. "i love you." she whispers. you smile and nip her neck.

"love you too." you say, trailing your free hand up her chest to fondle her breasts.

sevika's tits are sensitive, you've made her cum from your hands and mouth on her chest countless times before. she shudders against you, her back arching as she shoves her chest further against your hand. you snicker, and start to gently fiddle with her nipple.

"fuck-- your hands." she says.

"'s kinda what you're doin' now, baby." you tease. sevika snorts, but it quickly dissolves into a moan as you increase your pace on her clit, sinking your teeth into her neck as you pinch her nipple.

"y-you're horrible." she chastises you for the joke. you giggle against her.

"you close?" you ask. she laughs.

"yeah." she says.

shimmer lets out a sneeze-- clearly disapproving of the activities happening on her back, and you giggle.

"she's sick of us." you say. sevika sighs.

"she, fuck, she's so judgmental." sevika whimpers.

"should be gettin' back soon. 's almost midnight-- violet's gonna have her nightmare soon, we should be there when the girls come lookin' for us.' you say.

"fuck, can we please not talk about the kids while you got your hand on my cunt?" she asks. despite her complaints, sevika tugs on shimmer's reins, turning her back toward town as you work your hand against her.

"y' better hurry up. we're only a few minutes away from town." you say. sevika groans. "need some encouragement?" you whisper against her ear. she shivers, and you smirk.

"shut up." she whispers. you grin, knowing that sevika's 'shut up's tend to mean 'keep talking.' especially in the bedroom.

"you sure? y' don't want me to tell me how much i love you? how perfect you are for me?" you tease. sevika's thigh shakes against shimmer.

"fuck."

"my cowboy. my wife. so strong and handsome, givin' up her life of crime just for me. gotta compensate that kinda sacrifice properly, don't i?" you ask. sevika whines. "fuck, 'n you look so good when you're on shimmer's back. why would i wanna learn to ride when i could just watch you instead, hm?" you ask.

sevika lets go of the reins with one hand to grip onto your arm. you kiss her cheek.

"cum for me, pretty thing. if you're lucky, maybe i'll wake you up before sunrise to help me 'feed the chickens.'" you say. sevika whines, remembering the last time the two of you used that excuse-- you ended up with sevika's tongue inside of you, your back against the coop as she knelt on the shitty ground, clawing at your thighs. "c'mon sev-- give it to me, baby."

sevika cums with a resounding "shit!" shimmer spooks a bit, jumping and bucking beneath you, and you both squeal as you hold on to the mare while she calms down.

sevika's cunt is still fluttering beneath your palm as she pulls on shimmer's reins to bring her back to a walk as the shimmering lights of town become visible ahead. you hum against her, ducking your fingers down to gather her cum from her dripping hole, before pulling your hand out of her pants and popping your fingers in your mouth.

you moan. sevika moans. shimmer grunts, a disgusted little noise.

"fuck." sevika sighs out, her back slumping against your chest. you giggle, removing your hand from her tits to button up her pants, before giving her cunt a little pat over her chaps. she jolts. "hey!" she says, giggling. you grin against her neck, pressing another kiss to the skin beneath your lips.

just before shimmer starts down main street, sevika pulls her to a stop with a "woah, girl."

you're about to ask her what she's doing-- the tavern about two hundred feet away, but sevika answers your question before you can get it out when she turns her head, grabbing your chin with her fingers and smashing your lips together.

you sigh against her mouth, nipping on her tongue when she swipes it against your lips, giggling at the little involuntary twitch of her thigh.

she pulls away with a sigh, looking into your eyes dreamily.

"i love you more than there are stars in the sky, darlin'." she says. you smile against her lips.

"i love you too, my sweet wife." you say, reaching forward to snap shimmer's reins, letting the horse lead the two of you back home. sevika raises an eyebrow at you and you smile. "see, i did learn a little somethin'." you say.

sevika laughs.

"guess i gotta take you out for ridin' lessons every night, huh?" she asks. you grin.

"i wouldn't mind that at all."

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

#i know nothing about horses so have some smut hahaha #sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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crystalninjaphoenix · 2 months ago

Text

Back to the Heart of it All

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Forty-Nine

A JSE Fanfic

In which a whole bunch of different things happen so I wasn't quite sure what to name the chapter XD But I like this one. It feels poignant, as we're drawing close to the end of this story. The Phantoms are ready to disperse, and all our main group are going to Suilthair to help Jack sort things out over there. Chase spends more time with his kids, Henrik says a temporary goodbye to someone special, and Jack has to build up some confidence so he can confront who the spirit left in charge. Hope you enjoy! :D

Previous Part | | From the Start | More AU | Read on AO3: CrystalNinjaPhoenix

Taglist: @brokentimewatch

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was hard for Chase to believe how much his life had changed. If someone had told him a year ago that next summer, he would be in a former rebel base, helping the King of Glasúil get saddled on a horse, he would have advised them to see a doctor for possible illnesses. But here he was. “You’re doing great, Jack, really,” Chase assured him. “Your muscle memory must be working.”

Jack laughed nervously. “It must be. But I’m worried about staying on as well.” He leaned forward, gripping the reins of the horse tightly. He looked tempted to grab onto the horse’s white mane as well, but held back.

“Well... you still have your enchantment powers, don’t you?” Chase said. “I’ve heard stories of enchanters being able to communicate with animals. Can’t you tell the horse to be careful with you?”

“I’m... probably out of practice with that...” Jack mumbled.

“Out of practice with what?” Jackie walked over. “Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear.”

“Hi, Jackie.” Chase smiled. “How are you feeling? Everything is healed?”

“As healed as it can be.” Jackie stretched his arms above his head, then winced. “Okay, stretching is a bad idea, still, I’m remembering that. In any case, I don’t want to delay going to Suilthair any further. What are you out of practice with, Your Majesty? Horse riding? I’m sure if you ask Vsevna, he’ll make space for you on the Serpent’s Wake. That’s probably faster, anyway.”

Jack shook his head. “N-no, I don’t think it will... be good for me, to be stuck on the water. Having sea legs won’t help my balance. Besides, I’d rather take the time during the journey to think.”

Jackie nodded slowly. “That does make sense.”

“Besides, I was... talking about... my enchantment powers,” Jack mumbled. “Chase suggested I try to use them on the horse to ask for a smooth ride.”

“...well, that seems like a good use of enchantment powers,” Jackie said slowly. “And from what I know, something like that is easier and... less invasive than other enchantments.”

Jack sighed. “Yea... that’s a good point. Maybe I’ll try... but I-I’ll see if I can stay on the horse from my own power, first.”

“That’s a good idea.” Chase smiled. “Now... I have to get on my own horse. Can you handle it from here?”

Jack nodded. “I’ll stay here until we’re ready to go.”

Jackie glanced at Chase and mouthed, I’ll keep an eye on him, too.

“I’ll see you again once we get started,” Chase said. He gave a small bow, then headed off.

Not all of the Phantoms were going to Suilthair. Some of them were going to other camps to help figure out what the Phantoms there were going to do now—try to either dismantle the camps or repurpose them for something else. Others were staying here, maintaining this position just in case. Still others were going home. Some already had. And Chase couldn’t blame them. He wanted to go home, too. Though that was a bit difficult since his village had burned down. So, the second best thing was in Suilthair, anyway—Stacia was still there, along with a lot of the other villagers. He had to see them. To see her. To see if... her reaction to him had only been because of the enchantment or... if there was a kernel of truth to her feelings.

The party heading to Suilthair was gathering at the edge of camp. The horses they were taking had been brought here originally by the warriors—most of whom were also coming to Suilthair, as their return would lend everything a bit of credibility. There weren’t enough horses for everyone, so some people would be walking, but Chase had been lucky enough to claim one—mostly because he said that he wanted it for the kids.

Said kids were looking up at the horse Chase had claimed in awe and confusion. They hadn’t really seen horses regularly before. As Chase approached, he saw Jameson talking to them. They’re really friendly once you get to know them, but you do have to be confident, he was saying. Trust that they’ll take care of you. If you grip the horse too tightly, it will just make them nervous.

“They sense fear,” Amabel whispered, then giggled.

A little bit, I suppose! Jameson said, smiling. But they’re also very scared creatures themselves.

Quentin reached up towards the horse’s head, looking a little nervous as he patted its nose. The horse seemed docile enough, though. Chase still didn’t know much about horses, but others told him that this one—white with large brown patches—was the most docile of the ones the warriors had brought. The best one for the children. “Hello there!” Chase announced as he walked close. “Are you two ready?”

“Dad!” Amabel waved excitedly. “Come meet Locket! She’s so pretty, isn’t she?”

“I’ve already met her, Amy,” Chase laughed. “Right before I went to help Jack. I helped saddle her up.”

“Ohhh.” Amabel nodded. “So... we... get on her, then?”

Quentin swallowed nervously.

“Don’t worry, Quen, I’ll be right behind you two,” Chase reassured him. “Here, I’ll help lift you up first. Is that okay?”

“Y-yea.” Quentin nodded. He raised his arms into the air and Chase crouched down, wrapping his arms around his tiny waist.

“Alright, swing your leg over here,” Chase grunted. “Yes, just like that. I’ll just push you into place. Here, you’re tiny enough that you can hold onto that bit of the saddle in front instead of the reins. Yes, you’re doing great!” He let go of Quentin, who sat stiff as a board in the saddle. “Great job, Quen.” Chase smiled. “Now, Amy? Do you need help?”

“I... I can use the stirrup!” Amabel said decisively. “Just, uh... I need a stool or something.”

Jameson grinned. He linked his hands together and put them close to the stirrup—acting as a step. Amabel nodded and stepped onto the man-made step, then onto the stirrup. She tried to swing her leg around but accidentally hit Quentin on the way, causing him to yelp. But she quickly shimmied into place after that.

“Hey!” Quentin frowned and tried to look back at her. “You hit me!”

“Sorry,” Amabel said. “I was focusing. Thank you, Jameson.”

Jameson shook his hands. Not a problem, Amabel! You three will have a great trip, I’m sure. Locket has been totally unbothered this whole time, she’s a very good pony.

Amabel smiled. “Hear that, Quen? Good pony.”

“Good pony,” Quentin repeated absentmindedly.

Chase took a deep breath and also got on Locket. It was a bit cramped with the kids in front of him. But if things got too uncomfortable he was okay with getting off and walking beside the horse. “Alright, Jameson. Are you ready to go, too? Or... get on your horse, at least?”

Jameson nodded. I’ll see you on the road, then?

“See you on the road,” Chase repeated, grinning.

Jameson gave him a small salute, then walked over to his own horse—again, borrowed from the warriors. All of the horses were being put to use, either for riding, or for carrying supplies. The black horse Aneirin rode as in the latter category, as Jack felt uneasy around the tall steed. By now, almost everyone who was going to Suilthair was ready and mounted. Chase scanned the area. Jackie was on his own horse, and Marvin was nearby, preferring to walk with Draco at his feet. Henrik was coming, but he wasn’t here yet. Chase didn’t blame him for that, though, as he had something very important to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Henrik stared out at the ocean, watching as boats rowed back and forth between the coast and the Serpent’s Wake, still anchored just off the side of the Cliffs of Feall. Though not for much longer. They’d stayed for weeks, doing all they could to help the Phantoms and the warriors recover from the battle. But they could only stay in one place for so long. “Where will you be going now?” Henrik asked.

Next to him, Vsevna shrugged and leaned back, resting his weight on his arms. The two of them were sitting near the edge of the cliffs, watching the ocean together. “Before we joined up with the Masked Phantoms, we were a simple merchant ship. Perhaps we will go back to doing that.”

“So... you will be leaving the island, then?” Henrik asked tentatively.

“Eventually, yes.” Vsevna nodded. “But you knew that, did you not?”

Henrik sighed. “I did. You have always been a sailor. But... I will miss you.”

Vsevna scooted closer to him. “I will miss you too, sova. Sometimes, I miss you even when we are away for only an hour.”

“Well that is a bit extreme, is it not?” Henrik chuckled.

“Heh. That is exaggeration, but you know what I mean.” Vsevna laughed as well. “You are... dear to me. And you always will be. I promise you that.”

Henrik nodded. “You are dear to me as well.” After a moment of hesitation, he leaned his head against Vsevna’s shoulder. “But I know that you belong on the ocean. That is your passion, and I would not keep you from that. But I... I just hope you write to me a lot.”

“Every night I will write down anything interesting that happened, so that I can put it into a letter when enough is piled up,” Vsevna said.

“Oh, you do not have to do that—”

“I have just decided that I will. I have spoken it into the world and so it must be fulfilled.”

Henrik laughed. “Then I will do the same!”

“You will probably have a lot more to write about, then.” Vsevna glanced back at the camp behind them. “I know that a lot will be happening in this kingdom in the next while. Which is why... I don’t think we will be leaving the kingdom behind entirely for a while more. We will probably be doing some internal shipping, from one city on the coast to another. But ah, the Wake, you know it is meant for deep waters.”

“It would be a shame to keep it too close to the shore,” Henrik agreed. “It runs more risk of running aground.”

“The very idea scares me.” Vsevna shivered, a look of exaggerated horror on his face. Henrik couldn’t help but smile.

They fell silent for a bit. The rowboats’ journeys became less and less frequent out on the water. Until, finally, just one more rowed out to the base of the cliffs. Henrik could barely make out the faces of the passengers far below. One of them belonged to Yuko, Vsevna’s second mate. She looked up towards them and waved. Vsevna waved back, then held up a single finger. She nodded, and turned away. “That is the sign for you to go, then?” Henrik asked, trying not to let his sadness into his voice.

“Yes, unfortunately.” Vsevna sighed and shifted his weight. Henrik leaned away so that he could get to his feet, then stood up next to him as well. “We are going to make our first stop at Kroswealosh, I think. It is a big port city, very likely to have things that must be shipped. I want to send you a message once we arrive. Should I tell Yuko to send the bird towards Suilthair?”

Henrik nodded. “I feel as though that is where I will be for a long while. Perhaps I will even... settle down there. Become a city doctor, instead of a traveling one. I-it will make it a lot easier for you, if you do not have to worry about where to send the message bird each time.”

“I do not want to stop you from traveling, sova,” Vsevna said softly. “After all, you are not stopping me.”

“Well, I think it is different for me,” Henrik said slowly. “You... you love the adventure, you love the seeing new places. Travel is not so important to me. It has always been because... that is how I thought I could help the most people.”

Vsevna chuckled. “Of course it has. I know this about you. Brilliant, caring Henrik.” He turned to face Henrik completely and reached out to grab his hands. Henrik let this happen, gripping Vsevna’s hands tightly in turn. “I hope... I hope things work out with your medicine, Henrik. I-if something goes wrong while I am gone, I... I want you to message me, yes? Yuko is leaving one of her birds here—”

“I know she is,” Henrik said.

“Right, of course you know, I-I told you.” Vsevna laughed nervously. “But... please do not only tell me... the happy news, yes? Do you understand? I-I know you may be scared, you may not want to worry me or... risk pushing me away. But I want to know the bad things as well. I want to know, so that I can send you back the reassurances and whatever other comforts you need. That is what we do in this situation, yes?”

“Yes.” Henrik nodded. “In that case... you must do the same. We can tell each other all the good and bad things, and it will be like we are right with each other. Do you promise?”

“I promise. Do you?”

“Of course.” Henrik smiled. “Now... I do not want to keep you waiting, so—”

Suddenly, Vsevna leaned forward, pressing his face against Henrik’s. The movement—the meeting—was unexpected, and Henrik gasped slightly, the sound muffled. Vsevna quickly pulled back. “S-sorry, did you not want to—”

“No, no, I-I did.” Henrik laughed. “I just... I thought you would say something first. Or move slower. H-here, here, let’s try again.” He leaned forward, and after a split second of hesitation, Vsevna did as well, the two of them meeting in the middle.

The kiss lingered for a good few seconds before they both stopped at the same time. Henrik couldn’t stop from smiling, and he saw the same dumb grin on Vsevna’s face, too. “Next time, I will say something,” Vsevna said.

“Let it be the first thing you say to me,” Henrik said. He squeezed Vsevna’s hands one last time, then let go. “Now... please go join your crew. You might be worrying them.”

“Oh, I think they know what the delay was for,” Vsevna chuckled. “You keep an eye out for my message bird, sova.”

“I will. I will send a reply back straight away after.” Henrik nodded. “Stay safe. Farewell.”

“Farewell, Henrik.” Vsevna smiled, then turned and hurried to the path down the cliffs.

Henrik watched him go. He leaned over the side to watch Vsevna get in the row boat, and stayed watching until the boat got out into the water. Then he took a deep breath and went back to camp. No doubt the others already had all the horses saddled up to go already.

Part of his heart was already aching. But he thought back to that last moment, to their closeness. And he couldn’t help but smile again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The journey to Suilthair was long and not very interesting. Despite how they were traveling with a squad of warriors wearing the royal crest, as well as the King himself, they didn’t attract much attention. Then again, that might be because they deliberately avoided towns whenever possible. They didn’t want to cause a fuss or risk something delaying them. It was crucial that they get to the city as soon as possible.

Over time, Amabel and Quentin both grew to really love and appreciate the horses—especially Locket, who they usually spent most of the day riding on. Neither the kids nor Chase really liked horseriding, as it was very bouncy and sort of uncomfortable. But they got used to it. It was a small price to pay for a quick pace.

Jackie wasn’t too fond of horses either, but unlike Chase and his kids, he couldn’t get off the horse to walk sometimes. Henrik insisted that he not walk because it might open his wound back up. Despite Jackie protesting that he was “almost completely healed” by this point. Once they got closer to the city, Marvin got tired of hearing Henrik and Jackie argue about this, and used some magic one night to heal the rest of Jackie’s lingering injury. Chase... didn’t know that was something he could do. “Why hadn’t you used magical healing before?” he asked. “That would’ve come in handy countless times!”

Marvin glanced side to side, then pulled Chase close. “Because the only healing spell I know involves me actually taking on the injuries and pain of the wound,” he explained. “I think there are other ones, but I never bothered to learn them because they all have consequences along those lines.”

“Oh!” Chase’s eyes widened. “Will... will you be okay for the rest of the journey?”

“Of course.” Marvin snorted. “Jackie’s ‘wound’ by this point has been naturally healed down to a small cut. Henrik is just being overprotective. But you have to let him be, sometimes. It’s how he shows he cares.”

Jameson spent the first couple days on the trip looking at his new mask. Or rather, the new decorations on his old mask. He’d agreed to take over as the lead for administration, letting Anna go home to see her family. Now, dark blue circles colored the inside of the rabbit’s ears, while the nose was made purple. A pair of curving, light blue lines traced the shape of the mask, one to the left and one to the right. Anna hadn’t had any colored decorations, but Marvin, Jackie, and Henrik all insisted that he have some. “You came with us into the Wyldwood, Jameson!” Jackie had said. “You’re a huge part of this. You deserve some color.” Which was true, Jameson supposed. Even so, it didn’t really feel real. He never would have guessed his life would lead him here. But as the journey progressed, he started to settle into this new role... which wasn’t really too new to him, anyway. After all, before all this, he’d been a noble, training to take over the responsibilities of the Jairsolas family one day. It took him a bit to remember his old lessons about leadership, but... something told him he would figure it out.

Jack, meanwhile, was becoming more and more nervous the closer they got to Suilthair. Everyone could see it. He hadn’t been too outgoing in the first place, but as time went on he began fidgeting, his face drawn, barely picking at his food during meal times and constantly shifting back and forth while riding his horse. By the time they were a day away from the city, it was beginning to actually be a problem, as dark bags from lack of sleep were clearly forming under his eyes.

While the group was riding, Chase stalled for a moment to get off Locket, handing her reins to a nearby rider so that she wouldn’t go off course (and take his kids with her.) “I’ll be right back,” he said to Amabel and Quentin, then hurried over to Jack, who was riding nearby. “Hey Jack.” He looked up at him, maintaining a brisk pace so he was even with the trotting horse. “We’re going to reach Suilthair before nightfall, you know.”

Jack tensed slightly, gripping the reins of his horse tighter. “Y-yes, of course I know. I heard you all talk about it when we were breaking camp.”

“Right, we were.” Chase nodded. “So... how nervous are you about that?”

“Nervous? What makes you say that?” Jack gave him a smile... nervously.

“You’re... not exactly doing a great job at hiding it,” Chase said slowly. “I don’t blame you for feeling that way, there are a lot of reasons why you might, but... I just wanted to check on you.”

Jack’s smiled faded. He looked away and sighed. “You’re a really good man, Chase.”

“I try to be.” Chase laughed a little. “So... how nervous are you?”

“Very, I think,” Jack admitted. “I know that your group has been doing some, uh... research into the city’s current state—and the whole country’s, too, of course. I know that we’ll be walking into a place that’s mostly confused, but... I can’t help but be afraid that some people there will remember what I—what Aneirin did to them. All the enchantment, and all the harm he caused... Not to mention I distinctly remember he left Thalia Tinechroí in charge as regent, and she’s not exactly the most pleasant person, even though she tries to be charming.”

Chase laughed. “I think Marvin and all the rest of us would agree.” Then he looked ahead as well—down the road leading to Suilthair. His expression turned serious. “I know it’s probably going to be hard. And complicated. But we’re here to stand by you. You have us with you—and a squad of warriors who probably have high ranks in the, uh... rankings. We’ll all lend you support and backup. In whatever way you need.”

“I know you will, Chase.” Jack nodded. He took a deep breath. “It’s just... hard not to think about all the bad things that could happen.”

“Well, at least nothing will be as bad as that spirit, right?” Chase shrugged.

Jack laughed. “You’re fucking right about that!”

Chase grinned. “Besides, you’re a very good man, too, Jack. Everything will be fine. You just... need to look royal. And speak royally.”

“That might be a bit tricky,” Jack said slowly. “I don’t feel very royal.”

“Hm... well, maybe there’s some magic that could help with that?” Chase suggested. “I saw you talking to your horse a couple times during the journey. Is that... helping you get... familiar with your magic again?”

“O-oh, you... saw that.” Jack looked a bit embarrassed, but pressed on. “I guess it has.”

“Maybe you could make some sort of illusion around yourself,” Chase continued. “Like how the Fair Folk are said to wear glamours to change their appearance.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that.” Jack nodded. “You know, it’s funny, I picked up on some tidbits from that spirit while it was... h-here.” He went a bit pale, but again, pressed on. “Back in his day, there was a rumor that Smauel’s father was a Fair Folk—explaining why he had such strong enchantment magic. I... guess that would mean the spirit’s father was the same. With them being twins and all that. So... I could probably do a Fair-Folk-like glamour. I doubt I could make myself look like an entirely different person, but I could probably make some slight modifications to my appearance.”

“You might want to get rid of the dark circles under your eyes,” Chase suggested.

“I have dark circles?” Jack blinked. “Alright, uh... Chase, do you mind watching me while I practice this? Tell me when the dark circles disappear.”

Chase smiled. “I will. Not a problem.”

Later that day, shortly after they stopped for a quick lunch break, the Emerald Lake came into view, its water gleaming in the sunlight. The group had spent a lot of the journey avoiding the roads, but now they met up with one, hoofbeats and footsteps thudding on the packed dirt. They had to take the ferry to the island in the center, of course, but they’d worked out the timing carefully so that one would definitely be there when they arrived. The small dock area where the ferry arrived and departed was pretty much empty except for the sailors who ran the place and a handful of warriors. The traveling group was easily spotted—in part because Jack had put on the King’s golden circlet again. It had been tucked away for most of the journey—and indeed, it had been tucked away since the end of the battle at the Cliffs. But now it was out again, and though there was a bit of dirt clinging to it, Jack had practiced enhancing its shine with his powers, making it so that anyone who looked at it thought they saw it perfectly clean and almost glowing. He’d done the same with the rest of his clothes, dusty from travel, and had made himself look less tired and drawn, with Chase’s help.

Everyone nearby stopped and stared at the group as they approached. Then one of the warriors gasped. “Ronnie!” They ran towards the group, and while the Phantoms all tensed instinctively, one of the formerly-enchanted warriors laughed and ran forward to meet this other warrior, and the two of them embraced. That certainly broke the tension.

“Your Majesty, you—you’ve returned!” gasped one of the sailors. “You’re—do you—you wish to use the public ferry?”

“It seems the most efficient, doesn’t it?” Jack said. His tone was lighthearted, almost joking. The sailor couldn’t see the way he gripped the reins of his horse tightly. “We’ll be leaving our mounts in the stable here. How soon can you be ready to depart for the island?”

“A-as soon as possible!” The sailor bowed, and so did everyone else. Some of the formerly-enchanted warriors hurried forward to explain the situation to the warriors here. Or at least, to give them the most basic of basic rundowns. There probably wouldn’t be time to explain everything.

One ferry ride later (the whole group was pretty crowded on the small boat), and they had arrived in Suilthair proper. Everyone spilled out of the ferry and onto land, immediately garnering attention from the regular cityfolk, who stopped in their tracks to stare. Then, once they realized who was among this group, they all gasped. The King?! With not only royal warriors, but some of those mask-wearing rebels as well?! And they were all... getting along?! Talk began to buzz around them like a hive of bees. Some shouted at others to come look at this, and people began leaning out the windows of buildings to look at what all the fuss was about.

Chase made sure that Amabel and Quentin were close to him. He held Amabel’s hand tightly in his left, and Quentin’s in his right. His eyes darted around. At least people didn’t seem angry. They didn’t seem happy, either, but he wasn’t expecting that. They mostly just seemed shocked and confused.

“Alright, Your Majesty.” Jackie stepped close to Jack, scanning the crowd for potential dangers. On Jack’s other side, Lydia the warrior did the same thing. “Let’s get to the castle fast.”

“Right.” Jack nodded. He looked out at the crowd on the docks and raised a hand, waving in greeting with a half-smile on his face. “Sorry! We have business to attend to.”

The fact that the King actually spoke to them just seemed to shock and confuse the crowd more. “Okay, really, everyone go.” Jackie began ushering people forward. “We don’t want to create a bottleneck on these narrow wooden paths.”

The group hurried through the city, the wooden pathways bouncing under the weight of their many boots but never dipping too far into the water. Despite Jackie’s best efforts, there were occasional spots where their progress slowed because of the onlookers. A crowd was starting to develop, some of said onlookers following the group as they made their way towards the palace in the center. It seemed to disperse for a moment as the group stepped from the wooden pathways to the actual island, but then it began to gather up again in even greater force. None of the onlookers got too close, always keeping a couple arm’s lengths away from the edge of the group, but they were there. Jack smiled slightly and waved a couple times. And every time he did, the crowd was clearly surprised.

Then they reached the castle wall.

The crowd fell back a bit, reluctant to get too close. A pair of warriors outside the front gate looked at the group as they approached, wary at first but then becoming more confused as they saw the King and some royal warriors walking among the strange masked rebels (though not all of the Phantoms wore their masks, nor did all of the warriors wear their tunics with the royal crest.) Jack stalled for a moment. The enchantment he was sending out hid his anxiety, but Chase knew it was there. “You can do this,” he whispered.

“Yea, Mr. Your Majesty,” Amabel added, nodding seriously. “You can do this.”

Jack looked down at her in mild surprise, then nodded back at her. He stepped past Jackie and Lydia, who had taken the lead during this walk, and looked at the pair of warriors. Taking a deep breath, he said, “As you can see, I’ve returned. Open the gates. Please.”

The guards hesitated. “Your... Your Majesty?” one of them asked slowly. “Is that... really you?”

“As opposed to...?” Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Your eyes are... different,” the other one said.

“Yes, I know they are,” Jack said calmly. “There’s a reason for that, though I know if I say it, it will sound very unlikely. Do you want to hear the reason, anyway? Because I know I will have to explain to Lady Tinechroí, and it will likely be much more efficient to only do it once. Let me inside so I can do that, please.”

The warriors glanced at each other. “Your Majesty, we... we were told not to open the gate for any visitors the Lady did not approve beforehand.”

“And that includes your King?” Lydia asked.

Jackie nodded. “Whatever Lady Tinechroí ordered, you know she is outranked by the King.”

Again, the warriors glanced at each other. “Can you wait outside while we alert her?” the first one asked.

Jack glanced at the Phantoms and warriors around him, who had all started to close in. Then he looked at the crowd of onlookers further back. He nodded slowly. “If you’re quick about it.”

One of the warriors looked upwards at the top of the castle wall and shouted for someone to go get Thalia. A figure on top hurried off, and silence fell for a moment. Chase glanced at Jack. The illusion was still in place, but it couldn’t hide the slight trembling all over his frame. As Jack looked back at Chase in turn, Chase gave him an encouraging smile. Quentin and Amabel also gave him thumbs up with their free hands, which caused Jack to laugh fondly a little.

The group shifted around as someone came closer to the front. First, a small off-white cat—Draco. And then following him, Marvin. “I knew she would try something like this,” Marvin muttered. “Your Majesty. Jack. You have to stand firm. She’s very stubborn. Worst comes to worst, say you’ll be speaking to her parents, or maybe mention that you doubt she could handle a high-up position if she won’t listen.”

“Thank you, Marvin,” Jack whispered back. “Ah... are you... sure you want to be in sight? It might just... make things worse for everyone.”

“I’ll be fine,” Marvin said, reaching up to pull his mask down over his face. “She won’t even know it’s me.”

“Draco is a bit of a giveaway,” Chase muttered to him.

Marvin tried to gently push him out of sight. Draco stubbornly remained where he was for a whole minute before he finally got annoyed and trotted away, heading back through the group until he reached Jameson, who quickly scooped him up and carefully moved so that he was hidden from view.

After a few minutes, the castle doors opened. Thalia Tinechroí stepped out. She looked very noble, her hair flowing around her face in a blonde wave, wearing a deep yellow dress with ruffles and a thick skirt. Next to her, Enid, her dog and familiar, stuck by her side, sniffing the air. Somewhere in the back of the group, Draco wriggled about and narrowed his eyes. “Your Majesty,” Thalia said calmly. “I am glad to see you back after such a long delay. I know you said you were not sure when you would be back, but we expected it to be sooner.”

“Yes, I am aware,” Jack said, managing to stay calm. “Lady Thalia, a lot has happened in the past half season, as I’m sure you can tell just by who stands before you. But I have returned—truly returned, and I need to know what state the kingdom is in.”

“What state the kingdom is in?” Thalia repeated. “Your Majesty, I can promise you, I’ve done my utmost to serve as your regent.”

“Yes, I am sure you have, and I’m sure you’ve done a fine job,” Jack said. “Thank you for all you’ve done. I am ready to return to my duties.”

“You say that, Your Majesty, but I can’t help but look at your eyes,” Thalia said. “They seem to have shifted color. Such a thing is not natural. How are we to know you are the true King, and not some sort of trick? After all, those people in the masks have been working against the crown.”

“If you ask me any question the King should know, I can answer it,” Jack said. “For example, I know that before I left, you stopped me and awkwardly hinted that you would be ready for an engagement, by using some sort of metaphor about butterflies and flowers?”

Thalia’s jaw dropped. She was clearly trying to say something, but no words came out. Her face turned very, very red.

“The reason for the change in my eyes is simple.” Jack looked around. Some castle servants and warriors had gathered on the wall above, while around them, the onlookers had crept forward into earshot. “The truth is... for as long as you’ve known my eyes to be green, I have not been... myself. A spiolash invaded my body and took control. For the past seven years.”

Everyone muttered at the sound of the possessive spirits’ true name. That was not something said lightly.

“With the help of these Masked Phantoms, I have been freed,” Jack continued. “And the spirit’s spells have ended. I’m sure you all must have felt something shift in the air some time ago.”

More muttering, mostly from the growing crowd of onlookers.

“I have taken some time to recover and now I am ready to return to my duties,” Jack said. “Again, I thank you for your help running the city and the kingdom as I did so. But I ask you to step down now.”

Thalia blinked slowly, eyes darting back and forth. “And, ah... these Phantoms, as you call them, are to be allowed into the palace as well? How well do you... know these people, Your Majesty?”

“Well enough,” Jack said. “And if you have doubts, I have with me here several of our most trusted warriors who can also vouch for the Phantoms—as well as verify my story of the possessive spirit.” Lydia nodded, as did the other warriors in the group.

Thalia looked at the guards who’d been at the front gate. “Do you recognize these warriors?”

“Yes, of course,” one of them said. “Though it has been a while since we’ve seen their faces without helmets. There's no doubt who they are.”

The onlookers muttered among themselves, some of them pointing at Thalia. She saw them doing this and stiffened slightly. Apparently the idea of looking bad in front of a crowd made her uncomfortable. Enough that she nodded. “V-very well, Your Majesty. Welcome back. And welcome to all the rest of your group as well.” She looked up towards the top of the castle wall (where servants and warriors had gathered to watch). “Open the gate!”

The servants up above moved about quickly, and the massive front doors soon opened. Behind them was a portcullis blocking the way, which rose upwards. The onlooking crowd all gasped and murmured, sounding very interested and curious as to what’s going on. Jack looked at them and waved, smiling slightly. Some of the crowd—mostly the younger ones—waved back. And with that, the group all headed into the castle.

Chase tensed slightly as they walked through the wall. The last time he was here, he was helping Jameson escape. He glanced back through the group towards Jameson, and saw that he also looked a bit pale and worried. But he was standing strong, so Chase felt like he should be able to as well.

“I... assume you’ll be wanting to go back to your rooms, King Aodhán?” Thalia asked slowly. “The servants have been keeping it clean. But, ah... where will the rest of your... friends stay?”

Jack glanced back at them. “Well, some might prefer to stay in the barracks on site, but I know that we have the whole east wing and towers full of guest rooms for the others. Though I’ll warn you guys now, they’re probably in disrepair.”

“That’s fine, Your Majesty,” Jackie said. “We’ve slept in worse places.”

Thalia blinked and looked at him. More specifically, at his mask. She narrowed her eyes. “Have we met?”

“Yes,” Jackie said. “But don’t worry about it. We both have the common goal of helping the kingdom, so there’s nothing to worry about, is there?” He looked at her pointedly.

“...right,” Thalia said slowly. She glanced at the other Phantoms and all their masks, clearly taking note of ones she was familiar with. “Your Majesty.” She stepped forward, leaning close to Jack despite how Jackie and Lydia both stiffened as she got close, unafraid of how several of the Phantoms and warriors reached for their weapons. “May I speak with you alone later?”

Jack hesitated for a moment. Then he made a decision. “No, if alone means with just the two of us, you may not. I know that you mean the best, but this is a very tense situation we’re in right now, and I don’t think it would look good if I spent time alone with one person. These Phantoms here might think you’re trying to conspire with me. You may speak with me in a group setting, though.”

Thalia blinked. “I... simply want you to think about the type of people you spend your company with. If you can really trust them.”

“I am thinking about that, Lady, I assure you,” Jack said. “And if you keep pushing the matter, I may start to reconsider my trust in you.”

Thalia immediately shut her mouth. She nodded, and gave a little curtsey. “As you wish, King Aodhán.”

“Thank you.” Jack nodded. “Now, if you could please alert the servants to open up the east wing and towers.”

“Right away, Your Majesty.” And Thalia turned, crossing the gardens of the castle grounds and quickly heading to the palace.

The moment she was gone, Jack let out a long breath, his posture deflating. He glanced back at Chase, who smiled. “You did a great job, Jack,” he said quietly.

“Very great,” Amabel agreed.

Jack smiled slightly, then looked at Jackie and Lydia. “Do you two mind... staying nearby for the rest of the day?”

“Of course.” Jackie nodded, and Lydia bowed.

“Your Majesty, do you... actually trust her?” Marvin asked. “Believe she put her best foot forward, and all that?”

“Not fully,” Jack said. “I don’t trust her character, but I trust her to be consistent—and to not do anything that would make her lose favor. Don’t worry, we can all keep an eye on her.”

Marvin nodded, looking relieved.

“Alright...” Jack sighed. “Let’s see what a mess they’ve made of the castle.”

It took all day for everything to settle down. The servants and warriors of the palace were surprised to have the King back—and shocked that he was so different from what they remembered. Many of them were relieved, but a bit confused. Still, none of them questioned Jack’s orders, and went about opening up the parts of the palace that had been closed, doing their best to get it all back in order. The Phantoms helped, even though most of them didn’t know anything about how to maintain rooms in a palace.

A brief meeting was held around dinnertime where everyone talked about what happened in Suilthair since the King left, and about the news that had come in from the rest of the kingdom. It seemed that the moment the spirit had been banished, all the enchantments he made had disappeared, meaning that a lot of warriors and servants came out of trances they’d been in for years, and even common citizens of Suilthair felt as though they’d awoken from a fog. There had been confusion, but Thalia had managed to keep order—seemed she was good at that, at least, even if she was just doing so to cozy up to the King. The servants and warriors had maintained the status quo in the castle, but loosened up, generally. Many people living in Suilthair had left, but others had come in from the surrounding countryside, wondering what was going on in the city and why rumors said the King had gone. Overall, it could have been much worse. But there was still a lot of work to be done.

Later that night, Chase found himself settling down for bed in an actual room for the first time in a long while. Jack had asked him to stay close by, so the room was rather fancy, being in the royal wing where Jack’s rooms were. It was dirty and dusty and the legs of some of the chairs had snapped off, but it could have been worse. Marvin, Jackie, Henrik, and Jameson all shared another room also nearby, though theirs was bigger, with an actual connected living room. They offered to let Chase share, too, but he declined. He would rather have a room with just him and his kids.

“This is a really nice bed,” Quentin said, bouncing on the mattress—then sneezing as doing so caused a lot of dust to fly into the air.

“Careful, Quen, you don’t know what’s in there,” Chase chuckled.

Amabel climbed onto the bed next to Quentin and threw the blankets to the side. “Hm... I don’t see anything.”

“Good idea to check, though,” Chase said.

Quentin nodded. “Good idea. Now, come on, Dad! It’s night time!”

Chase smiled and climbed into bed next to them. “Are you two sure you want to share with me? You’re not too ‘big’ for that? There’s a nice sofa in here I could use.”

“The bed is giant, Dad, it’s no problem,” Amabel said. “We’ll be on one side and you can be on the other!”

“Ha! Good point.” Chase had brought a candle into the room for light. He set it down on the table next to the bed while he and the kids got comfortable. “Alright... you two know what we’re doing tomorrow, right?”

The two of them looked at him and nodded seriously. “We remember where Mom lived,” Amabel said. “I hope she’s still there.”

“Of course she is,” Chase reassured her. “And she’ll be so happy to see you again.” Though he was a bit nervous, himself, he knew that Stacia would have been so worried this whole time. He could barely stand to delay seeing her for another night, but she would probably be asleep by now, anyway. “Alright. So we have to all get some good rest tonight. Got it?”

“Got it, Dad,” Amabel said, and Quentin nodded. “We’ll be so rested. Look.” She pulled the blanket up to her chin—meaning that it was up to Quentin’s nose, as he was still much smaller than her.

Chase chuckled. “Okay. Good night, you two. I love you.”

“Love you too,” both kids said in unison.

Chase leaned over and blew out the candle, then settled down for the night. Tomorrow, the family would be fully reunited again. Tomorrow would be the start of the rest of their lives.

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