#[You may have your muses pet her at any time]

[caeca-iustitia]

Vincent has a goat now...

I want a goat irl but I can't have one so Vincent gets a goat...

She is a pure white, fluffy pygmy goat named Alecto and she follows Vincent everywhere. They love her to bits and take very good care of her. Alecto is a good girl and she loves cuddles- even with strangers- though she can have a bit of a temper if she isn't fed on time.

I love her...

[corroded-hellfire]

I’m sorry for getting distracted like ten times before sending this but tbh it’s kinda your fault <3

Imagine you’re sitting in the backyard with Eddie while watching the kids run around and Eddie starts talking about how happy and thankful he is for the life he has now. He gets emotional with you and even starts to cry and I just wanna see him cry happy tears. LET MY BOY BE HAPPY.

Your wish is my and @munson-blurbs’s command our darling wife 💚

Words: 2.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Autumn in Hawkins is…well, like any other time in Hawkins, but with a crisp bite in the air. The leaves that budded in the spring and held a lively green in the summer are now beginning to turn brown, curling in on themselves as they fall off of the trees. The sun dips behind the clouds earlier and earlier, bringing many of the town’s residents inside their homes for the night. 

But not your family. 

You and Eddie sit side by side on the porch swing, watching your kids run around the backyard. All three of them—four, if you count Luke’s dog—are playing a rousing game of tag. Ryan and Luke have teamed up against Eliza and Patch. It isn’t much of a fair fight, considering your daughter is only three years old and the dog doesn’t have a clue about what’s happening, but no one is complaining. 

Eddie’s hand finds your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “This is pure chaos,” he whispers in your ear. 

“Insanity,” you agree. Eliza shrieks giddily as Ryan picks her up and slings her over his shoulder. There was a time where you could carry Ryan; now, he’s sixteen-years-old and turning into a young man. It was as though the years had slipped through your fingers without you realizing. “What were we thinking, adding another one into this mix?”

Instinctively, Eddie splays his palm over your stomach. You’re only a month along and aren’t close to showing yet, but he still feels that protectiveness over you. 

“Four kids and a dog,” he muses, shaking his head. “This is your fault, y’know?”

“My fault?”

Eddie nods, a serious look on his face. “Oh, yes. It was two against two when we just had the boys. But then you had to be so damn perfect, and so I had to give you a baby.” He presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“And what about this one?” You glance at where his hand rests. “Is that my fault, too?”

“Absolutely.” Eddie grins. “I mean, you looked so beautiful pregnant with Eliza. How could I possibly let that be a one-time thing?”

You’re about to protest that it was actually a nine-month thing, but you’re interrupted by Patch barking excitedly. 

The brown and white puppy runs as fast as his little legs will take him, doing laps around the three kids. He seems content when Eliza is put back down on the ground, and he can go over and check on her.

“I’m okay!” Eliza comforts with a breathless laugh. 

She pets Patch on the head as he sniffs all over her small legs and feet. Luke snatches his little sister, and though he doesn’t pick her up off the ground, he holds her prisoner against his chest.

“Whatcha gonna do now, Patch?” he teases. “Remember, I’m the one who feeds you!”

Eliza squeals and wriggles against the fourteen-year-old’s chest. Ryan decides to take the attention off both of his siblings and plop down on the grass right next to Patch.

The plan works perfectly as the Australian Shepherd and Labrador mix abandons both younger Munsons and climbs onto Ryan’s chest.

Eddie chuckles from next to you. When you turn to look at him, an infectious grin has you joining in his laughter.

“We’re raising some great kids, huh?” he muses, still watching them.

“Let’s hope this next one turns out just as amazing,” you say, squeezing your hand over Eddie’s where it’s perched on your stomach. 

He turns his hand around to lace his fingers with yours before bringing your hand up to his mouth. His soft, yet slightly chapped lips press kisses from your knuckles all the way to the inside of your wrist. The two of you may have been together for over six years now, but the display of affection still makes you dizzy with giddiness. 

“I keep wondering about how they’re going to react,” Eddie says, nodding towards your children out on the lawn. “I think I’ve imagined them responding in every possible way.”

“Can I be the one to say it to them?” you ask. It feels a little silly, but the idea of getting to say the words “you’re going to have a baby brother or sister” to them fills you with glee.

“Of course, princess.” 

It’s quiet for a few minutes as the two of you watch Eliza demonstrate to Patch how to roll over. Luke pretends to give his little sister a treat from his pocket and the girl playfully growls at him.

“Do you think Luke will wanna name this new baby?” you ask Eddie as his thumb lazily strokes the back of your hand.

“God, I hope not,” he admits with a breathy chuckle. “He’s been obsessed with WWE lately. We’ll have to name it John Cena.”

You giggle and rest your head on your husband’s shoulder. Man, this pregnancy was already hitting you with the exhaustion. 

“Well, Eliza would probably pick Hercules or Megara,” you point out. “Not much better.”

Eddie leans in and kisses your forehead. “Maybe we have to institute a ‘no wrestlers and no cartoon characters’ rule this time.”

“But then Eliza wouldn’t be Eliza,” you point out. It was Ryan who had chosen the name while watching The Wild Thornberries. “So, we might have to make an exception if needed.”

“Fair enough.” 

Before you can set any more ground rules, Luke calls out from the grass:

“Attention, lady and gentledad! The Amazing Eliza and her fearless pup, Patch, would like to perform their death-defying spectacular!”

You sit up a bit, watching as Eliza crouches on her hands and knees. Luke fishes a slice of bologna out of his pants pocket—you’re not sure how long it’s been in there, and you’re not sure you want to—and stands on one side of his sister. 

On her other side, Ryan holds Patch in his arms, the Aussiedor wriggling in anticipation of his snack. 

“And now,” Luke bellows, “we will release the beast!”

With that, your oldest son places Patch on the grass. Before all paws even touch down, the dog bolts towards Luke, leaping over Eliza with surprising grace. 

Eliza jumps up, excitement written all over her cherubic face. “Mommy! Daddy! Did you see that? Did you see me and Patch?”

“We sure did, sweet pea.” You look over at Eddie to gauge his reaction, only to see that his eyes are glassy. The kids are already plotting Patch’s next trick when you ask your husband what’s wrong. 

Eddie shakes his head, swiping at a tear that managed to escape. “I was just thinking about how much they smile,” he says softly. “Especially the boys. It wasn’t always this way.”

You lace your fingers with his. “I know.” You remember the early days of babysitting Ryan and Luke. They walked on eggshells around Brittany, always prepared to be dismissed or outright rejected. Each “I’m too busy to play with you,” extinguished a little more light in their eyes. 

“I love you,” Eddie murmurs. “I love you for so many reasons, but I love you most of all for bringing joy back into our lives again. For reminding us how a family should be.”

Another tear rolls down his cheek as he takes in the unconditional love that surrounds him. You reach over with your free hand and wipe the tear away with your thumb. 

“Every smile and little giggle from those boys has brought me so much joy ever since I met them. Seeing their general happiness grow over these last ten years has been a highlight of my life.”

You bring Eddie’s hand up and press a few soft kisses against the back of it. 

“And now there’s another infectious laughter added to the mix,” Eddie says with a teary chuckle as Eliza’s wild giggle floats over to you on a crisp breeze. 

“And another one soon, I’m sure,” you say, placing a hand on your lower abdomen. “I can’t picture this kid having less than an enchanting laugh.”

Eddie sniffles and nods his head. “We’re all so lucky to have you here. The best mom and the best wife.”

“Not to mention that loving and attentive father our lucky babies have. You don’t give yourself enough credit for how happy you make all of us,” you tell him. 

He tries to shrug it off, but you’re persistent. 

“It’s true! Every laugh and smile I saw from the boys in the early days was because of you. You’re the reason they had light in their lives those grade school years. And you’re the reason Eliza is as stubborn as a mule, but still the greatest kid who is full of love and laughter. And then there’s me.” You rest your chin on his shoulder and look up at him through your lashes. “I’ve never felt so safe before. So safe and loved. And I get to goof off and laugh everyday with my best friend. Cause I’m lucky enough that I got to marry my best friend.”

Eddie’s tears are coming in harder now. It brings a smile to your face, though, to know he realizes just how loved every single person in this family is. That the love only grows stronger every day and soon there will be a new little person to give and receive even more love in the Munson house. 

Your husband clears his throat and rubs over his eyes with the sleeve of his black zip-up hoodie. 

“Dad?” you hear Luke say, approaching closer. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie assures him as he tries to make sure any trace of tears is gone. “I’m okay.”

“Then why were you crying?” Eliza gasps out as she runs over to the two of you. 

“Just happy,” Eddie responds, picking the three-year-old up and setting her in his lap. “I’ve got the greatest wife and kids in the world.”

“And dog,” Luke adds as Patch trots his way over. “Patch is the best.”

“And Patch,” Eddie agrees with a chuckle. 

The puppy puts his front two paws on the porch swing next to you and you take the hint. You bend over and pick up the precocious canine, who happily makes himself comfortable in your lap. 

Ryan comes over and sprawls out on the grass at the edge of the stone patio. He stares up at the rest of you and lets out a content sigh. 

“Dad’s a big old softy,” the sixteen-year-old quips. 

Eliza climbs up on the porch swing and Eddie has to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her from falling as the seat bucks from her movements. 

“Daddy is not soft,” Eliza states as she pokes her father’s bony shoulder. She then rubs her hand over his stubble as if to further prove her point. “Hard and scratchy.”

“What about big and old?” Luke asks, doing his best to keep a smile at bay. 

“Everyone is big compared to Liza Bean!” you butt in, reaching over with one hand to poke her belly. “She’s so teeny tiny!”

Eliza nods once in agreement. 

“Right, Mama! And, yeah, Daddy is old.”

You, Luke, and Ryan can’t help but laugh at her casual words. Eddie’s jaw drops open, and he looks at all of his family members with an affronted face. 

“I am only 41!” Your husband defends. 

“Old,” Eliza reiterates. 

Eddie grabs Eliza and clutches him close to her chest.

“Listen here, little missy!” His fingers dig into Eliza’s sides, making her squeal out in laughter. “I’m young enough to beat you up!”

“I don’t know if anyone can win against Eliza…” Ryan mutters.

“No!” Eliza shouts through her laughter. “I younger! I stronger!”

Eddie ceases his tickling and holds the three-year-old tight against his chest. 

“You can never escape.”

“Bite him!” Luke suggests.

“I’ll bite back,” Eddie says. “And my teeth are bigger.”

“Don’t want to damage your dentures,” Ryan says, a smirk dancing on his face.

You and Luke can’t help but laugh, but Eddie only narrows his eyes as his oldest son and leans into whisper something in Eliza’s ear. Your daughter’s face breaks out into a grin, and she nods her head enthusiastically. 

Eddie lets her down and takes a wide berth walking around her brothers. Neither of them takes their eyes off her small figure as Patch jumps down from your lap and follows the girl. While Eliza distracts them with the direction she’s walking, Eddie silently slips off the swing and is able to pounce on Ryan.

“Hey!” Ryan calls through laughter.

Despite how hard your eldest son tries to get free, Eddie is able to hold Ryan’s arms behind his back. With him subdued, Eliza launches herself at him, quickly glomming onto her biggest brother’s torso. 

“We got you!” Eliza calls. 

Ryan manages to get all three of them laying down on the grass, all squirming around like exposed worms looking for shelter. 

Luke simply shakes his head as he sits next to you on the porch swing. 

“Such children,” Luke admonishes. 

He uses his heels against the patio to gently push the swing back and forth as the two of you watch the other three squabble. 

“Us mature ones would never act this way,” Luke says to you.

“Never,” you agree with a chuckle.

You have no doubt something diabolical is spurning in the fourteen-year-old’s head, but you know that nothing you do or say will be able to stop it. Instead, you just lay your head down on top of Luke’s as you watch Eddie and Eliza try to keep Ryan down on the grass. 

“Mature,” you repeat to yourself. “That’s definitely us.”

[leaf-line]

For the request, can I please have Yandere Topaz, Jade, and Ruan Mei x people pleasure reader headcanon (seperate).

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭

Yandere! Topaz/Jade/Ruan Mei x Gn! Reader

❏ In which your selfless deeds catch someone's attention for no good reason.

cw: suggestive themes, dehumanization, isolation, brainwashing, non-consensual (french) kiss, Ruan Mei being gross.

w/c: 1,484

"Care for a drink Miss Topaz? Maybe I can help with your problems..." You offer a juice to her, and a hand. Co-worker [Name], a diligent worker in the Strategic Investment Department, seen around doing favors and extra work just for everyone... But why won't you just help her and only her instead?

"Oh, thank you! And no thank you, I can do these all by myself, how about you take care of yourself, and take a rest? You're always so helpful, [Name]." Topaz takes the juice gratefully with a smile.

"No... The same goes for you, Miss Topaz, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here having this position." You bow your head before hearing someone call you.

"[Name]! Do you have anything to do right now!? I need you assistance with this—"

"Yes! Yes! Coming right up!" You scurry to the voice, but not before giving a little wave to Topaz.

She returns the wave. Before looking back to the screen... And frowns. "It's only a matter of time." She mumbles.

Oddly enough, in the next three days after just being in the IPC, you were announced as Topaz's own personal assistant.

"This is... A bit surprising... But I look forward to being your assistant from now on, Miss Topaz." You smile, she smiles too.

"No, Jelena is fine, you're my assistant now, right? You don't need to be formal. I just have one rule... Don't assist any other workers from the IPC if it's not me, alright?" She orders.

"May I ask why...?"

"I simply don't want you to be led astray from your work, now, am I clear?"

What... a weird request, but you follow it nonetheless. For one day, that is, you only lasted one day, when that another co-worker of yours, begged for your assistance, you couldn't refuse, you weren't trained for that.

"Awh come on, [Name]! Just because you're now Topaz's assistant, doesn't mean you don't have to help your other co-workers too!" The person in front of you moaned.

"I'm sorry but, Miss Topa—Jelena advised me not to—"

"It's just very little work, it won't kill you will it? Just help me."

"...A-Alright, fine..."

...After that time, you never saw that same co-worker again the next day, from what you've seen, he was fired from his job because of workplace harassment, you don't know if it's true, you doubt that it's true... and Jelena... didn't seem happy when she confronts you about your deed.

"Didn't I personally said to you that you shouldn't assist anyone other than me?"

She sighs and shakes her head disappointedly. Your back was facing the wall as she pushes up her thigh below your crotch.

"I can't believe you would just disobey me that early, maybe I should start teaching you and training so you won't be pushed around from others like that."

Teaching you and training you like a pet, that is. A cute, little pet who won't disobey her master. That's what Topaz shamelessly labels you as.

You walked into the pawn shop nervously. You swallow, feeling like you've entered a dangerous territory.

"Welcome to Bonajade Exchange. Who are you? And what do you seek?" An unfamiliar and elegant voice rang from behind the curtain.

"I wish... To help my friends." You mumbled out loud.

"Hm? Why is that?" Though you can't see her, you can feel her smiling through her lips. "Are you sure you're here for the sake of someone else?" She muses.

"They've... Been struggling with expenses, I don't know what offer you but myself... I owe them many." You tell her with a sad tone.

"You're sacrificing yourself for the sake of your friend? That's very noble, we can arrange that. Though, since you're here at my pawnshop, I'd like to hear what you want for your own self."

"No need. I'll do what I can to help other people." You fidget, yet say with full honestly, Lady Bonajade senses that. There is not single greedy bone in your body, fellows like you were rare, it's about time she found a rare gem, just like Jelena.

"I see," She raises the curtains. "In exchange for other people's needs, why don't you work at this shop?" She offers.

You cleaned the pawnshop, bargained for Jade, advertised the shop for the people in need. You kept the store running, but you didn't show any signs of uplifting the profits into another level, you were just a side piece, keeping the shop regulating like normal, and it was insufficient for Jade.

But it's fine, Jade doesn't leave an exchange until she gets real value.

You were cut ties from your family thinking that you were just busy and working hard to provide yourself and sending a lot of resources to them, your friends were now happy and financially stable but never really checked on you whether your doing good, the people you care and know were healthy, but they don't need you. Now you find your hands weighting chains, attached to the shackle on your wrist.

If there's one thing Jade found joy in, it's reaping a pure, untaited, soul.

"Come closer here," Jade gestures you to come over, you obey, broken. You see her lips, tainted with dark red lipstick, it comes closer, not on your face.

And just as Adam bit the apple, Jade bites your neck.

"Ruan Mei, you're burnt out, please take a rest, I'll handle all of this research." You place a blanket on her shoulder.

"Would you like a cup of tea? A plate of cake? Embroider something? Please inform me, I'll... I'll handle it." You say with a smile.

Ruan Mei was tired, she had been researching Aeons for a couple of weeks, barely feeding herself. And usually, when Ruan Mei was tired, she wouldn't entrust anyone with her research... Except for you.

Ruan Mei's trusty little assistant, whom she's sure no matter what she asks you for, you would do that.

"...I want a cake." She answers, though delayed.

"Oh, alright!" You seem delighted to be doing a favor. You ran into the kitchen, preparing the food as Ruan Mei daydreams.

Why were you so insistent in helping her? Why do you do everything in your power to please her? You're strange, a strange person, Ruan Mei shouldn't care, she shouldn't care about your well being, she shouldn't care why your here to help her.

"I'm at your service, Ruan Mei."

"Do you need any help? I'll be sure to help you with what you need, Ruan Mei."

"Ruan Mei."

"Ruan Mei."

"Ruan Mei—"

"Ruan Mei, your desert is ready..." She snaps out of her daydream and glances at you, then the plate you're holding.

She blinks. "Apologies, I blanked out."

"It's alright."

You don't say her name, she's just a bit slightly dissapointed. But it was never shown in her face.

You hand over the dessert you made for her, she takes it. You studied Ruan Mei's personal favorite desserts, food, tea and how it's all tailored to Ruan Mei's tastes. Your cooking is always bound to be above her expectations.

She takes a bite of the cake and you see her lips curl up by two milimeters, which sounds a lot.

"...Would like me to share?" She must've noticed you staring at her, you shake your head at the offer. "I mean no harm, I simply want to share my food to you, is that alright?"

You obey her regardless...

She looks at her research paper, at the table, only to get a headache since none if it provided her help towards her goal. She opts focusing on you instead.

"Here, say ahh..." Using the spoon, she takes a good amount of portion of the cake and tried to feed you with it like you're a baby.

"Ruan Mei, that is a bit... Embarrassing..."

You said her name, she relishes.

"It's fine, you only deserve, after all the times you helped me, come on, you don't need to lift a finger." She pushes the spoon to your lips, so you awkwardly open your mouth and the cake enters.

"...Say my name." She orders, but your eating something... That's not a problem, right?

"Ruan Mei, wh—Mmph!?"

She intrudes, exploring your mouth with her tongue, feeling the food that you personally made for her, she takes a part of it, and exits your mouth.

She swallows the cake with your saliva coatted in it then licks her lips. "Mm. Delectable." She nods, as if she's rating the experience with 4.5 stars.

You were left there with a dumbfounded expression, confused, perhaps even grossed out.

It's fine, brainwashing isn't hard to conduct, you'll forget this ever happened in no time. Just as how you forgot you were trapped in her home against your will in the first place.

a/n: mmm... manipulative women... 😋

[fictionalwh0ree]

Hi! May I please make a Billie request where Billie realizes she has a crush on her best friend and starts acting nervous and shy around her, and Billie decides to go live one day and fans are asking about reader since she's usually always around and Bil's like "guys she makes me nervous cause I think she's super pretty" and basically admits her crush? Thank you 🥹🤗

cocktail night- billie eilish

summary: you and billie became fast friends, but the celebrity lifestyle sometimes interferes with your plans. you two finally have a free night and decide to have a cocktail night. with alcohol flowing through her veins, billie can't help but confess her crush on you to the world.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: alcohol/drinking, mild swearing

billie eilish was easily your favourite person in the world. despite having met only eight months ago, you guys had developed a bond unlike any other, spending any free time either of you had with each other. you knew you could spend every waking moment with her, and if you could, you definitely would. however, the celebrity lifestyles often clashed and while there were weeks were you could spend every day with each other, there were times where weeks would go by and you wouldn’t see each other. now was one of those dry spells where you hadn’t seen each other in about two weeks. you planned a little cocktail night together when you were both free. the idea had been your suggestion as the last couple of times you had seen your best friend, she had been acting strange. she was flustered and more quiet than usual. you blew it off as some weird way of coping with the stress and work that goes into writing and producing a new album, but thought that a couple cocktails might help loosen her up a little bit.

finally, the night arrived. you unlocked her door with the spare key she had given you and were immediately greeted by shark, who barked excitedly at seeing you. you bent down to pet him as billie ran down the stairs to meet you. with almost as much excitement as her puppy, she wrapped her arms around you in a hug while a large smile adorned her face. once she pulled away, you followed her to the kitchen.

“soooo, whats new?” she asked you.

“billie, we were on call just before i left the house,” you laughed before stuffing a couple chips in your mouth.

“but actually, this guy cut me off when i was driving and the guy behind me honked at me. i was so annoyed. the only thing that got me through the drive was reminding myself i would be drinking soon,” you vented.

“the thought of seeing me wasn’t enough to get you through the drive?” she joked, placing her hands over her heart dramatically.

“nope,” you smiled.

she kissed her teeth and looked away in fake annoyance, but the large smile on her face gave it away. she looked back over at you, your eyes locking, but only for a moment before hers dropped to the ground.

“i did miss you though, for real,” you affirmed.

“i missed you too,” she said.

“stop being so busy all the time,” billie joked.

“says you,” you laughed.

“you know, i think it would save you a lot of time if you had a muse to write about,” you joked, snagging a couple more chips.

“oh really? and who should my muse be?” she said, raising her eyebrow.

“me, duh,” you smiled.

“you’re already my muse,” she said, sending an exaggerated wink your way.

“aww, shut the fuck up,” you said, shoving her playfully.

“okay, come on lets get to drinking,” billie said, switching the subject.

you nodded in accordance and the two of you worked together, gathering everything you would need. as you prepared your cocktails, you downed a couple of shots each, leaving your prepared drinks, which were supposed to be somewhat aesthetic, a very ugly and delicious hot mess. you took your drinks into the living room and billie put on a movie. the two of you were already tipsy before having even taken a sip of your cocktail, and the movie had become background noise amongst your lively conversation.

before long, the two of you decided it was time to change into something more comfortable. thankfully, you had come prepared with matching christmas pj pants which you had bought earlier in the day. you told her to stay in her place, and she waited eagerly for you as you retrieved your bag. you pulled them out with a ‘ta da.’ she matched your energy, shrieking in excitement. she ran upstairs to get changed and as did you. once you were ready, you met her back in the living room, about to sit on the couch before the alcohol finally got to your bladder.

“i’m gonna go use the washroom quickly,” you told her.

she nodded, fidgeting with her phone. little did you know, she was going on live. the alcohol in her system making it seem like a good way to share your matching pyjama pants. she turned it on and within seconds, hundreds of thousands of people had joined. her live had just barely caught the end of your sentence, leading her fans to question where you were. the comments became flooded with comments along the lines of “is that y/n?” and “where’s y/n?”.

“yes guys, it is y/n,” billie smiled, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks as she slurred her words slightly.

“i came on here to show you guys our matching pj pants but she went to the washroom,” she continued.

her fans quickly picked up on the fact that she had been drinking and they had noticed the blush that got stronger with your mention.

“ouuuu she’s blushing,” one comment said.

“her cheeks r so red rn,” another one read.

“guyssss,” billie whined.

“who’s got you blushing like that 👀 👀” someone commented.

billie read it, mumbling the words slightly, before giggling.

“guys if i tell you this you can’t tell anyone okay?” she smiled, multiple fans agreeing and promising.

“y/n makes me nervous cause i think she's super pretty,” she confessed, giggling like a schoolgirl and throwing her phone. she shrieked into a nearby pillow, not fully recognizing what she had done. she picked up her phone hastily when she heard the bathroom door open. the comments were flooded with excitement and support from her fans, and of course, a lot of teasing as well.

“shhhhh, she’s coming back. remember the promise,” she said, turning back to see you a couple feet from the couch.

“what’re you up to?” you said skeptically.

“nothing,” she said innocently, widening her eyes at the camera to remind them to stay quiet.

“uh huh,” you laughed.

“i went on live to show everyone our matching pyjamas,” she said.

“well show them then,” you said.

she set her phone down against her empty cocktail glass and got up, standing next to you.

the two of you backed up until the camera captured you two fully donning your matching pants and white tank tops. she ran back to her phone and sat on the couch.

“why are you acting funny?” you smiled at her, tilting your head.

“i’m not,” she laughed.

“okay billie,” you laughed back.

you sat down next to her, setting your head down on her shoulder, causing her to blush again.

“my parents 😫😫😫,” someone commented.

“this is too cute,” another one read.

“billie u need to tell her,” one said.

“what’s up with your comments?” you asked billie, looking up at her.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, looking away.

you shook your head and looked back at the screen.

“billie said you made her nervous because she thinks you’re REALLY pretty,” a comment read.

you barely caught it as billie pulled the phone up above your face.

“you guys are snitches byeee” she said, ending the live hastily.

you sat up straight, looking at her in the eyes.

“i caught that, y’know?” you said.

“they weren’t supposed to say anything,” billie mumbled, a shy smile playing on her lips as her eyes locked on the couch cushion below her.

you laughed softly.

“so whats this about?” you asked gently, trying to coax her attention back to you.

“you read the comment,” she said, voice just above a whisper.

“say it,” you said, lifting her chin with your fingers, “tell me.”

she took a moment to meet your eyes, your faces now only inches apart as you leaned forward.

“i think you’re really pretty,” she whispered, “and i think i might like you, in more than a friend way.”

you finally leaned forward, linking your lips in a tender kiss. she leaned towards you and you leaned back until you were barely upright against the armrest. she pulled away for a moment, looking at you with a cheesy smile.

“you’re so stupid, y’know that?”

[tremendum]

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

Me and the Devil; interlude i

(not my gif)

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previous next series masterlist

word count: 3k

summary:  What agony it is to desire such an abomination. or interlude i; Feyd-Rautha saves your life, and you wish to kill him for it.

warnings:  feyd rautha, violence and gore, blood/murder, manipulation, mentions of pedophilia/incest/noncon (only with feyd and the Baron), light smut - choking, dom/sub dynamics, light blood kink, feyd calls reader his pet, brief mention of pregnancy/breeding, brief thoughts of suicide, mentions of familial death, some dissociation bc of trauma and grief. LOL FUN

notes: hiii! back with another part - the first of the interludes, which will provide brief glimpses into the past (or possibly the future/present). sorry to leave a cliffhanger with the arraignment coming up, but the next chapter should be up fairly soon :) hope you enjoy this, even if there is no paul in this part. love u all thank you for the kind words i wish i could respond to every single comment! <3

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The room is thick with the pounding of your heart; black, everything, black. 

You look around, as if in a fog; did you hear a scream just now, or was that the ache in your head, the rushing of your blood? The weight of fear is oppressive in its own right, but with the thickly metallic scent that follows your quiet footsteps, you feel yourself dragged to the ground by more than just gravity. 

A ship arrived with a Harkonnen legion just minutes ago; you know where it came from - you know who is chained up in the cells that lie beneath your feet.

And you know that behind those large dark doors which stand tall in front of you, your own fate is being decided. 

There is a loud shout from behind the doors; a scream, then a thud. You swallow back the bile that once again rises - perhaps in your years haunting these sickening halls you've grown accustomed to the overturn of slaved-servants which churn like discarded laundry; yet each life disposed of remains a strike against your heart, a whisper to the stars in the universe. 

Feyd-Rautha's voice clashes against his brother's; a loud cacophony of rage which echoes over the halls. It does not bode well for you; you wonder faintly, as you stare down at the floor below you, how changed your brother must look now. Has he taken your father's features, or does he have more of your mother's Ginaz-blooded nose, those strong arms? Lined up, side-by-side, would he look like you or your sisters? You haven't seen him since he was thirteen - he's a grown man, now. 

You worry you may not ever be able to find out. 

There is another shout, but this time it is cut off by the low rumble of the Baron; you wish to decipher their words, but through the thick doors you dare not place your ears against the seam. 

You do, however, hear your name; Perhaps the way it curls off of Feyd-Rautha's tongue will forever be in your memory. He says it and in the tone you find an alarming lace of desperation; this only throws heaps of fuel to the fire of anguish that burns within you.

You might die, tomorrow. 

How fitting is it, you muse, that the first time my family comes to visit you, you'll all be put to death out on the sands of Harko Arena. 

Perhaps this is what compels you to step closer, to listen against the doors for any sign of mercy. 

"-Don't tell me you've grown fond of her." 

"You mock me, uncle." His voice is laced with hatred, "I am not foolish enough to care about her. But she will bear strong heirs, with Harkonnen and Ginaz blood in them. Fighters." 

You swallow thickly, fear creeping up your spine. Hatred twitches your fingers, but you can't make out the harsh, cutting response of the Baron through the pounding of your heart. Perhaps you could run, but where could you go? 

It's as if they sense your presence - the words halt and the doors swing open; Your misfortunes tumble as the door gives way against your weight.

You freeze, face to face with the Baron and his nephews, the three harbingers of your fate; at the Baron's side is the pitiful frame of the twisted Mentat who has whispered poison into the stream of information reaching the Baron for months; the one who found your father's spies, who uncovered the plot. Piter De Vries. 

Feyd-Rautha's eyes are wild, his chest heaving with emotion as he glares at you; bottomless pits of deep blue. "What are you doing here?" his voice is a dangerous growl.

The Baron's gaze bores into you, his expression unreadable - you stare back, ignoring your betrothed's words. "Look who's decided to join us." the man's deep voice sneers, "The little traitor." 

Your throat is dry with fear, but your mind is subdued with an odd shroud of acceptance. Perhaps this is but a milestone in the self-fulfilling prophecy of your own life; a marker indicating the jumping of ship. Your family has committed treason, this you have seen to be true - the trial has already begun. But the Harkonnen do not like to wait to be told they may crush their enemies. 

It is not incorrect to assume that, if you somehow survive the next two days, you might be permanently altered forever. You might be a Bourbon by blood only, if by anything, but Feyd-Rautha has just played a hand of very dangerous cards to his uncle in hopes of preserving your life. 

For what, you do not wish to think about; protecting himself and his own interests is at the forefront, and saving your life for your own sake likely barely crossed his conscious. One a mere consequence of the other. 

But you force yourself to stand tall, to meet their gazes with defiance though your hands tremble at your sides. Your nameday knife is upon your waist, but you are not foolish enough as to try and wield it now.

There is no weakness on Barony - none in this castle, nor the city; none on Giedi Prime at all. There is you, though; your skin is tough and your mind tougher. You will not go down easy. 

"You have my family." You observe, voice official, calculating; Rabban and the Baron are tearing apart your expression, hoping to find a chink in the armor. Lucky for you, Feyd-Rautha has spent several years ensuring there is not one. 

"Indeed we do," he said, his voice dripping with malice.

"-And soon, you'll join them in their fate." Piter De Vries speaks up from beside the Baron; your eyes slither venomously to the man, every muscle upon your frame tense with the urge to rip out his throat. 

Your heart drops, the static of the room metallic; it is as his words slide from his lips that you see the body discarded against the wall, blood leaking from its crushed skull. You swallow thickly, but Feyd-Rautha's expression darkens further at the Baron's words before you can respond.

With a dangerous glint in his eyes he steps forward, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his blade. "Enough games," he snarled, his voice low and menacing. "She has no place here."

You stare, bewildered, at the motion, but the Baron raises a hand, silencing his nephew with a single gesture. "Patience," he said, his tone calm and collected. "Let us see what the little traitor has to say for herself."

There is a small surge of defiance that rises; you know better than to anger the Baron by begging for mercy upon your family's lives. Besides, a deep-seeded part of you whispers, they would not do the same, would they? 

"You are to execute my family," you dare repeat, voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you, "But you will not kill me." 

You avert your stare from the man in front of you when you feel a burning; you would not dream to cry in a place like this. Adrenaline courses through you, slamming your heartbeat in your throat. 

"Na-Baron," Baron Vladimir muses, looking to Feyd-Rautha with a challenge in his beady eyes. "What would you have us do with the scum?" 

It is a sick test from the Baron; testing loyalty, honor. In the dimly lit chamber, Feyd-Rautha's voice slices through the silence, a dagger through your skin. "Throw them to the arena for their trespassing." he commands, his tone cold, merciless. The Baron glances at the guards who stand just near the exit of the hall; with a gesture, the Baron instructs Piter De Vries to issue a message to the city's public: There will be a royal execution in the morning. 

Fear courses through your veins like wildfire; reality sinks like a stone in the pit of your stomach. 

But Feyd-Rautha isn't finished; eyes glinting with malice, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "Let her watch," he insists, his voice dripping with contempt, "and see how we crush pests under our boots."

There is a cold shiver that runs down your spine at his stare; condemned not just to witness your family's demise - your siblings, all three of them - but to endure the horror of it, to see their blood spill. A warning to any who dare oppose House Harkonnen. 

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When you enter your chambers, you are only mildly surprised to see your betrothed in wait. 

Though as you enter the room, Feyd-Rautha's fury reaches its boiling point; one look at your eyes, the absence of true fear - a void in your gaze replaced with wrath - tips him over the edge.

With a swift motion, he lashes out, striking down a nearby servant with brutal force. You stare as she shrieks, the absence of her tongue leaving a horrifying gurgling as blood spurts from her open throat.

With a dull shock you start towards her - the other servant, half-through steaming a gown, gasps and backs away. "Leave," You say to her, hands falling onto the servant who dies at the hands of the man across from you. She skitters away as Feyd's blade glistens with crimson. You can only give yourself the grace to crouch, shutting her eyes as she clings with the last of her strength, the blood on her hands, to your forearm. You don't look away as she loses her life; your voice is quiet, whispering a small hymn - something long forgotten in the winds of Sabberon's winters, but recovered by you in the quiet moments of dreams.

When you press a small breath upon her forehead, feeling the warmth for the last time, you turn and rise again. Feyd's eyes are wild with anger, and his hands trembling with the weight of his emotions. He sneers; he's never once liked the care you give to the dead. As if death is not an honor but a consequence of weakness. 

"I do not like when you do that." He sneers. Your glare is sharp as you wipe the blood off your hands, hiding their tremor. "I will cease to do it when you do." It's always the same response, that cat and mouse game; he will not stop, because it is a part of him - as easy as breathing. 

He doesn't respond to this, merely heaving heavy breaths in the empty chamber. It is quiet for a moment as he wipes his blade; you watch with curious eyes. 

"You saved my life." You admit, walking up to him. His skin reflects in the open windows; a ghostly appearance, but one you've come to known. You can see in his expression that this is a repulsive thing to admit. It sparks anger within you. 

"I heard you," You insist; a half-lie. "You begged for my life." 

It is not what he wants to hear. His hand is upon your throat nearly instantly with a crushing dominance. You barely let out a gasp, eyes burrowing into his own. Your hand flies up to his own, the Adam's apple upon his throat bobbing as he growls. 

It is a morbid call and response: a fight with his uncle, a punishment - and he is at your door, anger in his eyes and arousal on his lips. 

"I do not beg." He snaps. Your brows raise slowly at this and you relish in the look of denial that flashes over his expression - both of you know this is a stark lie. 

You gave up on daydreaming your third week in this stronghold, but a flicker courses through you at what could have been: A husband with less bloodthirst, with more humanness - a home, perhaps. Children you might not grow to resent when you see flickers of their father in them. A place to govern, to rule - to help the people, cultivate prosperity, not fear. 

"Don't you?" You ask, but your voice sounds odd with the lack of air. You must be here in this universe for more than just bearing children for Feyd-Rautha.  

"I don't let others take what is mine." He hisses, squeezing your airway. He seems to say this a lot. You let out a raspy groan of defiance, your own hand small but strong as it closes in on his own airflow. A groan is suppressed in his throat but you feel the vibrations as you lean against his strong grip. 

"And you're mine, pet." He grunts into your ear, biting the skin. Perhaps tonight is a night you should let him believe such a fallacy; for your safety or your amusement. You cannot help yourself but to drop the glass, just to hear it shatter; Whispering into his own ear, the two of you are entwined in a sick connection of hate and desire, your hands crushing against the other's throat. 

"Careful, my na-Baron, your possessions seem to have started possessing you." You snap; His eyes darken, but you wouldn't dare soften your grip. 

"Shut up, witch." He snarls. "On your knees." 

So, he is in a mood to play this game? You glare, "I will get on my knees for no man." You grit your teeth. "Though perhaps, if he were my husband, I would reconsider." 

You can see the anger in his eyes as his hand releases its grip on your throat; you suck in an involuntary gasp for oxygen. If you are to lose your family, you must claim your new one - claim the power of the Harkonnen name, as that is the only thing left in front of you. But Feyd-Rautha has waited years to wed you, and your family is about to dream with the stars; you must act quick. 

"You are nothing now; you will still be nothing when you are my wife." He growls, letting you push him backwards, towards the cold bed that lies in wait. "My little pet wife. So pretty, so hateful." 

You are empty; to cast out visions of your sisters, huddled and cowering away from the creatures that lurk around their cell below your feet; of your brother, likely bloodied and curled with your parents, their eyes sharp and brains clouded with drugs. You know what will come tomorrow, and the only way to ignore it is to dissolve; you are no longer yourself. 

Anger will distract you. "Nothing in this universe consumes a man more quickly than the passion of resentment." You whisper as his hands fall to your hips; possessive, unloving, hungry. Passionately resentful. 

He pushes you onto the mattress, but you pull him with you. 

"Is that why I cannot get you out of my head?" He asks; rhetorical as it is, he is indignant, as if genuinely unaware of the tricks you can play within his mind. Your hand snakes between you, a phantom touch over the outline of his arousal; grunting, his eyes roll back. You watch with a sort of abhorrence at this budding obscenity that grows between you and Feyd-Rautha. He will give you power, a voice chides in your mind, the Shortening of the Way. The Shortening of the Way, the voice whispers - but it is not your voice. It is your mother's. 

You swallow back the pain of impending grief. 

"Perhaps that is why you begged for my life." You whisper, kindling into the fire. "Is the na-Baron in love?" 

He slaps your cheek hard and it is effective in taking your breath away. "You are not stupid enough to think I would ever love you." He spits, "You want my power." 

There is no point in denying this claim, nor to pretend that you could ever find it in you to love him. 

He rips your blouse open, teeth dripping in inky desire as he bites along the exposed flesh of your breasts. Groaning in pain, your hand squeezes over his cock, eliciting a grunt from him. "I ought to kill you." you say, voice hollow and laced with malice. "Take what is rightfully mine." 

This is amusing to him, and it fuels your hatred so much more. What agony it is to desire such an abomination. "Wait until my child is inside you." He hisses, eyes dark. "Then you can try, little bird." 

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Two days later, while you are in the throes of grief, torn and tossed askew by the altering of everything you have known, the news comes from the High Council.

The House of Bourbon were called to answer for their crimes at the Harko arena and lost their lives. One sole survivor remains, a prisoner of kanly war to the House Harkkonnen, on Giedi Prime. The Council has ruled to dissolve your betrothal to the Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen under concerns raised by Houses Atreides and Ginaz over your safety. 

You are no longer Feyd-Rautha's to wed. 

He takes you more rough than he ever has after this news, still dripping with the blood of whoever met the unlucky fate of presenting the message to him. While your hands held to his shoulders, nails scraping the skin clean off his back in bliss, you could almost imagine some kind of longing within his possessive hands, the marks of pain and hatred upon your skin. He withholds the very essence of bliss from you one, two, three, four times; until his name sings from your lips, a plead - a swear. I am yours, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. Again, again, again. Until he thinks you truly believe it; though you never have and you certainly never will. 

"I should have wed you sooner," His voice is painted with wrath, "Kept you here to answer for your family's betrayal. Now that Atreides boy thinks he can take you-" 

You are too numb with the news to consider Feyd's words, nor the way the servants slither in the dark corners of the room to pack up your possessions. If your father could see you, would he be distraught that you are not more broken? Would he want you to cry, to cease to eat, to live? Would your ancestors watch on in horror as you bare your face to the world in light of the death of your bloodline, not a thread of green upon your body?  Would your mother whisper that you must fulfil your duty with your new husband, that you must adapt; evolve? It does not matter. They are absent to the void, now. Returned to the soil of your planet, in one way or another; star dust and ash.

You do not want to leave. Threats require adaptation; How must you change now? What will your chains look like?  You fight against the soldiers who enter your chambers when the time comes, even when you recognize their armor. They expect you to think you're being saved, but you know better. 

I will find you again, my pet.

Maybe he will, or maybe he won't. You don't care. Your life will forever be cold; you are alone in this world. 

A new name, a new power, a new prison.

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follow @tremendumnotifs for notifs.

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[upside-garden-of-dreams]

Funny Coincidence? [Bang Chan x Reader]

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none at all ~

Geneal information: Reader is hinted to be female, but overall I kept them pretty gender neutral. Excuse any typos and mistakes, English isn't my native language

*looks at camera* Arien, this is for you ~🩷 Heavily inspired in a situation that happened irl with my friend and her reason to get that husky family Enjoy your read~ 🐺🖤

Christopher could not keep his eyes away from the pastel colored box, silliness coloring his smile and bubbling in his chest.

Their little beady eyes stared up at him in the cutest way, tiny fuzzy faces adding to their adorableness. Not to mention the minuscule clothes and accessories that only worsened the cute aggression felt in that moment.

Sylvanian Families - Husky Family

He couldn't control the giggles caught in his throat, letting them out into the air while kicking his legs from the emotion.

A mom dressed in a tiny pastel pink dress

A dad doning the smallest set of blue shirt and pants

And three adorable baby huskies swaddles in different pastel colored blankies

Your boyfriend remembers the stars in your eyes and the gasp that left you when you locked your gaze on that particular set of miniature animals weeks back.

How could he? That child-like joy looked beautiful on you!

Chris remembers how you clinged to his arm and dragged him into the toy store, begging and listing off the reasons why you "absolutely needed" that set.

You yolted with excitement when the shopkeep announced it was their last box of that particular set, growing anxious at the prospect of getting your hands over the husky family.

"If I may ask and know, what is so special of this set that you "must" have it?"

Words failed you and slipped off your tongue without any sense as a stuttered excuse was conjured by your brain, "Childhood pet! Yep, and it's a limited edition, too!" You held the small box close to your chest while making your way to the register, "C-C'mon, there's no way I'll let this opportinuty go... It's the last set!"

A heavy blush covered your cheeks, even tinting the tips of your ears, after his curiosity reached you.

You might think those small, fuzzy animals are the cutest ever, but your flushed face right then and there was his opinion on cutest ever.

So, that day you went home with new figurines to display on your desk and with the sweetest, biggest smile on your lips.

Later on, BangChan did his research and found out the husky family wasn't really a limited set, or at least that's what Calico Critter forums said. Needless to say, that curiosity from earlier resurfaced.

What was the real reason you were desperate to get them?

It wasn't until today that it dawned on him.

You had made plans to spend some time together at your apartment, watch some movies, play some games, and enjoy your favorite snacks.

Once his eyes landed on your desk, he matched two and two together.

You had run out the room to refill your drink. This left him all alone in your personal paradise, filled with trinkets and decorations that showed your unique and colorful self.

From soft PomPomPurin plushies to anime figurines and posters on your walls, with photo frames of you with your friends, family and boyfriend scattered here and there.

Your very own WolfChan plush stood right beside the husky family, with a polaroid of your 2nd anniversary date and one of his photocards situated in between your collectibles.

The spark went off in his brain

Huskies do look a lot like wolves, after all

"Is that supposed to be...us?" Chris mused to himself, a smile growing on his lips.

Love exploded in his chest, emotions running a mile a minute, leaving his brain completely melted at just how utterly adorable you were.

His heart skipped a beat, "So, does that mean... [Name] wants a family? With me?!"

That's how we end up with Chan kicking his legs in excitement as giggles erupt from his lips, face burried in one of your plushies to muffle the sound and hide his goofy fanboy smile.

At the sound of your footsteps approaching, he quickly stood up, rearranged Purin properly on your bed, and took deep breaths to calm down, appear as if nothing had happened.

As soon as you stepped in, his arms were around you, bringing you close to him, "Hey~"

Careful, not wanting to spill your drink, you hugged him back, "Hey there~ Missed me much?"

Chris shrugged, "Eh, kinda," As much as he wanted to appear nonchalant, the roll of his chuckle betrayed him.

While you knew him to be a cheery, funny guy, something about his demeanor felt off.

"What's up? Saw a funny tiktok or something?" You inquired.

He shook his head, "No, no, I just-... Just wondering~"

You took this as your queue to separate slightly and look up at him, taking the opportunity to set your glass down on a stable surface.

"Oh? Can I know about what, luv?" You asked.

More giggles came to the surface as he looked at you, carressing the small of your back with his thumb from where his arms remained loosely on your waist.

Confused, but with his excitement being contagious, a smile formed on your lips as you waited for his answer.

Pink dusted his cheeks, love and eagerness shining in his eyes, "Should we get started making the husky babies?"

You tilted your head slightly, not fully understanding his suggestive tone.

"Wha-OH!" You exclaimed once you followed his gaze to your desk, or rather, to the box containing your Calico Critters.

"Oh my god, Christopher!" That adorable blush from the day you acquired the set returned to your face, hands going up to cover your cheeks.

Laughter filled the air as the leader of Stray Kids brought you back to his chest, showing his teasing ment no harm or pressure, it was simply a silly joke. A joke to demonstrate he understood now the reason why you wanted that specific family of dogs.

All you could do was groan as more laughter spilled from him.

"It's okay, babe! If anything, I think that's quite cute, and I agree with your vision," He reassured, hand going up to pat your head.

At the mention of cute, you peeked up at him slightly, indirectly inquiring an explanation.

Christ pointed at the box, "It's us! It totally is us!" His glee was akin to that of a small child, "Well, us in a future, 'cus we agreed that kids aren't in the picture just yet."

You snorted silently, hitting his chest without force in your hand, "You dork."

He feighend offence, "Me?! You're the one who thought of us with that set! You're the bigger dork here!"

You resorted to further burrying your face into his chest with a small giggle, embarrassment dissipating.

Well, the "secret" was out, but at last he reacted the best way possible!

Even if you couldn't see, Chan smiled down at you and placed a kiss to the top of your head. "Really, it's very adorable. You don't know what you did to my heart."

You remained like that for a while longer, enjoying the close proximity and warmth of his embrace.

Slowly, you turned towards your decorated desk and reached for the Sylvanians. You held it our for both of you to look at closely.

"It's us."

"It really is us."

You looked at Chan and he looked at you, both sharing a sweet smile as he brought your foreheads together.

"You're so silly," he said.

"And you love silly old me~," you said with triumph.

"Yeah, I do," overwhelming love was evident in his voice.

It was only natural for your lips to find each other after, longing to demostrate the mutual adoration that gives life to your relationship.

[ END ]

Hehehehe 😈🤭💖 I personally really enjoyed writing this piece, since I wrote it with a target in mind, one of my dearest friends in life! Hope it was to your liking~! Fee freeto like, reblog, and comment~

[starfall-spirit]

Precious Collateral

Read on Ao3 // Fic Masterlist // SJM Omegaverse Masterlist // Dark Feysand Masterlist

Summary: When Rhys set out to collect his dues from the head of the Archeron house, he knew the man would be begging for more time. What he didn’t expect was to be offered the youngest daughter as collateral.

After spending only a day in the temperamental woman’s company, he found himself utterly enthralled with his new guest—and with no intention of letting her father scrape together the funds that would grant her her freedom.

AN: This is going to be the darkest fic I've written so far. Definitely bringing in heavier themes than my CoN!Feysand fics have. The first chapter is short and free of any trigger warnings, but I want to give a list up front of what I have tagged so far on Ao3 for future chapters.

TW/CW: Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Extremely Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Bondage, Spanking, Orgasm Denial, Dark!Rhys, Breeding Kink, Praise Kink, Dom/Sub Undertones, Power Imbalance, Daddy Kink

That said, enjoy the intro chapter!

Chapter I

Rhysand

“I have tried, I swear. Please, I have nothing to give. If I had more time…”

“I’ve given you time,” Rhys drawled, leaning back in the chair he was offered. “Months beyond the timeframe we agreed on, in fact. And still have nothing to show for it, Archeron. I believe I made the consequences of that quite clear during our original meeting.��

“Y-yes. You did. I haven’t forgotten. I only hoped if I offered you a new deal for the time being you may accept.” He kept his eyes cast down slightly, looking every bit the beta begging to keep his miserable life. “Please, I can not leave my wife and daughters with nothing.”

“One less mouth to feed. I’d say you’d be doing them a favor.”

The man swallowed hard. “My daughters,” he almost whispered. “You can have your pick. Keep one of them in your home until I can gather the money.”

Rhys just managed to catch his sneer, maintaining his mask worn for business matters such as this. One line he never crossed was trading in flesh. He hadn’t touched the trafficking circles so many of the other major players tangled themselves in and no one indebted to him had dared offer up their own child yet.

He would have laughed in the man’s face and put an end to the conversation if it wasn’t for the soft gasp outside the office door. His eyes slid in the direction of the sound before he jerked his head, a silent order to Cassian. “Let me go! You can’t—” The girl’s mouth snapped shut the moment her eyes met Rhys’. “I—”

“Well, well. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that eavesdropping is rude, pet?”

Though her fear practically radiated from her, his demand only made her raise her chin. What a little brat she was. And no wonder, he mused. The youngest Archeron was an omega. A rarity, coming from a beta mother and father. Her older sisters had been just as disappointing in that regard, even if the eldest had a mouth on her.

“It seems I was right to,” the girl snapped back. “If you’re here to tear our family apart.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer audacity. All that rage in such a tiny package. It was refreshing. “My, Abraham. Just where were you hiding this little gem when I visited you before?” Leaning down, he caught a whiff of her scent, the lilac and pear downright intoxicating, setting his alpha instincts reeling. The words to seal the deal with her father were out of his mouth before what remained of his morality could cut through the haze. “I’m going to enjoy training you, darling.”

She drew a deep breath, shuttering softly. Good, that she was just as affected by him. “You can’t do this,” she whispered.

“Can’t I, pet?” He didn’t let himself touch her, instead drawing back to his full height. “Cass, make sure she has a few things for the flight back. The rest can be provided when we’ve made it home.” Glancing back over his shoulder, he addressed her father one last time. “A pleasure doing business, Archeron.”

~~~~~

Feyre

“A hunger strike isn’t going to do you any favors, sweetheart.” She scowled, pushing the plate to the top of her tray before turning her attention back to the window. “And the cold shoulder isn’t going to earn you a ticket home.”

“Tell me what, exactly, Rhysand, would earn me some peace and quiet?” Cassian coughed sharply, clearly trying to cover his amusement. The man seated beside him—still nameless to her—just shook his head. As if Feyre was some bratty child they should never have dragged into this mess. If he was so easily convinced, perhaps his partners could be too, no matter how patient Rhysand seemed.

Turning to the window again, she tucked her knees to her chest. Where was she left now? She was seventeen, not even graduated, and being flown off to God knew where until her father could scrape together whatever the nut jobs needed to pay off the astronomical loan he’d wasted in a matter of a few weekends. Feyre had seen the ledgers. Even if her mother and older sisters refused to greet reality, she knew better.

Now she was stuck. Her family wouldn’t be able to beg or bargain for the kind of money they needed. If she was ever going to be free, she’d have to plot an escape herself.

She spent the rest of the flight studying the three men as subtly as possible. How they moved, spoke, and acted towards one another. The weapons they each carried, even in the safety of their own jet. But what bothered her most, if she was being honest, was the raw confidence each of them exuded. They knew their weapons, knew each other, and laid an unshakable trust in that. She wasn’t going to be able to turn one of Rhysand’s goons to her side. Not the top of his team, at least.

So she would wait. However long it would take, she would best them.

~~~~~

Rhysand

“What game are you playing, Rhys?” 

They were an hour from landing in Manhattan when Feyre finally drifted off, giving his brothers the freedom to truly interrogate him. “We don’t let innocents get tangled in business. It’s the one thing that puts us above the others.”

“I have no intention of selling her off, Cassian. She’s exactly what her father offered her as—collateral.”

“She’s a kid, Rhys.”

“She’s a minor for a few more months, yes, but hardly a child.”

His enforcer scowled. “So, what, December rolls around and you put her to work in the club?”

“No,” he snapped, frustrated with how obvious his investment in the girl was becoming. There was no reason he should be so against the suggestion. They paid the girls dancing in their night club, Velaris, more than most in their profession could dream of. Their clientele was vetted. Feyre would have been just fine if he threw her Mor’s way to train up for the club. “I don’t know yet. She’ll stay at the townhouse under my watch until I’ve decided. No arguments.”

“Rhys.” He met his spymaster’s eyes, loathing the hint of worry there. “Eyes on the prize?”

“Always, brother.”

~~~~~

Just going to use my Dark!Rhys taglist at the moment, but if the trigger warnings are too much please reach out so I can remove you from the taglist.

Taglist: @whatishowedyouinthedark // @ninthcircleofprythian // @sajirah // @acourtofladydeath // @lulling-night-sky // @edgyellie // @shallyne // @the-lonelybarricade // @darling-archeron // @goddess-aelin // @the-lost-changeling // @faeriequeensuriel // @pandavelaris // @s-uppertime // @elentiya-whitethorn // @acotar-fanns // @jealousveronya // @acourtofwips // @reverie-tales // @gwynkyrie // @corcracrow // @thelovelymadone // @rosanna-writer // @toporecall //@popjunkie42-blog

[bi-bard]

You're the First Glimmer of Hope I've Had in a Long Time - Kaz Brekker Imagine [Shadow & Bone]

Title: You're the First Glimmer of Hope I've Had in a Long Time

Pairing: Kaz Brekker X Reader (use of they/them pronouns for the Reader)

Word Count: 6,194 words

Warning(s): brief violence, descriptions of manipulation, mention of violence/trauma at the hands of the Darkling

Summary: The Winter Fete has arrived. It brings games, excitement, and brilliant performances. None more brilliant than that of the Sun Summoner, who is about to make their public debut.

Author's Note: What? Kyli taking a break from writing challenges to update an OC that she hasn't talked about in ages? Wow.

MORE OF THIS OC HERE!

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

Festivals were never a part of (Y/n)'s life in Ketterdam.

No, the city known for being lined with misfortune and grief was never known for putting on grand parties.

That must have been why (Y/n) was so focused on the sight outside their window. Why they couldn't pull their eyes from the carts being pulled in toward the main entrance. Performers of all sorts. Guests being brought to see them.

If the dread wasn't a heavy enough weight in their stomach, the anxiousness from the thought of a crowd watching them surely would be.

(Y/n) had become so focused on the bustling sounds outside that they hadn't noticed the doors opening and Genya walking in.

"Enjoying the festivities," she asked.

(Y/n) tried to hide any shock that may have presented itself. "From through a window, in a room with a locked door."

She hummed. "Come on. We have to get you ready."

There was a huff and some rolled eyes before (Y/n) finally plopped themself in the chair in front of the Tailor.

"You could pretend to be interested in all of this," Genya suggested. "It is all in celebration of you."

"It's not," (Y/n) replied. "It's a celebration of an idea of me. One that I may never well become."

There wasn't a response from the fellow Grisha. Instead, she reached out and touched (Y/n)'s face. There was so much concern etched onto her expression that it almost knocked the wind out of (Y/n). They had been too harsh.

"Sorry," they muttered. Genya wasn't at fault for (Y/n)'s predicament.

"No need," Genya forced a grin before going to sort through her case. "I understand your feelings about this all. Your stay, your gift, men like Kirigan."

"Speaking of...," (Y/n) grumbled. "Is the black necessary?"

"He insisted."

"It just feels like he's putting me on a leash. 'Look at my shiny pet'."

"You wore black before... almost exclusively."

"Of my will. It was different then. Better."

Genya nodded. "Well, I promise to make this feel right. More like you than him."

"Thank you."

It was then that the door to the room opened again. In walked David, the resident Fabrikator, with two gloves in his hands. They were tied together with a blue ribbon.

(Y/n) stood up rather abruptly, ever cautious of new people. Even more cautious of gifts that were coming from a place like the Little Palace.

"The General had me make these for your demonstration," David explained, holding them out. (Y/n) took them, turning them over in their hands.

"They're lovely," Genya complimented.

"What is their purpose," (Y/n) asked.

David grinned, clearly proud of his work. "They'll make it easier to split one beam into two."

"I see," (Y/n) mused. They gently placed the gloves on the nearby table.

David's grin fell as he watched the sun summoner easily turn one beam into two, allowing it to flutter around the space in front of them.

"While I appreciate the offer, I will be quite alright without them."

"Would you not like to try them?"

"Is there a reason that I should when I just showed you that I was perfectly capable of performing on my own?"

David took a breath before clearing his throat and taking the gloves. He walked out of the room again.

Genya's voice stopped him at the door. "See you at the Fete!"

David merely shared a look with her before leaving. A look that lasted far too long for it to be called polite or friendly. It almost made (Y/n) chuckle. How could two people be so blind that they couldn't see that they were sharing such a longing look?

"Come on then," Genya said. "We have to make sure that you're ready."

(Y/n) merely nodded, biting back any knowing look that wanted to form.

The final step of Genya's work was carefully placing a ring on (Y/n)'s finger. She explained that it was a symbol of luck. A personal gift from her. (Y/n) made no effort to argue. Some battles were not worth fighting.

Genya proceeded to drag (Y/n) through the halls of the Little Palace. There was some muttering about the kefta and how lovely it was going to look.

(Y/n) didn't believe her. Not truly. But who were they to crush Genya's spirits more than once in a day?

Instead, (Y/n) kept their attention trained outside, watching what festivities they could through the window.

Their walk was interrupted quite abruptly. (Y/n)'s eyes were dragged from the window to see Kirigan standing there.

"I was just going to find you," he explained. "I was hoping to discuss tonight's event."

(Y/n) took a deep breath, pushing their shoulders back to appear taller. "I was on my way to get ready."

"I will happily discuss the events while we walk to your fitting."

Genya and (Y/n) shared a look. (Y/n)'s was begging Genya to come up with some excuse why they could not go wandering off with the man who kidnapped them. Genya's was quietly pushing (Y/n) to just follow the general and get the conversation over with.

Kirigan motioned down the hall, pushing (Y/n) to walk with him.

As they walked forward, Kirigan fell into step. His hands were behind his back, a smug grin on his face. In his mind, this was the first step toward his goal. His future. A new age that he was prepared to usher in.

"How are you feeling," he asked, maintaining his act of care. Not mere kidnapper, but something close to a friend. It was not having as strong of an effect as he wished that it had.

"Fine," (Y/n) answered simply. Short answers were not unknown between the two of them.

"You decided against the gloves," Kirigan noted.

"I did not come here as a beginner," (Y/n) explained. "I have no need for them."

"They were a mere safeguard anyway," he replied. "In case of nerves."

"Luckily for you, I have learned to perform under pressure," (Y/n) shrugged. "I do not need any of them. Especially not from you."

Kirigan would have much more to say if they hadn't reached (Y/n)'s fitting room.

"Goodbye, Kirigan."

"Good luck, (Y/n)."

The door to the room opened and closed quickly, leaving little time for Kirigan to attempt another conversation.

(Y/n) was immediately pulled in a thousand directions. They knew that rest would not be offered until it was time to be presented before the crowd arriving for the event.

If only they had known about the plan unfolding just under their nose.

If they hadn't been so hidden, then they would have. Kaz's plans had become very familiar to them, as if there were a signature on them. Like an artist would to a painting.

While the dear Sun Summoner was being escorted, poked, tempted, and prepared to be put on show like a cow being taken to market, the Crows were making their moves around the Little Palace.

It all started with the layout of the palace. Kaz sneaking in as a guard and finding the fitting room that had been hidden by a door with no handle. Jesper looking for the perfect escape course for the soon-to-be-reunited group. Inej taking on the role of a performer to make it onto the grounds.

Once that had been done and the quartet had reconvened, it was time to put the proper plan into action. This was not merely collecting information. This was going in and returning with the person that mattered to them.

Kaz, Inej, and Jesper maintained their acts. They knew how to get to the main event and how to find the one that they needed to.

And then, there was the Conductor, who had become a much different part of this than he originally thought that he would be.

He was their distraction. Their hope of pulling the attention of General Kirigan away long enough to get to their dear missing Crow.

Night had fallen.

The Crows were in place.

The Conductor was just approaching the entrance.

And (Y/n) had just been guided to the main hall.

They never realized just how accustomed they had become to hiding in the shadows. How comforting being unknown had become to them.

They stepped into the room, dawning a black kefta with bright gold details. They were met by countless stares, each one more stunned than the next. Every single one of them felt too intrusive. (Y/n) wanted to go back to being hidden. They wanted to go back to being with their Crows.

If only they knew just how close that trio was.

Kirigan stood with a confident smirk on his face. A proud owner. The kefta had been a leash. 'Look at that. It's my new pet. So well-behaved, aren't they?' It made (Y/n)'s stomach churn.

He approached them. "The color suits you."

"When it's of my own choosing."

"Behave," he scolded quietly.

"Don't make it so difficult."

There was a deep breath taken by the general before he offered a hand to them. "Come on. We have a performance to give them."

Kaz and Inej were just stepping into the main hall, each one adorned in the outfit of the guards. Neither one of them truly knew what to expect of that night. But during such unprecedented times, who truly did?

They watched as Kirigan stepped onto the small, lifted platform.

Kaz found his eyes drifting just in front of the stage. He found the back of a black kefta with intricate detailing. He knew who he was watching. He also knew that he could do nothing about that.

Inej stepped away from him, finding a place with a clear view of the stage.

(Y/n) stepped on the stage after Kirigan, stepping behind him so he could look out at the audience surrounding him.

"This is (Y/n) (Y/l/n)," Kirigan announced. "And they will bring liberation to us all."

(Y/n) had to fight any urge to lower their head or close their eyes. They had to fight to not hide from the crowd watching them. They hid that urge well... from the ones who didn't know them.

Kirigan stepped off the stage, taking a few steps forward before bringing his hands together in front of them. The sharp slap was accompanied by quick-moving darkness that consumed the audience. Maybe that was for the best.

(Y/n) lift their hands, moving them until a circle had formed in front of them. Another sphere formed in the other hand. With a deep breath, they casted it forward, forcing the light to consume the dark. It was an explosion, one that left the room speechless.

As the atmosphere settled around them, murmuring started. Small whispers of 'Sankta (Y/n)' filled the room as people began to kneel and touch their foreheads and then their hearts.

(Y/n) dragged their eyes along the crowd.

It was then that someone stuck out. Someone familiar. It was a matter of seconds before they were seemingly gone.

Inej.

(Y/n) would always recognize the Crows. No matter how long it had been or what was going on in the world around them. They would always recognize the Crows.

And if Inej was here, then that meant that (Y/n) may finally be free.

(Y/n) played the role of polite and kind well as they made their way off the stage. They bowed their head and thanked people, trying to make their movements seem less intentional than they were.

Maybe if Kirigan hadn't been pulled away, he would have paid more attention to them.

There was another Grisha whispering in his ear that distracted him.

News of a man reporting to have found the Stag.

In his hand was a letter promising a location in exchange for a meeting with the General. The only reason that he had been trusted was because the only people meant to know of the Stag was the First Army. This man would not arrive with a lie of something he should have no knowledge of.

The man had been guided to a room. Kirigan's chambers, to be specific. He was told to wait there. Kirigan would be there to speak with him soon.

The man- the Conductor- did not heed such warnings.

Again, his role was not what he thought it was. His goal was much different than the three criminals he had brought across the Fold.

They intended to bring home their dear friend. He intended to kill the Sun Summoner before the revolution of West Ravka could be stopped.

He found the hidden room easily. (Y/n) was sitting near a mirror, getting ready for the dinner that was going to occur that night.

He was silent as he stepped forward. He quietly, effortlessly grabbed (Y/n)'s head and pulled it back enough to drag a blade along their throat, leaving them bleeding and gasping for air.

Unbeknownst to him, Kaz knew that this was going to happen.

Just as he knew that the person the Conductor had just killed wasn't the Sun Summoner. It was all merely a trick. One meant to lure in whoever was dumb enough to take the bait.

The Conductor was found outside the fitting room, knife in his hand, and no ounce of regret sitting on his face. He was dragged away to a place where he could be held until the general was able to speak to him.

While the chaos was unfolding, (Y/n) was busy finding whoever they had spotted in the main event.

Escaping the guards was easy enough. Old tricks and techniques got them away for long enough that they were allowed to trace the halls freely. Too many people were focused on the main event to notice them moving.

They just needed to know the truth. They needed to know if this was truly the day that everything was made right.

They had become so fixated on finding whoever they had seen that they weren't paying enough attention to the world around them. Such a failure resulted in a sudden shock when they were grabbed and dragged into another room.

They shoved themself away from the body that had grabbed them to see a guard standing calmly. She had let (Y/n) go quite easily. This was no fight or murder attempt. It was simply an act to save some time in the long run.

"What are you doing," (Y/n) asked.

They looked around the room quickly. It was dark. There was a large round table with figures and maps thrown all around it. There was another room where (Y/n) could just barely see the edge of a mattress. It was someone's chambers, (Y/n) just wasn't sure whose.

"Answer me," they demanded.

"I am merely an aid," the guard replied.

There was the sound of a creaking door being opened. (Y/n) turned around quickly, hands raised to fight off whatever attacker was there.

There was no attacker.

"Baghra," (Y/n) said. "What do you want? Where am I?"

"I'm here to protect you," she explained. "Come on."

(Y/n) didn't flinch.

"You don't know where you are, do you," she tilted her head. "Kirigan could come back at any moment if you wait here."

(Y/n) stepped forward, whispering angrily, "You dragged me into the chambers of the man holding me hostage?"

"If there were any other option, I would have chosen it. Now, come on."

There was a quiet huff before (Y/n) stepped inside the passageway that had been hidden behind some bookcase.

"I am trying to get you out of here," she continued as the pair moved. "Save you from living your life as a slave."

"I don't need your help-"

"Yes, because your precious Crows are here, I know."

(Y/n) stopped abruptly. "They are? Truly?"

"You didn't know?"

"I thought that I was imagining things."

Baghra let out a sigh before continuing to push them along.

"Why help me now? You have had ages to protect me. To get me out."

"I didn't have a way to get you out without being caught. The guards and Aleksander have kept a close eye on you until tonight. Might be something your Crows did."

It was. (Y/n) just didn't know that yet.

"Aleksander intends to use your power to expand the Fold," she continued. "Weaponize it. That's what he created it for in the first place."

"The Black Heretic created the Fold," (Y/n) corrected. "Hundreds of years ago. Kirigan- Aleksander- whoever he is may want to weaponize it, but he didn't create it."

"Is it truly impossible?"

(Y/n) paused. Grisha aged slower than normal humans, that was true. "I thought that the Black Heretic was killed for what he had done."

"Is that what Aleksander told you?"

Another pause. No. (Y/n) had heard that ending to the story somewhere else, hadn't they? They wouldn't have blindly trusted his word if they had never heard about it before, would they?

Most people left out what happened immediately after the creation of the Fold. They usually jump to the impact of it. Where Ravka was now.

Baghra's story was adding up much faster than (Y/n) thought it would.

"Child, Aleksander is the Black Heretic," Baghra said. "He chose a nobleman's name to hide after he had created the Fold. And he made himself a hero."

(Y/n) didn't truly doubt the story, but they needed the confirmation. They stopped walking. "How do you know this?"

"How do you think I know this?"

Baghra waved her hand and darkness began to fill the halls around them.

"You're related," (Y/n) concluded.

"More than a mere relation," she replied.

"You're his mother."

"Yes."

"You're his mother and you have done nothing for centuries?"

Baghra didn't respond, merely staring at the Sun Summoner in silence.

"You were steps away from your son, you knew what he had done, and yet you did nothing to stop it?"

"Do you believe that I have the power to tear down the Fold? To reverse the unimaginable?"

"No," (Y/n) shook their head. "I'm not talking about the Fold. I mean everything that he did after it. Young Grisha, young boys and girls forced to join armies... helpless women forced to play his game. You could have protected them. Stopped him from manipulating them and twisting them and... using them."

"He has had a long time to master the art of manipulating young, naive girls."

"And you have had just as long to master how to stop him from doing so."

"Who exactly do you so desperately want me to protect?" Baghra stepped closer to (Y/n). "You have made no friends here. No connections. Who are you so desperate to help?"

Genya. Of course, it was Genya. The one person that (Y/n) saw every day. She was far too familiar to (Y/n) for them to not feel a desperation to pull the young woman to freedom and peace. Not that Genya would ever follow them. She was stuck too far under Kirigan's thumb.

And Zoya, who had been one of few to look at (Y/n) with some kind of genuine respect. The only one to see beyond the Grisha abilities and see someone clever and talented. She was strong enough to fight back. She probably would have helped Baghra tear down Kirigan's little empire if he hadn't gotten such a firm hold on her.

(Y/n) would never say either of these names. They were still too apprehensive about the woman's intentions to allow her such information.

"It's bold of you to blame me for my son's crimes," Baghra continued. "My son tried to create his own army using merzost. He didn't think about the people who lived there... what such power would do to them. Turned them into the twisted, evil things that attacked you."

"The Volcra."

"Tell me, is that my fault?"

"I never said it was," (Y/n) replied. "I just wish you had taken action before you knew of my existence. I should not be the only thing inspiring you to be better."

Baghra took a deep breath before shaking her head. She walked to a heavy-looking door and pulled it open. "You need to go. Now. Take that path. You must hide. You already almost gave him the Stag, don't give him your power too."

(Y/n) never told Kirigan of the Stag. They had only told Genya. Survival is a powerful motivator.

"Follow the main path until the fork," Baghra advised, not following (Y/n) beyond the entrance. "Turn right. Wait there. There's food there. I have some Grisha that are loyal to me. They'll keep you safe until I can devise a plan. Go."

(Y/n) didn't listen. They followed the main path, but at the fork, they went left. Baghra's interest was one that they didn't want to entertain any more than they had Kirigan's.

Relief didn't cross (Y/n)'s face until they made it to the stables.

After stealing some clothes and narrowly avoiding some guards, (Y/n) stepped out into the main field. The new clothes didn't fit right, but they did what was necessary. All (Y/n) needed was something to last long enough for them to leave.

There was a carriage waiting there. It seemed like an easy enough plan. Steal the carriage or at least a horse and make it out before Kirigan truly knew they were missing.

"(Y/n)."

They froze, ready to fight whoever had spoken. They were met with Jesper standing before them.

They never realized how comforting his face was. Not until the mere sight of him forced a shaky sigh to escape them. The relief that crashed over them at the sight of him, alive and well and here.

"Jesper..."

(Y/n)'s voice was weak. Weaker than Jesper had ever heard it before. But that wasn't what worried him most. What worried him most were the tears sitting in (Y/n)'s eyes, waiting to fall.

He found himself angry. Angrier than ever before. What had they done here? What had these people done to his best friend? And how long was it going to take for him to shoot them all for it?

He decided to hide his seething anger with some light humor, "You doubted that I'd find you?"

Never. That was what (Y/n) wanted to say. They never doubted him or Inej or Kaz. They were simply too overwhelmed to get the words out. Too overwhelmed by anger toward Kirigan and those who had lied to protect him and his plans. Too overwhelmed by relief at the knowledge that it had been Inej standing there in the room of unfamiliar faces.

Instead of speaking, (Y/n) took a few more stumbling steps forward, falling unceremoniously into Jesper's arms, tightly wrapping their arms around his torso. Jesper quietly hushed them as he felt them shaking. He mumbled small words of comfort, but he was certain that none of them had any impact. He just wanted to know that he had tried.

There was a sound somewhere. Some kind of distant crash in the direction that (Y/n) had come from.

"Get in," Jesper dragged them over to a crate on the back of the carriage. They listened to him, curling in on themself so he could get the lid shut and leave them in darkness.

(Y/n) could hear a few faint voices outside, but they were too quiet to recognize. That was okay. Jesper would keep them safe. They believed that.

For the first time in ages, they let their eyes close and their breath even out.

The carriage didn't stop until early morning. (Y/n) only knew due to the small amount of light poking through the small cracks in the wood.

The lid opened and Jesper's face once again took on a form of comfort. He offered a hand to them.

They stood up and carefully climbed out of the box. Inej and Kaz were standing there, Kaz with little to no expression and Inej with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Jesper made sure that (Y/n) was steady on the ground before smiling proudly at the other two.

"Hello," (Y/n) said softly. They decided to try to pull some tension away from the situation. "Took you guys long enough-"

The joke barely left their lips before Inej stepped forward and wrapped them in a tight hug. They hugged her back, eyes screwing shut as they let out a heavy sigh.

"I've missed you," they muttered to her.

Inej stepped back and touched their face. "I missed you too."

"I saw you. At the Fete. You were watching the presentation."

She slowly bowed her head.

"Please don't do that," (Y/n) begged. "I don't want you to see me as anything other than your friend. I am no Saint."

"Ravka would disagree," Kaz's voice chimed in. He had both of his hands clasped on the top of his cane. They were shifting a bit, as if he was physically trying to keep himself from stepping forward and wrapping his arms around (Y/n).

"Hi," (Y/n) grinned at him.

He nodded. "Hi."

There was a long pause as the two of them watched each other. Each one deciding who should make the next move. Each of them deciding what an acceptable next move would be. They had been waiting for the moment when they faced each other again and neither one of them had bothered to consider what they should do when it finally happened.

"Well," Jesper clapped as he finally spoke. "I am starving. Shall we?"

"Find a safe place first," Kaz said. "We can't have (Y/n) walking around in the open. Too much of a risk."

"Fine," Jesper muttered, rolling his eyes.

The quartet found shelter in a rundown house of sorts. One that hid them well but gave them enough room to see if any unwelcomed guests were to join them.

Inej and Jesper went out on a search for food. Kaz insisted on staying with (Y/n). It was for protection... and not at all because of how much time he had lost with them. No, no, that would be a foolish reason.

"I missed you," (Y/n) commented quietly once the two were alone. "I thought of you a lot while I was at the Little Palace."

Kaz stayed quiet. He was scared of saying the wrong thing. Of his emotions taking over and leading him into pouring out every word that he would never be able to say otherwise.

He was scared of telling (Y/n) how much he had missed them.

Of telling them how when he heard that they had gone missing, he thought his heart had stopped. How he had been prepared to cross the Fold on foot if that was what it took to ensure their safety and ensure that they came back to him. How he could have spent a hundred years fighting to get them back and it would have never mattered to him. He would have done it all so effortlessly because a world with a thought of them was better than a world without ever having them.

Of telling them that he kept dreaming of them. Not just after their kidnapping, but before. How he had seen visions of them reconnecting, of the moment he was finally able to be enough for them. He could vividly see the moment that he let them be there, warming him with the energy that twisted around their veins. Let them see him beyond the role of the leader or the boss.

Of telling them how desperately he had been craving them. Their presence and their voice and their gift. Even their touch. Something so unknown to him, terrifying even, yet so tempting. How could you miss something you never experienced?

Kaz didn't know and he was sure that knowing would do him any good.

Instead of taking that risk, Kaz sat quietly.

"You crossed the Fold for me," (Y/n) commented after a while. He raised an eyebrow at them. "Why? Surely there are other people who can perform sleight of hand in the Barrel. You could have left me. Allowed me to stay stuck with Kirigan. Probably would have been less expensive that way."

Because I needed you, he thought, but his tongue put a stop to those words before they could consider escaping, "Inej and Jesper convinced me."

"That's it then," (Y/n) asked. "That's the only reason?"

"What other reason would there be?"

(Y/n) took a deep breath. "I don't know."

Before either one of them could continue the ever-so-riveting conversation, Inej and Jesper found their way back to them.

The four of them ate quietly for a few minutes before (Y/n) asked about how they crossed the Fold. It was a story that Jesper was all too excited to tell.

He spoke of the Conductor and the train through the Fold. Of Milo the goat and the fate that became of him. (Y/n) grinned as they listened. They had missed Jesper's rambling so much more than they realized. It was calming to listen to him rant and rave about the things that had upset him or merely distracted him. It was familiar. (Y/n) needed familiar.

"And then, there was this drunk soldier that almost spilled his drink all over me," he explained. "He was going on and on about needing a crew to go find this mysterious Stag that the general wanted for something."

"The stag?" (Y/n) interrupted. All three of the others looked at them. "You know about the Stag?"

"Kirigan sent out a notice," Inej said. "He wanted it tracked. Sent out a drawing."

"It was the leverage we had to ensure that at least one of us could make it into the Little Palace," Jesper added. "Took us ages to find the thing."

"You found the Stag," (Y/n) asked, looking between the three of them.

"Inej did most of the work," Jesper confessed.

"This is brilliant," they replied, a genuine smile stretching across their face. Oh, how good it felt for it to not be a forced act of politeness.

"What is this Stag," Kaz leaned forward. "Why does the general want it so much?"

"It's... It's an amplifier," (Y/n) explained excitedly. "One of Morozova's creatures. It's... I've been seeing it in my dreams. If I can get to it, I may be powerful enough to take down Kirigan... maybe the whole Fold."

"If it made you that powerful, then why would he want it?" Jesper furrowed his eyebrows.

(Y/n) paused, embarrassed. As if any of this was their fault. "His plan was to use the Stag to make himself powerful enough to use me to expand the Fold. He wanted to use it as a weapon. It's... It's the same reason that he created it. He's the Black Heretic that created the Fold centuries ago. And he was biding his time until he found me. To him, I am a tool. A means to an end."

Inej and Jesper shifted, both of them uneasy about the realization. Kaz's eyes shifted for a moment but that was the only reaction that he allowed to be on display.

"We have to find it before he does. Do you remember where it was?"

"Yes," Inej nodded. "It wouldn't be a short trip."

"We just need to get going as soon as possible then. Who knows how long we have until he finds us here? We don't know how much of a head start we truly have."

Almost as soon as the sun fell, the Crows were ready to move out, hoping to use the shadows as a cover.

They were interrupted by the sound of a carriage outside. All four of them paused. Inej moved to the window.

"It's from the Little Palace."

"Saints," (Y/n) muttered, moving over to join her. "He's brought Grisha."

"What kinds are they," Inej asked.

"That's Zoya... she's a squaller, that one's an Inferni, the one in red is a Heartrender, and the one pushed back into the carriage is David, a Durast."

"We have to split up," Kaz advised. "Much easier to take a Grisha one-on-one than a whole squad of them."

"I could take them all out with a single blow," (Y/n) replied.

"And fall right into Kirigan's hand," he added. "We cannot risk that before you have the amplifier."

"Fine."

"With me," he instructed them. He looked to Inej and Jesper. "Stay safe. Rendezvous at the fountain, understood?"

Both of them nodded.

"Wait," Inej said. She jogged over and handed (Y/n) a knife. "I know you don't need it, but... just in case."

(Y/n) grinned at her. "Good luck."

Kaz and (Y/n) made for the entrance farthest away from where the carriage was. The hope was to have enough time to collect themselves before anyone was able to track them down. Then, they'd be ready for a fight if they needed one.

(Y/n) noticed Zoya following them before Kaz did. As much as they wanted to believe that mutual respect would have some impact on Zoya's actions, they couldn't take that risk.

They reached over and took Kaz's hat, placing it carefully on another man's head.

When there were sounds of people gasping and yelling, (Y/n) led Kaz into an alley as if they were just two more scared faces in the crowd.

Kaz paused, staring out at the street. "You need to go."

"Not without you."

"Not a choice, go."

"Kaz-"

"Go."

"Kaz, no, I'm not abandoning you three-"

"We will find you," he snapped. "Go."

(Y/n) paused, watching him closely for a moment. They hoped that he would realize what he was attempting to do, what he was facing. They had just gotten him back; they didn't want him to get himself killed now. All four of them had gone through too much to go through that now.

"We found you once. We'll do it again," Kaz promised. "Now, go."

(Y/n) finally relented, turning around and making their way down the alley, taking a turn to end up on a different street than Kaz did.

Kaz found the other end of the alley. An empty street. Quiet.

And then, there was a clear shift in the air.

Kirigan stepped out of the darkness. Kaz shifted, planting his feet more firmly on the ground.

"I know you kidnapped my Sun Summoner," Kirigan said as he stepped closer. "And now you're going to tell me where you stashed them."

"They were never yours," Kaz replied simply, still taking steps back from the general. "And we didn't take them. They found their way back."

"Where are they?"

"Don't know. I just know that they didn't feel like being a captive anymore."

There were a thousand things that Kaz wanted to say to Kirigan. Even more things that Kaz wanted to do to hurt him. But he wasn't a fool. He knew better than to enter a fight with someone like Kirigan.

"As far as I know, they could be halfway back to Ketterdam already."

"And the Sun Summoner belongs to you again?"

"(Y/n) never belonged to me."

It was one of the things that drew Kaz to them in the first place. This fierce independence that was only overcome by a desire to protect the people they cared for. Kaz never realized how much he admired it.

"Unlike you, I never needed to hold them captive for them to listen to me."

Kirigan stepped forward again. Shadows began to creep up behind him.

Kaz reached into his bag and pulled out a smoke bomb. He held it tight in his hand.

"You should have stayed in Ketterdam, Mr. Brekker."

As Kirigan threw the cut at Kaz, the smoke bomb hit the ground.

What was left was a broken barrel, a few pieces of the wall knocked loose, and no sign of the Crow anywhere to be seen. Kirigan let out a quiet grumble as he stormed off.

Kaz continued his path down a new alley, trying to find some way to Jesper and Inej before they could all go find (Y/n).

As Kaz was making his daring escape, (Y/n) was making it out of the city. They were heading for the forest nearby, desperate to have some kind of cover. They needed to be away from the crowds. There was less of a chance of them being ratted out and if they were found, the Grisha were less likely to hurt any civilians if they were in the woods.

(Y/n) had no way of truly knowing what was going to happen. They wanted to believe that it would all work out, but they were never foolish enough to hold onto that much hope.

Regardless of whatever future may unfold, (Y/n) knew one thing: they had come too far for this to be the last time they see the Crows.

So, as they made it into the forest and found a safe and hidden spot to make camp, they pulled out the sharp blade that Inej had offered them.

In a tree, they carefully carved a message. A message that served two meanings. One was to tell the Crows exactly where they were without telling anyone else. The other was to be a reminder to all of them about how important it was for them to make it out of this together.

N.M.N.F

No mourners, no funerals.

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Author's Note: That title could relate to three different things in this story. Just so y'all know.

Also, I was very aware of the fact that I would get my ass kicked if I didn't feature Kaz and Kirigan meeting.

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[sharky857]

I have momentarily run out of ideas for stories, so here's a list of headcanons/musing about the Hex.

The fact that the majority may be about/involve Amir might or might not be just a coincidence. Honest. :)

Quincy

Quite hot-tempered and in a "bickering sibling" relationship with Amir, where Quincy himself would be "the older one". I also have a low-key feeling that he may actually care and be concerned for Amir and the others, and that all the "scorn" is actually him trying to hide his levels of concern.

Quincy also strikes me as the kind to call other by either their first, last or full name depending on the situation.

Examples: "AMIR!" = actually no biggie, Quincy's just being his usual, impulsive, grumpy self; "BECKETT!" = did a whoopsie-daisy, but probably still manageable. Hopefully. "AMIR BECKETT!" = u did dun f-up son

On multiple occasions and while being absolutely sick and tired of that constant ruckus, he probably tried to destroy the speakers on the stage right next to his personal shooting range, only to see them back (a few hours to a day later), perfectly functional once again and still blasting THAT BLOODY SONG. At first he may have blamed Amir, probably also snap-demanding to "cut it out". Until realising that what would promptly fix the speakers every single time it's something that does start with "tech-", but also ends with "-rot" instead of "-nician". :)

After that, Quincy may have settled for some ear plugs, courtesy of Lettie's medical kit.

Lettie

Ye olde "getting real tired of toda esta mierda" kind of jaded medic.

May still have some bedside manners left somewhere.

Would maybe let you pet one of her rats, but also warn to not take it on her, if any of her bebes might bite your hand~

Eleanor

Her psychic abilities would not only allow her to communicate with the rest of her team, and also possibly take a peek inside of their memories, but she may also be capable of playing someone's memory into someone else's head.

She may also have protective "mama bear" tendencies when it comes to Amir.

Eleanor do be the Freaky One™ as Lettie would say, with a "tongue" (probably whole inside-of-the-mouth too) to match Venom's, your honour. Can't explain otherwise the need to specify that she has more technocytes than the rest of the team + the fact that she never speaks aloud. There might also some more "freakiness" ongoing under all that exosuit.

Aoi

Aoi would totally adopt Kalymos in a heartbeat if given the chance. Alas, she would have to settle for whatever surviving street kitty instead. And she would've long and totally adopted all the street critters, probably turning the entire mall in some kind of petting zoo because "there's so much space!" reasons, if it weren't for Arthur refraining her from doing so. The reason: no one inside the base would be exactly too thrilled to deal with a moody medic + lots of LOUD ANGRY SPANISH, if anything ever happened to make a snack out of even just ONE "furred baby" of Lettie's widdle family of rats.

Also: if one wanted to see Aoi instantly cry a waterfall, all they would have to do is let her watch either Hachiko or Bambi.

Arthur

He's definitely caught a case of "shonen protagonist syndrome".

I also headcanon him as being one of the Hexes who struggles to manage his own energy efficiently, since every time he does anything more than using an exalted blade he also passes out for a moment. No wonder Aoi can't stop and won't stop to keep her eyes peeled on her guy.

Amir

He strikes me as the one with the least technocytes in the bloodstream, at least judging from what glimpse I could grasp of everyone's face. Everyone has some unnatural-looking veins and marks on their face, but Amir's skin still looks as smooth as silk, only with tons of freckles. Not to mention, the fact that Quincy openly says that he is "a weak, weak boy", while Arthur comments that "Amir's still alive. That's a win" in such a way that it seems to leave for implied that he maybe did not expect some techie to survive whatever he's talking about.

There's a 100% chance of neurodivergence ongoing with him. Was also probably bullied in school for that. On the flip side: he might've found "Heaven on Earth" upon entering an IT school.

Before getting technocyte'd, Amir was also probably not very fond of running around in a literal way: a few NYOOM!s, and one may have caught him almost keeled over against the nearest wall, wheezing as if he had been on top of mount Everest without an oxygen tank. Poor guy just didn't have the stamina for zoomies. :( Yet. >:)

Imho, whenever Amir uses "Speed", there's an air current to match, ozone-flavoured too given the nature of his "superpowers". If you ever had the UNpleasure of having a lighting strike too close for comfort, you might also know what the air smells like, in those situations. :°)

Since Amir is all about electricity, methinks that the same smell can be sensed whenever he uses whatever other ability he would use as well.

Being the techie/electronics specialist of the team, I too have embraced the headcanon that Amir's responsible for fixing and patching up every single electronic device inside Höllvania central mall, from the bare essential in lights to the arcade game machines, going through the speakers now blasting the exact, same song over and over again. No force on Earth could distract an hyperfocused techie from his task, after all.

Amir doesn't sleep. Ever. He just takes power naps whenever he feels like taking them.

There would be one arcade machine that might be like Kryptonite to the technician: this spawn of the devil here.

The reason: before technocytes, he would gasp for air after a single session (fuckywucky stamina, remember?)

After technocytes he may be finally able to master even this one. If it weren't for The Clumsy Factor™ that would probably cause poor Jitter to eventually stumble down the platform. Or he might just go so fast that he would literally wreck said platform an embarrassingly lot of times. Whoops.

Mixed & Random musing

A. Since he may also be one of the Hexes to spend tons of energy between lightning shows and zoomies, Amir could have quite an appetite. Arthur might follow in a close second place.

One might wonder where they get their own "foodie fuel" to keep all that up. The answer is all around and also inside Höllvania mall: savoury, spicy, delicious techrot, if one doesn't mind the smell. And the texture. And probably the way that stuff might slightly squirm and twitch a little as well.

... What? Do you have any idea how hard could be to find fresh veggies & stuff in Höllvania, at the moment? 😤

B. I too have embraced the theory that some civilians fled and some others may be trapped inside Höllvania, in both cases living (surviving) inside shelters, possibly into sturdy underground bunkers.

[changenameno]

My Own (Chapter 1)

Summary:

Geralt finds himself once more on the path, gloomily looking at what lies ahead. And you? You had no one, no home and certainly no coin. Well that’d be something you had in common. No coin. You two are surely off to a great start… Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem. Nymph Reader

Warnings: 18+, death, blood, cursing, angst, MDNI (there may be smut in the future)

Word count: 1.5K A/N: This is my first attempt writing something that I’d actually post. Have been afraid to do so, for a very, very long time. It’s not proofread, any mistakes are my own. Please be kind, comments/rebblogs are very appreciated…Thank you❤️✨

Shout-out to the lovely @livesinfantasyland not only for her beautiful crafted moodboards (which you should totally check out!) but also her kind words of encouragement! One moodboard of yours especially sparked my writing muse, called “Bathing with the Witcher”. Thank you soooo much! You truly are a sweetheart, and I hope you will like this…

!The Witcher characters and world are not mine!

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻 CHAPTER 1 Looking back you saw the castle ablaze with fire. Smoke spirals rising into the dark sky, only adding to the clouds above. Your home was burning to the ground before your very eyes and you could do nothing to save it.

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He grunted, reproachfully opening his yellow eyes. A new day was only just breaking, not even fully light yet. It had been another night on the road, without a job, without coin… Yesterday Geralt had tried selling the Kikimora to the alderman, who in turn had promised their mage would buy the beast. Turns out, Stregobor was just another weird wizard, talking nonsense about lesser evils. Then there had been Renfri, he didn’t actually think she’d leave Balviken but he wasn’t very prepared for the market fiasco either. Now he squinted at where his swords lay next to him. With the addition of a brooch attached to one them, it should serve as a reminder that something like that would never happen again. He slowly sat up, sore and still bloody. His thigh throbbed, there was a deep gash in his black breeches where Renfri had stabbed him. Vesemir would have scolded him for not taking care of his wound right away. Grunting once more, he got up and walked to where Roach was standing near a tree. She tried to nuzzle him and he let her, petting her sturdy neck then reaching into his saddlebags and grabbing a cloth and his least favourite potion. He didn’t bother sitting down, Geralt simply poured the liquid over the wound. “Rrgg f-fuck,” he grimaced. Once the excruciating pain had subsided a little, he wrapped the white cloth around his thigh, all the while breathing through his clenched teeth. Roach nickered softly, he turned his yellow eyes toward her and lifted one of his brows “Hey don’t be mean… I know I should’ve done that yesterday.” Suddenly his head whipped to the right, he had heard something on the other side of the clearing. Though he didn’t see anything yet, Geralt was sure that there was something or more likely someone behind that huge oak tree.  

                                                               Slowly and without making a sound he made his way over to his swords, picking the one closets to him and readying his fighting stance. His nostrils flared, the reason why he picked up the sword in the first place. That smell. Unnatural. A tinge of blood but also another very pleasant scent nearly overpowering his senses. He couldn’t pinpoint what exactly that scent was, but he’d never smelled anything like it. Though now that he was thinking about it more clearly, he remembered that he had smelled it before. It had been in the air, only a whiff but still the reason he woke up so early. That must mean whoever was hiding, had been there for some time now. Geralt lowered his sword, staring at the oak tree. Too tired and angry to come up with a refined plan he simply roared, “Show yourself!” With his luck, obviously nothing happened. Waiting a few more frustrating minutes, he finally made his way over to the oak tree. The dewy grass making his boots wet. As he reached the end of the clearing, he took step by soundless step around the thick tree trunk, once more sword at the ready. It was like watching a cat stalking its prey. Or so he thought. Before he could even lift his sword, a branch hit him square in the face and with such force, he stumbled backwards.

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It felt like your lungs were drowning, drowning in thick smoke. Even though the castle was dozens of miles behind you by now, it still felt like you couldn’t breathe. The cool night air doing nothing in aiding the battle of your burning lungs against your panic stricken system. They couldn’t get you. They couldn’t… Your mind supplied very unhelpfully, that they indeed could get you, because they had horses and were therefore a lot quicker than you. But you couldn’t stop. You had to get away, so you continued to stumble through the night. Then you heard it, the rumbling thunder of the rapidly approaching horses. “There she is! Quick, we’ve got her!” “Over here!!” The voices rang through the night. Before you could run any further, the riders of doom had circled you. Wide eyed and breathing heavily you looked around. Tall horses surrounding you, all of which were ridden by deadly armed men. There was no escape. Looking at the ground you saw a branch, so you swiftly picked it up. It was barely longer than your forearm, but still better than nothing. One of the man dismounted his horse chuckling, “Aaaw that’s adorable, we’ve got ourselves a fighter. But Princess don’t bother, we shall deliver you unharmed. Isn’t that right?” He laughed darkly and the other surrounding men joined in. Yet you refused to lower the branch, so he kept talking as if you were a scared little girl. Technically you were scared but surely you were no little girl.

His first mistake, dismounting his horse. His second, nearing you without drawing his weapon. And thirdly underestimating you. He couldn’t finish his next demeaning sentence before you hit him over the head with all the strength you could muster. A truly horrid scream and cracking sound followed, then his body hit the ground. Unmoving. One of the other men screamed: “That damned idiot, get her!!” You let yourself fall onto your knees, releasing the branch and putting both your palms on the ground. Digging your fingers into the dirt, you began to murmur, the only thing that could save you now. The men grew uneasy, as did the horses. “What is she doing?” “How should I know?” “Make her stop!!” Suddenly a piercing pain exploded on your right shoulder. An arrow had struck you. You whimpered but didn’t stop whispering. Then finally the ground began to shake. “What’s happening!?” The horses panicked and reared up, just as the first root shot up and knocked the three men closest to you off, of the back of their horses. The resounding thud as they hit nearby trees, let chaos further explode around you. Screams, shying horses, roots continuing to shoot from the ground, pain. It was deafening. And yet you didn’t hear anything, besides your own racing heart. Quickly you got up on wobbly feet, trying to breathe through the pain. With your left hand you struggled to get a hold of the arrow sticking out of your shoulder, but you only succeeded in breaking the shaft off. The resounding pain, made you howl loudly. “F-uck…”, you pressed out. Oddly enough right then everything had come to a halt. Spooked by what’d happed, all the horses had either run off on their own, or with more or less conscious riders still in the saddle. The remaining men strewn on the ground unmoving.

The roots now, nowhere to be seen, as if they hadn’t just been beating dozens of armed men unconscious. Only weirdly shaped holes in the ground, pointing to an unnatural maybe magically induced battle. You didn’t really care about that though. The most pressing matter was, getting away, so you steadied yourself and started walking as fast as you could manage. Because your shoulder blade throbbed with every step, you weren’t going very fast at all.

Still you soldiered on. And on… and on. Through the night. Numbed by exhaustion and the horror that came with your escape, you weren’t very aware of your surroundings. Just enough that you’d picked up the branch before you left, as a last defence against who knows what.

As you continued to stumble through the woods, the first ray of light penetrated the thick foliage overhead. So you came to a halt at the edge of a clearing, leaning against a huge oak tree and sinking to your knees. The exhaustion catching up, made you lay down on your left side to not further antagonize your injured shoulder.

You lay completely still, eyes closed, for about ten minutes only concentrating on your breath. Seconds before you could finally welcome the blessed unconsciousness of dreamland, a roar nearly made you jump out of your skin: “Show yourself!”

CHAPTER 2

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Taglist:

If you're interested in being on my taglist, please let me know! And if you want to be taken off (my taglist), feel free to tell me! ❤️✨

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

I was wondering, what's your interpretation of tTPD as a whole?. I know a lot of people think it's a 31 album dedicated to one main muse minus 2 songs for his ex long term relationship but i was curious about your thoughts.

Also, some theorists are talking about a potential 10 years situationship between taylor and one muse and it makes me feel... weird. Because she was committed to someone else and i don't know how to feel knowing the other muse could be in some of my fave albums... sorry for the long rant

So there’s a lot going on here and it’s nuanced.

I don’t think it’s as simple as “it’s all about one person minus two songs.” There are several muses woven in both the text and subtext of the songs. And what happened with one muse in many cases was only possible because what happened with another. There are some songs that are explicitly about specific people’s actions, but overall things get muddy because situations are muddy.

This is a cop out answer, but ultimately to me the album is about Taylor. It’s about her pain and grief and trauma and also healing and recovery and joy. To reduce it to a man in particular discounts that she is the main character of her own life and story.

I do not think the story she put down in TTPD is one of a decade long situationship. As I said yesterday, I will gladly change my mind if new information comes to light. The story I picked up in TTPD is one where someone entered her life at a very vulnerable time, exploited their shared history to sow the seeds of this fantasy life to her that she was desperately grieving in her very real current life, which caused her to play revisionist history with her memories because she needed to make it “real” to herself as an escape hatch.

But even if that isn’t the case, and if it turns out that yes, she was pining for this person for ten years… it doesn’t take away from the fact that her past music is excellent, regardless of the inspiration. IMO fans would be better served to not always recall the muses when listening to music for their enjoyment. I know Taylor’s music is different because her life is so well documented and she used to be so open about who she was writing about, but very few artists do that and their music still hits. I don’t think at all about the artists’ lives when listening to any other band; hell, even in well-known messy situations like Fleetwood Mac, I’m not thinking about Stevie and Mick, I’m thinking that Landslide is beautiful and Rhiannon is a banger or whatever. If you think too much about the artists’ personal lives, you’re gonna get twisted in knots and may find there are few people you can listen to, because humans are fallible and messy and make mistakes. Like Taylor says, once the songs are out in the world, they’re not hers anymore, and you need to ascribe your own meaning to them.

Which is not to say I wasn’t surprised when I first figured out who she was writing about when I listened to TTPD, and yes the first few listens of the album made my head spin a bit for the lore of it all, but i truly listen to it like any other album now. It’s good music plain and simple.

What I’m trying to say is that you have to set your own boundaries I guess. If it really bothers you then you don’t have to listen to or engage with it. But personally I’m also not going to moralize Taylor’s or anyone else’s music because she’s human just like any of us and we all make choices in our lives. She was just brave enough to share the mess. It’s not a condoning of her actions because she doesn’t need my or anyone else’s approval for her choices. She’s recording a moment of time in her life and turned it into art, and now it takes on new meaning for listeners.

(Also if people are moralizing her choices because of the “commitment” thing well… I think they weren’t picking up on other parts of the album but. Well.)

Also my pet peeve is that I hate the word “theory” when applied to real people. They’re humans with lives, not characters in a TV show. This isn’t directed at you anon, just a general sentiment.

[yukyunotabibito]

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is.

Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing!

Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

From neffi <3

Name: Vergil

Pronouns: She/He/They

Birthday (no year): November 14th

Where are you from? What is your time zone? I'm from the Midwest (America), but my current timezone is PST

How long is your roleplay experience? 'Bout two and half years total I think? If tumblr RP

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? Does warrior cats on the playground count?

How were you introduced to TOA? Stalked the twitter for like a year

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Do you have any pets? I have a cat back home, but she's not with me at college

What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period) Fall! Because it has my birthday :3

What is your IRL occupation? Student <3

Some interests and things you like/enjoy? Well isn't this embarrassing. My current obsession is 2ha/Erha

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? Devil May Cry, Bayonetta, Elden Ring, Persona, Ensemble Stars, etc.

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: Dragon! Appletun <3

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself! I'm a marine biology major!

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How did you get into Fire Emblem? A friend of mine introduced it to me in 6th grade and like any autistic child I immediately got completely obssessed

What Fire Emblem games have you played? (In order of the number), Blazing Blade, Path of Radiance, Radiant Dawn, Awakening, Fates, Three Houses, Engage

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: First was Fates. Current favourite is Radiant Dawn I think.

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! Nasir, Kurthnaga, M!Corrin, Erk, and Zephia

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason!

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳Camilla. Any hot woman in general, so most of them. Vaguely Nasir.

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays? - Awakening: First was Chrom. IDK now. - Fates: First was Jakob. Mozu now. - Three Houses: First was Claude. Yuri now. - Engage: First was Alfred (Male Alear). IDK now.

Favorite Fire Emblem class? Kinshi Knight!

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? Random village NPC #12

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? (Black Eagles, Blue Lions, Golden Deer, Church of Seiros, Those Who Slither in the Dark, unaffiliated civilian, other - for example Almyran) Black Eagles

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? Boon: reason, bane: gauntlet, budding talent: bow

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? (Firene, the Kingdom of Abundance; Brodia, the Kingdom of Might; Elusia, the Kingdom of Knowledge; Solm, the Queendom of Freedom; Lythos, the holy land of the Divine Dragon; Gradlon, the desolate land of the Fell Dragon) Elusia

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How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔(separate letters, to-ah, other?) As the letters, so Tee-oh-ay

Current TOA muses: Kurthnaga, Nasir, and Zihark!

Past TOA muses? (In no particular order) Velouria, Anankos, Izana, Cadros, F!Morgan, Forrest, M!Corrin, Cadros, Erk (am I forgetting anybody???)

Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again? Velouria. No, I don't think I can see myself picking her up again at this current point.

Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? (If you filled this out last year, has this changed in any way?) I don't even know anymore. Zihark has confused me. #Girl send help.

Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could? God. If a man could dream.

What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? (If you filled this out last year, has this changed in any way?) Emotional drama :3

Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”? Hm... I'm not sure

Favorite TOA-related memories? Dollhouse.

Present or past tense? Past? I think?

Normal size text, small text, no preference? Normal please wah wah wah

Got any potential muse delusions to share? 😉Under the right circumstances Yukimura could happen. But I don't that will be any time soon if ever

[raisindave]

[Chapter 54] Seeing the World Through Ballistic-Tinted Glasses

A cruel idea struck you when you noticed Ghost's line of sight on your training from across the gym. Lorenzo promised to go easy on you in the wake of your upcoming venture into the city, but you had no intention of being docile. You don't have to turn and look to know he's watching either, pretending like he's interested in hearing whatever Price is barking. It's just something you can feel. Intuition, maybe. Or maybe you're just wise enough to know that nothing escapes those sniper's eyes, sharp enough to spot a catfish at the bottom of a lake. In this windowless training ground, there's an opportunity to put that jealous allegation to the test, especially when today's training mainly focuses on takedowns. It's the perfect time to faff around with your trainer a bit, a socially acceptable way to bump and grind on one another, free of repercussions or second glances. Except for ones from those who matter. 

It seems that Lorenzo caught onto your drift pretty quickly, though he may just be eager to put his all into today's training. Those hands were smooth and soft, his grapple gripping your bicep like silk ropes. Once again, you brought him down from an upright position, even after he tried to sweep your legs and topple your balance. You sat astride him, wrenching his things from kicking under you with a sturdy stance. A flash of brown curls and olive skin whirred past your vision. He seemed to be stunned by the sudden onslaught, but an unconsidered method of wrenching your knees away from under you left you planted under his grip.

This tumbling match had the bonus side effect of teaching you valuable lessons about redistributed body weight. Your scuffle carried on for nearly half an hour with increasingly heaving breaths. Occasionally catching dark eyes from the corner of your vision, electricity made your fingertips tingle. After enough clothed heavy petting disguised as pins and holds, the time came to stretch before you bow out. When you met his pale eyes, they were scorching, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart thundered in your ears. Taking a seat on stiff foam flooring to stretch, meaningful words finally shattered the silence. 

"Any closing thoughts? How did I do?" You smiled, folding to stretch your calf. 

"I think your brain is foggy. You spend too much time with men, they make you brutish and heavy-handed," Lorenzo noted, knitting his fingers together between his knees. 

"I don't have much choice in my coworkers, unfortunately."

"Get out, explore the world. My Uccellino spends too much time in her cage. Don't you ever just leave and get away?"

"I wish. But it's not that easy. I need to be ready to move at a moment's notice."

"You'll be no use to them if you're wound up and stir-crazy with nothing but soldiers to keep you company."

"And what, rent a sports car? Go for joyrides?" A disbelieving grin pulled at your cheeks.

"Why not?"

"Why not? " you mused, scoffing. "I'm in the military. Deployed on a task force… it's a lot of paperwork to leave for more than a single afternoon within walking distance from the base, and that's assuming they approve it. I can't just drive into the sunset even if I wanted to."

After a pause, his eyes glinted with mischief. "You play by the rules too much, little bird." 

"I seem to recall you making half a dozen rules for me to follow on day one," you mused, rising to your feet lazily. He followed your lead obediently. 

The truth is, you don't always play by the rules. In a flash you recalled dozens of times you've bent or broken rules. You already have a compromising history with your lieutenant. On paper, it would be written as a relationship that could threaten the impartiality you need for this job; in reality, it's nothing like a relationship. But that's not a distinction your superiors will likely care to hear you out on. 

"Tomorrow we train at dusk, Uccellino. Meet me in the old building, the grey one on the far end of the landing strip," Lorenzo smiled sweetly, pulling you into another tender hug that signified the end of your scrimmage.

Another quick shower and you were good to go. Having no purse meant you'd have to juggle your wallet and phone, though the former could easily be changed once you get into town. It makes no sense as to the plausibility of how Laswell managed to get replacements of your bank cards and IDs into this CIA-emblemed wallet, but some questions are better left unanswered. 'They' probably have access to every bank statement you've received since you were sixteen, so it's not even worth panicking over the lack of privacy now. If anything, it makes you more proud that you do have some secrets that are beyond their scope. Beyond the all-seeing eye of the mysterious 'They.' Slipping through one corridor and another, you finally reached the main entrance of the barracks, where a short paved road led to the nearby inner city. This time, there won't be a gaggle of friends to guide you in making a stylish choice, so you're flying blind on sheer instinct. 

Hot sun heated your bare forearms, but a smooth breeze kissed away the discomfort. You couldn't have asked for a clearer sky. On the other side of the road where you walked was a hilly terrace where marching soldiers ran brutal cardio drills on yellowing grass. It's like you're slipping away from this little ecosystem you've found yourself in and stepping into a new climate. The last time you stepped into a city, the first person you talked to got whacked by the cartel, so the prospect of striking up a conversation with the locals in this foreign habitat struck you as a bad idea. Just as you were close enough to consider the geometric patterns of interlocking tiles of approaching Tuscan roofing, an intentionally loud boot scuff behind you made you flinch. 

"Oh for fuck's sake…" you sighed. 

Three familiar silhouettes make their way toward you with tall shadows, closer than expected. They all looked like three different flavours of the exact same outfit. A simple tee shirt and the same standard military khakis that everyone gets in their pack, and those same dull brown sneaker-boot hybrid shoes. The exact same outfit as yours. They better not be planning on following you. A sense of embarrassment washed over you at the thought of wandering through town with these three pit bulls on your ankles. This was supposed to be your 'me time.' Your time to explore your own interests. 

"Did you think we'd let you go alone?" Soap called over the sound of a nearby jet takeoff. 

"Yes, I did, actually."

"Too bad," Gaz sauntered over to you, putting an arm around your neck and pulling you into a brotherly chokehold. 

"Soap needs to pick up a dress for the event, too," Ghost jested, eliciting a snicker from Gaz.

"Actually I believe you mean a kilt," Soap raised his palms defensively, hotly correcting Ghost's allegation. 

"I fail to see how any of this is an invitation to follow me," you groaned, failing to fight off the creeping grin and ducking away from Gaz's arm. 

"I'll take any excuse to leave the base. S' fucking boring. If I have to spend one more minute in that tiny blimming gym with recruits everywhere, I'll fling myself onto the tarmac," Soap rambled in a thick accent that made his words barely distinguishable, even for a career linguist. 

It seems like you didn't have much of a choice as they all already started walking toward town. So much for Lorenzo's advice to discover yourself away from these guys, because it seems you're now tied to them for the foreseeable future. Not that you minded though; Soap and Gaz always have a way of brightening up a conversation when they're not in 'work mode.' It's Ghost that's the oddball. You'd never expect him to willingly join you lot on this excursion. More likely than not, it's not willing, and Soap or Price guilted him into coming on a little field trip to get him out of the base. The look in his eyes behind his balaclava concurred with that plotline. 

As the city drew nearer, tall, slender trees blotted out the sun for split seconds as you passed, creating a landing strip for you to step under sprawling archways. In some alleyways you could easily touch neighbouring walls with either hand, and in some blocks you could see clotheslines and sunbathing locals drinking in the early afternoon sun. You could easily get lost in the architecture and the beauty of it all. No parking lots or chain convenience stores, just lively cafes and the odd street busker. Background banter broke your pathfinding concentration, bidding your attention with the usage of your name.

"Which of us has the best fashion sense, Cricket?" Gaz asked slyly. 

"Hmm. It has to be Gaz," you smiled after some thought. 

"What?" Soap decried, though his intentions were drowned out by Gaz's howling in approval. 

"I'd say it's LT, he's grim, but at least he's got a vibe to 'im, y'know?" Gaz added.

"I have a vibe," Soap cursed under his breath. 

"I don't want fashion advice from Ghost… I'll end up with a dress made of skinned cats and skulls," you snarked, turning over your shoulder to catch his reaction.

But he wasn't looking your way. He seemed vaguely disinterested in the conversation, glazed over eyes watching the upcoming city. Surprising, he won't take an opportunity to stroke his own ego. His loss. The paved road made way for yellow brick streets of pale interlocking stones, radiating afternoon warmth even through your boots. It's lucky that this base was so close to a posh shopping district, where tall multistory buildings lined with cloth canopies advertising exquisite fineries. 

The first store you stepped into was a bust. You barely spent more than two minutes within the racks before you got the gist; a bridal store, as if the ivory gowns in the glass display weren't enough of a clue. Your comrades refused to step foot past the thresholds of the boutiques, like vampires stepping into the light; it's against their nature in every way. Their disinterest was also met with a hearty warning that three buff men stepping into a store might scare the hell out of the poor shopkeep. It's just an unnecessary level of anxiety for both parties that can be easily avoided. 

The next store was closer to what you were looking for, but the dresses seemed a bit too… indiscreet. Low plunging necklines and dramatic thigh slits don't exactly ring as something you should wear at work— even if it would be hilarious to show up in such a gown and steal the spotlight that's rightfully yours anyway. You could do it too, and a red silky number with sultry black lace would send a message. Regrettably, this noxiously perfumed boutique isn't the one.   

A few more stops came and went, and your once-willing colleagues started to make their protests known. It took you snapping back at them that this was their idea before they began to recognize that their moaning and groaning would only drag this out farther. And you could drag this out much farther. At least their banter made for pleasant company as you navigated the narrow streets. You had one last stop on this street before you'd have to circle back and lower your standards. A remarkably modern storefront, clearly newly renovated with sleek floor-length windows and tidy cedars out front. The boys found a wall to perch on, a waist-high half-wall that bordered the brick walkway. Looks like it was once the foundation of a building that had been lost to time, a skeleton of its former self. 

When you've been to enough of these formalwear boutiques, they all start to look the same. The carpets all smell the same, the glossy mannequins look the same, the sultry pop music sounds the same. This one bundle of fabric caught your eye though. Behind a mannequin in a sequin dress, a folded lump of black. An unassuming sheet of flat black tulle until you lifted it free from the shelf. A petite little thing. On the hip, a single strand of tulle extended like a ribbon, inspiring you to imagine it fluttering gracefully in the wind as you walk. The thought made you smile weakly, just enough to sell you. It's entirely clear why it's not hanging on a rack with the others; the low dropped shoulders sat on either side of a heart-shaped neckline, making it resistant to regular hangers. Slim steaks of black fabric crossed over the bodice, settling on a romantic slope that'd reach just above your knee. Your bruised knee. Fuck, that'll take some makeup. The dress looked fitted, it's definitely the kind of thing you'll have to try on. No time. Your colleagues will probably maroon you if you take much longer. This one will have to do. 

Only when you were moments away from spilling the pile of black fabric on the counter did you remember the need for shoes and jewellery. Combat boots and dog tags don't exactly scream Black Tie, but this wouldn't be an issue to begin with if you were allowed to wear your formal military uniform. Sometimes, you just have to pick your battles. Without a thought, you palmed a seemingly suitable bauble from a cloth bust near the counter, a glossy dark jewel the centrepiece of four or five strings of pearls. Heavy in your palm and close fitting to your throat. You didn't even bother to consider the price, most likely you can afford it. You'd spent months deployed now without touching your account, plus you can probably write this off as a work-related expense. Lastly, you can't go wrong with black stilettos. Whatever. You just wanted to get back to base for chow. 

The cashier was sweet, a tall, slender woman with a chic blonde cut and dark roots. It'd be easy to mistake her as one of the mannequins if she wasn't politely smiling at you whenever you raised your eyes to her. Even her fingernails were elegant when she slipped your garments through the scanner. Slender and polished nails, a far cry from your split and cracked nails with dirt and God knows what else deep under the nailbeds. Days come when you crave the idea of a life like hers. Tranquil and mundane, where you'd have time to consider what colour to paint your nails each week. It's the idea of elegance always snags your intrigue, but you could never find the time to put those pipe dreams into practice. Not this time. This time, you get a say in how you look. Maybe being disgraced as a patron to this banquet held in your honour was a blessing in disguise, and this dress will be your 'fuck you' to their dereliction. 

A blast of warm air hit you as you stepped down the stone stair that elevated the boutique. In the minutes you spent inside, it seemed like the temperature had doubled, and the cool breeze from the sea no longer countered the scorching sun. Only one bird sat on the wire, forsaken by the other two. Poor Soap sat alone on the cracked foundation, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight as you approached. 

"So our comrades abandoned us?" You called, finding a seat on the cobblewall beside him. 

"Yeah, ya' took too bloody long…" Soap grinned. "Nah, they went to get us some gelato or something."

"Oh please, I was in and out in five minutes."

"So you found something? Finally." Soap nodded to the paper bag you held in your fingers. 

"It'll have to do," you sighed, sitting on the cobbled wall beside him, squinting at the gleaming sunlight. 

"I would've offered to help, but you scorned my sense of fashion already," crossing his arms in a huff.

"I can live with that."

"What's wrong with my style, oh wise one" Soap quipped.

"The mohawk," you sighed, kicking your feet absentmindedly. 

"The mohawk is badass," he snapped, offended.

"It's a bit goofy," a giggle paired with your words as you said them. 

"I don't do it for your approval, Cricket."

"I know. I can tell."

"Oh what, so you're the spokeswoman for all females then?" Soap turned to look at you, sporting that dumb smile when he's up to no good. "What do you know."

"Soap, you talk as if that goofy mohawk profoundly impacts all women who see it. What other women have you bounced the seductiveness of that hairstyle off? The only other woman you talk to is Laswell, and she's a lesbian. And married. And your boss."

"I'm pretty sure Farah said it looked cool once," he grumbled, kicking a rock with his boot as they dangled over the wall.

You didn't even need to respond to that one. You'd both burst into cackling in time for Ghost and Gaz's shadows to interrupt your ripostes. They each came with a paper cup of the before-mentioned gelato in either hand as they drew nearer. Sunshine like this made you envious of Gaz's sunglasses and cap, tools that would've been a game-changer in this heat. 

"Don't tell Price," Ghost murmured, handing you a cup.

What landed in your hands was an utter monstrosity of candy and sugar. Blue gelato, probably cotton candy flavour. Didn't know gelato could even be cotton candy flavoured. It came topped with a fistful of gummy bears that were rendered stiff by the chilled treat. 

"'Not in the meal plan,” Gaz warned, handing Soap's cup of what looked like lemon gelato covered in strawberries and mango, which matched his own. 

"I love secrets. They make for good blackmail," you smiled into the smooth plastic spoon. 

"I think the cashier thought he was about to get robbed, though," Gaz laughed, flicking his eyes at Ghost's balaclava. 

A simple movement in your peripheral made you nearly leap out of your skin in horror. As Soap praddled on about how he would've preferred something less sweet, a flash of pale flesh captured your attention from the corner of your eye. Ghost lifted his mask over his mouth, slipping a spoon of what smelled like cappuccino flavour into his mouth. The other two didn't seem bothered, entirely content to carry on like nothing. Like your famously anonymous colleague didn't just lift his mask free from his mouth, a percentage of his skin you'd never been able to get a clear look of. He must eat at some point, so this must be a relatively common sight. He had the wisdom to face away from the street and any nearby windows, casting your immediate vicinity into shadow. No matter how much the curiosity nagged, you didn't have the guts to get a direct look. It was more entertaining to watch Soap and Gaz bicker about the validity of mint ice cream anyway. They have a unique skill: always finding something to ramble about. Even Ghost stepped in to defend Gaz's 'it tastes like toothpaste' side. That made it easy to join Soap's side, no matter the fact that mint ice cream personally repulses you. 

It got you thinking about the flavours on your metaphorical plate right now, not the ones in the paper cup in your hand. You've found yourself at a fork in the road. It's like choosing between sugar and spice. Two choices, each clearly vying for your attention, whether they want to admit it or not. One is sugar sweet and tender, affectionate and sensitive. The other is bitter and cruel, cold but familiar. The truth of the matter is that you've always had a sweet tooth. 

<< Prev Chapter           Next Chapter>> Once again, bonus points if you can identify the inspiration for Lua’s dress.

Master List

[backwaterheroics]

𝘒𝘕𝘖𝘞𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘕𝘌𝘙 𝘞𝘌𝘓𝘓 𝘊𝘈𝘕 𝘗𝘖𝘛𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘐𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘠 𝘔𝘈𝘒𝘌 𝘞𝘙𝘐𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘛𝘖𝘎𝘌𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙 𝘈 𝘓𝘖𝘛 𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘐𝘌𝘙!

repost, don't reblog!

NAME : rowen

PRONOUNS : she/her/my liege; we is also common i.e. 'we here at strife industries' etc but it's really just for self-reference

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION : carrier pigeon maybe? i'm really bad at all kinds of communication tbqh. we can get some walkietalkies tho & i promise i haven't ever forgotten about u /phil collins voice, u'll be in my heart

chatting on tumblr ims is fine & i do have a discord ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ u can even have my whatsapp if u want, but standard messaging & data rates may apply. talk to ur doctor if rowenix is right for u

NAME OF MUSE(s) : this here is my boy kuraudo sutoraifu-waifu but i've written a few other characters here and there; cloud is the only rp blog i have any semblance of presence on atm tho - he is my forevergirl, my homeslice, my big chalupa. for ffvii specifically, i've also written rp for elena and rufus

BEST EXPERIENCE : you! i've met all my best friends through rp which is probably why i'm still even around in the rps

RP PET PEEVES / DEALBREAKERS : i don't like it when ppl say they do not like the chara i am literally writing at that moment. so like, if you don't like cloud, why are you here..... we don't have any money... we've got nothin for ya.... pls smash that unfollow button and do not hit the notification bell....,other than that tho, i don't really care. it's the internet. i've seen 4chan

MUSE PREFERENCES : paris hilton voice; i'll take five more of these little blonde bitches; fr tho i like charas who have issues with the self/who have a man vs self literary conflict kinda thing going on. i also like side-chars who don't have a lot of lore coz then i don't have to start from scratch like with an oc, but i still have freedom in the preassembled sandbox u kno?? i don't have time for a rowenverse

PLOTS OR MEMES : spontaneous stuff is easier for me; plotted stuff can get too detailed and then i freak myself out about it bc of anxiety about quality & expectations. that aside, i'll do either. if we go plotted i'd rather go 'lightly plotted' as in we talk about an idea and then just run with it, with minor course corrections as we go should the plane not take off as expected

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES : i personally tend to match length but sometimes the words just gotta come out and your one to three liner will have a 500 word reply. i have no preference from what i receive to what i give. it just is what it is and i'm grateful ur even taking the time to spend it with me

BEST TIME TO WRITE : when something else more important needs to get done. we love executive dysfunction. like right now, i should be finishing up a work project for tomorrow's meeting and yet....

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S) : our sense of humor is the same, or at least similar... cloud's social awareness is probably better than mine. neither of us talk a lot. is that good enough????

TAGGED BY: vctlan & then everyone i'm following who is still active has already done this i'm pretty sure... so if you haven't been tagged before and u see this, then i'm tagging u ok -- tell me abt u and be my friend

[fics-by-em]

Amorous Facades - Chapter Eight

A wild night out leaves the lives of Jamie Tartt and Ophelia Adams more intertwined than they ever would have imagined.

Will their decision to try and use the situation to their advantage work out in their favour or will they realize that they should have cut their losses when they had the chance?

———-

previous chapter

———-

Note: All the comments on the last chapter had me feeling super motivated so this chapter came together a lot faster than normal and I thought I'd post it a couple of days early as a thank you for all the support! It really means so much to hear that people are enjoying the story, I love reading all your thoughts!

———-

Lia was truly gripped by fear that she’d ruined everything after the private kiss she’d shared with Jamie and the rejection that had followed - however reluctant her refusal may have been. 

She knew Jamie well enough to know that he wasn’t used to being turned down and she’d assumed that he probably wouldn’t take very kindly to it, but it seemed his acting skills extended beyond just being a pretend boyfriend because by the time she’d followed him downstairs, there was no hint of obvious upset. For days, she waited with baited breath for his indignance to rear its head. For a petty comment, a cruel jab, any sign of retaliation. But nothing ever came.

And that led Lia to the only possible conclusion: she’d been right about Jamie’s intentions.

He wanted to forget. He wanted a distraction. He wanted the comfort of being wanted. He wanted the pride of impressing her with his skills and the reminder that he was talented despite the blow his ego had taken. But he didn’t want her. She would have just been a warm womanly body that he’d chosen because their agreement prevented him from going out to find someone more suited to his tastes and lifestyle. 

He wasn’t bothered by her rejection because he wasn’t particularly bothered about her and the sting of that realization was bad enough to have her feeling grateful for the decision that she’d made to stop things going any further. She was in way too deep and clearly more invested than Jamie and she needed to start being a little more guarded if she wanted to get out of their mess unscathed.

She always wore her heart on her sleeve though and it was a constant struggle for her to keep her feelings hidden away. It was easier if she spent less time with Jamie so she found herself choosing to work late more often than not in an attempt to limit their time together. It hurt her to do so even if she felt it was for the best, but it only took him a few days to seemingly catch onto her plan.

“Ophelia!” Her dad called as he swung open the door of the office where she was sorting out the books that customers had placed a special order for. “There is a handsome, rich man here to see you!”

“There is? Who?”

“Well, that’s an interesting question,” her dad mused with an eyebrow raised in suspicion. “Do you have a lot of wealthy men pursuing you at the moment?”

“I hope not,” a familiar voice chimed in as Jamie poked his head around the door frame. “Not sure I wanna have any competition, babe.”

For a moment, Lia was a little surprised by his use of the pet name, but she quickly clued in that it was probably for her father’s benefit and flashed him a smile.

“Oh, hi, Jamie,” she greeted him. “No competition, I promise. Why would I need anyone else when I have you?”

“Wow,” her dad scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “That was impressively cheesy. We should get you writing romance novels instead of just selling them.”

“It’s easy to be cheesy when you’re in love.”

Jamie looked a little stunned by such a claim, but he managed to recover and shoot her a wink as her dad shook his head and turned back towards the door.

“Well, I’ll leave you lovebirds to it, just remember that those orders need to be sorted before you leave tonight,” he reminded her before looking back over his shoulder to flash Jamie a stern look. “And there are cameras in here so don’t get any wild ideas.”

“Dad!” Lia protested, feeling her cheeks heat up as he chuckled and hurried out the door. “Sorry about him, he just likes to stir the pot.”

“I noticed that. He gave me a bit of a hard time when I walked in, wanted to make sure I was taking good care of you and all that. And he made me agree to having dinner with him on Sunday so I guess we’ll be doing that.”

“Of course he did,” Lia rolled her eyes. “But whatever threats he made, I promise you he can’t follow through. He’s incredibly non-confrontational and I doubt he’s ever thrown a punch in his life.”

“It’s nice that he’s protective over you though, but I do have one question,” he paused and waited for Lia to look up from the pile of books in front of her before he asked, “Who the fuck is Ophelia?”

“I am,” Lia informed him, surprised by his confusion. “Ophe-lia. I just always go by Lia.”

“Fuckin’ hell, I don’t even know my wife’s name,” Jamie groaned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t I? I guess I just assumed I told you the night we met,” she shrugged. “But even my dad rarely calls me Ophelia so it’s not a huge issue.”

“Isn’t it from that old book?”

His description of such a classic piece of literature had a laugh slipping from her lips as she nodded her head.

“Hamlet? Yeah, it is. But Ophelia’s the one who goes mad and kills herself after her dad dies so I always thought it was an odd choice. My dad swears they picked the name before I was born, but I think he went rogue after my mum died because he’s a huge Shakespere dork.”

“It’s pretty, it suits you.”

“Thanks,” she smiled. “I could have ended up as Rosencrantz or Guildenstern so I don’t think it’s too bad as far as names from Hamlet goes.”

“Rosencrantz,” Jamie scoffed out a laugh. “Fuckin’ hell, that would have been tragic.”

Despite their easy conversation, there was an air of distractedness around Jamie that seemed more noticeable with every passing minute. His hand drifted down to fiddle with a pen resting on the desk while his other picked at a loose thread on the bag strapped across his chest and Lia suddenly realized how strange it was for him to track her down at work.

“It would have been,” she agreed before broaching the subject. “But what brings you to our humble little bookshop this evening, Mr. Tartt?”

“I need your help,” he admitted. “I need a suit.”

“You don’t already have one?”

“Apparently not one that’s appropriate for a funeral…”

“Oh,” Lia frowned. “You’re going to a funeral?”

“Yeah, well, we are, if you don’t mind coming. The whole team will be there - including Keeley - so I think it would be good for you to come too. You know, to keep up appearances.”

“Of course, I’ll come with you,” Lia assured him, but there was a knot in her stomach as she asked, “Whose funeral is it?”

“Rebecca’s dad. We’re all going to support her, but I need help finding something to wear. Thought you might know, you know, with your experience.”

“My experience?” Lia raised an eyebrow until she realized what he meant. “Oh, you mean from when my mom died? I was literally a week old - if that - for her funeral so I have no memory of it at all, but I’m sure we can figure it out together.”

“Great, thanks, that would be great.”

His voice was soft and he seemed to be struggling to make eye contact, two very out of character things for Jamie that had Lia’s concern growing.

“Jamie, are you okay?”

Her gentle question caught his attention as he lifted his head to look at her.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” he assured her. “It’s just weird, isn’t it? The whole death thing.”

“It is, it’s kinda scary to think about,” she agreed. “Did you know Rebecca’s dad well?”

“Didn’t know him at all really,” he admitted. “I think I met him once at a match, but I’m not even sure about that. It just got me thinking, hearing everyone talking about the funeral.”

“That’s understandable. It’s a hard thing to process, but it’s part of being human. It’s what makes it so important to appreciate the time you have because you never know when it will be over.”

Jamie took a moment to think over what she’d said before slowly nodding his head.

“I guess you’re right,” he accepted her answer. “So, you’ll help me find a suit?”

“Sure,” Lia nodded. “We can go tomorrow before you have training if you’d like to.”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Jamie agreed before changing the subject. “So, what’s all this you’re doing?”

“Sorting out the custom orders,” Lia explained. “When people ask us specifically to order something that we didn’t have in stock. I’m almost done though, if you wanna help then maybe we could get some dinner after?”

It was counterproductive to her plan of creating some distance between them, but it seemed like whatever existential dread was plaguing Jamie had him in need of a friend as he flashed her a warm smile and eagerly agreed to her offer and Lia was powerless to resist the temptation of helping him through it.

——

The damage of Lia’s resistance to Jamie’s seduction became more obvious in the days leading up to the funeral. As something was clearly weighing on his mind, she’d expected him to turn to her - especially after they’d crawled into bed together - for the comfort that they’d so readily given each other in the past, but he made sure to keep his distance as if there was a physical wall between them. She couldn’t blame him after she’d laid down her boundaries and then avoided him, but she found it hard not to coax him into opening up to her.

She was starting to think that her plan to keep her feelings out of the situation was only making things more complicated.

And attending the funeral together only seemed to make things worse.

The moment they arrived at Richmond to meet the rest of the team, Jamie slipped back into his role as doting boyfriend. They had some time to socialize while they waited for the bus, but Jamie stayed by Lia’s side for every moment. At first, she was just grateful for the support - they’d been welcoming every time she met them, but being alone in a group of people she didn’t really know was always something that gave Lia anxiety - but as the time progressed, she found the edge of protectiveness in the gesture to be stirring up other feelings.

The way his hand never left her waist as she commiserated with Dani about the pain of their formal footwear. How he draped his arm around her shoulder as she asked Coach Beard about the novel on his desk. The nuzzle of his nose into her hair as she was asked to play mediator in a fierce debate about what happens when you die between Colin and Isaac. She knew that despite any past animosity, no one on the team would be disrespectful enough to make any kind of pass at her while she was with Jamie and she knew that he knew that too, but his need to make it clear at all times exactly who she was there with sent a tingle down her spine.

She was used to being independent and prided herself on that fact, but there was something about being so wanted - so openly claimed - that she was finding very irresistible.

By the time they arrived at the funeral and she managed to escape with Keeley, she was beginning to wonder how she’d ever had the willpower to turn Jamie down as she cursed him for being such a damn good actor. But as Lia was quickly finding to be a common occurrence, Keeley Jones was a perfect distraction. She’d led her to a separate area of the church where Rebecca was hiding out in search of a bit of peace, but it didn’t take long for her quiet moment of solace to be destroyed as Keeley had them howling with laughter as she regaled them with stories from her times attending church when she was younger.

But the distraction was somewhat short lived when Rebecca’s friend - Sassy - snuck through the door.

“I have been told to come in to ask you to lower your voices,” she warned them, forcing the trio to stifle their giggles. “But…I also brought this. Stole it from a little boy in a white robe.”

She pulled a bottle of wine out from behind her back earning more laughter from Lia and Keeley as Rebecca smiled with a shake of her head.

“No, Sass…”

Undeterred, Sassy simply shrugged and cracked it open, but Keeley was quick to come to her defense.

“No, this is good because we have some gossip to discuss and we might need something to loosen up some lips,” she smirked. “Shall we start with Lia?”

“Me?” Lia questioned, her shock clear in her voice. “What gossip do I have to share?”

“Well, Jamie came to talk to me yesterday,” Keeley informed the group. “And he told me that he kissed you!”

Lia felt a wave of dread wash over her, but Sassy raised her eyebrows in exaggerated surprise.

“She was kissed by her husband? What a scandal.”

“Ah, but he’s not her husband,” Keeley clarified with a twinkle of excitement in her eyes. “He’s not even her boyfriend, it’s just a PR stunt. Or that’s how it started.”

The look on Sassy’s face shifted into something more like intrigue than confusion, but as a dramatic ‘interesting’ slipped from her lips, Rebecca wasn’t so convinced.

“Yes, but he does kiss her all the time,” she pointed out. “That boy lays more affection on her than an overly excited puppy.”

“Only in public though,” Keeley insisted. “But this happened when they were alone.”

That seemed to sell Sassy and Rebecca on the fact that there was gossip to be had as they nodded their heads and looked at Lia expectantly.

“He did kiss me when we were alone,” she admitted. “But it wasn’t a big deal. It was after they lost that match and his dad was giving him a hard time. He was emotional and wanted comfort, but I reminded him that our arrangement is just business and nothing happened.”

Sassy seemed to accept her explanation, but the look on Rebecca’s face could only be described as skeptical and Keeley was absolutely not convinced.

“He told me that you’d said that, but I thought he was lying because I couldn’t possibly imagine why you would say such a thing!”

“Because it’s true,” Lia insisted. “He was just upset, it wouldn’t have been right to take advantage of him!”

“But you wanted to?” Sassy asked. “Are you hoping for an arrangement that’s a little more frisky?”

The question alone was enough to make Lia blush in a way that she was sure must have undermined the shake of her head.

“I don’t want to make things between us any more complicated than they already are.”

“That wasn’t a no,” Rebecca smiled. “Sometimes taking a risk on something complicated can lead to something really great.”

“And Rebecca would know all about that,” Sassy chimed in. “She’s been secretly shagging someone for months now.”

Lia was relieved that the attention seemed to be off of her as Rebecca’s jaw dropped and she let out a startled, “What?”

Seemingly distracted enough to forget about Lia’s little drama, Keeley eagerly jumped in as Sassy handed the wine to Rebecca.

“Let’s skip the part where you pretend you’re not, yeah?”

“What are you even talking about?”

It was an even weaker deflection than Lia’s and Keeley was - once again - ready to back up her claim.

“How about the bullshit text after the date, the fact that I have not seen you outside of work for two weeks, and that even though today is your father’s funeral, you are glowing like a girl who just got properly plowed.”

Her blunt honesty had Sassy dissolving into giggles and no matter how hard Lia tried to resist, she couldn’t help but join her until Rebecca’s shock gave way to a smirk.

“Shit…”

Her tone made it clear the word was an admission of guilt and Keeley and Sassy shrieked with glee as Lia laughed at their dramatic antics until Rebecca’s mother - Deborah - and Sassy’s daughter - Nora - rushed into the room.

“I’ve been asked to come in and tell you to lower your voices!”

Deborah was just repeating what Sassy had told them earlier, but Nora smirked as she added, “The vicar looked like he wanted to swear. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” Keeley assured her as Lia briefly wondered if they could be kicked out of a funeral. “We’re just trying to figure out who Rebecca’s shagging.”

Rebecca sighed and rolled her eyes, but to Lia’s surprise Deborah was just as eager to stir the pot as Keeley was.

“Oh, I know,” she informed them. “And it’s good.”

That claim caused another round of shrieks despite Rebecca’s weak protests until Sassy came up with a brilliant idea.

“Okay, hang on. Let’s play twenty questions!” Everyone eagerly agreed before Sassy got the ball rolling. “Is he tall?”

Rebecca reluctantly admitted that he was, but it seemed the game was entirely unnecessary after the next question that came out of Keeley’s mouth.

“Is it Sam?”

“How the fuck did you know that?”

Even Lia couldn’t resist letting out a squeal at that admission as it was such an unexpected and unbelievable answer, but the fun was shut down when the vicar stormed into the room.

“That’s it!” He snapped, getting everyone’s attention and immediately silencing the shrieks of laughter. “Everyone out except immediate family, please.”

“You are so bad,” Rebecca hissed to Keeley, but as Sassy pointed out that Keeley wasn’t the only one, Rebecca turned her attention to Lia. “Don’t breathe a word of that conversation to Jamie, please.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she smiled. “Your secret is safe with me.”

With that, she hurried out the door after Keeley and Sassy as they all took a minute to process the information they’d just been given. 

“That is absolutely mental,” Sassy shook her head. “But good for her.”

“Seriously,” Nora nodded in agreement. “Boss-ass bitch.”

Sassy shot her daughter a warning look, but didn’t bother to scold her and Lia had almost forgotten how the entire conversation had started until Keeley circled back to it as they made their way back into the main part of the church.

“Okay, but we never got to the bottom of the Lia and Jamie situation!”

Immediately, Lia felt a knot in her stomach as Nora looked perplexedly between the women.

“What situation? We already know that she’s sleeping with him.”

Lia was caught off guard by how involved she was considering her age, but Sassy answered before she could organize her thoughts.

“Oh, you missed that part,” she smiled. “Turns out that Mr. and Mrs. Tartt are actually not a real couple.”

“What?” Nora’s eyes widened in shock. “I didn’t realize that one funeral could have so much juicy gossip.”

“We’re just friends,” Lia clarified. “I agreed to the whole thing to try and help salvage his reputation after he came back to Richmond.”

“But now they both have feelings for each other,” Keeley interjected. “And Lia won’t admit it.”

“I think Jamie is great,” Lia informed them, choosing her words carefully. “And I’ve grown very fond of him since we started our little arrangement, but he’s not interested in me romantically.”

“Well, then get that boy an Oscar,” Sassy demanded. “Because he had me completely fooled.”

“Me too,” Nora chimed in. “He looked smitten to me.”

“He is smitten,” Keeley eagerly agreed. “I know Jamie, I can tell. Plus, it says a lot that he respected your request for him not to sleep with anyone else. That boy has less restraint than a horny dog, but he’s hardly even glanced at another woman since he met you.”

The sincerity in her voice made it hard not to believe her, but the voice in the back of her head still warned her that it was all too good to be true and that indulging in the fantasy she’d created in her mind would just lead to her getting hurt.

“I’m not so sure,” she hesitated. “He is a good actor and it’s hard for me to know what’s real or if I’m just getting carried away with the charade.”

“Sounds like you need to have an honest conversation with him,” Sassy pointed out. “It’s no good living your life wondering ‘what if’. We’re at a funeral for christ’s sake, there’s no better reminder of the importance of seizing the moment before it’s too late.”

Lia’s eyes drifted over to where Jamie was standing across the room with his hand on Dani’s shoulder as he appeared to still be consoling him about the pain in his feet. It was sweet to see him be so supportive and it was even sweeter when he glanced over at her and shot her a wink when he caught her eye.

“You might be right,” Lia mused. “Maybe I’ll talk to him later.”

Even the weak promise was enough to earn another squeal from Keeley, but as the rest of the guests shot their little group some rather disparaging stares, she reigned it in as she whispered an apology and they headed to find somewhere to sit.

——

By the time the funeral was over, Lia was feeling very melancholic. Watching Rebecca be so overcome with emotion was tough and even though they’d all supported her through it with a little impromptu sing along of ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’, it seemed that everyone was feeling rather sombre by the time they went to the gathering at Deborah’s house afterwards.

But Lia was also feeling determined.

Sassy had been right. There was no point in spending the rest of her life wondering if giving Jamie a chance would result in her getting her heart broken and the reminder that no one ever knew when their end would come had her feeling inspired to live life with no regrets. If he turned her down or broke her heart then Keeley would just have to work her PR magic and dissolve their little arrangement, but the way that Jamie had held her hand so tightly throughout the entire eulogy had her feeling like that probably wouldn’t be necessary.

But Jamie was clearly distracted. 

Lia put it down to the sobering reminder of their own mortality that the funeral had provided, but even as they mingled with the team and Rebecca’s family, it seemed like his mind was very much elsewhere. When she tried to broach the subject, he assured her that he was fine with a kiss to the top of her head, but they hadn’t been at the little gathering for long before he snuck away. Figuring that he just needed a moment alone with his thoughts, she wasn’t particularly worried, but when half an hour passed with no sign of him returning, she slipped away from her conversation with Higgins - the director of football operations at Richmond - to find him.

It took a few minutes considering the size of the house and the number of people, but she felt a wave of relief when she spotted the back of his head from across the room. As she walked closer she realized that he was deep in conversation with Keeley and from the look on her face over Jamie’s shoulder they were talking about something very serious. She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but when she moved a bit closer she couldn’t help but hear the end of what Jamie was saying.

“I know this is a mad shitty thing to do, but I love you, Keeley.”

Immediately, a flush of humiliation washed over Lia as the confession she’d been planning to make to Jamie rang in her mind and had her heart clenching in her chest. Despite her brain telling her to get away from the situation before anyone noticed her, she was frozen in place until Keeley caught sight of her over Jamie’s shoulder and her eyes widened in surprise. Clearly catching the look on her face, Jamie spun around to face her as well.

“Shit,” he groaned. “Did you hear that?”

Keeley was frozen like a deer in headlights, but Lia simply forced a smile and nodded her head.

“Yes, I did,” she admitted. “But it’s fine.”

The silence that followed her words could only be described as awkward. Every moment that Jamie stood frozen - staring at Lia like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar - had Lia’s emotions rising, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and kept the smile plastered on her face until Keeley broke the silence with a softly mumbled ‘sorry’ before waving apologetically and walking away.

Jamie turned to watch her go, but it seemed her departure snapped him out of his daze as he stuttered and stumbled through several unfinished sentences until a sigh fell from his lips.

“No, it’s not.”

“It is,” she assured him. “It’s none of my business who you love, Jamie.”

“No, but it’s not…” Jamie trailed off as his eyebrows furrowed with the effort it was taking to find the words he was looking for. “It’s not like that.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” she insisted. “It’s all just business between us, right?”

She thought that the reminder would bring Jamie some relief and absolve him of any perceived wrongdoing, but for a brief moment a look that almost seemed like sadness flickered across his face. It was fleeting and Lia assumed it had more to do with her interrupting his moment with Keeley than her overhearing what he’d said.

“Sure, yeah,” he nodded. “It’s just business.”

Slipping his arm around her shoulder for the benefit of anyone watching, Jamie led Lia back towards the group of his teammates that she’d been talking to, but she found herself feeling very preoccupied.

In some ways, she was lucky - if she hadn’t heard what he’d said and had poured her heart out to him like she’d planned then she would have looked like an absolute idiot - but that didn’t stop the disappointment from plaguing her mind. 

Jamie still loved Keeley. 

Whether Keeley reciprocated those feelings or not - and Lia was fairly certain that she didn’t based on her solid relationship with Roy and the many conversations they’d had about her situation with Jamie - it meant that Jamie was not currently emotionally available to have feelings for her. She’d been right about their kiss being nothing more to him than a search for comfort and she hadn’t realized how badly she didn’t want that to be true until she had absolute confirmation that it was.

She managed to put on a brave face for the duration of the funeral and for the rest of the afternoon, but when they crawled into bed that night, Lia made sure to leave plenty of space between them and the next morning she found that for the first time since their arrangement had begun, she didn’t wake up wrapped around Jamie.

-----

chapter nine

[droplet-dread-cat]

i found myself thinking of an AU where Venti chose to take on a mature appearance, giving his friend a chance to “grow up”, so to speak 

imagine Venti with an absolute drunkard-but-lovable-annoying-uncle vibe, whom the children in Mondstadt run off to when they’re fed up with their parents. uncle Venti may have a shitty apartment over a literal tavern but he seemingly always has new songs that he’ll gladly play for them and his cooking isn’t too shabby either

this Venti is never on the verge of getting kicked out by tavern owners because A) he may not have any mora at all but his presence alone draws in more than enough clientele to make up for it and B) almost all the adults have slept with this man at least once (this Venti indulges openly in other forms of freedom as well - sexual freedom being one of the many freedoms he’s grown fond of).

this Venti also isn’t cautious about revealing his identity - in fact, it’s Mondstadt’s very own open secret that the best bard in town is also their Lord Barbatos... but the people of Mondstadt have grown used to this man’s presence, lending a helping hand whenever he can and playing soothing music whenever he can’t and... well, it only cements their love for their archon, who chose to stay in their city, hidden but there nonetheless. and upon realizing just who he is, they oftentimes just think to themselves: “huh. makes sense” (after a healthy dose of freaking out, of course)

this Venti is frequently dragged into sparring matches by the knights he’s close to just because of the vision dangling on his hips - in fact, it happens so often that he becomes a rather adept fighter himself. and before he knows it, his reflexes are honed so well that when Signora tries to attack him, he’s snapping her wrist before she has the chance to steal his gnosis. (he does give it up, in the end, but the Tsaritsa has to pay aplenty for it)

this Venti also doesn’t slumber for centuries - maybe it’s the sense of responsibility that comes with acting as an adult for so long but in those times when everything seems to be dragging him down; when he’s on the verge of leaving his people to be on their own; when his own body is failing him because of this and that, there’s always a myriad of helping hands to ease his discomfort. it’s not that this Venti is more lovable due to his appearance but that he’s letting himself linger just a bit more... because as an adult, he can maintain the same appearance for a longer span of time without it becoming overtly suspicious. and before he knows it, Venti has become settled in his own city. (Dvalin still gets corrupted but at least this Venti is there from the start, to help him through the worst parts)

when the Traveller arrives, it’s not to a catastrophe but to a somber atmosphere instead. the people of Mondstadt adore Venti, adore Dvalin all the same, and the dragon’s corruption is weighing heavily on them ever since it’s started to show signs of getting worse. the people of Mondstadt pray for Dvalin’s recovery - none of those prayers are directed at Barbatos but at the Dragon of the East himself. “Get well soon, Mister Dragon” a tiny explosive child prays at night, “May you recover in due time, Lord Dvalin” a dutiful Acting Grandmaster prays when she visits her sister at the church, “Venti’s drinking more than ever - your health better start improving soon or else he’ll go through the entirety of my wine cellar” a fiery redhead will muse to himself as he serves a thoroughly intoxicated Venti some grape juice instead of the wine he requested. the Traveller’s role isn’t to fight in this version, but to heal - to purify. they become a hero not by beating the shit out of a dragon but by slowly petting it back to health. they become the Honorary Knight, still, because Dvalin may not have been a foe but the Abyss Order’s still threatening Mondstadt and the Fatui still steal the Holy Lyre der Himmel to take control of the weakened dragon.