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paellaplease · 4 years

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revali x reader 16 (i think?) verklempt please ❤️

16. verklempt - completely and utterly overcome with emotion

19. temerate - to break a bond or promise

pairing: revali x reader summary: falling in love is difficult when neither of you know the end is near.

Night had fallen by the time you mustered the courage to walk up to him. He watched the shining caps of your barely worn boots approach the other side of the campfire, sensing your nervousness as you awkwardly stood for a few beats, weaving and unweaving your fingers.

Either his reputation as the strongest Champion preceded him, or he was completely unapproachable. Throughout the day you would chance a look at him from across the camp, quickly averting your eyes the moment he noticed. You were part of the Princess’ research effort and therefore had some questions— that much he was certain of. Yet you’ve been dancing around him for hours, gathering the will to speak only to have it snuffed out the moment he acknowledged your presence.

Embers lifted from the flames and flickered into the night sky as you finally faced him. Revali held his tongue and gathered his patience, trying to hide the glitter in his eyes at the chance of ‘wowing’ another admirer (nevermind that you were the first).

“Champion, uh sir,” you fumbled with the titles. The question fell from your lips so quickly that his disappointment didn’t register until a second later. “What kind of flower do you favour the most?”

“...”

If the following silence wasn’t damning enough, the Rito was honestly at a loss for how to respond to such an inane question. Seriously? He was better than this. Others have made more important inquiries and had to wait weeks, if not months, for him to clear time in his busy schedule and reply.

Something like this didn’t deserve attention, let alone an answer.

“Swift violets.” He said, before rising from his seat by the fire, dead leaves crunching under the weight of him as he made a beeline straight for his tent.

Parting the canvas, he pretends to miss the earnest wave of goodbye you send his way, ignoring the static in his chest the moment his head hits the pillow. Sleep comes quickly.

A month later you meet again.

The universe seemed to adore playing tricks on him. Crossing the threshold of his home, he catches you investigating the decorative shells hanging by his kitchen window. Amusingly, you were balancing on the tips of your toes, its placement just a tad too high.

There’s something different this time around. You seemed more at ease with your surroundings, no longer jumping at every sound like a stranger in their own skin. The tips of your boots were scuffed with use, and the minute cuts and imperfections in your clothes spoke of days spent in hard work and travel.

Though some things still remain the same. He holds back his smirk when you stumble forward in surprise at the sound of your name, getting straight to business once you were safe from the risk of falling over. “I believe you’re the researcher sent to assess my progress with Vah Medoh?”

“Yes, I am.” You’re quick to snap back into stiff professionalism, he’ll give you that. The bow is low and formal, your back so still that someone could confidently rest a cup and saucer on it. An introduction spills out, followed by an apology when you realise he already knows who you are from the briefing he was given days earlier in Hyrule Castle.

The task was simple really. King Rhoam Bosphoramus wanted a full report on the breadth of Hyrule’s offensive capabilities against Calamity Ganon. From Guardians to Divine Beasts, much had been done in the past year in preparation for their greatest adversary. Now as the whirlwind began to settle, all must be accounted for, down to the last soldier.

Your report was just a drop in what will be an immense ocean of information currently being collated. But it was nevertheless quite vital. He wonders how someone like you was selected for such a task.

“Let’s do our best.” You blurt. Revali could see the millions of thoughts racing behind your eyes when you decide to break away from your military-stiff posture, raising a hand in the traditional Hyrulean greeting between strangers.

The lines of your palm stretch before him like deeply-woven thread. He glances at the wrinkles and grooves in your flesh, remembering that some mystics believe such lines could predict something as unknown as the future. He can’t help but wonder what yours might foretell.

Pressing his wing to your outstretched hand, he declared his agreement. “Of course. You’ll soon see that my ability to pilot Medoh is nothing short of perfect.”

He can’t help it. “And no questions of the botanical sort, understood?”

The sudden playful grin you give him makes all his witty quips screech to a halt, his focus trained solely on the way your face instantly lights up when it isn't held down by strict politeness or pure nervous energy. “I’ll be sure to steer clear from them this time, Champion. You have my word.”

Both of you eventually fall into a comfortable routine. Meals are made together and the chores are done quickly through combined effort. You catch on well, cottoning on to the needs of the day based on the tasks you both decide on the night before.

After breakfast he finds his gear and yours already neatly arranged by the doorway, allowing him additional time with Vah Medoh and you the chance to closely observe. The idea of training with an audience never bothered him, but knowing you followed close behind, notebook at the ready, gave him the extra push to perform just a level better than his previous.

One more arrow, one more extravagant somersault in the air. He even maneuvers Medoh to do a complete 180, reveling in the way your mouth pops open in awe as you walk across what was once the ceiling.

“... .... --- .-- / --- ..-. ..-.” The ancient machine complains, unhappy to be on their back. The Rito pilot pats the metal wall apologetically, watching as you excitedly flit from one end to the other, feeling quite pleased with himself.

Revali dreams of a cliff’s edge.

The precipice looms before him, nothing but fog and the unknown past the point where the ground stops and plummets. Revali looks at you and feels the smooth rock of the sea stone underneath his talons; hears the sound of crashing waves in the distance. Tantalising was the mystery of the void beyond.

The meaning escapes him the moment he wakes up. His pillow was warmed by the glow of the sun, making him realise that he had slept in. Morning was just beginning, and both of you had a full schedule of tasks to get through.

Diverting all his mental energy to the work ahead, he scrubs the sleep from his eyes and shakes away the odd thrill in his feathers. I’m better than this, he thinks.

His tea is still warm when he arrives at the table.

Word of the researcher shadowing him gets around quickly, it’s a small village after all. Some of the Elders glance at you in suspicion, old wounds from disagreements fought with the capital in the past lingering like dye in the water. You don’t seem to mind it, too caught up in the new sights and smells of this vibrant community built in the clouds.

The Rito children are much more enthusiastic about your presence, sharing in your curiosity by matching your questions with their own. Getting comfortable on the wooden slats of the departure deck, you happily play encyclopedia for them.

“Were you this cute back then?” You ask, watching a fledgling hop from one talon to another in imitation of a lizalfos, chasing after their friends who were the heroes in the story, at least for this round of the game.

“I was a model citizen.”

“Not true!” One of them pipes, poking him in the side with the tiniest of wings. “Mama said you were a hennish scallion.”

“You mean a hellish rapscallion,” the eldest of the bunch laughs, screaming when the ‘lizalfos’ tackles them into the ground.

Crossing your arms, you fix him with your best look of authority, shaking your head in mock disappointment. “I apologise but the council has spoken.” He raises a brow at your antics, feeling a little light headed at the adorable way your eyes water whenever you hold back your laughter. “Do you plead guilty for perjury, Mr Champion?”

Champion. The word echoes and reverberates, wrapping tightly around his brain like the blue scarf fitted snugly on his neck. He likes the way you say it, making him wonder about something else.

The words leave his mouth before he can think it through. “Revali will do just fine.”

Mirth drains from your face, replaced instead by surprise. “W-what?”

“I have a name.” He ignores the feeling of his feathers standing at the back of his neck, unclenching his jaw. Relax, he tells himself. “Better for you to call me that than to continuously mess up the titles.”

“Still working on it,” you shrug. Then, you’re gesturing for him to step into your space, leaning forward just the same like you’re about to tell him a secret. You’re close enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath against his beak. He freezes, becoming hyper aware of his heart thundering against his ribcage, not daring to move even a muscle in fear of giving his thoughts away.

“Revali then,” you murmur, almost too soft for him to hear.

It was only when one of the children tugged at your sleeve, dragging you away to explain the appearance of another monster you’ve encountered in your travels, that he allows himself to breathe.

His presence had been requested at the Chief’s office, the old, war-weary Rito regretfully informing him that an urgent message had arrived. Multiple reports had noted an increase in the signs of Calamity Ganon’s resurgence. It came as no surprise, with every Blood Moon summoning more monsters from the void, an omen that something big was coming.

Letters from the Princess implied the worst: that she had exhausted nearly all avenues in awakening her sealing power. The Spring of Wisdom would be her last chance, and after that, who knows? The Champions were to meet again in three weeks at the foot of the mountain, to celebrate or to re-strategise depending on the outcome.

He was never the religious sort but by the Grace of Hylia, please let it be the former.

A headache was beginning to form as he made his way home, the idea of knocking out on his hammock for an hour or so sounding extremely appealing. The day was coming to a close, a cold breeze chilling his back as the orange heat of the evening crept its way to night.

You’re the first one to the hut this time, brown scuffed boots positioned neatly at the doorway. Revali stares at them for a second too long, wondering if you knew your time in the village was coming to an end earlier than expected. The information you had diligently collected was finally required, a little last minute if he had to comment but such were the nature of these things.

The mental image of you puffing out your cheeks in frustration, complaining that you would have to organise the data on the way back, was enough to make his mood perk up— just a tiny bit. Picturing you disgruntled and annoyed, just like when the markets ran out of your favourite produce, was easier to stomach than the thought of saying goodbye.

Leaning against the hardwood of the kitchen counter, you don’t notice him enter the room, too engrossed in the list you’re making.

It's a sight he'd seen before. If he forgot about the sobering news he'd just received, then the day would feel like any other.

The open window frames your form, making you appear like a painting come to life. Rays of light streamed from the cracks in the blinds, illuminating the slope of your nose and curve of your mouth.

Instinctively, you tilted your head to the source of warmth, instantly reminding him of the swift violets that would bloom by the Hebra cliffsides, forever seeking the sun.

Oh.

The ground had finally run out, earth and sky crashing together. There was no denying it now. Inwardly, he cursed himself, following the thought past the precipice, plunging himself deeper into the truth he'd avoided acknowledging for months. The universe truly was cruel.

It wasn’t like he didn’t see it coming. The answer was clear as day, right from the beginning of its inception.

It's the golden hour before sunset when Revali realises he’s in love with you.

Wind plays with the jade clasps of his braids as he appraises Medoh’s central control unit. He’d done this maneuver many times before, enough that he could perform it with his eyes closed.

It was your final day on assignment so shouldn’t he attempt an action that was more daring? He tried to ask. But you had rejected the proposal outright, reasoning that it suggested this would be the last time you both would meet at the top of the Divine Beast. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you smile. “I’ll visit once the fight is over.”

“Guess there’s no harm in going back to the basics,” he mused, inputting the commands before taking a step back.

Leaning against one of the columns, you watch with rapt attention as he points the Divine Beast south. The view abruptly shifts from the towering mountains of Hebra, to the grassy Tabantha Frontier, greenery spanning for miles and disappearing into the white, snowy wall of Mystathi’s Shelf.

You tilt your head up, eyes trained on the heavens. There’s a solemn intensity in the way you look at the sky, as if trying to ascertain a greater meaning to your existence in this world between the cover of clouds and the endless sea of blue. It never gives you the acknowledgement that you desperately want, no matter how long you spend asking it, but that doesn’t stop you from searching anyway.

He understands because he’s tried asking well, too many times to count. Eventually the young Rito stopped looking, opting to make an answer for himself instead.

“Do you ever get tired of it?”

Revali’s silent for a moment, mulling over his answer, before he pushes away from the control unit and starts walking towards you. “There’s no spectacle grander, and I can’t recall a time I’ve been without it. As a Rito, it was your first companion, and so long as you looked above, you were never alone.” He shook his head. “Though I guess to love something so vast and beyond our comprehension would be rather imbecilic.”

He’s running his mouth at this point, the hum of Vah Medoh loud in his ears. “... .. .-.. .-.. -.-- / -.-. .... .. .-.. -..” the beast warns, but he continues anyway.

“It’s far too foolish to pine for something that will never be in your grasp. So it would be best for me to realise that there’s no point in fighting it anymore. I mean, I should feel relieved by the concession that at least I’ll be remembered by someone other than myself.”

Your attentions were no longer directed at the sky, the intensity of your eyes piercing into him, seeing right through his poorly hidden deflections. “Are we still talking about the same thing?”

The urge to plunge himself over the edge and fly away by the sheer fuel of his embarrassment was beginning to feel very enticing. Trust his description of the sky to sound like a confession. “No,” he admits.

“Then…”

Revali thinks about telling you— considers allowing himself to become vulnerable just this once.

You’re still here, feet planted firmly on the ground, within his reach at this very moment. There was nothing he wanted more than to take that last step forward, to close the gap that perpetually rests in between you both. He imagines what it would feel like to wrap his wings around you, and believes that it would be nothing less than holding infinity.

Yet, despite this— despite everything, he sighs. “Another time.”

Almost like reading his mind, you simply nod in response, smiling as you reach out to him. He lets you take one of his wings in both your hands, the firm surety of your touch grounding him into the present. There’s no hesitation in your next words, only a promise of a thousand tomorrows lingering on the corner of your lips.

“Tell me when we meet again?”

“I swear it on my life.”

As usual, what was supposed to be a short and sweet answer became a creature of its own, demanding my full attention until it was finished. Writing in Revali’s POV is so fun, but there’s always that small bit of doubt that I can never do his character justice. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy this one.

By the way! Hello to all the new visitors to my blog. Welcome yall. This is the prompt list. I may not answer straight away, but I shall do my best :)

#revali #botw #revali x reader #breath of the wild #writing prompt #paella writes

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yamayuandadu · 3 years

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Wikipedia troubles, or “Father Enlil, (...) don't let your precious metal be alloyed there with the dirt of the underworld“

clarification regarding my post about troubles with a certain site i’ve been contributing to a lot for the past few months. To preface this with a mythical metaphor: in Inanna’s Descent, when Ninshubur pleads with the other gods to save Inanna, she uses the formula “don't let anyone kill your daughter in the underworld. Don't let your precious metal be alloyed there with the dirt of the underworld. Don't let your precious lapis lazuli be split there with the mason's stone. Don't let your boxwood be chopped up there with the carpenter's wood.” Currently this is what is happening to the Inanna article, I am afraid.

So, long story short, as most of you probably have noticed I am contributing relatively often to wikipedia as of late, starting with the creation of a Matara-jin article a few months ago. Among other things I wrote, rewrote or at least significantly improved the following:

articles about Mesopotamian medicine goddesses:

Ninkarrak from the western frontier, Nintinugga, who was associated with funerary offerings, Ninisina, who took over Inanna's gimmick in Isin, Bau, who became a healing goddess by chance, Gula, who eclipsed her peers - as expected from someone named “the great” articles about Inanna's courtiers and associated goddesses:

Ninshubur, her sidekick (my best work overall imo, the one article I wrote which I think fully deserves the “good” badge but I am not vain enough to apply myself), Ninegal, a goddess turned into her title, Nanaya, just the horny part distilled (bought a book just for this one!), Irnina, inexplicably cthtonic personified victory

articles about Mesopotamian gods too insignificant for anyone else to care about them:

Tishpak, a god so foreign nobody knows where he came from, Sebitti, seven warlike brothers, Enmesharra, Enlil's evil uncle, Urash, not the earth goddess – there are two... Urashes, Ningishzida, Dumuzi but with a snake gimmick, Zababa, a war god who's NOT Nergal, Ninimma, Enlil's court scribe, Gatumdag, popular as ersatz mom among kings of Lagash, Manzat, the rainbow

articles about Mesopotamian goddesses whose main trait was being someone's wife: Marduk's wife Sarpanit, Adad's wife Shala, Shamash's wife Aya

articles about Hurrian gods: Alalu, primordial vanquished king of gods, Kumarbi, his son, divine Saturday morning cartoon villain, Ninatta and Kulitta, a pair of divine musicians who always appeared together, Allani, oddly joyful queen of the dead, Šauška, who was so firmly genderfluid there's two of them in the most famous image of the Hurrian pantheon, Lelluri, a mountain goddess, Kubaba, who isn't Cybele, Goddess of the Night, who has no proper name despite being a case study in important religious rituals, Belet Nagar, who was like Ashur before Ashur got popular, Nupatik, who was important but we don't know why

articles about Eblaite gods: Ishara, “independent lady of love associated with scorpion and cannabis” popular everywhere where she went, Aštabi, a war god who really wanted to be like the weather god, Hadabal, who used to be famous but vanished out of blue, Kura, whose mask had to be renewed each year, Adamma, who left her husband to hang out with Kubaba

articles about Elamite gods: Pinikir, sort of like a bootleg Ishtar and an international sensation, Jabru, who exists only in Mesopotamian texts about Elam, Humban, mandate of heaven personified, Ruhurater, oddly obscure creator of mankind, Inshushinak, the underworld judge and his Akkadian helpers Lagamar and Ishmekarab, and Simut, the “strange star”

articles which were borderline unusable before due to low quality of sources:

Astarte, who was much more than vintage Bible scholars might lead you to believe (but not a fertility goddess), Dagan, who wasn't a fishman, Qetesh whose existence proves that Egyptians were fond of making ocs for their favorite foreign franchises

assorted articles about general topics pertaining to Mesopotamia:

Sukkal, Hurrian religion (ongoing project), List of Elamite gods; also a much needed overhaul of List of Mesopotamian deities (ongoing project)

and, last but not least, a solid chunk of the Inanna article.

Two guiding principles of these ventures were the following:

people who cannot access academic resources or don't know how to use them and as a result rely on wikipedia aren't any less deserving of receiving up to date, credible information

Wikipedia's mode of operation isn't flawed in itself and the only problem is lack of will to edit it

I think I did a pretty good job at these two things, honestly. I made sure to rely on rigorous, credible, and, if possible, easy to understand sources, and removed the horrors which sometimes were hidden in bibliographies: a book written by a hate preacher who believed Bush didn't start enough wars; 1930s race science; what I can only describe as a hybrid of Woman's Encyclopedia and a bdsm manual; a fringe book asserting that Minoan palaces were graveyards and that Egyptians only learned mummification from superior Minoans; etc. Of course, it’s a thankless job, but as long as I could make the site more credible undisturbed, that’s fine by me. I even got some help in a few cases, most notably that of the god list, indicating that the work was on some level appreciated. The only problem I've encountered prior to today came from editing the Ereshkigal article – I've removed the claim the Burney relief depicts “Lilith”; this edit was however undone. I left a message on the editor's page, complete with links to articles about the Burney relief AND about the possible Mesopotamian forerunners of Lilith (who are undeniably not depicted on the Burney relief). They're responded rather dismissively to it, and asserted that even if unproven, a connection existed, so I pretty quickly gave up, as they relied on sources which were outdated or fringe. I focused on fixing two long, important articles instead: the god list, and the Inanna article. Some parts of it were alright, but there was much work needed: fringe theories trying to assign greater antiquity to relatively late myths, and frankly insane hyperdiffusionism, had a prominent place in the article, while well attested association between Inanna and similar deities from cultures closely associated with Mesopotamia wasn't, much of the info was outdated, scandalous hot takes about Dumuzi's treatment were all over the place, the section on Inanna's descent favored Jungian confabulations over credible research, etc. My progress on fixing that had been slow and steady. However, today the aforementioned person intervened when, in between editing the Inanna article and the god list, I reverted a dumb, brief , unsourced edit – made by a third party - which asserted that Inanna's descent is “similar to Persephone” which it isn't – if anything is similar to Persephone in Mesopotamian mythology it's Nergal and Ereshkigal. They pretty clearly didn't take it well: not only the unfounded speculation went back up, but they also added a “source” affirming it, from a controversial -medical- author, not an Assyriologist. They also added Persephone to the list of Inanna equivalents in the infobox, removing any credibility whatsoever from it. The author of the claim this is all about relied on sources so antiquated that they interpreted Inanna's sexual character as her being a child-snatching boogeyman. Inanna's primary connection to boogeymen is that she was invoked, alongside Nanaya whose sexual connection is even more blatant, to -ward off- child-snatching boogeyman Lamashtu (whose character was not sexual, because sumerians and akkadians weren't victorian aristrocrats and weren't paranoically afraid of sex - and why would a demon representing death in infancy be sexual in nature, anyway?). Simply put, the book in mention is worthless as a source. Of course, I reverted that; when it went back up (despite a justification being included in my reversal) I edited the Inanna article to remove this outlandish claim (you have a limited number of possible reversions per day for some arcane reason), also adding other information about Inanna I had prepared: a few tidbits on Assyrian royal inscriptions which involved the warlike and erotic aspects at once, suggesting that transgressors should lose both potency and bravery in battle, some info on love poetry about her and Dumuzi, that sort of stuff. The weird person reverted my edit – removing valuable info – and reinstated the claim. For a moment I lost my cool and reverted this edit, which sadly put me in the reversion overuse danger zone, but which was a necessary sacrifice to save the credibility of article I put weeks of work into. See the edit history here. As you can guess HaniwaEnthusiast is me. I left messages critical of this decision on the talk page of the article and on the talk page of the outlandish editor. Sadly, they responded rather rudely, and basically declared Wikipedia isn't meant to be credible, and that favoring academic sources over random crap is an “ivory tower” approach and should be discouraged; they also insulted me but that's much less relevant and much less hurtful than their desire to spread lies. If you ask me it's more of an ivory tower attitude to say people who cannot access or don't know how to use academic sources do not deserve equally credible info and need to be at the mercy of weird wikipedia editors. What's the main problem here, though? That person is a mod. Not a random user. They have 16 years of Wikipedia experience. They spread fringe, pop-spiritual claims about Lilith and the like, so I assume they have an ulterior religious agenda of some sort, which they seem to actively encourage judging from these ventures. I'm not sure if the Inanna article is a lost cause yet but I do think the weird addition of Persephone they made is a step into some hellish direction, and I am entirely certain I cannot win this conflict. Simply put, I think that if this is the sort of staff the site has, this is a lost cause. I am not sure if I will go back to editing.

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teenyweenynightghost · 3 years

Text

A Breath of Fresh Air - Chapter 3

Warnings: language, kinda spicy

I woke up to the buzzing noise of my alarm, beeping over and over again until I managed to stop it. The light shone from the window, blinding my eyes. I groaned and and turned around furiously in my bed. One of my feet was dangling over the edge, goosebumps all over it, thanks to the cold room. This place had terrible insulation. I missed the warmth that slowly woke me up in the morning back in Greece. Sadly, I wasn't there, and I couldn't miss my first day of school.

Pushing myself off the bed, I recoiled when my feet met the cold ground, sending shivers up my spine. Checking my phone, I noticed It had taken me 20 minutes to get up, which meant i only had 40 left. Barely enough. Running to the bathroom, I took off my clothes in a hurry and jumped in the shower. The freezing water hit my skin like a million wasps, making me cringe at the sudden temperature change. Despite how unsatisfied I was with it's lack of heat, my eyes were more open now and less puffy, as was the rest of my face. Being more aware of my surroundings, I realised I had forgotten my towel on the bed frame. I beat myself up internally and prayed Victoria wasn't awake.

Opening the door and peeking a little, I noticed my roommate's still body, evenly breathing. Thank god! I tip-toed quickly to my bed and just as I was about to cover myself up, I heard a husky voice. "Well, a good morning to you, puppy" Covering myself up with the speed of light, I turned around and almost fell down. Stumbling backwards, I hit a cupboard and yelped. In response, I heard Vic chuckle lightly. I slowly opened my eyes and looked at her, suddenly feeling self-conscious and embarrassed. "Aw, you have no reason to get so red cucciola, you have the body of a goddess" With that, my mouth fell wide open and, If I had thought I hit my peak redness before, I must have invented a new color now. "Ready for school?" After this little mishap, I was definitely not, but I had no other choice. I nodded softly and picked up my clothes, retreating to the privacy of the bathroom. As I was about to close the door, I heard Vic mutter "Good girl."

Luckily for me, the rest of the day went better than the morning. We had breakfast in an immense dining hall, filled with torches and old paintings. Vic showed me each classroom and introduced to every teacher, as well as many other students.

By the time I had gotten back to my room, I was exhausted. I needed something to soothe me down, and no matter how much I tried to listen to music or study some new plants, I couldn't get the peace of mind I yearned.

Irritated, I slammed the encyclopedia shut and started pacing around the room. Lost in my own thoughts, I didn't hear Victoria entering the room. She watched me for a few moments, eyes filled with understanding, until she spoke up. "Aurora" I quickly turned to face her, my gaze softening. "Yes?" "You look stressed. And exhausted." she had a pitiful expression on her face, which only worsened my mood. "I don't need your pity." "Then accept my initiative of distracting you." I looked back at her, wondering what was gong on in her head. Noticing my weary glare, she headed towards my dresser, and searched for a few moments, until she tossed a swimsuit in my hands. "If I had it my way, you wouldn't need that, but after your reaction this morning I didn't want to push you further." I appreciated her respecting my boundaries. The event from earlier this morning had certainly been embarrassing for me, but there was something about her hungry gaze that made me want more. Pushing that thought away, I headed to the bathroom and put the swimsuit on, covering it up with the clothes I was wearing only a few moments earlier. I stepped out just in time to see Victoria pulling on a shirt, having a swimsuit underneath her clothes as well.

"Well, what's the plan now?"

"Now, cara mia, we wait." she answered with a grin, which only made me more weary of what was about to happen."

A few hours had passed and I was back to my notebook, sketching a few different types of leaves. Suddenly, Vic jumped off her bead and grabbed my arm, leading me out of our room. Before I could say anything, she covered my mouth with her hand, gesturing for me to be quiet. She pulled away and beckoned me to follow her. I did as I was told, a small blush creeping its way on my face.

We had made our way out, reaching a metal gate at the edge of the campus. “Vic, where the hell are we going?” It was midnight, barely enough light for us to see. The cold wind covered my body in goosebumps as Vic quickly jumped over the gate. I let out a sigh and did my best to follow her.

After a few more minutes of walking, Bic came behind me and covered my eyes, her cold hands making my body jolt.“What the hell! It’s not like I can see a thing anyway!”

“I just want it to be a surprise puppy”. The damned nickname. My face started heating up and I was praying she couldn’t feel it, as she guided me further into the woods

We finally came to a stop. “Are you ready? Vic asked full of excitement. I nodded eagerly and she quickly dropped her hands. Before me was a glowing lake, surrounded by millions and millions of flowers, each brighter and more colorful than the other. I gasped at the view and started giggling and bouncing. At that, Vic started laughing as she put a hand over my shoulder. “I knew you’d like it.”

I ran to the shore, almost tripping along the way, and dipped my hand in the water. It was slightly cold, but considering that I would be half naked around Vic, anything that could cool me down was welcome.

Before I could ask where we would leave our clothes, Vic walked past me, already in her swimsuit, and jumped in the water. She swam below the surface for a few moments before resurfacing, a wide grin spreading on her face. At that, I realized I was staring at her, intensely.

“Are you coming, puppy, or are you gonna keep staring at me?” I sighed and mumbled that i would not mind the latter. I turned around and slowly took of my clothes. I could feel her hungry gaze burning through my back. By the time I faced her again I was a flustered mess. She looked at me the same way she had this morning, only perhaps a new emotion in her eyes. One that I couldn’t figure out.

I stepped towards the lake and closed my eyes, jumping in it. My skin tightened from the cold water and I swam up, breathing heavily. In the blink of an eye, she was next to me, grinning. “How does it feel?”

“Cold.” She scoffed. “Want me to show you the caves?” “There are caves here!?” I looked around, trying to find the formation Vic was talking about, but without success. Following my gaze and smirking, she reached out her hand and placed it under my chin, moving my head towards a dark denture in the cliff. “Right there, puppy.” The combination of her delicate hand on my face and her words were almost too much to bear so I swam quickly towards where she pointed.

The tall cliff was now towering over me, pebbles falling in the moon lit water from time to time. “Right this way” purred Vic in my ear as she grabbed my hand and led me into the cave.

We swam through the darkness until I felt a wall in front of me. “It’s a dead end” As I was about to turn around, she dragged me underwater and swam us through a hole. My heart was beating fast and I was running out of breath, until she finally guided me to the surface.

“A warning wouldn’t have hurt.” I gasped, my lungs filling with oxygen.

“Too much thinking.” She started moving again, but I just closed my eyes and tried to calm myself down. We were in a whole other place now. The large rock walls extended up into the air, stopping right before they curved inward. This wasn’t as much of a cave anymore, since there was nothing above us. Only the night sky, filled with stars and numerous constellations. Unlike my first time here, it was clear, and I could spot a few formations here and there.

“AURORA” i heard Vic’s scream as she tried to bring me back to this world. She succeeded. I saw her perched up on a rock, the moonlight shining on her body, giving her an iridescent glow. Entranced by her, I started moving towards where she was sat, with each step examining another one of her features. Her light blonde hair, going from a dark brunette to the color of sand, her stormy blue eyes, always vivid and alive. The tip of her nose, beautifully decorated by a thin gold hoop.

Before I knew it, I was right below her. The boulder gave her enough extra height for her to tower me. Cupping my chin, she lifted my head up in order to lock my eyes in a seductive gaze “See something you like puppy?” Before I could think it through, I nodded carelessly, not taking my eyes off of her. This time, I noticed her belly piercing. I couldn’t help but think about my tongue playing with it as she would pull on my hair. Shocked by my own thoughts, I pulled away and tried turning around.

Before succeeding to do so, she suddenly jumped into the water and slammed our bodies together, her back pressed tightly against the rock.

“Oh you’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours, puppy.

Damn my brain. And damn her. I didn’t know why I felt like this. I never had any particular crush on anyone, least of all girls. I was getting redder and redder as I saw her dominant gaze, patiently waiting for me to speak up.

“Don’t be shy, cara mia, I would love to help you out with your thoughts” she purred in my ear, her hot breath on my neck making me shiver. I closed my eyes, trying to imagine feeling more. I unconsciously drifted even closer to her, my hand now resting dangerously low on her stomach. Thinking back to the jewelry stuck there, I hesitantly brushed a finger upwards, meeting the cold metal of the piercing. Grabbing my hair and stroking it a few times, she then squeezed my shoulder, encouraging me to explore further.

I kept circling my finger around the pendant, until I felt her shift under me. I looked up and saw her dark eyes, looking at me with a passion I had never felt or seen before. Her gaze pulled me out of my haze, as I heated up again. “Well maybe after another ten minutes you’ll tell me what you want to do with that lovely piercing of mine.” I was even redder than before, now realizing just for how long I had admired a plain piece of jewelry. As if reading my mind, she chuckled. “Maybe you like it so much because it’s on me.” I hummed , my head resting in the crook of her neck. In response she squeezed my waist and slightly tugged on my hair. I gasped at the feeing, which only turned her on more.

Slowly pulling my head back, exposing my face to her, she got close to my ear and whispered “Come on puppy, I’ll reward you if you tell me that you like it.” The heat between my legs intensified at her words, making me whimper. “ I like it.” I whispered it in her ear, barely audible, as If there was anyone around. “ Now you’re just gonna have to be a bit more specific for me, cucciola.” I thought a bit, trying to find the least possible sexual way to word it. “ I like your piercing.” She hummed. “Is that all?” I nodded, trying to seem convincing. She chuckled a bit, and then strengthened her grip on my hair. I bit my lip toughly, trying to hold in a moan. “Say you like it and I just might stop teasing you.”

“I do. I fucking love it.” She smirked at me and let go of my hair. I whined at the loss of contact and stared back at her, lust filling my eyes. She brought her face to mine, closely enough so that our nose touched me. She licked my lip where I had bit it, and left a wet kiss on the corner of my lips, and then another one on the sensitive area below my ear, earning another whimper from me. “Good girl.” She growled against my neck, and I shivered at the feeling of her lips moving.

Pulling away, she swam again to the entry in our little cave, and waited for me to catch up. I tried to get close to her again but she pulled away and grinned. “I said enough teasing for tonight, didn’t I?” At the realization of what she meant by that my face fell. She smirked again. “So fucking needy.” she breathed. We slowly made our way back to the room, my eyes being desperate to see her bare form again. We shared glances every now and then, and I would only get redder, knowing that she noticed I was staring at her.

As soon as I opened the door of our dorm, she took all her clothes off and jumped on her bed, her legs slightly spread and resting her hands on her head “Care to join, puppy?

Was she suggesting that I could sleep with her? Or more? Seeing the confusion in my eyes, she giggled and and shook her head. “Cuddle with me, baby” “Naked?” Another laugh.

“Considering how you were starting at me earlier you’d think you wouldn’t mind it.”

My mind wandered back to her belly piercing. Oh I definitely wanted to say yes. But I couldn’t. She was already teasing me enough. I knew she wouldn’t touch me without my permission, but nonetheless I was scared. My heart started racing thinking of a good excuse.

“You can say no, puppy”

I glanced back at her, thankful for her understanding. I muttered a quick thank you, and got in bed.

Before falling asleep, I thought about everything that happened that day. Our naked encounter this morning, her pulling my hair and licking my lip. I had no idea why she did this. Did she hate me? Did she want to mess with my mind?

I stopped my brain from thinking anymore, before It would ruin my whole night. I focused on my breathing, until I fell asleep.

———————————————————————-

That was it babes, hope you liked it😌

Again, I really doubt that I will be able to post for a while, but I promise I will compensate afterwards. I’m gonna pull a IWBYS on y’all.

@fuckim-so-gay @messyhairday-me

#maneskin #victoria de angelis #damiano david #ethan torchio #thomas raggi #måneskin

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arrestjellyfish · 4 years

Text

Rainbow Blossoms

Chapter 1: Saturday

[Sanders Sides, romantic prinxiety / Virgil/Roman]

Summary:

Tattoo artist Roman Prince goes to the local florist to visit his elderly friend, Céleste Tempȇte, and pick some flowers to use as inspiration for a new design.

But instead of finding a soft old woman amongst the iridescent display of flora, he meets her anxious emo grandson. Virgil Tempȇte is everything you would not expect to find in a flower shop.

Cue intrigued simp noises.

Other chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

Chapter warnings: swearing, suggestive language, mention of mild illness, brief mention of artwork depicting mild blood

Chapter word count: 6,900

Read on AO3 or below!

[Also available as a podfic!]

oOo

It was unusually warm for a midsummer day in England. Crowds of people had flocked to the streets in excitement, hoping to soak up the best of the sunshine before the clouds were bound to return with a vengeance later that week.

Roman waltzed across the cobblestone road, inhaling rich scents of earthy vegetables and fresh, salty fish. Market vendors hailed from every direction, boasting low prices on sugar snap peas (freshly-picked that morning) and 2 kilos for the price of one on the juiciest peaches. Pedestrians of every age bustled around, energised by the atmosphere.

A burly man cut across Roman’s path, lugging a crate of dirt-caked carrots across the road. Roman had to sidestep to avoid crashing into him. He bumped into a metal pole on one of the many market stands in his haste, bruising his arm.

‘Are you quite all right, young man?’ the woman behind the stall asked in a kind voice.

A wide grin broke onto his face as he rubbed his aching arm. ‘I’m wonderful, thank you, madam!’

He adored market day.

His phone chimed in his pocket, and he knew it would be Remy demanding he get his arse back to work. Really, Roman knew he should have been hurrying back to the studio, but how could he possibly be expected to forego a gentle stroll through the town centre on such a wondrous day as this?

Besides, he had a perfectly valid excuse to be out of the stuffy tattoo parlour on this bright afternoon. The client he had had a consultation with earlier had requested quite an intricate design for their future tattoo, consisting of various flowers. Roman felt a duty to purchase a bouquet for reference, wanting even his initial sketches to live up to his reputation as an artist. He hadn’t been nominated tattooist of the month three months in a row for nothing, after all.

To aid in the completion of his quest, he knew the perfect, quaint little flower shop hidden away behind the sandstone buildings of the high street. There was an abundance of flower stalls dotted along the market, of course, though Roman was well-versed in selecting the finest of flora (having had plenty of opportunities to woo handsome young men in his 25 years) and knew a wider selection would be available at Beau Blossoms.

There was also a sense of loyalty that made him skip past the flower stalls and duck into the familiar crooked backstreet. He had become well acquainted with his favourite florist’s elderly owner, Céleste Tempȇte, who Roman had grown to see as one of his dearest friends, even if their 50-year age gap was unconventional.

He quickened his pace as he neared the modest shopfront, it’s pale blue paint chipping from years of wear. The windows were adorned with an iridescent display of the most gorgeous flower arrangements, as usual.

‘Good afternoon, mon fleur d’amour!’ Roman sang heartily as he pushed the glass door open, ducking his head with practised ease to avoid hitting it on the bell that jingled above him.

He breathed deeply at the onslaught of pungent floral scents. The intensity of the pollen had overwhelmed him at first all those months ago, though he had grown accustomed to it and now welcomed the attack on his senses as if greeting an old friend.

Crooked, aged floorboards creaked beneath him as he stepped around the corner of the entranceway. ‘How is the fairest woman in town fairing on this fair day?’

Roman looked up at the wooden desk where Céleste would always be slumped, doing a sudoku puzzle and smiling widely at Roman’s antics.

Then he froze.

Sitting in Céleste’s rickety stool was a complete stranger. They looked around Roman’s age, perhaps a tad younger, and were a decidedly different sight from what Roman had expected.

Céleste was a stout woman with silver hair who would often wear pastel floral dresses, with a mint-green shawl perpetually draped across her rounded shoulders. This new person looked similarly below-average in height, though otherwise was a polar opposite. They appeared scrawny and the pale skin on their hands and neck was practically swallowed by an oversized black and purple tartan jacket. Their ripped black skinny jeans (complete with chains and studded belt) were a far cry from Céleste’s nude pantyhose and where Céleste’s grey eyes would crinkle with delight at Roman’s entrance, this person’s dark eyes were wide with surprise and framed by the blackest eyeliner and smokey purple eyeshadow.

‘You’re not my Céleste,’ Roman said, feeling robbed.

The stranger’s eyes grew wider still and their eyebrows pulled down in anger. ‘Dude, what the fuck? You flirt with my grandma?’

Roman held his hands up in surrender, hoping to placate the sudden hostile atmosphere. ‘Relax, Count Drag-ula. I’m gay.’

‘Oh…’ the stranger breathed, seeming humbled and embarrassed by their outburst.

They slumped in their seat, having been sitting ramrod straight since Roman had entered. Then their arms folded around their torso and their shoulders hunched up as if protecting their neck. Bright purple hair fell over their eyes as they looked to the floor. The intimidating air that had been so pronounced in them seconds previously faded and was replaced by what Roman recognised as debilitating shyness.

It clicked pretty quickly after that.

‘You must be Virgil Tempȇte, right?’

Céleste had mentioned her grandson on many occasions during their friendly chats. Mostly she only mentioned him in passing, offhandedly saying that he had moved back home after a year in London, or boasting about what Virgil had gotten her for her 75th birthday (a vintage encyclopedia of 18th-century fashion trends which Roman had had the good fortune of borrowing). Though a few months previously, in an act of desperation, she had spoken much more candidly about her grandson. She had sought Roman’s advice on how she could help her beloved petite chauve-souris to become more confident in himself and overcome his severe anxiety.

Roman’s heart had warmed in hearing the old woman care so intensely about her grandson’s wellbeing. When Roman himself had been struggling with his confidence back in school, his parents had not exactly been forthcoming with support. It was refreshing to witness such unconditional love between family members.

His advice had mainly been that there was not much that Céleste could do to enforce a stronger sense of self-worth in Virgil, but that she should simply let him know that she loved and supported him and would be there for him as he grew.

Now, Roman presumed Virgil had come out of his shell, at least a little, given his rather eccentric makeup and clothing choices. Though he was still curled into himself protectively as he gave Roman a wary look through a wisp of his fringe.

‘How do you know my name?’

‘Céleste talks about you a lot,’ Roman said easily, offering one of his winning smiles.

It was, unfortunately, not met with the same enamoured responses he was accustomed to receiving. In fact, rather than dazzled by Roman’s charm, Virgil looked mortified.

Hearing that someone had been talking about you behind your back to a complete stranger was likely a little distressing to someone with an anxiety disorder, Roman realised. He moved the conversation on quickly.

‘I’m Roman Prince.’ He stepped forward to hold out his hand, which Virgil took tentatively. His fingertips were smooth. ‘I imagine your grandmother has mentioned me before.’

‘Um,’ Virgil stalled, pulling his hand back to himself and shaking his jacket sleeve so that it fell back over his fingers. ‘I’m not sure.’

Indignance overwhelmed Roman’s being.

‘Oh, come now.’ He leaned sideways against the desk, sticking out his chin just enough to profess confidence, not enough to intimidate. He had refined his poses down to a tee. ‘Your grandmother must have told you tales of the handsome young prince who brightens her days with a soft serenade,’ he finished the sentence in a lilting melody.

Virgil’s eyebrows shot up and his lips parted (they were a beautiful splash of rose against his fair skin, Roman thought). Pride swelled in Roman at the look of recognition on Virgil’s face. Céleste must have regaled her family with plenty of enthralling stories of Roman’s magnetism and penchant for chivalry.

‘Oh my God.’

‘Everything you’ve heard is true,’ Roman drawled with a confident smirk.

‘You’re the guy that grabbed the cactus like a microphone, aren’t you?’

Roman’s smile dropped instantly at the way Virgil’s lips tugged up in amusement.

‘Yes, well.’ He bridled a little, standing upright again. ‘T’was not my finest moment.’

‘Yeah, maybe not,’ Virgil mumbled. He bit his lip in what Roman assumed was an effort to contain laughter.

Heat flooded Roman’s cheeks and he promptly spun away from the table.

‘So she would tell you that story and nothing of my usual elegance,’ Roman grumbled, starting to delicately run his fingers over the blossoms displayed on the shelves. He had not taken Céleste for one to actively humiliate him.

‘No, she - I -’ Virgil stammered. ‘I’m sorry. Grandma - she has said plenty of nice things about you too, I just…’

Roman turned back to him, noting the stiffness in his posture and the pained look that pinched his features.

‘That’s just the one that sticks in the mind, y’know?’ Virgil’s long arm stretched upwards as he scratched at the back of his neck. Roman thought it might have been a way to dispel the awkwardness as Virgil’s elbow bent at such an odd angle that it partially hid his flushed cheek.

Not one to hold a grudge unnecessarily - especially not against such endearing young men - Roman smiled softly and nodded in acknowledgement.

Virgil fidgeted on his stool, seeming hesitant, then slid off of it to stand up. Though he didn’t seem much more at ease on his feet, shuffling nervously and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. ‘You, um, you're the guy that brings her fruit tea in the mornings and texts her cute animal videos, right?’

‘C’est moi!’ Roman said with a bright grin, hoping his cheery disposition would comfort Virgil somewhat. He felt an inexplicable need to ensure the other man felt calm.

‘Well… thanks,’ Virgil mumbled, pulling his hands out of his pockets, picking at the frayed sleeves around his fingers, then burying them in his pockets again. ‘Dad and I kinda worry about her being here on her own every day, since we live a bit further out of town. It’s… nice to hear her talk about you.’

Not for the first time, and what he was sure certainly wouldn’t be the last, Roman’s chest filled with joy at hearing about the sheer love shared between the Tempȇtes.

‘But of course,’ he said, happy to see Virgil’s shoulders soften from their previous rigidity. ‘I make sure she does not go a day without seeing a friendly face, though I’m sure as wonderful as she is Céleste must have made plenty of friends in her years here.’

‘Yeah, but none like you,’ Virgil replied without pause. There was a small smile curling his lips and it was the first genuine show of happiness Roman had witnessed in him. It was quite captivating.

Then Virgil’s shoulders were suddenly raised to his neck again and he rocked backwards on his feet, putting some distance between them (at least as much as was possible in a 20-square-metre shop packed full with buckets and bundles of flowers). Roman tried to ignore the swell of disappointment in his chest.

He did not think himself skilled at much beyond his talent for tattooing and the great art of courtship, though he was confident in his ability to read the atmosphere of a room and knew to change the subject before the anxious man became any more uncomfortable.

‘So,’ Roman started, turning back to the various bunches of flowers that sat in the water troughs around the edges of the shop. He cradled the bright bloom of a sunflower in his palms and lifted it slightly from its water to better admire its beauty. ‘Where is the celestial woman? She must be on quite a grand adventure to have left behind her beloved blossoms!’

‘She’s sick.’

Roman’s stomach lurched and he felt the colour drain from his face in an instant. The sunflower dropped back into the bucket with a light splash and clang as the stem hit the metal base.

He snapped his gaze onto Virgil, who had opted to take his hands out of his pockets again and was twiddling a stem of white hyacinths between his fingers. He seemed completely undisturbed by the words that had just left his mouth.

‘My gosh, will she be all right?’ Roman asked, his voice shaking. ‘Is she in the hospital? When did this happen?’

‘Oh, shit.’ Virgil’s eyes blew wide and the white petals stopped their twirling in his hold. ‘I didn’t mean - she’s just got the flu.’

Roman was unconvinced of how reassuring that should have been, given Céleste’s ripe age.

Apparently his uncertainty was palpable as Virgil hurriedly continued, ‘My dad’s looking after her. It’s really mild, don’t worry.’

A massive sigh of relief escaped Roman and he felt the tension that he didn’t realise had seized his body begin to ebb away. Céleste had proudly proclaimed her son to be the most attentive medical nurse in the world, and given her compassionate nature Roman had not doubted for a second that that would be true of her own offspring. She was in safe hands.

‘Dear Zeus, don’t scare me like that!’ Roman cried with a steadying hand on his chest, though it was not a sincere reprimand and was followed by a breathy laugh.

‘Sorry,’ Virgil said, smiling apologetically.

Despite Roman’s brief upset, the misunderstanding seemed to have broken the last of the tension between them and Virgil did not flinch away when Roman took a step closer. He did it under the pretence of wiping his fingers dry on the tatty, damp hand towel that perpetually hung on a hook in the wall. They pulled away wetter than they had been before. ‘It’s no issue, Virgil.’

‘If it helps,’ Virgil offered, ‘I reacted just the same when Dad first told me.’

‘Oh?’ Roman prompted, feeling like he wasn’t ready for Virgil to stop talking yet.

The slighter man tended to squirm a little as he spoke, though not in an uncomfortable way; it seemed to be habitual more than anything. Habit or not, his lithe body twisted in such a subtle way that it was almost reminiscent of a pulse or a rhythmic dance. Roman found himself entranced by Virgil’s mannerisms as well as his character. And, undoubtedly, his beauty. ‘How so?’

Roman leaned his hip against the desk, locking his arms in a way that gently pushed his chest forward and stretched his t-shirt lightly. He knew it would be subtle enough to avoid arousing suspicion. Though, he thoroughly hoped that would be the only form of arousal he was avoiding.

Right on cue, Virgil’s eyes danced down to Roman’s chest, then flitted sideways to the window, back to Roman’s chest (where they lingered for a couple of seconds), and then down to the floor where they stayed. Roman smirked.

‘Yeah, I -’ Virgil cleared his throat ‘- I freaked out a bit. I actually told her I was gay the day before she caught it and I thought I’d, like, shocked her body or something.’

A surprised delight washed over Roman and his teeth bared in a disbelieving smile. Wasn’t this just perfect?

Virgil’s dark eyes - which on closer inspection Roman could now see were mismatched, one being a rich brown and the other green - rose to meet his gaze. Roman watched as he crumbled into himself with the realisation of what he had just said.

‘Oh my God, why did I tell you that?’ Virgil lamented under his breath, squinting his eyes shut and bringing his thumbnail up to his mouth.

‘I wonder,’ Roman murmured through a wide smile. It never failed to invigorate him when his charms effectively ensnared a cute boy. His cheekiness ran high on the excitement. ‘Now as much as I would truly love to stand here with you for as long as the hours in the day would allow, I do have a request of you.’

‘Uh… sure,’ Virgil mumbled around his thumbnail. He had recovered quickly from Roman’s flirting, though the colour was still high on his cheekbones, and Roman knew better than to think it was just from the warm weather. ‘What is it?’

‘I need your assistance in gathering the gayest selection of flowers possible.’

A sharp exhale blew from Virgil’s mouth, slightly muffled around the hand which still sat flush against his chin. It sounded partway between a sigh and a nervous laugh. ‘Care to elaborate?’

‘Anything for you, darling,’ Roman said in his smoothest baritone. His heart skipped at how Virgil’s fingers clenched tightly around the hem of his sleeve. ‘I’m a tattoo artist at Rainbow Skins Parlour - have you heard of it?’

Virgil’s eyes lit up beautifully and his hand dropped back to his side giving Roman a perfect view of those rose petal lips that enamoured him so. ‘Oh man, that’s so cool. My friend got her tat done with you. She said you guys were super accommodating of her dysphoria and stuff.’

‘That’s the aim,’ Roman beamed. He was immensely proud of the atmosphere he and his coworkers had created at the studio. Their mission was to create a safe space for those in the LGBT+ community who wanted to get inked and it seemed from all of the positive feedback they received that they had achieved that vision. ‘One of my clients wants a design full of flowers that symbolise gay love, so I came seeking a florist’s expertise.’

‘I dunno if Grandma is too hung up on the symbolism of the flowers, to be honest,’ Virgil said hesitantly, picking at his fingernails then folding his hands behind his back. ‘She’s more about the biology and aesthetics of it all.’

‘Well then lucky for me that Aphrodite blessed me with your glorious presence today.’ Roman settled to sit on the edge of the desk. It being quite low rise, his figure sunk slightly so that he was now directly eye-level with Virgil. The other man’s eyes did not leave Roman’s face. ‘You look like the poetic type.’

Green and brown eyes squinted suspiciously. ‘I bet my Grandma told you I studied creative writing.’

‘Even so,’ Roman shrugged and inched his foot along the wooden floor, letting the toes of his Vans bump against the heel of Virgil’s Doc Marten boot. Virgil did not move. ‘Am I correct in assuming you’ve done your fair bit of research into queer imagery?’

There was a pause wherein Virgil pouted and remained stubbornly silent. Then, after a few seconds: ‘You can’t go wrong with a green carnation.’

The tip of Roman’s tongue stuck out with a smile and he bit it lightly in amusement. Virgil’s cheeks went an endearing shade of dusty pink and he spun around, quite inelegantly bumping into the workbench that stood in the middle of the room. He grabbed a pair of faintly rusted shears with trembling fingers.

‘Uh, so we’ve got a few of those back here,’ Virgil blurted, rushing to the opposite corner of the shop floor.

Roman sauntered after him quietly. He peered over the other man’s shoulder as he pulled a large bushel from a bucket. The plant displayed a large, beautifully frilly bloom of lime green blossom.

A sharp, metallic snap from the shears resounded around the small room and the large bunch was lowered back to the water to leave a single flower held gently between Virgil’s slender fingers.

When Virgil turned back around, a quiet gasp escaped him as he bounced back, only just preventing himself from crashing right into Roman.

‘What, you couldn’t wait over there?’ If Virgil was trying to sound anything other than flustered and breathless, he had failed miserably.

Roman held his hand out wordlessly with a gentle smile.

The flower was pressed into his palm, and Roman made sure to capture it quickly enough to delicately brush his fingertips against Virgil’s.

In the dappled beam of sunlight that penetrated the packed floral displays in the window, the carnation was much the same shade as Virgil’s left eye. Roman hummed quietly as he inspected the flower, then looked up, delighted that Virgil was watching him.

‘Beautiful,’ Roman purred, unfaltering as he looked into Virgil’s eyes.

A loud snort of laughter cut the tension between them and Roman felt his brow furrow.

‘Okay, Romeo,’ Virgil huffed, shaking his head with a faint smirk. He avoided Roman’s eyes. ‘This is a fleuriste, not a fromagerie.’

Roman felt a thrill rush through him (which was only in part accredited to Virgil’s sudden fluent French accent). Apparently such simple flirting tactics would not suffice with this suitor. The promise of a slight challenge was electrifying to him. He did love to play this game.

He lifted the carnation and tucked it behind his ear like a pencil, smiling when Virgil giggled under his breath at what must have been a silly image. ‘What else may you suggest we add to our beau, gay bouquet?’

A few minutes passed by with Virgil selecting and snipping flowers, explaining the historical queer culture behind them as he went. Roman nodded along and dutifully made noises of interest, though did not dare to butt into Virgil’simpassioned monologue.

It was enchanting to hear Virgil ramble freely on a subject that so obviously enthralled him. He spoke in such a way that made even the most mundane facts feel visceral with descriptive language and Roman couldn’t bear to interrupt such eloquent poetic prose.

He only realised how little he himself had contributed to the conversation when Virgil trailed off with an apology.

A pile of evenly cut lavender, violets, gladioli, calla lilies and, of course, green carnations lay in front of Virgil on the workbench and his fingers fidgeted with some of the lilac petals gently.

‘Please, don’t apologise,’ Roman insisted. He stood opposite Virgil on the other side of the islanded workbench and leaned his elbows on the shabby surface, carefully staying clear of the gardening tools that were scattered around it. ‘You’re incredibly knowledgeable of this subject.’

‘Yeah, employing really subtle methods of representation kind of became my solace in university, you know?’ Virgil said faintly, his eyes fixed on where he weaved a long, detached flower stem between his fingers. ‘Being a paranoid, closeted creative writing student will do that to you.’

A cloud of dejection smothered the sunny atmosphere in the room.

‘Classic fairy tales were my own escape as a closeted teen,’ Roman offered, suspecting Virgil would not want such a heavy topic resting on his shoulders alone.

‘Oh, yeah?’ Virgil finally looked up with an eager intrigue dancing in his eyes.

Roman stretched his arm across the table so that Virgil could better see the tattoo that decorated his right arm upwards of his elbow. He rolled the short sleeve of his t-shirt up to his shoulder to reveal the whole of it. (If he flexed his arm slightly to better highlight his muscles, Virgil did not say anything about it.) He was immensely proud of the artwork on his arm, displaying a busy conglomeration of various fairy tale motifs all interwoven including a bitten red apple, a shattered glass slipper, and a frog wearing a crown. Though the focus of the design was a bird carrying a golden chain and a pair of red shoes, with a millstone around its neck.

‘Fuck yeah, The Juniper Tree,’ Virgil breathed.

‘You know it?’ Roman asked, surprised that Virgil had recognised the more nuanced imagery.

‘I love the Brothers Grimm.’ With a slight creak of the wood beneath him, Virgil sat sideways on the workbench and leaned to get a closer look at Roman’s arm. ‘I wouldn’t have taken you for a fan of more macabre stories.’

‘Well, I must admit in terms of imagery I appreciate the darker motifs,’ Roman indicated the depiction of a bloodied dagger hidden amongst a tangle of thorns on his bicep, ‘but when it comes to the stories I do prefer a good old-fashioned happy ending.’

Virgil sucked his teeth and leant his chin on his hand with a sigh, putting on an exaggerated air of disappointment. ‘Of course you do.’

‘Please, how could I not appreciate a handsome prince bursting into song and falling for a mysterious, beautiful stranger then doing everything in his power to woo them?’ Roman angled his body closer to Virgil. The edge of the workbench was pressed quite awkwardly into his thigh, but it was worth the slight numbness in his leg to watch Virgil’s eyelashes flutter and his chest rise and fall more quickly in response to how close they were. Roman purposefully allowed his eyes to linger over Virgil’s lips. ‘Doesn’t that remind you of someone?’

The lips pulled into a smirk and Roman’s gaze climbed up to see mirth sparkling in Virgil’s eyes.

‘What?’ Roman asked, only mildly offended.

It was proving to be something of a quest trying to ascertain which methods of flirting were working on Virgil. One minute the man was a blushing, stuttering mess, then the next he was openly laughing at Roman’s attempts to court him. Still, as the knights in his favourite stories never gave up in the face of extreme danger, he would not be deterred by Virgil’s stubbornness. It was obvious the man was interested in him but was perhaps a bit bratty. If anything that only made Roman all the more eager to win him over.

‘Nothing at all,’ Virgil shrugged. His tone was remarkably insincere. ‘So are you just thirsty for medieval knights or do you have some delusion of grandeur that I should steer clear of?’

It was cocky, and the man’s posture proclaimed it. He held his head high, baring his neck (and what a lovely, slender, pale, begging-to-be-decorated-with-splotches-of-purple neck it was). Though Roman saw through the bravado instantly.

He leaned in further, the edge of the bench completely cutting off the blood flow to his leg now, though he hardly cared. Virgil’s eyes darted between Roman’s gaze and the edges of the room hastily, as if the urge to look away and the urge to hold his ground were battling each other in his mind. His confident stance faltered slightly as Roman drew closer, their faces now mere inches apart.

Roman murmured lowly, ‘Why, Virgil? Are you struggling to find a reason to stay away from me?’

The once-pearly cheeks in front of him were now practically glowing pink.

The adrenaline that so often accompanied a successful courtship was running rampant in Roman’s veins and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Matched with the fact that he was practically drunk off of the lidded quality to Virgil’s gorgeous eyes, Roman almost missed the melodic jingling of a bell.

It wasn’t until a loud, cheery voice called out that Roman realised they were not alone anymore.

‘Kiddo, you forgot your packed lunch!’

Virgil scrambled off of the workbench, and Roman followed his lead by standing back upright, albeit a lot more calmly.

‘Dad, I’m with a customer,’ Virgil grumbled, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

Roman indulged in watching Virgil’s face go even pinker before turning to the entrance of the shop.

A stout man stepped out from the entranceway with a wide grin and a tupperware box cradled in his hands. His freckles were unmatched by either his mother or his son, though Roman could spy the slight similarities between their features. This was Patton Tempȇte. His face lit up with joy when his gaze fell on Roman.

‘And who’s this?’ Mr Tempȇte asked excitedly, his eyes sparkling at his son as he bounced on his toes.

‘Grandma’s friend, Roman Prince,’ Virgil mumbled. ‘The one who brings her tea and stuff.’

Mr Tempȇte made a delighted noise of surprise.

‘A pleasure to meet you, Mr Tempȇte.’ Roman smiled widely, offering his open hand. He winced slightly as he stepped forward and pins and needles exploded in his thigh. ‘I truly adore your mother, and your son is quickly beginning to grow on me too.’ He shot a quick wink to Virgil.

The look of utter betrayal on Virgil’s face made it difficult to contain a chuckle.

‘It’s wonderful to meet you too, Roman!’ Mr Tempȇte beamed, shuffling the tupperware into the crook of his elbow to shake Roman’s hand energetically. ‘And don’t bother calling me “Mr” or “Sir” or any of that silliness, Patton’s my name so feel free to wear it out! I would give you a big old hug, but I don’t wanna pass on Maman’s flu.’

‘How is she?’ Roman immediately asked, truly concerned for his friend.

‘She’s just fine,’ Patton nodded, seeming to approve of Roman’s concern. ‘She’s pretty much through it all now, I’m just forcing her to stay home for a couple more days as a precaution.’

‘I can’t imagine she’s too thrilled about being housebound,’ Roman sniggered knowingly.

Patton rolled his eyes dramatically with a smile. ‘Not at all. I tell you, she’s untameable, always raring to get out with her friends and go experiencing the world. Honestly, I always say she’s more of a 22-year-old than Virgil is! Isn’t that true, kiddo?’

A faint swell of dread built inside Roman’s stomach at the way Mr Tempȇte had phrased those words. He had probably meant no harm, but it didn’t sound like that kind of critical comparison would do much to heighten Virgil’s confidence.

Sure enough, when Roman’s gaze flickered over to him it was clear those words seemed to have struck the wrong chord. The younger man tugged his sleeves further over his fingers and shrugged, though the movement was so stiff and frantic that it was more resemblant of a reflexive jolt.

‘Whatever, Dad,’ Virgil muttered under his breath, scowling at his feet.

It was disheartening to witness Virgil’s fiery wit be snuffed out so swiftly. Roman felt out of place in the exchange and feigned interest in a sprig of leaves in the flower pile. He subtly massaged his thigh under the table to ease the remnants of tingling from his pins and needles.

‘Oh…’ The energy was drained from Patton’s voice, and Roman looked up to see hurt briefly flash in his eyes before he plastered on a bright smile once more. ‘Well, I’ll be out of you guys’ hair. I just wanted to bring you your food.’

‘I don’t need a packed lunch, I can pick something up on the way back.’

‘Either way, it’s here if you get peckish before closing time.’ Patton placed the tupperware beside the register and apparently couldn’t resist drumming the lid in a gentle rhythm. Virgil groaned and Patton giggled. ‘Listen, be thankful I’m your delivery man. I caught your grandma lacing up her running shoes wanting to bring this to you.’

Roman chuckled lightly to himself. That certainly sounded like Céleste.

For the first time since Patton had entered the shop, Virgil looked up from the floor and his eyes locked onto Roman. It was as if his laughter had reminded Virgil of his presence.

Virgil quickly shot his father a pointed look. ‘Okay thanks, dad. Bye.’ The words merged into each other in his haste.

To his credit, Patton didn’t seem to be upset by his son’s eagerness to get rid of him.

‘It was lovely meeting you, Roman!’ Patton waved with a wide smile, already making his way out of the shop. ‘See you later, ma petite chauve-souris!’

Virgil’s huff of annoyance was drowned out by the bell jingling again.

The awkward tension was thick.

‘So, can you make flower arrangements?’ Roman asked casually, choosing to entirely ignore the stunted exchange with Virgil’s father. It seemed like Virgil would not have wanted to acknowledge it, given his obvious embarrassment.

‘Um, not really,’ Virgil mumbled, still hugging himself tightly. He peered out from his fringe hesitantly and Roman did not miss how his body relaxed when their eyes met. ‘I mean - okay, yeah. Kind of,’ he corrected. ‘Grandma taught me a little bit when I was younger. Mainly I just do it for fun, though. I’ve never made one for a customer.’

It would have been responsible for Roman to simply take his flowers as they were, pay for them, and get back to work, leaving Virgil to do his job. He could even have left his number and hoped Virgil would have the confidence to text him later on. Though, looking at the slump of Virgil’s posture and the way his sleeves were clawed and pulled taut by his painted fingernails, Roman felt a desire, nay, a duty to ensure Virgil was smiling again before he left.

‘Fancy trying your hand at it?’ Roman suggested gently, not wanting to pressure the man who was clearly on edge.

Virgil’s gaze flitted between Roman’s face and the workbench. His fingertips danced on his sleeves as he considered the flowers and Roman realised he was itching to reach out and touch them. ‘I can try, I guess.’

Hesitant hands pulled away from purple sleeves and within seconds Virgil was rustling through the stems with intent. Roman leaned over the surface slightly, though with no sly objective in mind to fluster Virgil this time. He simply wished to watch him craft.

‘I’m not very good,’ Virgil said quite stunted, even as he started rearranging the flowers into colour-coordinated piles with a clear artistic goal in mind. ‘So, you know, don’t expect much.’

Roman knew the self-deprecating tactic well; how one hoped that by lowering everyone’s expectations, they could avoid harsh critique of their work. He had employed it plenty of times himself before he had grown more confident in his artistic abilities.

‘It doesn’t have to be perfect,’ Roman decided on saying. It would hopefully relieve the pressure Virgil had put on himself.

A small smile tugged at Virgil’s lips and he raised his eyes briefly from the flowers to send what seemed to be a look of thanks to Roman.

‘Besides, I trust that you have an artistic streak in you.’ Roman felt more comfortable in reigniting their previous flirtatiousness after having coaxed a smile out of Virgil. ‘I mean, with such a steady hand and aesthetic eye for that makeup, I’ll be lucky if the bouquet is half as beautiful.’

Virgil swiftly knelt down on the floor to reach under the bench - where Céleste kept the floral foam, Roman remembered - though Roman caught a glimpse of a wide smile and pink-dusted cheekbones before his face was hidden.

‘Basket or pot?’ Virgil called up from the floor.

Roman dropped to his knees and sent Virgil a bright smile underneath the table. ‘Whatever you want. I’m giving you full creative control.’

‘Risky move.’ Virgil raised his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk. ‘Our most expensive arrangements can rake up to one-hundred-and-fifty quid.’

‘All right, full creative control as long as it’s under forty pounds.’

Time went by fluidly from then on as they chatted over Virgil’s work. His flower placements were tentative at first, and his eyes kept darting up to check Roman’s face for a reaction, but Roman only ever smiled lightly and continued the conversation. (A couple of times his text tone rang out loudly, though their talking remained unfettered by the mild interruptions.)

Eventually, Virgil became more certain of his decisions and was tapping into skills Roman was wholly unprepared for. His slender hand pulled a leaf stripper swiftly down long stems with practised ease, he shuffled the flowers around between his fingers fluidly and his features smoothed as he lowered the blooms into their rightful places in the arrangement.

Roman had no idea how long he had been in the florist by the time Virgil finally deemed the display finished, but he could hardly bring himself to care. The bunch of flowers which were already such a beautiful collection before were now a piece of art, the lilac and emerald blossoms broken up by leafy ferns and surrounded by spindly branches of waxflower. The bouquet was truly stunning.

And as for the glow of pride on Virgil’s face? Absolutely breathtaking.

‘I think I’m happy with it,’ Virgil said nonchalantly, though the excitement hidden behind his tone rang loudly in Roman’s ears.

‘This is amazing, Virgil,’ he gushed, entirely sincere. ‘You’re a natural!’

Virgil bit his lip, stifling what Roman knew would have been a bright grin. He notably did not refuse the compliment.

‘Um, do you mind if I…’ Virgil brought his phone out from his pocket and opened the camera app, showing the screen to Roman with an eyebrow raised in question. ‘Kinda wanna show Grandma later,’ he admitted with a shy smile.

‘Of course,’ Roman held his hands out to the arrangement in invitation and stepped back so that he would not interrupt the photoshoot.

He watched from the sidelines as Virgil tiptoed around the workbench to find good angles, taking a few pictures of his work. Once the phone was placed back in his pocket, he turned back to Roman with a lopsided smile. ‘Thank you.’

Roman was fully and wholeheartedly smitten.

‘Don’t thank me before I’ve paid.’ Roman took his wallet out and waved it with a mock-frown of disapproval. For all of his years of acting classes, though, he could not wipe the smile off of his face. ‘That’s not a very sound business practice.’

Virgil shook his head lightly but moved back to the front desk carrying the arrangement with him. He rang up the numbers on the mechanical till quickly and Roman paid with a soft smile.

‘So,’ Roman said after Virgil had given him his hand-written receipt. He leaned toward Virgil slightly and delighted in the way Virgil mirrored him, bringing them even closer. ‘I don’t suppose a mysterious, beautiful stranger such as yourself would want to -’

Primadonna by MARINA suddenly blared from Roman’s pocket.

He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling a blush stain his cheeks. Though his smile still did not falter.

‘Very fitting ringtone,’ Virgil teased, his voice strained with concealed laughter.

Roman opened his eyes and sent a weak glare to Virgil even as his cheeks ached from smiling so much. He took his phone from his pocket to silence it, seeing that it was Remy’s contact flashing up on the screen - then his expression finally dropped as he saw the time.

‘Oh, fuck!’ His next client was due in five minutes.

‘You okay?’ Virgil asked shakily, clearly anxious by the sudden shift in mood.

‘Everything’s okay,’ Roman quickly assured, ‘but I really have to go, I’m running late.’ He shoved his phone, wallet and receipt into his pockets and pulled the flower arrangement to his chest protectively.

Virgil had stiffened. Evidently his defences were rising again due to the sudden change.

‘I really do have to go, I’m sorry. Seriously,’ Roman paused with a sigh as he gazed over Virgil’s beautiful face once more, ‘you have no idea how sorry.’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Virgil nodded in agreement, but his voice was as quiet as it had been when Roman first came in however long ago. His disappointment was painfully obvious.

‘I’ll be back later this week,’ Roman promised as he reluctantly made his way to the door. There was absolutely no reality where Roman would not come looking for this enigmatic emo again. ‘I look forward to seeing you soon, my chemical romance!’ The doorbell jingled overhead as he rushed out of the door and called behind him, ‘Give my best to Céleste!’

Roman darted through the streets with a sharp stab of regret piercing his chest, though he really could not have afforded to indulge his infatuation much longer. He was a professional artist, he had to be back in time for his client.

Being incredibly protective over his cherished flower arrangement, Roman made it back to the studio in record time. It was not the first instance in which his high stamina had saved him face.

Panting for breath, Roman peered into the front window of the parlour and winced at the look of rage on the receptionist’s face as he sent a choice hand gesture to Roman from the other side of the glass.

‘Get your arse in here, Prince!’ Remy’s muffled yell met his ears.

Accepting that he would have to make a Starbucks run later to make up for his tardiness, Roman shuffled over to the glass door. He cradled Virgil’s arrangement in one arm as he reached for the door handle, then paused.

In his reflection, he noticed the green carnation from earlier still sat behind his ear. It looked utterly ridiculous. He had apparently been running around town with a massive green flower protruding from the side of his head.

In any other circumstance, he would have felt embarrassed. But the memory of Virgil’s huffy giggles played in his head, and all Roman could feel was giddy.

He pushed into the parlour with a wide grin that quite probably made him look like even more of a fool.

He didn’t care.

oOo

Inspired by a prompt from @writersmonth

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

AO3 link | Next chapter

#my writing #prinxiety #prinxiety au #prinxiety fanfic #ts roman #ts virgil #ts fic #ts fanfic #writersmonth2020

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prettyboongi · 4 years

Text

Morning Ride

fem!Reader x Park Jimin

Word Count: 1,902

Genre: Smut (w/ some crack)

Rating: Mature

Warning: grinding, dry humping, car sex, nipple play, public sex, sexual humiliation, numerous mentions of Jimin’s juicy lips lol

[A/N: So this story really came out of nowhere. Please forgive me if this comes off as super cringy, I tried my best with this one. Oh and you might notice that I’m kinda obsessed with Jimin’s lips lmao Please feel free to leave any kind of feedback.]

You were contently eating your blueberry bagel, waiting for the guys to pick you up for school. It had just turned 10 am so you knew they should be on their way. Unlike Taehyung, Jungkook and your boyfriend Jimin, your classes don't actually begin until the afternoon. It was just more convenient to wake up early and tag along with them. While the guys attended their classes, you usually just spent time in the university's library reading a book or studying.

As you sipped your lukewarm green tea, you finally received the text you were expecting.

Jiminie: We're here. Come outside

On that note, you quickly finished your bagel, slipped on your shoes, grabbed your bag and headed out the door.

You reflexively covered your eyes with your hand to shield it from the bright, mid-morning sun as you walked towards Taehyung's gaudy purple car. While the car was nice, you never understand why he chose the color purple for it. "It looks like something a pimp would drive, dude," you clowned him when he first got it. But seeing that he would be gracious enough to give you and the gang rides, you refrain from further making fun of it. At least not to his face.

You gave the guys a little wave as you were approaching and they waved back. With Taehyung driving, Jungkook was in the passenger seat beside him. Leaving your boyfriend, Jimin, the love of your life, in the backseat behind Jungkook. You see him smile brightly as you walk towards them; even after 3 years of dating, his smile never fails to make you feel tingly inside.

As usual, you get around behind the car to sit on the other side of the car.

"Wait, Y/N, there's-," you hear Taehyung say to you from his opened window but you had already opened the car door. Expecting to see a free spot next to your boyfriend, all you see is a huge block of metal in your way.

"What the hell is this?," you asked Taehyung.

"Oh that's my safe," he answers matter of factly. You took another look at the metal box and it was, indeed, a safe.

"Okay better question: why do you have a safe?"

"So I can keep stuff in it. Duh." He responds, as if that was the most obvious answer in the world.

"Can you please move it to the trunk or something?" It was too early to deal with your friend's eccentricities.

Taehyung shakes his head. "No, it weighs a fuck ton. You'll just have to sit on Jimin's lap."

"What?!" Not only you knew that option was illegal and potentially dangerous, you also knew the type of person your boyfriend was. One word: handsy.

"Come on, y/n!," you hear Jungkook whined from the passenger seat. "Just get in, we're gonna be late for philosophy and I really don't wanna be berated by Professor Lee again."

Feeling defeated, you slammed the door shut and walked around towards Jimin's side. Once you opened his door, you find Jimin giving you a cheeky smile. He pats his tights and says to you in a playful tone, "Well hop in, honey." You huffed at him but it's not like you had a choice.

You carefully sild into the car and sat on his lap. As Taehyung starts to drive again, you turned your head back to Jimin. "No funny business, you understand?," you whisper. But he just give you a smile, the mischievous kind where you know he's going to be up to no good.

During the drive, you listen to Jungkook rant about how much of a weirdo Prof. Lee was. You were laughing at Jungkook's insistent whining when you started to feel something on your back. It felt soft and warm, it doesn't take you long to realize that you were feeling Jimin's lips pressed against the fabric of the shirt.

"Dammit, Jimin," you cursed in your head. You were about to turn around and silently scold him but the feel of him leaving delicate kisses on your back was so heavenly, it stops you. You tried your best to ignore his kisses and listen to your friends' conversation. However, it was super difficult to focus due to your boyfriend peppering your back with his soft lips. As he was doing just that, Jimin began to grip your hips, which immediately made you reminisce of the countless times you would lose yourself while frantically riding him reverse cowgirl style. With that, you couldn't help yourself but respond to his actions by slowly grinding on him. You tried your best to be subtle since it would be more than embarrassing if Taehyung and Jungkook found out the two of you are practically dry humping on the backseat.

When you thought this gratifying torture wouldn't end, you and guys finally arrive at school. As Taehyung finds and parks in an empty spot, you feel Jimin leave one more lingering and loving kiss and wrap his arms around you. You honestly want to stay in that moment but second the engine stopped, you had to get out. You quickly got off Jimin and out of the car, so he can get off and for you to cool down your flustered state. Even though the fresh air does feel good on your hot skin, you were still incredibly horny and you needed to think of a way to relieve it.

"Um, Tae," you called out for him as he got out of the car, "is it alright if I could take a nap in your car? I didn't really sleep well last night and I could use some rest."

Taehyung looks at you quizzically. "Aren't you heading to the library? Just take a nap there. Jungkook does it all the time."

Jungkook nods. "Surprisingly their encyclopedias make great pillows."

"Actually, the librarians are cracking down on renegade nappers and kicking them out," you lied.

"Well," Taehyung hesitates but you shoot him your signature pouty puppy dog look, knowing it will soften him. And you succeeded.

"Okay, okay," he says annoyed, "just remember to lock the door when you leave."

"Thanks, Tae," you give him a small smile.

As you watch the boys walk towards the campus, Jimin stops and turns his head to you. He winks, indicating that he knows your plan and starts to walk away again You feel your face getting hot again.

You got in the passenger seat and put up Taehyung's sun reflectors to block each window. When you're done, you slide off your already partially damp panties and toss them in the back.

It was going to take awhile so you just leaned back and closed your eyes, causing you to actually drift off a bit. You were then woken up by a tap of the window glass on the driver's side. You unlocked the door and Jimin quickly got inside.

"Sorry, it took me so long. I had to wait for the Professor Lee to be well into the lecture." Jimin slightly lifts himself up above his seat and pulls down his jeans and boxers, with his erect pens already springing up.

"Oh," you said in a rather flattered tone, "I didn't think you wanted me that much."

"Of course, Y/N," Jimin blushes a bit,"the minute I found out you had to sit on me during the drive, I knew I was a goner."

Seeing Jimin's sudden bashfulness, compared to his bold actions from before, made your heart fluttered. And somehow it made you even more aroused.

As you lifted yourself up from the passenger seat, you hiked your skirt up and carefully straddled onto Jimin's bare lap. Slowly and teasingly, you slide yourself down until you completely engorged Jimin's rigid cock.

"Ah," a low moan escaped your throat. Placing your hands on Jimin's body shoulders, you begin to rock your hips back and forth. You gradually pick up the pace, causing you to pant and moan vigorously.

"You drive me so fucking crazy, you know that?," you lamented, having trouble steadying your voice.

You watch Jimin's eyes flutter, lost in total ecstasy. "Isn't that the point, Pop Tart?"

Like earlier, you felt Jimin grip your hips tightly. He pushes himself further inside, matching your rhythm.

"Fuck, Y/N," Jimin groans, "Unbutton your shirt."

Obediently, you untucked your button up blouse from your skirt and swiftly unbuttoned it, exposing your pink-white polka dot bra.

Jimin lifts up his hands from your waist and begins to grope your breasts firmly. You throw your head back in pleasure as Jimin kneads your chest and rubs your peaked nips through the fabric of your bra. Not being able to take the teasing any longer, you unhooked your bra in seconds, causing your breasts to spill out and jiggle inches from Jimin’s face.

As if without thinking, Jimin pulls you towards him and takes one of your tits in his mouth. The feel of Jimin’s supple lips on your nipple and his tongue swirling around it makes your mind go fuzzy. You rock yourself faster and deeper onto Jimin’s cock, clenching your sides around him.

Jimin stops sucking your nip and leans back in his seat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moans breathlessly, “Just like that, baby.”

The air in the car was starting to getting thick with your heated breaths and the familiar aromatic scent of sex. The lack of fresh air was making you feel a bit lightheaded but that somehow made this tryst even more erotic.

You feel your core tightening, sensing your orgasm arriving. You lean into Jimin, tightly gripping his shoulders, preparing for the feeling of fireworks exploding throughout your body.

But instead, you feel the rush of cool air as the driver is opened wide. To your horror, you and Jimin turn your heads to find an extremely displeased Taehyung.

“What the fuck are you two doing in my car?!,” he shouts.

“What do you think we’re doing, genius?,” Jimin retorts.

Taehyung's eyes darken in anger. “Both of you, out now-.”

Before he could finish his sentence, as the situation wasn’t humiliating enough, you unexpectedly found your body writhing from one of the most explosive orgasms you ever had.

“Ah!,” you loudly moan, involuntarily rolling your hips to ride out the pleasure.

Taehyung freezes in place, not believing what he just witnessed.

You then proceed to feel Jimin’s cock twitch and thrust deeply inside you, moaning audibly for Taehyung to hear as well.

“Ugh! You two are fucking gross!,” you hear Taehyung yells before slamming the door shut.

After a moment reeling from your intense climaxes, the both of you looked at each and burst out laughing.

“Oh my god,” you said, face palming, “I can’t that just happened. I’m so embarrassed.”

Jimin smiles at you. “Yeah, me too. But at least it felt good, right?”

You smiled back at him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Yeah, really good.” Cupping his face, you leaned in once again to kiss him more passionately. You savored the feel of Jimin’s ever soft, buttery lips, the same lips that never fails to drive you absolutely wild.

You both knew for the rest of the day and possibly week, Taehyung was going to continue unleashing his wrath towards you two. But really, it was his fault for leaving that stupid safe in the backseat.

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bimboficationblues · 4 years

Note

seth you’ve mentioned being rly into music. how would one get to know music. i feel i’ve not so far, idk, explored what’s out there. like i’ve listened to throbbing gristle and townes van zandt and the smashing pumpkins but so has everybody. not turning music into like a scoring thing just asking. i don’t want to go on /mu/ bc that’s a 4chan thing. i don’t have any musical training. sorry if this is rude

When I was first getting to know music - and tbh I would say I am kind of a picky listener, and not necessarily in a good way [1] - I mined through Wikipedia and AllMusic for artists to listen to, and made a big list to work through, because I am a lunatic. (I have maintained this list since like 8th grade and have never whittled it down to less than a couple pages, lol.) Often this was guided by genre. So like, for example, one Christmas I got the “Encyclopedia of Punk,” and I spent ages pouring through that, looking up the bands they talked about on Wikipedia and AllMusic to see what was well-received critically or by fans, finding those albums on YouTube, hunting for torrents, etc. I did the same thing when I was getting into hip-hop and metal.

So I think, at the very least, picking either a genre you’re interested in hearing more about, or a band/artist that you like, and just digging through the Internet for what comes up is a good strategy.

Asking people what they have been listening to lately is also usually an interesting conversational topic ime (though sometimes it ends up being a podcast convo, which is also fine). A lot of my friends through high school and college were very into similar music as myself, but of course had their own experiences and interests, which gave me access to new stuff I hadn’t heard before. [2]

As I got older and more attentive to music that was currently being released, I got more reliant on the “review” format to introduce me to things to listen to - I frequented music sites, primarily SputnikMusic, or watched music YouTubers. On that latter front, Fantano is reliable at least for recommendations or things to pay attention to, but I would also recommend the channel “deep cuts,” which explores a lot of artist’s discographies in great detail.

Sputnik is cool because they have all these charts of like the best rated albums of X year, and you can narrow that by genre too. Also each artist’s page has a little “Similar Artists” feature, so like you can essentially go on a Wiki Walk from artist to artist to form all the connections. Just don’t participate in the forums/comments cause they suck lol, it’s a little /mu/-lite. Alternatively BestEverAlbums is pretty cool and has a similar “chart” feature of well-respected records, though it’s unfortunate that they don’t have a genre filter! [3]

Hope all this helps! Feel free to message me more if you wanna, but I will say that I don’t think you should feel bad for listening to those artists, not only because nobody should feel bad for what music they like (except Skrewdriver fans, and I guess Ariel Pink fans now), but also because I feel like you may be overestimating how many people listen to Throbbing Gristle and Townes van Zandt.

[1] I don’t really listen to classical, post-rock, ambient, or most instrumental music; there’s a comparatively narrow slice of metal that I actually like; I only really listen to a few key artists from genres like reggae (I prefer ska) or folk. Like you said, it’s good not to treat expanding your music tastes as a “scoring” thing, so much as a way to expand your palette, think about why you like the things you like, enjoy new emotional and intellectual experiences, etc.

[2] It should be noted that now that I’m in law school, nobody has good taste.

[3] I know a lot of people have used RateYourMusic but I never did, so I cannot speak to that.

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gauloiseblue · 3 years

Text

The Man Who Stood By The Ocean

[Chapter 3]

November, 1996

The weather in this month is as unexpected as it could be, the sky could appeared clear before all of sudden a mass of thick clouds formed and blocking out the previous sunlight. You were just walking out from your school before the first drop of rain touched your cheek, the rest follows as downpour comes without warning. The rainfall isn't enough to make you completely drenched, but the combination of wet clothes and frosty wind will surely have you bedridden for days. Unprepared for the sudden change of weather, you run back towards the school building.

It seems like you're not the only one who didn't bring rainsuit nor umbrella, which could help you get through the rain—although both of them are useless against the biting cold winds. You sneak thought the people who stands in front of the entrance, muttering sorry as you gently push them aside. It's no use going home in this crazy rain, you're sure your parents would understand if you're coming home late today.

The school lobby is surprisingly empty, with only a few group of people scattering around the hallway. Your eyes scanned the room, trying to find a familiar face, but none of them seemed to be here. You were alone.

You frown as the growing awkwardness grip your chest, you were used to have at least one friend beside you, but it looks like they already went home. Deciding that standing in the middle of the hall makes you look silly, you begin to walk towards the stairs. Climbing up to the 3rd floor, you immediately turn to the left and make your way to the library.

The smell of old pages hits your nostrils as you slide the door open, your breath paused as the memories you tried to repressed seeping out from your chest. Library. The place where the books rest and waited to be read.

The bittersweet nostalgia is slowly sinking into your heart as you step into the room, the feeling you had denied for all these time arises so easily by just one particular scent. The sight of bookshelves, the pile of book in the corner, a line of thick encyclopedias, everything reminds you of him.

You run your fingers on to the book spines as you walk deeper into the room, but one book stopped you completely on track when your eyes catch the title—La Bella Addormentata. A slight tremble arise from your finger as you gently, so delicately touches the hardcover.

Why did this book became his favorite? He once told you the very reason but the more you think, the more it becomes haze, a blur memory from the past that you were unable to recover. Your hand gently lift the book and flip the page open, revealing a vivid detail of sleeping beauty and the prince on both pages.

The clear illustration immediately took you back to the past, to the day where the sun miraculously shone on Naples in the early November, and the temperature was warm enough for you to sweat. Resting on the edge of pier, you were just dreaming of a divine sight of undersea before something sweet touched your lips.

That was the day you had your first kiss, and the day you saw the innocent love and devotion through his eyes. You remember it, you remember it all.

Far away from where you're standing, the ocean is peeking from the small window near the bookshelves. The dazzling blue of the sea—the pride of Napoli—was clouded by the gloomy weather. Yet the ocean's still there, it always has been there with you whether you know it or not.

—

You could never understand why Bruno went away without a message. You'd get it if he would live in the other city, or his father decided to move to America, but you were left with nothing to believe. You hated him for leaving you at the time when your love was high, but at the same time, you couldn't help but think of the worst. What if he was caught by the storm in the middle of the sea? And the ship sank with him and his father inside, deep into the water where death becomes inevitable.

You shake your head vigorously, don't think too much. If he doesn't come back, you'd be fine without him, you're fine on living with the reminiscent of him. If he couldn't be a part of your life again, at least he left so much good memories for you to remember.

Four years is relatively a short time, as if everything had just happened yesterday. You could still feel hurt, confused, terrified... yet strangely calm. You weren't sure if it was a coping mechanism, or your feelings were beginning to numb, but you just know that he's alive and well. Deep in your heart, you still believe that perhaps, someday the two of you will meet again.

Pushing back the thoughts that clouded your mind, you lift your head before you noticed that you've been strayed from your path. You quickly apologize as you nearly bumped into other people, the woman you almost crossed path with gave you a side glance before continuing her talk with her friend.

Seems like you've been zoning out for a while, that you didn't even realize your feet has been carrying you to the old bookstore. You blinked, the storefront of the shop hasn't changed at all. The metal newspaper racks is still being placed on the right side of entrance, and a messy pile of discounted books on the left. Through the glass door, you see the old man reading a newspaper in the back of the cashier, it's the friendly face you'd always cherish.

The small bell dings when you push the door open and successfully bring the old man's attention to you. He winced as he adjusted his glasses before a smile spreads on his face.

"Ciao, cara! It's been a while."

"Ciao, Signore Enrico. You look as good as ever."

The older man chuckled, and the yellowish teeth behind his lips was shown. He closed the pages before folding the newspaper, a subtle gesture he'd do whenever he's up for a light conversation.

"How's your knee? Is it getting better?"

"Bah! I'd already dance like a ballerino if my knees weren't aching these days." He responded in grumpy mood, "I even had to stay at home for a week because I couldn't walk out of my bed!"

You gave him a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry to hear that, it must've been awful." You soften your gaze as you continue, "Though I'm glad you made it to the shop today."

"Ahh, it's all thanks to my grandson. I wouldn't have made it here without him," He suddenly leaned to the back as he shouts to the storeroom behind him, "Mimmo! Vieni qui, per favore." (Come here, please)

A lazy grunt comes out from the behind the door before it swings open, revealing a messy haired boy standing at the door.

"What is it, nonno?" He huffed, but he paused when he saw you. Signore Enrico pulls him by his arm as he tells him to greet his friend, you give him a little wave, and he blushes before muttering a small 'hello'.

"Is that how you greet una bella ragazza come lei (a beautiful girl like her)?" His grandpa gasped, "Don't be so cold hearted, mimmo."

"Mi spiace, I didn't mean to, I swear!"

You giggled when you see the frustration and panic in his eyes, "It's alright Giuseppe, you've never been cold to me. Ed inoltre, non sono bella. (And also, I'm not beautiful.)"

"Mamma mia, carina!" Signore Enrico suddenly holds your hand into his in warm manner, "Non dubitare mai di chi sei." (Never doubt who you are)

This time you were the one who blushes, "Grazie, signore."

The elderly man grins as he pats your hand, "Someone has to remind you that you're beautiful (Y/N), and I'm sure Pino wouldn't mind to do it for you."

"Nonno!"

Laughter escapes your lips, you just couldn't help it whenever signore Enrico teases his grandson. You smile when you see them so close together, as if you're part of la famiglia.

"Anyway, what brings you here, cara?" He asked all of the sudden, as the lightheartedness in his eyes has changed into concern. "If you're about to ask me about your friend, I'm sorry I didn't have any news for you..."

You cringed when he nailed you right on the head, maybe you wouldn't admit it but that must be the reason why you thoughtlessly walked to the shop. It was the only thing that binds you to him, either in the past, or in this uncertain present. You had promised him you'd wait for him, in this very place, and you still do. Even years after his disappearance, you still came to this bookstore, hoping he'd come back to you. But...

You shook your head, "No," You replied with a smile, "Non piú." (Not anymore)

#repost from ao3 #Jojo Part 5 #bruno bucciarati #bruno bucellati x reader

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kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 5 years

Text

His Prophet

BTS

Kim Taehyung/Reader [F]

Genre: God AU, romance, fantasy, protective Taehyung, arranged marriage vibes (kinda), kingdoms and castles, and medieval aspects dotted around, royal au sorta

Words: 9.8k

Warning(s):(Y/n is pushed around in one scene, is that a warning?)

a/n: go ahead and blame the GDA for this (and I was listening to creepypastas during work and one particular story’s ending twist inspired me in a non-spooky way). Also, I’d like to say it took 20 minutes for me to find a photo that wasn’t rejected by my computer to make this godforsaken banner.

summary: The royal Sun God of Navern is a complete recluse; the polar opposite of what one would immediately assume of the God of the Sun should be. Being the only God in his kingdom, he stayed within his castle walls- or at least it is assumed. Staff and servants of the palace only see him occasionally in the halls or peering out into the gardens. It was the dreams of one certain townswoman who worked in a small library that he happens to run into one night that changes everything.

The Kingdom as Navern was a prosperous kingdom, even if smaller in comparison to other neighboring kingdoms. Of it’s few larger cities and small towns, the capital city and home of the Navern Palace was named Vicious. The city was home to all sorts- merchants, blacksmiths, traveling priests and devoted followers of the kingdoms single God; any occupation or profession one would think of, it would probably be found in Vicious.

However, what one thing masses defined as unordinary was a woman who could read and write and who was just as intelligent as a man living in a run-down, two-story library.

The bottom floor of the brick build and metal-framed building was filled with bookshelves upon bookshelves of books of all kinds. Fantasy and children books, adult novels of fiction and non, and documentation of the kingdom’s history. Encyclopedias and thick bricks books of words and information that- if it had the right reader- could suck them in with knowledge.

The top story was closed off from the public. Small living space was where the family of the library lived when the store was closed. A small living room with only two rooms and the kitchen was right off the far wall of the living room, not even a wall to separate the two. It was small, but cozy for the small family of three.

In the past, this small library with two small step stools for high shelves and one small ladder used to belong to an old man and his wife. They had a small child, a little girl when the couple was early into their middle-aged years. As that little girl grew up, her father taught her to read and write and would often raise her as if she were a son. She still wore the suffocating dresses and low heeled shoes of a child as a requirement of her mother. Her father had her help him with broken shelves and squeaky doors, learning a good chunk of labor in her early years.

On the other hand, her mother still pampered her and grew her into a proper young lady. Manners and ideals of a woman and one-day future housewife. Cooking, cleaning, chores, shopping, sewing and all the factors that lead to proper womanhood. Oddly enough, that little girl didn’t mind all the things she was taught.

All her talents in both ladylike behavior and otherwise was an opportunity to learn. And if the girl had anything it was craving for knowledge. She greatly enjoyed reading on the downtime she had and would often recommend books to the boys in her grade school- something she would regret as it lead to years of ridicule. She was simply too smart for a girl.

At the age of 13, this little girl lost her mother to sickness. Catching a cold was all it was, but she just got worse and worse and her father couldn’t keep up with doctor bills. Eventually, the sickness claimed the girl’s mother and it was just her father and her in the apartment and the library. 5 years later, when the girl is 18, she loses her father next.

He had been called to help damper out a raging fire in the Nothern part of the city. Some criminals had started a fire in the small prison to try and mask his escape.

The older man never came back to the library, only a messager did to tell the girl that her father had been killed pursuing the escapee. Leaving the 18-year-old young lady, leaving you, to inherit the library fully.

Things from then got painfully stressful for the better part of half a year. Managing the library and your personal life. Trying to get accustomed to running everything by yourself and not letting the snarky remarks of young men behind your back as you hammered loose bricks back into the outside bricks. Working day in and day out and also having to run errands for families in need for extra money kept you busy and balancing your schedule wore you out.

There were many times you thought about giving up the library, no matter how much you loved it. You came close so many times to that decision, but the memories of you and your family always made you rethink and keep the building in your possession. Many men had come along and tried to buy it from you to wreck it down and rebuild something else where it stood- you always declined.

Years went by and as time passed, things slid into a certain pace of ease and you were finally able to live comfortably. You were 24 years old now. Still managing your library and keeping your home in shape, you also stood as an independent woman. No man or person of romantic interest simply because you had no interest or time for a partner at the moment. Besides, the men in the city, or at least your part of it, had no interest in a woman who threatened to be smarter than him. Bruised egos are a lethal attack to men it seemed.

However, there were a handful of women who respected you a great deal with your knowledge and ability to disregard the judgemental stares and comments from others. It wasn’t just men who sneered, but the women who were a bit too rich in both money and unrealism gave you stink eyes. Sometimes the rich women were even more threatened than the men were even when they couldn’t count anything other than bills.

You were busy restacking the shelves with books that had been returned that morning from mostly children and a few older generations. Your dress wrapped around your torso as you wore your corset, looser than a lady should, and the skirt hitting your ankles. You dusted your hands off with each finished task on the white apron tied around your waist. Small, brown, worn-out flats covering your feet. Working all day with heels just would not suffice. Your hair wrapped around your head in tied upbraids. Uncomfortable, but out of the way.

You were more tired than the day before from the dream you had last night. The dream wasn’t frightful per se, but something about it made you jolt awake. Each time you went back to sleep, the same dream came back and the same dream woke you up. It was hours before dawn when you decided to forget any further sleep and just get up. An early start to the day wouldn’t be so bad. It gave you time to take books off shelves and clean them only to restock them- a task tedious but long overdue.

The dream was one set in your city, the city of Vicious. In fact, in each dream you were outside, just walking around running some sort of errand for the local older woman or fetching medicine for the bedridden old gentleman for a small bit of money. And in each new errand and each new dream, you kept seeing the same people and the same faces you had grown up knowing. However, it’s one person’s stature that always caught you off guard.

The wore a brown, long robe with the hood always flipped up. Masking their face and hiding their body, just walking down the path like every other citizen of Vicious. You would always unconsciously think of them as a traveling beggar from some other town in Navern. It was when the hooded figure moved to seemingly lift their head to look towards you when you always jolted awake. Perhaps it was your brain trying to tell you that you woke up because whatever person that hooded figure was, wasn’t someone you had seen before. Without a proper face to register, you just woke up to avoid it altogether.

You never got a fearful or unsettling feeling in your dreams or afterward, so you didn’t think too much of it. However, it wasn’t just that night you had that dream. It was present the night after and further on. Night after night it was all sorts of different dreams with different errands and different people, but that one cloaked beggar always was present. Still not giving you a feeling of discomfort, but the reoccurrence of this dream made you halfway convince yourself to spend some saved up money on a doctor’s trip.

It’s that night when you contemplate medical aid that you had a dream set in a doctor’s den. Sat in his dinky little office, but instead of a face, the doctor had a long mask on. In fact, the whole doctor wasn’t even human, but a giant, humanoid raven with black feathers and dressed in a tailcoat of the most wealthy bank owner. Waking from that dream with a shiver and a line of sweat down your spine, you might actually consider that one a nightmare.

You decided at nearly midnight to go out and clear your head with a walk. It was a late and dangerous time for a woman to be out, but the idea of sleep made you shiver. Maybe some time to clear your head in the quiet nighttime would help ease you.

Changing from one of your father’s old shirts that you wore to bed every night into your least flattering skirt and small poet’s blouse, you threw a shawl over your shoulders. Not even bothering to tie your hair back. It wouldn’t be a long stroll, just one to breathe in the clean air and take in the silence. When you looked out your window, you smiled as you saw the moon shining brightly overhead- even though it was only halfway through the new moon cycle. It would light your path along with the small patterns set outside homes for those who had late-night workers as part of their family.

Inside Navern Palace dwelled the Sun God of Navern, Luos. Luos was a God who was revered and respected, even as a shut-in God. He ruled and took care of his kingdom from the comfort of his palace walls. Any word he needed to hear of, he’d turn to his Water Mirror, a vase with a wide mouth and filled with water. A few taps of Luos’s fingertips against the water, causing ripples and he could see to the furthest reach of his precious kingdom.

He did love him home. Navern was were he grew up as a human with a different, human name when the kingdom was first birthed. His devoting to his home was what caught another God’s eye- the supreme God of all that was known. When he died as a young man due to his efforts in fighting in a long war, the Ruler God revived him as something far greater than human and giving him the new name of Luos and the insignia of a butterfly. Thought, he never forgot his original name- and he refused to abandon it altogether. It would be like throwing the long memories of his deceased parents away and he absolutely would not do that. His original name stayed solely with him as he lived as Luos.

Luos was not always a shut-in, in fact, he used to be rather outgoing and always spoke and hopped around from town to town among his kingdom. But, many years ago, something changed and all of a sudden he closed his doors for good. He wouldn’t set foot outside palace walls and on some days his palace servants couldn’t even get him to go out into the gardens full of sunflowers he so much loved.

He’d been this way for nearly 20 years now. Only the oldest in Vicious have a vague memory of their royal God walking the streets.

It was never announced as to why Luos locked himself away into his own prison. There had been no wars, no famine. Crime had been on the lower side of the scale and he had no negative reputation with his people that was noted. However, he still made the ironclad decision and his people could do nothing to change his mind.

However, it was nearly two weeks ago that he started to question his seclusion. He had grown quite accustomed to his reclusive past couple of decades, but for the past couple weeks, he’s had this feeling gnawing at the back of his mind. He’d stand at one of his many grand windows just staring over the castle’s main gates to the rooftops of town across the thin, brick bridge that connected the castle to town over the clear watered mote surrounding his palace.

It had been a long time since he had the urge to go out and see his capital again, however recently it had been the hardest urge to suppress in his day to day, reclusive life. The Sun God himself had changed vastly from when he had first started his Godly duties. The thin, childlike innocent he used to hold in his face had matured out into a sculpted jaw and eyes that had seen many things and consumed more knowledge than humans could take in.

“Perhaps I should select a prophet,” was his constant reoccurring thought recently. The thought poured into his head one night when sleep had been actively avoiding him. He had heard in an old wise tale that when one cannot sleep, it is because someone else is dreaming of them. He questioned the truth behind that because he had not set foot outside in so long, no one had the reason to dream of him at all. He was even more confused as to why he suddenly had the compelling idea to suddenly rope in someone to be a chosen prophet.

Even when he thought about the suggestion, he could never think of a face or name that would fit the title. He felt a nagging in his chest and with each possible candidate he could choose to help spread his word and ideals, the nagging would worsen. It was as if his subconsciousness was rejecting each person he knew within the castle- almost pressuring him to go outside the palace. Perhaps he truly should. Perhaps he should go and venture out into his capital and try to see if a single one person could cure this nagging that had begun to irritate him.

So, late at night when the castle was quiet, he dressed in slacks, shirt, and cloak before he left. Walking out of his room and throw the abandoned halls to the back gates of the palace, rounding around the entire castle to avoid as many guards as possible. If he were seen leaving, the guards would most definitely make a fuss about it and the gossip would spread from Navern’s farthest board lined town before dawn. As far as anyone else was concerned, he still hadn’t stepped foot outside the palace perimeter.

The moment his feet hit the loose dirt from across the mote’s bridge, he took a sharp breath. It was like his soul had missed this feeling of his cities roads. He felt at home already, even after all this time. He flipped up his hood, hiding his pitch-black hair and smiled as he stepped onward once more, a joyous hop in his step. The moon named Selene, guiding his way forward. He looked up at her bright surface and smiled a silent thanks for invisible guidance. The moon was always motherly towards him.

Selene says she doesn’t play favorites, but Luos was definitely a favorite- even if she denies it.

Your stroll outside was a quick as you wished it to be. You walked to the wishing well of stone of ice-cold water in the center of Vicious as you sat on the thick stone of it. The sounds of the water calmed you and the area chilled your skin even beneath your shawl enough to raise your skin in gooseflesh. The wind blew slightly in small wisps, making you unattractively breathe in strands of your hair.

Fed up with it, you took the loose tied around your wrist you carried with you everywhere and began to sloppily tie your hair back at the low of your neck. Not very tight, but enough to keep it from entering your mouth and causing you to gag or choke again.

It was very bright out for it being the middle of the night. Part of you regretting now bring a book out with you. You could easily read a chapter or two with the moon’s brightness this night. You half contemplated going back home only to come back to the fountain and do just that when a small gasp sounded behind you.

Jumping to your feet and whipping around, you were met with a cloaked figure with their hood flipped up. You gasped lightly yourself. It was just like your dreams and now you half expected yourself to bolt awake at home in bed. You clenched your eyes shut, expected your mattress to be pushed against your back any moment, but nothing happened. You still breathed the fresh air, still heard the fountain’s water, and still felt the chilly air of the nighttime.

You squinted your eyes open just a sliver, still seeing that cloaked figure across the fountain. You squeezed your eyes closed against and reached under your shawl to your shoulder and pinched your skin. The top trick in the books, if you want to wake up from a dream, pinch yourself.

“Why are you hurting yourself?” You gasped as your eyes shot open. You had been so preoccupied with yourself that you didn’t even hear this cloaked stranger walk over to stand in front of you. Their deep voice had a silky tone to it and it was most definitely a male’s voice. He stood so close to you, nearly toe to toe and yet you still could not see him under his hood. Just like the dreams, his cloaked figure had no fae you could see. However, you’d never heard them speak before, so perhaps this was some sort of lucid dream? “Miss?” He spoke again.

“I, um, I’m trying to wake up,” you dumbly replied. A reply which made his shoulders shift- the only physical thing you could see as a response to your words. You then heard a small, low chuckle from beneath his hood.

“Are you trying to say that you’re sleepwalking?”

“Perhaps, I’ve been known to do remarkable things before,” you unconsciously spoke back in a teasing manner. You then remembered that to most, and almost all, you weren’t supposed to speak to men so highly. You were a woman of independence and held your head high despite your differences of other women, but the lessons of manners from your mother flooded back into your head. You quickly took a step backward, leaning back and away from the stranger and covered your mouth with your fingertips. “I apologize for my tone!”

The stranger quickly lifted his hand to his chest, palm towards you. His cloak opened to show what seemed like black pants and a white shirt beneath it. Boots tucked into his trousers. You partial hoped he wouldn’t raise his hand higher and demand more respect like many, entitled men would without hesitation.

“There is no need to apologize!” He quickly dismissed. He lowered his hand back down, his cloak closing back again at his front. His pushed forward chest straightened back down as he saw you relaxed slowly but surely. “Why are you running about the city so late at night, Miss?”

You bit back the urge to ask him the same thing in return but knew better than to avoid your basic ladylike manners again. You cleared your voice, straightening back up.

“I’ve had trouble sleeping for a while now. I thought that perhaps the night air would help clear my mind.” You didn’t hear the small gasp he took in.

“Trouble… sleeping?” You nodded towards him, brow raised at his curious tone. He cleared his throat. “When did your trouble begin? Perhaps if you talk about it, it would help.” You contemplated his offer. A listening ear of a stranger who offered willingly was far easier and cheaper than visiting a local doctor. You just looked up at him, head tuning in curiosity.

“Are you truly willing to listen to my late-night woes? Me, a stranger.”

The strange man turned around, backing up to the edge of the fountain and took a seat. He just looked up at you with his hidden face and offered you to take a seat beside him. You relented and even though you didn’t know who this man was and you didn’t recognize the voice as anyone you may have met before, you felt oddly calm. You sat next to him before speaking.

“I suppose it started at the beginning of the month’s moon cycle. When the moon was dark and unseen, that’s when it all began. So, a couple of weeks ago.” You fiddled with your fingers, looking at your lap instead of up at his hidden features. You missed the man’s chin drop as he suppressed the urge to push his palm against his mouth in shock. He just remained still and rotated his hand to silently tell you to continue, not trusting his voice. You sighed. “I normally sit and read before trying to sleep again, but the dreams just keep reappearing over and over again.”

“You can read?” He asked inquisitively. It wasn’t said in a disgusted tone, not even condescending. He was genuinely curious.

“I… can. My father taught me when I was young and it would be odd if a librarian lacked the skill to read her own books.” He could tell by the way he put his hands together in his lap and pushed his legs up to his toes and back down that he wanted to know more. “My father’s library in town was passed to me when he passed. My mother had already died so I had to learn to manage it on my own, but that was nearly 5 years ago now. I’ve put it behind me and it isn’t so bad as it seemed at the time.”

“I apologize for your losses,” the strange offered his condolences. “However, I’ve not known many women to read and write efficiently. Are you ridiculed for it?” He asked lightly as if trying to avoid any conversational landmines. He smiled lightly with a small huff and looked down at your hands.

“I am, very often honestly. Truth be told, I seem to provoke men and the wealthy women of the city because of my skills. I’ve tried teaching children, but their parents berate me. I’ve become deaf to their insults now, however.”

“You’re a respectable woman,” the strange told you. The compliment seemed so truthful it sent you into a small recoil. He chuckled as your reaction. “A strong, intelligent woman shouldn’t be deemed unordinary, but revered as a genius. You all weren’t’ just made for family expansion and chores. Or so, I believe.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter. You pushed your hand over your mouth, knowing it was late and if you were to wake anyone, they’d stalk into the city center with a stick or ladle, shooing the noisemaker away. You missed the small smile the stranger hid under his hood.

“I apologize,” you forced between stifled laughs. He shook his head.

“No need, I think your laugh is beautiful.”

You calmed down as you took a breath to regained your breathing. “I’m not sure where you come from, stranger, but you are vastly different from any other man I’ve met.” He was silent for a moment.

“Believe it or not, I’ve lived in Navern for many years. I’m a bit of a recluse and don’t get out much. I work from home, in a sense.”

“Is that right?” You asked, a teasing hint of skepticism.

“I swear to Luos himself,” He said, cringing at his words. You nodded. You both continued to sit and talk for a while longer before the moon had moved drastically in the sky. The stranger was soon standing, taking your hand gently to help you to your feet. His fingers seemed to linger on your skin as he let your hand go. “It’s getting far too late for a lady to be out. I’ll walk you home,” he offered with no room for rejection.

When you both stood outside your home, the stranger looked through the dark windows. The outlines of filled shelves sketching over his vision. Looking up, he saw a window, probably to your room away from your shop. You removed the thick, cooper key from around your neck that was on a rope of leather before slotting it into the door. Turning it to click it open. You turned back to the stranger.

“Thank you for your company tonight. I really did appreciate being able to speak and be myself without being sneered.” Your voice was soft and filled with genuine happiness.

“I can guarantee that your company and conversation pleased me far more than you. It has been far too long since I spoke to someone.” His voice was soft and calm, you could hear the smile on his face. “Next time, let’s talk inside and in the daylight instead of sitting outside in the cold.”

“You would come to visit me, wouldn’t you?” You teased lightly. You were shocked when he nodded immediately. “Well, if that’s the case, could I see your face?” You gently asked, not wanting to pressure him. He was still a stranger, but you felt so calm and easy about him. You just wanted to see him just once- but perhaps he would decline your request. He had his hood up this whole time without movement to lower it.

“I don’t usually show my face outside of my home,” he started and your face started to fall, “however, I think I can make this exception.” Your fae jumped back up as you bit back a smile of victory. He lifted his hands to open his cloak and grip the sides of his hood. Pushing the fabric back, your smile fell into the face of awe.

He was gorgeous. Long, black hair that brushed passed his eyes. His eyes dark but light reflected off them in specs of the most wondrous color. His hair was curled with waves and framed his face well. His jaw is wide and sharp. His voice seemed to fit his face a far better than you couldn’t have ever imagined. He chuckled at your reaction to his face. He put his hands on either side of his neck before dropping them.

“For the first time tonight, it seems you do not have any words left,” he jested.

You just licked your dry lips and hid your face, trying not to let your cheek heat too much. “May I ask one more request?”

“I suppose,” he drawled. You picked at your fingers, nails tapping together.

“May I ask your name if I offer mine back?” You gingerly looked up at him, eyes looking up first before your head lifted in follow. You could see a small jolt of hesitation at your question. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’d recognize you anywhere even without your name.” He took that as a compliment of compelling looks.

He faltered in his step as he moved to take your hand, raising it to push the back of your knuckles to his lips. His eyes closed gently as he kissed your hand, your mouth opening and your cheek flaring in the cold night breeze. He opened his eyes as you noticed that one eye had a monolid while the other was double eye lidded. He smiled widely, the purest and cutest smile you’d ever seen.

“Call me Taehyung,” he cheered lightly. He dropped your hand, as you offered your name back with a small flustered stutter. Y/n was a wonderful name and fit you perfectly. He watched you go inside and even saw your shadow trot up the back staircase to your apartment. He looked at the top window and saw a dim light of a lantern you had just lit before he smiled.

He did feel a bit guilty for not telling you the name he went by now was Luos, but Taehyung was the only name he felt he should give you. His original name was much less intimidating than the Sun God Recluse, Luos. He flipped his hood back up and made quick work of his way back to the castle. Already impatient to see you again and without him really noticing, the nagging in his chest had subsided.

It was two weeks ago when your dream started to subside. That night you spent talking with Taehyung for so long seemed to take your dreams away. You were shocked when he showed up at dusk, knowing at your library door the very next night. He claimed he couldn’t wait to see you again, so here he was. You immediately let him inside without a hassle.

You’ve been talking with Taehyung for two weeks and you greatly enjoyed everything about him. His attitude was uplifting and even when he spoke about topics that angered him, his anger was justice and the points to support his rage were solid. He was knowledgable and well versed in many things. The conversation never died with him.

You were comfortable with him, especially since he always marveled at your abilities. He watched with awe as you caught you repaired a shelf once, and nearly ate enough for four men when you cooked for him the first time. He could read well but preferred hearing you read to him, claiming to love hearing your voice.

It was no mystery how fast you were falling for Taehyung. The romance was something you didn’t think was optional for you, but Taehyung waltzed into your life at night and wasn’t a creepy serial killer. Taehyung had seriously raised your bar of men’s standards and he probably had no idea how you inside turned into mush when he showed up at your home with his giant, wide smile.

Taehyung also always only visited you when night was falling and always cloak. However, it was early in the morning once when he decided he couldn’t wait another long day to see you again. Sneaking out of the castle was harder in the morning, but possible. Still cloaked and hooded, he hid his small smile from the sun’s shadow. His smile wilted when he saw the corner of your library-home come into view.

You had just unlocked the library door and moved to put the hanging ‘open’ sign you had painted and decorated with Taehyung one night to symbolize for people to come and go as they please. He wanted to smile at the idea of you using it, but the young men around your age coming towards you made his teeth grind.

You had just hung your sign on the front window of the door on the small nail you had put on the door a few nights ago when you felt a small shove on your shoulder. Your dress today hit the ground and you nearly toppled over by stepping on the fabric. Your corset of white pushed the dress against your stomach, pushing your chest up, and your torso felt pain as you nearly bent over in the course that was tight.

You regained balance with a small huff as you adjusted your apron on your front. The two men were two fellow rude boys you had grown up with. They had yet to outgrow their childish bullying, and you doubt they were would. You figured they should just marry each other at this point. With rotten, toxic attitudes like theirs, there is no way they’d find wives.

One man, a small sprout of bone was Lix. The other was a bit broader, but no looker for sure; he was named Horan. Lix was more a verbal fighter, not having much strength when it came to fist to fist confrontation. Horan was the opposite. He was dead stupid, but his power balanced out what Lix didn’t have. It was a poetically stupid match made in some twisted heave.

Lix turned to your sign before taking it off the door and looking it over. A small frown on his face as he’s eyes squinted.

“What awful handwriting!” He crowed, even if your handwriting was a perfect script. “I knew it, women should stick to cleaning and looking after little rugrats,” he spits before he threw your sign with a flick to his right. The wooden plack spun as it descended and hit the road with a puff of dirt. You gasped lightly before you ran towards it.

Kneeling in the dirt, you picked it up, the road sticking to your fingertips and filtering under your nails in grounded, small pieces. Dirt would be pushed into your apron and you’re sure you’d have to dust it and wash it all out later. When you looked at the sign in your lap as you knelt on your knees, you recalled how happy Taehyung looked when it as down. Your eyes began to tear.

There was a small murmur of on-lookers who watched the two men push at you. You knew you had no authority to act out, even if you wanted so badly to shout at them. You’d have no ally if you did, no one stood in your corner. You were alone and the fact that everyone watching and gossiping you get pushed around didn’t move to help you, only proved your point.

You could only stamp your feet and curl your fingers around the wooden, painted ‘open’ sign as you held your tears back. Lix started marching up behind you, you could tell from the dainty footsteps he took. Horan’s was much more heavy in terms of his weight. You could feel his presence right behind you, the looming feeling of this man looking down on you. He kicked dirt at your back, debris mixing into your hair and rolling down your dresses back from the collar as you shivered at the sensation.

You felt pathetic as you just let it happen. You could feel him step closer and the shadow you saw from your side showed him reaching out towards you. You expected him to grab your hair and pull you to sit straight. You just shut your eyes in a panic to avoid anyone seeing your unshed tears.

Lix’s nasty grip never came. Instead, a near set of steps rushed from in front of you and came to halt. A shadow of someone blocking the sun from you clouded your shut eyes as you peeked them open. A pair of black boots were in front of your down casted vision. You could vague hear Lix squawking in pain before the new arriver stepped around you and shoved Lix back. You heard his ass his dirt as he whined. Horan was soon stomping to defend his attacked friend, but soon the stomping stopped.

You lifted your head, turning to your back to see who had interfered. You didn’t know of any townsfolk would who defend you. A woman who was so vastly different from others. Your mouth opened to a quivered form as your tears fell. That familiar cloak a blessing to your eyes.

“Taehyung,” you whimpered. You weren’t shocked to see him, you were just relieved to see you had someone to help you. You cried further when you realized you finally had someone in your corner. Taehyung protected you and he had flipped down his hood. His hair was even more beautiful shining off the sun. You wanted to see his eyes in this light- it was probably more breathtaking than seeing them in the candlelight of lanterns.

Horan remained still, frozen mid-charge. Taehyung glared at him and it was blood-chilling enough to freeze the unintelligent giant in his tracks and even silence the gossip of others. Some even moved to remain their work, trying to play coy as if they hadn’t witnessed the assault without assistance. Lix had picked himself off the ground, not sure where to move to, Taehyung eyes burning them into place.

“Make yourself scarce,” was all he seethed. A threat underlined in his words. Lix and Horan were quick to flee. Taehyung’s shoulders slackened as he turned to you, sitting in the dirt and holding the sign in your arms to your chest, hugging it as if it were some precious treasure. His eyebrows dipped, sad to see your tears. He moved to you, kneeling to rub his palm against your wet cheek and push his fingertips into your hair, combing out bits of dirt.

He raised his eyes over you, looking at the people still cocky enough to keep starring. He glared again. “Return to your duties and mind your business!” He yelled, everyone obeying without hesitation and soon all eyes were off you. Taehyung looked softly back at you before he gently picked you off the ground.

Walking you into your store, he took the sign and set it gently on the window sill. He locked the door once you both were inside. He rubbed your arm softly as you palmed at your eyes, trying to dry them. Taehyung moved to stand in front of you, grabbing your cheeks and bending to look into your glasses, red eyes. He rubbed your skin with his thumb, his large hand holding your head.

“Let’s not open up right now,” he whispered so softly to you. You nodded, not able to trust your voice yet. “He gently pushed his lips on your forehead, his brows crunching as he held his lips against your skin for several seconds, feeling pain in his chest from seeing your own pain. H epulled from your forehead before he grabbed your hand. “Let’s go upstairs. You have tea? I’ll make you some” You just nodded again, following him upstairs.

Taehyung spent that day with you. He cleaned your face and wiped your tears. He reassured you and made you speak your frustrations. He took care of you in a way you didn’t think a man ever would. He made you change out of your corset and set your apron in the wash bin to soak the dirt stains out. He brushed your hair out before he sloppily pinned it up. He stayed by you all day and far into the night. When you fell asleep that night, you shocked to wake up the next morning without a single dream to plague you. Even more shocking, you gasped lightly when Taehyung was sleeping in front of you, eyes shut easy and arm under his head as a pillow.

He never left your side. All that previous and all night, he was there. You cupped your mouth as a wae of resh tears spilled over the side of your face. You pushed your face into Taehyung’s neck, startling him awake as he rubbed your back.

“What’s wrong/ Tell me? Did you have a nightmare?” You just shoo your head as you hiccup. “Y/n?” You cried tears of relief and realization as you finally attempted to yourself that you were in love with Taehyung. So very much in love with him.

He left the night of day two he had been with you. He wanted to stay longer, stay forever if he could, but he knew he had to get back to the palace. One day without his appearance wasn’t odd, many assumed he was probably locke din his room. However, any longer and he feared someone would grow nosey.

He left you that night as you flushed at the kiss he pushed on your forehead. He held your hand softly before he flipped his hood up and ran off. You went back upstairs, suddenly exhausted and fell into sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to the murmur outside. You rubbed your eyes, going to your window and opening it. There were people whispering with cupped hands as they pointed to your library. You assumed they were still talking about the debacle two days prior with Lix and Horan. It wasn’t until you came downstairs when you saw two people standing with their backs to the front windows of your library.

Unlocking the door and opening it, the two people turned to you. They were both men and dressed in guard uniforms. They were from the palace and part of your blood froze. Why were castle guards standing at your storefront? You swallowed as you greeted them.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” you greeted trying to remain calm. One stood forward, holding a spear in his arms as the tip pointed high to the sky. He seemed to be the higher rank of the duo.

“Fine morning, Miss. I do not wish to alarm you, but we have immediate orders to escort you into Navern Palace.”

“What?” You choked. You took the time to look around again. You noticed that instead of all judgmental eyes, some gazes were envious or even respectable. They looked at you like you were some higher being or had some power over them. You crunched your brow.

You were ready to talk to the guards when you felt someone run into your back, knocking you forward a step. You turned around and saw Lix, Horan in front of him his arms stretched out. The bigger man had pushed the smaller and the look Lix gave you when he saw it was you he rammed into was one of almost terror. He straightened out as he stood beside Horan, both bowing deeply towards you.

“We’re sorry!” He cried as they ran off like scared children. Your brows flicked up higher. What in the world was that? Were they scared Taehyung would show up again? You momentarily forgot about the guards until one cleared their throat to gain your attention back. The one who spoke to you scolded his underling.

“Do not force her attention by force in such a rude manner!” He shouted as you quickly hushed him.

“No! It’s fine! I’m not offended or anything.” You sighed when the higher-ranked guards only bowed to you and offered his thanks, the younger mirroring his actions. “So, I’m to go to the palace?” You asked, trying to restart the original conversation. The guards stood right up again.

“Yes, Miss. Luos has asked for you.” YOu gasped lightly.

“God Luos asked to see me?!” The guards nodded. Your mouth grew dry as you swallowed to try and find saliva. You licked your dry lips. “I- okay.” You relented. If the God of your kingdom really did request you there, you had to go. You hoped he didn’t mind librarian clothes and a slightly stained apron. You had no time to change and get ready as the guards had begun to usher you off after you locked your library door.

As you walked with the two men, you watched some children smile and wave you. Some women stared in awe at you as if they knew something you didn’t. Men looked at you in caution as if they were committing a crime if you met their gaze. What possibly could’ve happened overnight to get gazes on you in a totally different light?

The moment you crossed the brick bridge across the mote and stood at the giant gates of the palace, you looked in open-mouthed awe. The castle was a gargantuan wonder up close. It took your breath away. The sides of it were as beautiful as the Sun God it housed you were sure. The idea of you probably meeting the God of the Sun, Luos made your stomach turn. He had been silent for so long, what did he suddenly pop back into the public gossip for? And to summon you of all people in Navern?

You were lead to a wide, open, beautiful throne room. The throe at the back of the room at the end of the long, golden rug and up 4 steps of marble was empty. No God was there. You stood walking closer to the throne and taking in the fabric, patterns, and creation of it. Itw as a wonderfully beautiful chair. You gasped with enough force to knock the breath out of you when the heavy, tall doors of the throne room wheezed open again and a voice echoed behind you.

“Would you like to have a seat on my throne?” The voice so scarily familiar and you hesitated to turn around. Surely your mind was playing tricks on you. There was no way. You heard the echoing steps come closer to you as your back remained towards him. Luos was behind you, that you knew for sure- he addressed this throne you stared wide-eyed at as his after all. You felt him stop behind you, his loom presence burning at your back. “Will you not turn to look at me?” His voice was lower, quieter. You gripped your have stained apron as you took one step forward, putting distance between you and he as you then slowly stepped around to face him.

Your eyes were focused at his feet. He walked barefoot. Golden anklets around his skin. His trousers were black as they were rolled at his shins. Following his pant legs up, his white shirt was long and loose on his body. Following it up higher, you saw a golden robe of printed suns adorn his shoulders and you could vaguely see bracelets of gold wrap up his forearms like guards. A thick golden collar of jews around his neck and a crown of golden spikes sat on the crown of his head. Dramatic and much like the rays of the sun.

This was Luos and as you looked into his eyes at his face, you gasped. This was Taehyung.

“I hope the sudden call to my home wasn’t too alarming, Y/n,” he told you softly. He could see the confusion in your eyes, but you weren’t screaming yet so he considered it progress. You just stood there, gaping at him in silence. He reached out and brushed the back of his fingers against your cheek, making you flinch, but not back away from him. He smiled softly. “Is who I am truly that shocking?”

You didn’t know how to politely say ‘yes it fucking is shocking’, because the man you’ve been visiting with the past two weeks was a God. You gasped, taking another step backward. He rose his brow in confusion as his hand hovered in the air now. You had let the God of Navern into your rackety all home. You gazed at him in starstruck gazes for hours before. You had told him so many personal events and facts about yourself and you began to flush.

Luos, God of Navern’s Sun had picked your pushed and bullies body off the dirt road just two days ago and had stayed at your home with you alone for over 24 hours. Your cheeks grew darker.

You had fallen in love with Luos and you didn’t even know it.

Was that wrong? You started to inwardly panic. Was it against some scared law of Gods for a human woman who was clearly outcasted from her city to fall for a God? Even if it was unknown to you in the time you were falling, would it be punishable by some degree? Was that why he called you here?! Had he seen through your obvious red faces and stuttering and brought you heard to punish you for your feelings that you should or should’ve been feeling?

Taehyung stepped forward, seeing your mind start to flip. He grabbed your shoulders and pushed his lips against your forehead. Just as he had before. He closed his eyes, hoping and praying that you wouldn’t change just because of who he was. He was guilty of hiding the ruth from you, but what choice did he have? He was a shut-in God only a couple of weeks ago, but now he was determined to change it all. And he’d need the help of a prophet for that.

“Calm down, dear,” he soothed. His warm hands pushed against your covered shoulders and you did start to calm. Trying to ignore your warming ears at the endearing name. He felt you slacken after some time and moved to look at you again, stepping just a bit away from you. “Are you alright now?” You nodded. He took his hand and pushed your hair from your face to see you clearly. He smiled at your flushed cheeks. “Red is a color that suits you,” he teased.

You were silent as you looked at your feet. Biting back a ‘shut up’ because in all honesty, how do you talk to him now? Wasn’t it rude to be so direct to a Sun God. A royal God who lived in the royal palace of his own kingdom. You had to watch what you say and say it all respectfully. Taehyugn seemed to know your thoughts as you felt his thumb rub beneath your ear, his hands dipping under your jaw to lift your head up to meet his gaze.

“Do not change yourself because you see me as Luos. My name truly is Taehyung and everything I’ve told you about myself these past weeks is all truthful. I’ve never once lied and I never once will.” He dipped his eyelids, his eyes pleading with you to believe him. “I don’t want to appear different to you now, so don’t treat me any differently.”

You raised your hand to push over his that held your jaw the other staying fisted loosely around your apron. Taehyung smiled at your palm’s warmth. He watched you take a deep breath through your nose before pushing it out of your lips. You looked up at him warily.

“I won’t get punished for being blunt to a God?” You asked carefully. You were blunt, yes; but you were always careful of your words towards him. He smiled.

“Of course not. Why would you be punished if the God you’re speaking to gave you pardon?” You finally smiled a small bit. One that made Taehyung break out into a smile so large he nearly let out a small giggle at you. The way he held your jaw and squished your cheek combined with your small smile, he almost pushed dimples into your cheeks.

You both stood in silence for a while before Taehyung dropped his hands from your jaw and moved to hold your hands in his. Threading his fingers with yours. He was affectionate before, sure. He would often plop his head into your lap as you read to him and of course he slept beside you that one night he decided not to leave your side. However, his laced fingers with your brought warmth to your chest.

“Do you remember when you talked to me about your dreams that first night we met?” You nodded. “You remember when you explained that the hooded figure would always appear and you’d wake up?” You nodded again, not sure where he was going with this. “Well, I think that actually was me.” You lightly breathed in an air of confusion. “Sometimes,” he began, “humans are born with something close to supernatural powers. Some can move objects without physical touch, some can see pasts and futures of people, others can even control the mind of others. Then, there are some like you, who are shown prophetic dreams of things to come.”

“Come to think,” you started with a raising brow, “my dreams did stop after that first night we met. I just thought it was because I finally talked about them. However, you’re saying-”

“I believe you were meant to have those dreams and you were meant to meet me that night. That night I felt like I met someone I was always destined to. Prior to that, I had this nagging in my chest,” he lifted his hand to push against his torso, “and it compelled me to go out into town. It cannot be coincidental that I met you that and the nagging abandoned me.”

Taehyung stopped his talking before he looked over your shoulder. He took your intertwined hands and moved to drag you towards his throne. Helping you to not trip up the marble steps, he soon stood with you at his throne of gold. He held your hands tightly.

“Navern is my precious kingdom I care so much for. I’ve had my time of being reclused and I need to go back into my kingdom and reclaim it with new eyes. I cannot do that on my own. I need someone to help me and to help keep me balanced and straight. They will also help keep my words strong to my people who believe in me and my Sun.” He took a deep breath before he removed on hand from yours and took to his pocket, pulling a scarlet red sash from his trousers that had a hair comb wrapped inside of it.

It was a beautiful piece. A golden frame with solid, silver teeth with gaps made to avoid severe tugging of the hair. You slowly reached out with the hand not held by Taehyung as you ran your fingers over its heavy glory.

“It’s beautiful,” you told him as he smiled.

“I know. It belonged to my mother. A long, long time ago.” You looked up at him with a bit of sadness in your eyes. You knew how he loved his parents, he had told you all about them one night and got a bit more emotional than he’d like to admit recalling so many memories. “I want you to have this now.”

“What?” You breathed.

“Y/n,” he put the comb and it’s scarlet fabric in your open palm before he brought your other hand up to sandwich the comb in your hands. His hands around your own before he lifted them to his forehead. “I want you to help me regain the social regime I have let die. I want you to wake up in this palace day by day with me. I want you to stay here and use this comb as you stay with me as my chosen Prophet.” His voice cracked like he was going to cry admitting it all. “I’ve never-,” he took a breath, “I’ve never been in love before. I died too young so long ago I never experienced it. However, I know now I’m positive that I’m falling in love with you.”

Your breath was sucked out of your lungs like a vacuum because of his words. “Do,” you started small, gaining his attention as he looked at you, lowering your hands back down, still holding them tightly. The comb’s cold material warming in your palms. “Do you really mean all of that?” You squeaked.

He nodded so quickly as he took a step closer. His nose was inches from you as he looked down at you. His feet stood between your shoes as he looked back and forth between your eyes. He truly was a beautiful man. “Yes. I swear, I-I mean everything.” He was so fearful you’d say no to him. What would he do if you left this palace and didn’t take his words with you? Would he still be able to visit you in town at the library? Would you avoid him? Shun him? He was scared of the negatives.

“What would happen to the library?” You asked softly. He knew it was important to you. Rundown and aged, yes, but it’s the place you spent your life with your family before they were gone. Taehyung wouldn’t let anything happen to that small, cramped home of yours. He loved it just as much as you. It’s where he spent so much time with you and learned so much about you. Where he ate with you and comforted you and slept beside you.

Taehyung loved that library.

“I’d keep it safe. I don’t want anything to happen to that library or your apartment you claim. It’s so precious to me now. I’d make sure no one got inside it to vandalize or. Nothing would happen to it and I’d keep it safe from ruin. If something is weak, I’d work to rebuild and fix it.”

“You’d do that for a small library when you have such a grand castle?”

“In a heartbeat. That’s the place I got to spend so many memories with you,” he softly admitted out loud. “You don’t need to agree to my request,” he told you, heartbreak in his voice. He wouldn’t force his wishes on you, no- never would he do that.

You slowly pulled your hands from his, opening your palms to see the golden comb in all it’s beauty again. You then handed it to Taehyung, having him hold it as you unraveled your messy, braided hair. Holding locks of it ver your shoulder, you looked at him and smiled.

“Can such a comb even brush such messy hair?” Taehyung’s face nearly split in two at the smile that erupted into his face. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, lifting you off your feet and toes to hold you so tightly. YOu felt his chest breathe heave, relieved sighs. He set you back down on your feet.

He moved to kiss you again, but not on the forehead. No, this time his lips fell beneath your eye. He kissed you and when he pulled his lips from your skin a small mark had begun to outline onto your skin. Shining with golden light before forming the shape of a butterfly, his insignia animal. He smiled again as he moved to sit you down into his throne.

He then moved to kneel in front of you, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles much like the night he first met you when he left you for the first time. He kissed your knuckles before he smiled up at you with his innocent, childlike smile.

“We’ll have to get you accustomed to the castle, my dear,” he giggled. He began to lead you to a room of seamstress servants to exchange your ordinary librarian clothes with fine, silk robes of the Sun’s golden glow.

The only thing he kept secret from you now, was the fact that not only were you his Prophet, he also may have told the townspeople that if they mess with his fiance and future wife again, he, the God Luos would not be pleased. Of course, you didn’t have to know you were engaged quite yet.

a/n pt.2 - Tell me all what you think! I spent 5 hours writing this in one sitting and I’m pretty proud of it ngl. So lmk!!

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skvaderarts · 3 years

Text

Hiraeth Chapter 35: Disquisition

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Thirty-Five: Disquisition

Note: This was such a fun chapter to write. It feels good to be back in the swing of things. Sorry for the extended hiatus. I had a lot going on with my emotions and my computer. Life is just… life, you know? Anyway, thank you so much for all of the support while I was gone! I was worried I wouldn’t have anyone to come back to if I took too much longer! But onto the new chapter! And sorry it was so late! I slept until 7:40pm somehow…

(-~-)

Most of the Ludwig manor was quiet, a serene landscape of lengthy halls, winding stairs, and large windows covered in thick curtains that blocked out most of the ambient light from outside. The only indication that there were people living here was the occasional passing by of a servant going about their daily tasks, and that was exceedingly infrequent by design. But even so, the library was a bastion of contemplation and peace, the only notable sounds being that of the turning of pages and the soft click of boots as the group navigated the vast array of books at their disposal. It was almost as if the room absorbed any and all outside noise to help facilitate a better reading environment. Truthfully, no one would be surprised if that was the case. There was a litany of supernatural energy in this house, more than any of them had an explanation for.

Dante sat at the other end of the long table that spanned the center of the room, flipping through some sort of book that had pictures in it. It seemed to be an encyclopedia of some sort that contained droves of information about demons and just about everything associated with them on a species level. Maybe it was more of a bestiary than anything else, but it was one of the few tomes that the youngest Son of Sparda had been able to locate that was actually in english. Okay, maybe not quite, but it was close.

“So what brought you here in the first place, Vergil? I feel like I'm missing a joke.” He said casually, flipping through the hand-illustrated novel to try and locate what he was looking for. In truth, he didn’t have anything in particular in mind, but he was still doing his best to try and help. Books like these were more Vergil’s jam than his, maybe even Nero’s to an extent. And V was a given. Dante was somewhat sure that his older nephew’s blood was actually ink at this point with how much he liked to read taken into account.

Vergil was flipping through an even larger less approachable book with such nonchalant ease that Dante was almost certain that his older twin was doing so just to make him feel more inferior than he already felt at the moment. When had Vergil learned to read this kind of stuff? Had he picked some of it up as a kid from all the time that he has spent with their father before his untimely disappearance? That seemed to be the most likely answer. Regardless, he was able to read it, and had been up until Dante had asked him that question, seemingly interrupting the flow of his train of thought. He clasped the book gently and laid it flat on the table, looking over out of the corner of his eye at his younger twin. It seemed that Dante was onto something.

Vergil casually gestured towards a bookcase on the other side of the room that was behind a locked metal door. None of them had even noticed the room until now, the other bookcases concealing it relatively well. Bars stretched from floor to ceiling, allowing the books to still be visible, but not accessible. The bookcase on the other side contained about a hundred thick books that seemed to be exceedingly old, and they were each locked inside of individualized cages with only their spines exposed. A chain attached to each book and the bookcase on the other end ensured that you wouldn’t be walking off with one.

“You are, Dante. I came here in search of a book in my youth. I… encountered more than I bargained for.” He said, seemingly almost embarrassed. He broke eye contact and returned to the book, not at all willing to elaborate.

Magnolia snickered slightly, taking a sip from the tray of tea that had been brought to them a short while ago. Normally people were not permitted to eat in the library, but they were all adults and could be trusted to not eat and then rub their hands all over everything without cleaning them off first. There was literally a washroom twenty feet from them, but the dining room was on the other side of the house and down a flight of stairs. No one felt like going that far just to drink a few sips of tea and enjoy a macaroon or an eclair.

“What your twin brother is trying to say is that he absolutely tried to lift a book from our private collection while we were asleep one night, and he was caught. We have his assurances that he would have returned it, but I do believe he was smart enough to realize that he might have been in over his head.” She giggled a bit harder then, covering her hand in a polite attempt to not die laughing at something that only she and Vergil truly understood, given the circumstances and the context. Plus, they were in a library, after all. Best to keep it down. “He got more than he bargained for, indeed.”

Nero was not intrigued by what was going on, peeping over at them from a bookcase a few feet away. He seemed to consider yelling his question over to them before it occurred to him that he was in a library. He flinched, knowing that idea wouldn’t go over well before walking over to them with the book he had been examining and leaning over the table. Something told him that this was a story that might actually keep his interest for a moment, at least better than the book that he was trying to read that he barely understood. He was going to have to ask for an assist on this one. Time to go get V and pick his brain. It wasn’t that he couldn’t read it so much as he didn't understand the knowledge that was being imparted upon him. “Okay, so now you’ve got my attention. What did you do to him, Magnolia? I know it has to be something you did. You're barely holding it together.”

At that, she gave up and actually laughed, holding her hands over her face in order to try and stifle her laughter. There was no holding it back, but she could at least try to block the sound a little. The eldest Son of Sparda shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment as Magnolia tried to collect herself. It seemed that they were at two different ends of the spectrum in regards to the context of this memory. Now Dante was intrigued as well, waiting to hear the answer elaborated on.

“See, what Vergil forgot to say was that I snuck up on him, caught him, and used a relocation spell to drop him head first from the ceiling! He had no time to even try to react. He just hit the floor like a brick.” She pointed to the ceiling and shook her head, clearing her throat as she attempted to put herself back together. Her hair had fallen into her face, and she battled it out of the way, unwilling to allow it to stay there. “It was easily the most uncoordinated thing I've ever seen him do, and just recalling the totally flabbergasted look on his face is enough to make me choke. He lost a fight to a little fourteen year old girl, and he’s the one who brought a sword.”

Everyone looked over at Vergil in various states of disbelief. Surely Magnolia has to be exaggerating just a little bit? The mental image of the Darkslayer plummeting head first from the easily forty foot ceiling was just too improbable to believe. And the idea that he had been snuck up on? Vergil practically had radar built into his brain, at least from what they could tell. But the look on his face was all that it took to come to the conclusion that she wasn’t telling a tall tale. This had actually happened.

“Pardon my interruption, but did you say the ceiling?” A familiar voice inquired from above them on the balcony. It was V. He and Lucia had approached the edge of the railing, holding books from different ends of the bookcase that they had both been examining. The young summoner seemed more than a little bit amused by this turn of events. How on earth had she managed to drop Vergil from that kind of high head first and not kill him? Were his father’s bones made of titanium?

“Unfortunately, she did. Every word of that exceedingly unpleasant tale is factual. My neck and head still hurt just recalling it.” Vergil said grumpily, attempting to conceal the fact there was actually a part of him that was impressed by her aptitude at such a young age. It was slightly astounding to him that she had even managed to sneak up on him, even if he had been in a dark, unfamiliar space and his sole focus had been on the task at hand. It was a learning experience, to be sure. Never again would he drop his guard like that.” I suppose I am lucky to be able to heal at the rate that I do, as I am certain that I cracked my skull and, at the bare minimum, dislocated a vertebrae in my neck. If I’m being honest, I probably broke it.”

“I was trying to use a compressing spell to hold him in place, but I panicked when I saw Yamato, and the first thing that came to mind was a relocation hex. I tried to eject him from the property, but unfortunately for him my powers were unable to draw from a location that I couldn’t currently see, and I didn’t know how to make him pass through a solid object yet, so he just fell three stories from the ceiling.” Magnolia laughed nervously, clearly horrified by the fact that she “My parents were impressed, nonetheless, and I was rewarded for my “quick thinking” even though I was sure I had just killed another child. Those were high times.” She allowed a wistful smile to spread across her face, the warmth from the distant memory spreading through every extremity she possessed. Yes, that had been a fun occasion.

Lucia chuckled lightly under her breath. The history of Dante’s family was fascinating, if not tumultuous and filled with problems. But it seemed that their frankly ridiculous durability made from some extremely interesting situations at times. She was just glad that they always seemed to recover and no permanent damage was done. She had come to like Vergil during their short time together, and to say she was fond of Dante would be a bit of an understatement. He had always been a wonderful friend to her, and she wanted nothing more than the best for him, perhaps even a bit more.

As if he had sensed her thoughts, V pulled himself away from the scene below for a moment to look over at her, hoping that he had yet to give away his intentions in regards to speaking with her. He just had to get the nerve up to explain what he couldn’t quite put into words, but he had noticed that of the two of them, he was not the only one who seemed to possess this issue. He saw the quiet little moments that she spent thinking, normally looking over at Dante. At times she became flustered around him for no apparent reason, much as he did around ehr. He couldn’t help but wonder if she too was longing for something or someone that she knew she couldn’t have.

He wished her luck in that regard, realizing that this was something that had probably been in the works long before he had come into the picture. Had Dante noticed the way that she looked at him? Had Lucia noticed the way that V looked at her? It was hard to say, and he knew that at some point he would have to simply ask her what it was that she was after. Whatever answer she gave him, he would fully respect and accept, even if it wasn’t the one that he was hoping for. That was what a responsible adult did. But leave it to him to suddenly realize that perhase the only person he had ever felt remotely attracted to was interested in another member of his family. There had to be a certain irony in that. He just hoped that if that was what she wanted, her affections would be returned.

Dante seemed to be the sort that was perpetually single by choice, never indulging in any of the impulses or desires that he might possess. Perhaps he felt that he was protecting those that he cared about by not becoming entangled with them? It was all that he could imagine. Dante was likeable enough and, at least to him, he seemed lonely. It wasn’t so much something that his uncle did as it was just a way that he was. He could see a little bit of himself in him at times in ways that he didn’t expect or wish, hoping to spare everyone that he knew and cared about the majority of the feelings that he kept bottled up and pushed back so deep within himself. But these were things that had been set in stone long before his arrival. He was simply witnessing the aftermath.

But maybe it didn’t have to be that way? After all, something was only set in stone when someone accepted that and didn’t choose to alter it. Even the hardest stone could be chiseled with the right tools. That was the nature of such things. Maybe there was something that he could do…

Griffon cackled slightly from behind him, manifesting and landing on the railing between him and Lucia. The wiley bird shook his head for a moment before looking over at V, then looking down at Vergil from above. “Ya know, I make alotta jokes about Dante having brain damage, but maybe he’s not the only one. Maybe it runs in the family. A fall from a room this high? Yea, that’s gonna bruise your brain a little.”

While the rest of the inhabitants of the lower level of the library giggled, Vergil shot the demonic bird a hard to read look. She seemed to be considering saying something, but decided against it. V could only wonder what his father thought of Griffon and Shadow, considering the history he had with them and the nature of their creation. There had to be some hard feelings on his end, even if there didn’t seem to be any from theirs. Dante had some prior with their previous iterations it seemed, too. But unlike Vergil, he didn’t seem to care much about that. One could only imagine that his experience with them had either been shorter or less tragic than his father’s, and considering how little he knew about that experience aside from what he’d gleaned from Griffon, he knew that he wasn’t in a position to say literally anything about such matters. But he did hope that one day he would be able to make some sort of peace between them.

Just as was about to turn and head back over towards the balcony with the book that he had been holding, he looked over and noticed that Lucia wasn’t where she had been a moment earlier. Intrigued, he walked down several rows until he located her. She was leafing through some sort of book, a curious look on her face. She seemed to be having some sort of eureka moment, and he had no intention of interrupting, but he had to know if he could be of assistance.

“You seem preoccupied. Is something the matter?” He asked quietly, wanting to make his presence known, but having no desire to destroy her train of thought. She looked up, seemingly slightly startled, but making no physical indication of this knowin. It seemed that she had simply been so deep in thought that she hadn’t been able to sense his presence when he had approached.

“... Have you… is there a card sorting section in this library?” She asked, glancing between him and the book in her hand. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she looked almost concerned, and that in of itself was somewhat startling to him. He stepped back and turned to face the railing with her close behind him before taking the opportunity to turn towards the desk near the entrance. V gestured towards it before watching as she nodded politely and headed down towards it. Wondering what was going on, he took a moment to gently place the book back where it belonged before heading down to meet her, noticing that she was flipping through the cards on the table.

By the time he reached her, it became apparent that she had not located what she had been looking for. Her somewhat hurried and slightly alarmed minor threw him off as he contemplated if he should ask. She clearly noticed this, shaking her head slowly. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Forgive me. I found something troubling in this book, and it makes reference to a certain section “X” in this library that contains a book with the requisite information in it. But I don’t know where that section is, and I don’t see it anywhere in this guide.”

“That’s because no one goes in there, darling. Those texts are dangerous.”

Everyone in the room turned around, clearly alarmed by the presence of another individual that they had not noticed. Standing before them was a tall woman in a trailing black and silver dress with a gray hooded shawl over her head. Her face was exposed a moment later when she lowered the hood, revealing her to look very much like Magnolia and Luta. She was soaking wet, and none of them could find any indication that she particularly cared. A certain darkness almost seemed to radiate from her, making them all uneasy in different ways, specially Magnolia and Vergil, the pair seemingly recognizing her but alarmed by the state that she was in. Was something wrong with her aside from what was obvious to them? Because that was the only thing they could place.

Looking over at the two of them, the woman nodded for a moment before turning towards the stairs. She didn’t have to say that she would return. They could just feel it. And before long she vanished up the stairs, more than likely to change into something less saturated. V and Lucia both looked over Magnolia, clearly desiring an explanation as to who this absurdly unnerving woman was. Nero seemed to concur, slowly making his way over to the table and sitting down. He suddenly didn’t want to read anymore.

So… Who the hell is that?” He asked, his voice little more than a faint whisper. He didn’t seem scared so much as he was concerned, wanting to know if they were in any sort of danger. He had no idea what anyone in the Ludwig family was capable of, or if they were all on the same side. There had to be at least one outlier, didn't there?

Vergil and Magnolia shared a glance between one another as she nodded in response to her longtime friend’s unspoken question. Vergil almost seemed to pale slightly before leaning quietly on his elbow, thinking. But before any of them could inquire as to what was going on, Magnolia spoke. His voice was slightly shaky as she spoke.

“Section X is forbidden. It contains dark texts that you dare not view without the requisite knowledge. But if you must view them, that might be facilitated. And luckily for you, the only person with a key to it has just returned. Though she has changed significantly since I saw her last… ”

Making himself known for the first time in the better part of an hour, Sirrus came from behind a nearby bookcase and walked over to them before speaking quietly. He looked as though he had just seen a ghost, his normally pale complexion drained of all evidence that it had once contained blood or melanin. Magnolia’s youngest sister. Aluta. My father’s ex wife.”

(-~-)

I literally stopped to order macarons when I wrote the part about them and the eclairs. Something about it just triggered my sugar tooth. I’ve literally never eaten a macaroon in my entire life. But they are just so pretty! So anyway…

I hope you all had a great week! See you all in the comments, and on Wednesday with a new chapter! Gosh, it feels so great to say that again! I’ve missed you all! Things are about to get very interesting, and I can’t wait for you to be able to read them. I haven’t been this excited about the start of an arc since the flashback sequence!

#Hiraeth #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #V #Vitale #Devil May Cry 5 #DMC5 #DMCV #DMC #Vergil #Dante #Nero #Lucia #Nico #Magnolia #My OC

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mediaeval-muse · 4 years

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Book Review

The Rook. By Daniel O’Malley. New York: Back Bay Books, 2012.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: urban fantasy, paranormal

Part of a Series? Yes, The Chequy Files #1

Summary: "The body you are wearing used to be mine." So begins the letter Myfanwy Thomas is holding when she awakes in a London park surrounded by bodies all wearing latex gloves. With no recollection of who she is, Myfanwy must follow the instructions her former self left behind to discover her identity and track down the agents who want to destroy her. She soon learns that she is a Rook, a high-ranking member of a secret organization called the Chequy that battles the many supernatural forces at work in Britain. She also discovers that she possesses a rare, potentially deadly supernatural ability of her own. In her quest to uncover which member of the Chequy betrayed her and why, Myfanwy encounters a person with four bodies, an aristocratic woman who can enter her dreams, a secret training facility where children are transformed into deadly fighters, and a conspiracy more vast than she ever could have imagined.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content/Trigger Warnings: violence, blood, body horror

Overview: I can’t quite remember how this book fell under my radar, but it seemed like an interesting premise, so I gave it a go. Initially, it started out as a 4 star read for me - I liked the humor, the worldbuilding, and the dynamics between the main character’s pre- and post-amnesia self. Over time, however, this dropped to a three star, mostly because I felt like the tone never changed to fit the gravity of the situation, and the mystery in general was somewhat of a letdown. Still, I think that anyone who liked more light-hearted fantasy or dark humor might enjoy this book, so I recommend reading it for yourself if you’re not into grimdark supernatural worlds.

Writing: O’Malley’s prose is fitting for the type of book he’s trying to write. It’s fairly economical, and focuses more on evoking a humorous, snarky tone than an eerie atmosphere. While some may enjoy the humor and snark, I personally found it to be a double edged sword: I liked that O’Malley kept the mood light and avoided reveling in the darker aspects of his fantasy world, but I also don’t think emotionally heavy moments were given enough weight. Characters would crack jokes or be snarky at inappropriate times, often in ways that sabotaged their own goals, and it seemed like O’Malley was trying to make scenes more awkward or funny than was plausible.

I also think there were some throw-away lines or scenes that really showcased that this book was a man writing about a woman. It wasn’t so bad that it made me want to put the book down (I don’t think O’Malley was being sexist or anything, more like he was trying to be funny and the joke just didn’t land for me), it was annoying to read about Myfanwy thinking about her breasts, or about an invasive gynocological exam (even if one made sense in context, I didn’t need to be reminded that doctors were poking around in Myfanwy’s vagina).

I do think that O’Malley made a good decision by having a lot of his infodumps take the form of a letter or “encyclopedia entry.” Pre-amnesia Myfanwy writes letters and explanations of her job, her colleagues, etc. to help post-amnesia Myfanwy make sense of the supernatural world around her. Though I sometimes found reading all these texts to be exhausting, I do think that if an author is going to provide so much background information, he/she/they should do so in an interesting way that makes sense in context. The letters and entries, in my opinion, made sense in the context of the narrative, and O’Malley also made the task of writing all those things feel like something pre-amnesia Myfanwy would do.

Plot: The main plot follows Myfanwy Thomas, an administrator of sorts who loses her memory while investigating the return of her employer’s major supernatural enemy and its infiltration into their ranks. I really liked the idea of a post-amnesiac trying to pick up the pieces of her old life while keeping her amnesia under wraps just in case those closest to her are traitors, and I liked that readers able to learn about the world along with the main character.

However, I do think that not enough suspense or urgency was placed on the plot. Myfanwy didn’t seem to be in a rush to find out who had erased her memories and who tried to kill her, and scenes didn’t necessarily build on one another in a way that felt like a mystery was unfolding. For example, Myfanwy uncovers one traitor seemingly by accident, and doesn’t really bother to press them for more information when they let slip that there’s more to uncover. I wanted to follow Myfanwy as she uncovered more and more clues, but it seemed like a lot of things were happening at random until the end, when she solves the mystery and we get several pages of monologue that explains how everything happened behind the scenes (rather than on the page). I was kind of let down, to be honest, because I didn’t feel like I was being given the opportunity to guess what was going on myself.

I also wish a little more had been done with the letters past-Myfanwy wrote to present-Myfanwy. There was a sweetness to them, as past-Myfanwy seems to have great sympathy for her future self and expresses a lot of fear regarding what’s going to happen. But mostly, the letters served as infodumps, and I wish they had been used - at least sometimes - to spur some emotional growth in present-Myfanwy, or had mirrored what was going on in the present day more closely.

I also wish there had been a little more drama at the Chequy - the supernatural organization where Myfanwy works. Post-amnesia Myfanwy seems to be able to walk in and play her part with no one the wiser, which was a little implausible given that her personality is drastically different from before her amnesia and she’s so awkward that it was a wonder no one suspected something was amiss. I wanted to be a little more concerned that someone would figure out that Myfanwy was without her memory, and that it posed a threat to Myfanwy’s life. Instead, that never seemed to be an issue, just a pretense for a lot of awkwardness.

Characters: Myfanwy, our heroine, is essentially two different people before and after her amnesia. Pre-amnesia Myfanwy is shy, quiet, and something of a Type A personality who never uses her supernatural abilities unless it’s an emergency. Post-amnesia Myfanwy is assertive, snarky, and uses her abilities more liberally. Both, however, are extremely good at managing teams and keeping track of mountains of administrative paperwork. I liked that O’Malley turned “administration” into a useful skill - I feel like too often, female characters are only seen as useful if they can fight, and while Myfanwy does some of that, she also makes clear that it is her administrative abilities that make the difference in all kinds of situations. I do wish Myfanwy’s wisecracking was turned down a little, though, as it seemed to be inappropriate at times. I also wish Myfanwy had undergone more character development; she doesn’t change much over the course of the novel, except to realize that she likes her job. I wanted a little more out of her, not just a wisecracking boss who can take charge of a situation before stumbling her way through a fairly simple investigation.

The most interesting characters, at least for me, were the other members of the Chequy. The Chequy is run by a “Court,” which is made up of highly ranked officials with supernatural powers. I liked the creativity that O’Malley showed when designing them - Gestalt is a single consciousness in 4 bodies, Aldrich is a vampire, Eckhart is a chain-smoking military veteran who can control metal, etc. I do wish more was done with these characters to make their motivations more clear or more important to the overall narrative, and I wish they were a little more intelligent (they never suspect anything is amiss with Myfanwy, and even they can’t figure out anything useful about their enemy, despite Myfanwy practically stumbling onto information at random).

Myfanwy does have some female friends that I think could have been more interesting. Ingrid, her personal assistant, is something of a confidant, and I wish more had been done with that relationship to explore things like the tension between powered and non-powered people in the Chequy. Shantay, an official from the American branch of the Chequy, also had a lot of potential, and I liked that she and Myfanwy became fast friends (though I do think they dropped their professionalism a little too quickly). I wish Shantay had stuck around longer, perhaps to balance out Myfanwy’s flaws and shortcomings. Bronwyn, Myfanwy’s sister, should have been more important than she was. Bronwyn tracks down her sister after living her entire life knowing that the government took her away, and I think there’s a devotedness in that that wasn’t fully taken advantage of. The sisters’ reunion wasn’t very emotional, and Bronwyn mainly acted as a liability for when Myfanwy was threatened by her enemies.

Speaking of which, the big bad of the book - a group called the Grafters - were hardly impressive. While I liked the idea of the Chequy going up against people who could alter bodies and create monsters that resisted supernatural powers, the Grafters seemed to be invisible for most of the book, never showing themselves but sending agents to do their dirty work. I never really understood what the Grafters wanted or why they were doing things, so they felt less like a threat and more like a simple bad group of people that does bad things.

TL;DR: The Rook has an interesting premise and some creative worldbuilding, but ultimately suffers from a lack of a driving plot and too much concern with its own cleverness.

#book reviews

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thepilotanon · 5 years

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Prelude xxi

...to the forever promise {masterlist}

Heyyy everyone! I’m so sorry this has taken such a long time. I have been very busy with life, so I apologize for the delay of this chapter. But, good news, we only have one more until it’s over!! Thank you everyone who has been patient with me, and I can’t wait to see what you all think of this - it’s a very, very long chapter, so please let me know what you thought! As well, despite the last film having been released, I’m still going to write stuff for Kylo.

warning: none!

“Constructing lightsabers have been an ancient custom for whoever is gifted with the Force, and thus should be taken into consideration that this marks the next step of your place among the First Order - among my ranks, which is a great honor for you.”

Never had the Supreme Leader spoken those kinds of words to Kylo Ren, even as he stood beside the stairs leading up to the throne, where the humanoid sat and watched fondly to the woman down bellow. She wasn’t focused on Snoke, however, and more on the many nuts and bolts, metal material and wires scattered around on the black-polished floor. With little twists of her fingers and eyes hazed over in concentration, the numerous materials floated around either of the Kyber rocks resting on each of her palms. Nova was completely ignoring Snoke’s speech, and Kylo kept his eyes locked on her form just sitting there, minding her own business as she worked.

When Nova revealed her findings of being attracted to two Kyber crystals, Kylo felt a large swell of pride in his chest as his lover held them out to him, excited and eager to try and construct the hilt - or hilts - depending on what she could create with everything that was given to her. Seeing her wrapped in the assorted blankets and sheets, topped with his thick cape around her shoulders, Kylo praised her with tender kisses and proud words of how wonderful she did on her own - albeit him still being scared beyond belief during the time of their separation. There was a lot worth celebrating, and both Kylo and Nova enjoyed their time before lifting off.

But...as soon as she returned to the Supremacy, cleaned of their events and getting rid of any evidence of their coupling, Nova wasn’t excited in showing her findings to the Supreme Leader. Despite his eerie grin and curling his fingers under her chin to force eye contact, to congratulate her, Nova immediately became that closed-off, emotionless being that she fronts to Snoke ever since that first day. For Kylo, he was glad that Nova was able to hide the littlest twist of her hips and staggered steps that they both noticed during their rest.

No matter how gentle his massaged her pelvic area and asked if she was in any sort of discomfort or pain at all, she remained completely passive and happy with her current condition, not at all worried. He had her walk around the shuttle, just to be sure she wasn’t obviously limping or showing signs in similar ways for some other women who were more active, and saw that it wasn’t connected. Thankfully, seeing her only shifting in her spot when she wanted to see a piece amongst the pile, the Supreme Leader didn’t seem to notice any discomfort or change in the woman. By the sight of her being her usual, curious self with all the new materials given to her, she appeared to be just her usual (although rather tempered) self around everyone else. Kylo was thankful of how powerful Nova’s Force wall was, too.

As of now, Kylo can only wait until they returned to their chambers. However, he was much more entranced by the how lovely she looked in the spacious lighting with the stars twinking from the window behind her, her eyes focused on the tiny pieces coming together with just a twitch of her fingers, a turn of her wrists. Whenever a piece didn’t click together like she wanted, her lips formed a small pout as she attempted to redirect it a different way. She was so focused and being so careful with the materials provided to her, it was obvious how both Kylo and Snoke were surprised by her intense display of concentration and determination to build.

Lifting the two little rocks from her palms, Nova used the Force to slip the colorless minerals into the tiniest crack left from the puzzle pieces of nuts, plates and bolts. The last of the flat, metal plates slid and lock into place before dropping to each of her hands with a sort of childish triumph. Nova grinned, unlacing her legs and dropping her feet flat on the polished floor while looking at the two hilts with curious, amused eyes.

Seeing her observe her own creations, Snoke leaned back in his throne with a sort of relief. “A lightsaber made from the Kyber rock the Force-user has found on their own, this symbolizes a rite of passage to becoming even more stronger than anyone else,” he mentioned while Nova got to her feet. Seeing her test the weight of the hilts in each hand and finding that comfortable grip to hold it properly - just the same way Kylo demonstrated with his own lightsaber for her, the Supreme Leader stared with a smirk.

“And being drawn to two Kyber crystals, purely rare, but not unwelcome when it comes from you, young one,” Snoke added casually, his tone laced with his own amusement that didn’t go unnoticed by the two apprentices.

“Nova,” Snoke beckoned both apprentices’ attention to him as he focused on the young woman, “present yourself as an official apprentice to the Supreme Leader, and claim your rightful place by my side in the First Order.”

She only returned a simple blink. No emotion, no praise or beaming smiles directed towards Snoke, like she would with Kylo. Glancing back to the lightsaber hilts in her hands, Nova focused her energy to ignite the blades. Since it seems that she didn’t construct a casual switch on the outside of the plate, Kylo could see that she took notes from the encyclopedia book he let her see; should anyone get ahold on her ‘saber, they would at least have to have abilities with the Force to use it. Kylo felt proud behind the concealment of his helmet with the little tricks and notes she made while studying.

A flicker of just a pinch of her power, the blades ignited with its first spark with a rather joyous attitude - as if the Kyber crystals inside were just itching to come out. Dazzling silver sparked through the portholes of the hilt, perfectly coordinated in a straight line while Nova’s grip tightened from the surprising noise erupting from her new ‘sabers. A soft noise slipped from her, signaling her own amusement to the beautiful silver and white blending perfectly together in unison.

Kylo was also impressed by the brilliant glow, but one, lone creature didn’t seem to pleased by the contrast to the dark tiles and dark universe outside of the large glass windows.

“How plain,” Snoke drawled with a frown. “Silver-white is just so empty in general, I don’t doubt it comes from how you lack anything in your head. Your crystals must respond from your thoughts in general. This is disappointing; I was hoping for something more rare from you, but I suppose it will make due until we can have another one made.”

“I like them!” the woman protested with strong confidence, giving the Supreme Leader a shrug. “I don’t want another one.”

Snoke tilt his head, eyeing Nova with a stern glare while she gave each lightsaber a testing twirl of her wrists, one at a time. “When you encounter an enemy, you would want them to feel intimidated, realizing that the person who has appeared to battle them is someone to be reckoned with; red is most commonly associated with those who hold great power and bring fear.”

“When you encounter an enemy,” Nova replied easily, “the way you fight and have an advantage of skill and experience are much more impactful, over simple things, like appearances or what color your weapons are.”

When Snoke didn’t respond, Nova only then offered him a smile while she deactivated her lightsabers, bringing them to her chest as a sure promise that she is indeed keeping them. “Not to question from your own experiences, Snoke, but I think these lightsabers, from the Kyber crystals that I was called to, will suffice until I say so.”

Kylo watched with all stillness within him, between the two, unsure of what to do or what was going to happen, if he needed to shield Nova. Slowly, Snoke’s whole body seemed to relax, considering her words carefully with a thoughtful stare. Long fingers drum along his armrest, the Supreme Leader leaned back against the thick cushioning of his throne, pale eyes darting away from the young woman to look out to the vast scenery of stars and distant planets. Kylo watched with a drawn line to his lips as the half-humanoid reached to lightly scratch at one of the many tendons stretching along his irregular neck. Seeming to be now bored with the presence and voices beside his own, Snoke closed his eyes and waved his hand with a bored pace.

“So be it, if that is what seems befitting for you, young Nova.”

xxx.

As such, as same as it was when Nova held Kylo’s lightsaber so long ago, Nova was just as strong and powerful wielding her own - if not more with a weapon fashioned to fit her perfectly.

Whether it was with one or two lightsabers, as the Supreme Leader would command that she would use however many, Nova seemed to have it down to the last detail of aiming to destroy every training droid provided as well as knock any opponent unconscious. Even with Snoke giving her direct orders to slay her living sparring partners, she simply would ignore him and claim her win by pinning them with her abilities. Kylo never reprimanded Nova over that, even in the safety of their quarters. Kylo knew her morals compared to his own among the First Order, especially if she can teach her sparring partner how to learn from their mistakes. Even when Snoke had Kylo and Nova spar against each other, it would normally come out to a draw, or go too long for the Supreme Leader’s liking to seek out a winner. They promised each other not to hold back, when fighting against each other, so long as they promise to help tend to each other’s bruises and burns with affection.

Whenever they would return, Kylo would take her hands in both of his and bring them to his mouth. Pressing kisses to each of her palms, each finger, he would look deep in her eyes and whisper, “You did well today.” Nova’s only response would just be a glittering smile before slipping her hands around the back of his head and neck, then pulling him down for a kiss that spoke the same sentiment, and more.

There were times when it wasn’t as such. Training had gone too long and too hard for either of them, and it takes to walking through the threshold to finally break down and expose their worst selves that they hide from everyone else. A mission Kylo was sent to deal in the Supreme Leader’s place had gone wrong, and it was the said instructor who placed all the blame to his first apprentice for his lack of planning. Nova was emotionally strained by Snoke’s constant pressure of her origins and bleeding bad memories of her old life during meditations, in the meantime of waiting for Kylo to return. Both of them worn down to the point that they just lie on the cold ground of either one’s quarters, and Kylo found himself reaching to check if her pulse was calming down at all, despite his body hating the motion. They both suffered together, yes, but there were still many times that they had separate training sessions with the Supreme Leader, and it was always a reopened wound. To them, no matter how bad it would be, bruises and bleeding and crying, they had comfort with one another...

Sometimes - just sometimes - Kylo Ren will have days where he just can’t take seeing another face or be around others who don’t understand how he needed some sort of comfort.

As soon as Kylo was dismissed, he marched into his quarters. Inside, without even needing to check, he knew Nova was waiting for him - having been training the Knights and doing her own sort of schedule that day, while Kylo was at Snoke’s beck and call since he awoke that cycle. Their morning departure was quick, but Nova made sure to assure him through their wall that she will wait for him to come home.

As promised, Nova was waiting on her toes, hopping a little bit, as she was ready to practically pounce onto Kylo’s arms as soon as he walked in. Taking the first steps towards his towering form, ready to welcome him back, Nova stopped when she sensed the immediate negative emotions building up underneath all those layers of armor and his heavy mask.

Frowning, Nova approached him and kept her gaze locked up to his hidden face beneath the dark shield. Raising her hands, she waited patiently to be granted permission. Once Kylo tilt his helmet more towards her way, she hooked her thumbs under each side, causing it to hiss to properly unlock, carefully lifting it off his head. Thick, dark locks spilled and tired, sad eyes stared back to her sparkling ones; his jaw tense and teeth grinding, his breathing was at a proper pace, yet held a sort of stiffness of holding back on the inside. Brows narrowed, Kylo was as tight and taut as a freshly woven basket and glued together with the strongest of material. He was sweaty from training and punishment, tired, yet completely alert to everything, despite being hidden from the rest of the galaxy. He can’t hide anything from her, and he didn’t want to.

Setting the helmet aside, the woman then undid the hard clasp of his cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground before taking his hands to remove his gloves. When she finished with that, Nova then leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him and buried her face into his clothed chest. Inhaling the scent of metal, sweat and warmed leather, she pushed through the Force to expand her wall, allowing Kylo to feel it grow thicker and stronger over them both, like a blanket. Closing her eyes, Nova nuzzled into him and listened to his heartbeat.

“Please,” she whispered, voice soft and sweet and vibrating into his bones like a sweet relief, “can you show me?”

Closing his eyes, Kylo willingly showed her what started the weight on his shoulders, when Snoke criticized his planning for a future mission and going over maps and locations. Tangling his naked hands through her fingers and holding on, Kylo showed her his intended plan to take the Knights and a small squadron of Stormtroopers through a specific route, only to be slammed by Snoke with the Force to the floor, being called a thousand and one names of stupidity and how it was a direct walk to their deaths by hidden dugouts...that was never mentioned on the map to begin with. An instant failure and mockery towards the First Order. Afterwards, Snoke pushed and pushed him through vigorous training beyond the point of straining his muscles and nerves to set on fire, nearing to the point of collapsing from exhaustion. Every word hanging over his head like fireworks, sparking another layer-after-layer of hatred for himself, echoing constantly.

Nova could feel every bit of pain and internal displeasure of himself; over everything he hasn’t even done, but it was all set in stone by the Supreme Leader instead, taking over Kylo’s conscience.

She didn’t like that one bit.

Everything was becoming too much for him. He felt worthless outside of his quarters, and he was sick of it. Leaning back and reaching with his hand, he tilt her chin up, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “Will you tell me about your day?” His voice was quiet, yet their close proximity had Nova feel it under her skin. “From the very beginning, everything.”

Nova leaned into his clammy palm, cuddling into it. “Yes.” She tugged on his thick-padded top and gave him a soft smile. “In the bath?”

Hot, scented water and his lover’s hands massaging his scalp, Kylo wanted nothing more than to freeze time and remain melted in the tub. The shampoo smelled herbal with a hint of fruitiness, making his eyelids feel heavy and the sound of Nova speaking to him helped him feel at ease. Her hands touched the spots where Snoke hit him on the head and pushed headaches, her fingers caress the back of his neck and shoulders to remove the suds, and he pressed himself further to her touch. She practically erased every discomfort with a simple touch.

“I learned about the planet called Endor, while I was waiting for you,” she said with a rather proud voice, and Kylo knew she was. She always felt a swell of joy and achievement in learning something new, and Kylo always praised her when she discovered something new. For her to try and go further into her own knowledge about the galaxy is still a lot for her to take in, but Kylo adored her dedication and joy of discovery. “The main planet itself is uninhabitable, but, from what I read, the moons are known to contain life! They have forests on the moons. There’s one called Sistermoon, and Endor’s Forest Moon, which I don’t...understand why they don’t call that Endor you can live on that.”

“They also call Endor’s Forest Moon Endor, as well,” he responded with an amused hum. “Either one, majority of people will know which one you’re talking about, my love.”

“Oh!” Discovering this new-new information, Nova smiled and helped Kylo rinse his hair. “Well then, I also learned about the creatures that live on Endor, called Ewoks. They’re the majority of the planet’s civil population. They’re apparently short, yet fierce and rarely fear anything to survive.”

Kylo hummed, turning in the tub and carefully taking hold of her with gentle hands. Bringing her closer to him within the steaming water, he brought her to sit on his lap and held her face within his large hands. She smiled bigger, holding his wrists when she booped her nose against his for a moment.

“I would like to see Endor,” she told him honestly. “Someday, maybe, and maybe meet an Ewok and see how they live naturally. It would be interesting to learn how they survived for so long with much bigger predators.”

“They’re not as bright, but they are smart enough to survive.” Seeing how her eyes brightened, the corner of his lips twitched upward as he leaned back against the tub, letting her tangle their fingers and press their palms together. “Fuzzy little demons, really hold no mercy towards anyone or anything they’re not familiar with; they will certainly try to see if you’re something edible, or to be feared.”

“You’ve seen them?”

Kylo swallowed and looked down to the water between them, unsure of how to go on with the conversation taking a direction he didn’t want to go. Feeling his lover’s hands squeeze his lightly, Kylo wasn’t expecting her to tuck herself under his chin and press little kisses to his throat before nuzzling against him.

“Maybe we can see them together, when we’re not busy someday, and we’re next to the planet.” Her voice was gentle, refusing to push him to look back to his memories of him as a child, his parents bringing him to to meet a particular fuzzball named Wicket and his family - all while Snoke’s taunts echoed in the back of his mind of how weak-minded he was.

Nova’s lips pressed to his pulse, and Kylo stroked his wet fingertips against the short strands at the nape of her neck, where the rest of her hair was tied up to avoid getting wet. “Someday?”

Closing his eyes, he thought about the idea of his Nova trying to communicate with an Ewok, more than likely wanting to hold their spears. The idea of it made him cough a small laugh. “Yes, we can do that,” he agreed. “Someday.”

“I’ve worked with many spears and more primitive-type weapons,” she went on, “but I would find it more honorable to meet one of them, and then be given permission to hold it. They seem to be very proud of their creations, like they can do anything together. What do you think?”

Nodding, Kylo let her run one of her hands up and down his naked chest, freshly washed and finally calmed down with just a simple bath and letting her speak to him. Leaning down, he caught her lips with his own and kissed her slowly. Taking the time to move, to taste each other with the thanks of the humidity from the steam and the scented oils of the bathwater, they both parted with a soft sighs. Nova appeared in a happy daze from long kisses, eyes closed and a sleepy smile on her face while he wrapped his arms around her naked form. A quick, soft kiss to her shoulder, Kylo rest his head on the same spot and exhaled long and deep.

“I think you’re right.”

xxx.

Waking up before the holoclock were to go off, Kylo reached over with one arm to switch the alarm off before it could make any noise within the next minute, then rolled over. Dragging the same arm over with sluggish effort, he wrapped the limb around the blanketed body curled underneath, burying his nose into Nova’s hair and sighing heavily. Feeling her body shift underneath the blanket, Kylo did his best to keep her within his embrace once she turned around to face him. Hearing her sniff and nuzzle her way into a warm pocket underneath his chin, he slowly stroked her back with his thumb. They both really enjoyed the warmth they create together in the otherwise chilly bedchamber.

She spoke in a very quiet voice, still lined with sleepiness, with an excited wiggle. “Is it time to get up?”

“In a little while,” he responded, sinking further into the bed and bringing her along. “We’re not needed until mid-cycle.”

Feeling her hips rock and a warm palm press against his naked chest, Kylo rolled to his back and allowed Nova to crawl up to straddle him. He made sure the blanket didn’t fall off her body, so she remained warm, his hands keeping her steady and sliding his thumbs under her night shirt to caress her skin affectionately.

Sitting with a straight back, Nova gave him a gentle smile. “I’m excited,” she told him matter-of-factly, her little hands coming to rest on his forearms while he took a deep breath, a very small smile on his face. “I’m very excited.”

“I know,” Kylo responded much more softly, his hands rising up to trace the curves of her side and the faint scars around her ribs. “I’m excited, too. But, you need to remember, it’s still too early to be up and roaming around for a mission.”

This made her wrinkle her nose a bit, but smile bigger. “I know.” Relaxing a bit, the woman leaned forward and propped her chin on the back of her hand, her eyes shimmering from the lights of distant stars while gazing at him sweetly. “Do you think they will care about how we’re dressed? I don’t think it matters much, does it? But, there are also so many other kinds…so much in the galaxy. It’s all different and overwhelming.”

Kylo leisurely stroked her spine, yawning before answering her. “Would you prefer not to go?” he asked, a hint of teasing that she instantly caught. He didn’t bother to hide his smallest smirk when he raised her head to look at him. “Based on the fact that you’re unsure of how you’re dressed.”

Grasping his head to keep him still, Nova bit down in the skin that connected between his neck and shoulder. She could feel the vibrations of his chuckle and his big, warm hands sliding down to grab her bottom and suddenly rolling them over so he was on top. Nova threw her head back against a pillow to try and hide her laughter. With her pressed against the mattress, she felt giddy when Kylo pushed his nose and mouth against her pulse on her neck, tickling her with nuzzles and kisses and soft bites. Wrapping her arms around him, Nova made herself small in his hold and soaked in his warmth. Hands tangled in his hair, she sighed and relaxed in his hold while he did all the work to have her submit to him.

“I want to go,” she told him, voice soft. “I want to go right now, and see it all.”

Kissing under her jaw, Kylo hummed against her softly, resting all his weight on her in a sort of comfort that kept her stable from her excitement. “You will, I promise. You just need to be patient and wait for the rest of the crew to come up and ready to go. Remember, this is a usual search-and-retrieve mission.”

“Do not tell me you’re not excited, too,” she mumbled, leaning her head against his and closing her eyes. One of his big hands detangled hers out of his hair and laced their fingers against the pillow, and he turned his head to press his nose to her cheek, kissing the spot a few times. “You want to go as much as I do, Kylo.”

“Yes, but I know how to maintain patience.”

Nova hummed softly, squeezing her hold on his hand while the other slipped to his naked back. There was a thick layer of bacta glued to his back, stretching from the curve of his shoulder and down the side of his spine; gentle fingertips touched the bruised skin beside the material, stroking his lower ribs.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

Kylo took a deep breath. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure -?” Caught off by him pulling her into a kiss, Nova made a soft noise of disappointment when he pulled back and sat up from the bed. Watching him leave the bed and approaching his closet to pull out his usual armor from their orderly place, Nova wrapped herself with the dark blanket and sat up.

Seeing him put on his undershirt on first, Nova blew air into her cheeks when he covered his back and bacta patches from her view. She knew how he obtained the wound from Snoke, and how it was uncomfortable for him to relax on his back for a good long while - even trying to bend forward or back was a hassle. The new weaponry given to the Praetorian Guards, gifted by Snoke and his personal craftsmen experimenting with plasma blades, were new to everyone. Letting Nova have firsthand to inspect and decide how they would play out, Snoke then pushed Kylo into the fighting pit for a test run before she could even suggest anything to reduce any physical harm…

Kylo came out victorious, winning with his life and a new wound to heal into a faded scar.

“Nova.”

Getting up from the bed, Nova stood with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders as he approached. Allowing him to hold her face with both hands, Nova looked up to meet his gaze with a small smile on her lips. Resting his forehead to hers, he showed her how he was relaxed on the inside, that the wound was no longer bothering him in the slightest, thanks to the bacta patch she generously placed on him.

“It’s nothing,” he whispered, his voice holding so much more emotion than his face could expose. She looked further through the Force, just to make sure, and this action caused him to chuckle under his breath.

“It’s nothing,” she agreed, earning her a kiss. “But you will tell me, if it is?”

“Of course.” A pinch of a smirk on his lips, Kylo flicked a stand of her hair out of her forehead. “Besides, I could never hide anything from you, even if I tried, and you know that. You’re too powerful for me to hide anything.”

“I’m not powerful.” she rebuked with a flushed expression, her eyes watering for a moment and pushing herself to hide her face into his pectorals. Letting him hold her close and press his mouth to her hair, Nova closed her eyes and hugged him back tightly. “But, you can’t hide anything.”

“No, I can’t. Not from you,” he murmured to her and she felt herself warm under her skin. She was blushing, and he knew it. Kylo was finding this entirely amusing, teasing her, and she bit him through the thin material of his undershirt, right on his chest. He chuckled and gently took hold of her face in one of his big hands and lifted her gaze up to him, forcing eye contact until she smiled from the silly situation.

He kissed between her brows before letting her go. “Go on and get ready. I’ll see you in a while.”

Nova didn’t take long to get ready, dressing herself along with a cowl and coat (as per instruction from both Kylo and the Supreme Leader), she did her braid perfectly and took off out of the secluded quarter hall to catch BB-9E and another droid rolling by, instantly getting her attention as she turned her body completely around and kept up the pace in a single line with the two rolling robots. She greeted the usual officers who strode past her in the early morning of the cycle, until nearly tripping over the specific droid Phasma worked alongside with.

BB-9E blipped and whirred, turning its head around, allowing the other droid to continue on while Nova gave it a bright smile. “Hi, Niney,” she greeted, crouching down in the middle of the hallway to its level. “How are you doing today?”

The droid made a low hum before doing a few circles around her crouched form before properly responding. None of the officers passing by gave her a second glance, so used to her speaking to that particular BB unit. “Yes, I have a mission today; I’m going to be going with Kylo, the Knights and Phasma with a few of her ‘troopers I’ve helped train, as an extra support.” BB-9E made a few beeps and Nova nodded. “It’s to the planet of Coruscant, yes. Snoke wants us to go to a palace. I’ve never been to a palace before…”

Seeing her think more to herself for the moment, BB-9E beeped for her attention and beckoned for her to follow. It led her towards the mess hall to get something to eat before having to leave, refusing to let her leave until she grabbed a hunk of baked bread and ate half of it before being allowed - continuing to munch on the bread as she followed the droid.

“You’re not coming with?” she asked next, holding a casual conversation with a droid while a couple officers gave her a second glance with how she treated such a random astromech tool like it was an actual living being. BB-9E, despite its usual strict-to-work attitude, responded to her anyway. “That’s too bad. Maybe you can come with us someday, Niney. It would be fun to have you come along.”

BB-9E made a retort-sounding whirr that made her grin. “No, you’re fun to me. You always let me play with you and the other droids.” Another single beep. “You would be told to remain in the ship? What if we needed navigation on a planet?” A beep and a low hum. “Depends on the planet… I guess, I really don’t know much about droids. Will you explain it more to me, when I come back?”

The astromech droid made a response before rolling off to begin its duties within the hangar of the Supremacy, leaving Nova to look around the area to the mechanics starting up with their first check-ins and tune-ups ready to be worked on. Some stormtroopers where already up and about, minus the few Nova recognizes from their signatures from her lessons, Captain Phasma having them stand in a lineup all properly.

Seeing Phasma, Nova was quick to hurry over and press her hands on the Captain’s forearm, grinning excitedly. “Good morning, Phasma!” she said loud enough to let the whole hangar know she had arrived. Then, looking to the ‘troopers, Nova offered them a polite smile to them. “Good morning to you all, too. How are you all doing today?”

Knowing they weren’t going to verbally respond, Nova smiled at them again before looking to the shuttle they were to take. Seeing that it was Kylo’s command shuttle, she felt a sort of excitement of getting to get out of the Supremacy and onto a more civilized planet with people she has grown used to being around. Looking over the shuttle itself, she began wandering around the hangar, seeing the droids and mechanics finish the last pieces of the check-ins before the pilot is to take off, allowing Phasma to continue on with her routine before Kylo and the Knights to arrive.

Knowing what today is suppose to hold for her, Nova couldn’t contain the big grin to hide in the collar of her coat; getting to see a new planet that she’s only heard about from stories, and looking to people’s memories of it, and now getting to make something special for herself to keep. Perhaps, maybe, she could share her own story with trustworthy people someday, but she knew better that right now it wasn’t the right time to let too many people know regardless.

Still, remembering that this is the very same shuttle that picked her up from Bavva III, a part of her couldn’t really believe how much her own life had changed.

Reaching out to poke the sheen material of the shuttle, Nova snickered to herself when a familiar leather glove grasped her shoulder. Leaning her head back with a bright smile, she caught Kylo’s visors looking at her with a rather questionable tilt of his head.

“What are you doing?” he asked her, and she could imagine him raising his brows at her behavior.

Looking to the side to see the Knights of Ren waiting for Captain Phasma to load her squad first, Nova turned around to face him. “Do they always clean and polish your shuttle before every job you go on? I don’t see a single scratch on it, and I know this spacecraft has been on many planets that are not clean.” As if to make a point, she reached over behind her and pressed the pad of her finger on the outer wall and slid her finger a bit, causing a small squeak to erupt and her amusement to spark. “See! It’s super clean and polished. Do you request that your shuttle has to be polished after every use? Is it your favorite?”

“The shuttle is convenient to carry more supplies and people, if necessary. It doesn’t quite make it a favorite of mine,” he explained simply, only because she asked him. “You should get onboard, so we can go on ahead and leave.”

Nova’s eyes narrowed playfully as she let Kylo gently guide by her shoulder towards the loading ramp. “You still didn’t answer my question, if they have to clean and shine your shuttle every time you use it.”

Within his helmet, Kylo smirked and rolled his eyes. He urged her once more to go and join the Knights and Phasma. Snickering, she followed his silent instruction, allowing him to escort her the couple feet over. “I’ll have to let you know, when the time is more appropriate for this conversation, Nova,” he told her. With a little, gentle nudge to her lower back, he waited until she mounted the ramp at the sight of Phasma’s chrome plating. “And, now is not the proper time.”

“Yeah, I know,” she hummed with a roll of her eyes, jumping onto the ledge of the threshold. “But you promise you’ll answer later.”

Kylo knew he didn’t really have a choice in the matter, allowing the shuttle door to close in time for Nova to take her seat right next to Phasma, chatting away, and make his own quick pace to the cockpit to take-off from the hangar and in the direction of the illuminated planet.

xxx.

The Imperial Palace itself was someplace that held a lot of history, and Nova knew this once she caught sight of the building adorning withering tapestries of the Empire emblem. Fading red and black made the weathered building look more poorly kept more than it actually was, but she supposed it was to make it as a statement to the rest of the galaxy; she had seen this tactic used before back on Bavva III of those who ever attempted to go against the planet’s system way of living - although more gruesome, she didn’t doubt that there could have been many who would have wanted to use particular deceased heads on stakes. She didn’t see the charm on what it was forced to be made into, but could still feel what it was originally built for.

Halting as an empty corridor, filled with empty shelves and slots that would have once held precious material of scrolls, chips and discs, Nova sensed different arrays of emotions and memories. A curious mind looking up in wonder to a mentor as they show a new lesson from an ancient text. The same one trying to climb the shelves, but then use their limited abilities to tip the text over for them to catch, being too young and shy to ask for help. The same little one who tried to hide during the chaos of an invasion by someone they trusted -

“Nova,” Kylo’s voice called out to her, making her turn her attention to see him taking off his helmet with Phasma standing not too far, armed and ready as always. The Knights were left outside of the palace to stand guard with the rest of the ‘troopers. As far as Kylo told her, no one ever entered inside the palace anymore, fearing of the history becoming a possible curse to whoever went too far to disturb the ghosts that were resting inside. Still, it never hurt to take extra precautions on the outside, as well as getting distance.

Looking down to her, Kylo extended an open palm towards her. “May I please have it?” he asked her, and she smiled warmly at him as she dug into her pouches hidden underneath the cowl she wore.

Pulling out transparent hard drives with scratched out Aurebesh on the tags, Nova dutifully placed the three pieces into Kylo’s gloved hand. He then turned and held that hand out beside him. “Captain, if you will take these for the time being,” he instructed as the chrome plated woman stepped forward to take them.

Nova blinked and pouted at him in confusion. “You don’t trust me to hold the maps?”

“No.” Kylo removed his gloves and tucked them away before taking her hands in his own, lifting them to press a quick kiss to her knuckles to ensure his claim. “I just...don’t want him to be a part of it in any way. Not between us.”

Phasma made an amused tilt of her helmet as she hid the items away completely, Nova could sense the need to really push Kylo’s buttons, but was holding back. Kylo gave her a hard look and she simply shrugged. “I didn’t say anything, Commander.”

“Ahh, it’s a Commander that is roaming around here now? Though I sense another,” an elderly, raspy voice slipped into the chamber, making the three turn to see a human-hybrid man waddling out from wherever he was hiding.

Well, not much of hiding from Nova, when she pointed out to Kylo hours before that there was a man inside this particular room.

With his discolored tan and green face giving them all a toothless grin, the man reached with his elongated finger to point at Nova. Kylo instinctively moved his arm to somewhat shield her from the stranger. “There you are! Not only the Commander is one of ‘em, but so are you, young one!” he pointed out excitedly. “Oh wonder, how exciting. Never seen this many Force-sensitives in here before - and this place once held a whole lot of ‘em!”

“So, you’re Force-sensitive as well?” Kylo questioned with furrowed brows, pushing his abilities out to see for himself. Frowning deeper, Kylo returned to holding Nova’s hand. “You have it...barely to the point of only sensing others up close, but nothing else.”

“I like your droid! Better than them stormtroopers that used to come in and always rummagin’ through my collection o’stuff!” the man said pointedly while staring at Phasma, reaching with the same finger to poke her breast-plate, which Phasma smacked out of the way harshly. “Oh! Not a droid! It’s a person inside - how do you stay so still?”

Phasma looked to Kylo. “Are you seriously considering thinking that this man is the one you’re looking for, Commander?” Phasma asked bluntly. “There is no one else inside the Palace. We can easily go to the lower district of the planet and find someone else with more dignity...and more hygiene, than this homeless rodent.”

Kylo immediately went back to being his usual firm, direct self that made Nova hide her grin. “We’re looking for someone named Korol, and we’ve been told that he roams and resides in the old Jedi Temple. Are you him, or not.”

“I am Korol that roams and resides in the Palace, yes! It’s my palace now,” the man, Korol, chuckled gleefully. “Although, I always welcome guests who acknowledge me! I presume I am either in trouble with the Empire, looking at this not-droid-stormtrooper?”

“We are not the Empire,” Kylo corrected him firmly. “We seek you, because we have been told that you are able to proceed with marrying those who can not do so legally, or who do not have the required permission to do so.”

“Aye, that would be me!” Korol bounced. “But I saw you wanderin’ ‘round the Palace and take some ol’ garbage. You took bits of a map, I heard and saw! And, since you are a Commander with a stormtrooper, you must be here for official business!”

“We’ve finished with our mission,” Nova said before Kylo squeezed her hand to silent her. This made Korol grin even bigger; Kylo wasn’t too sure what the man was mixed with, since it seems that his skin and bones stretched longer than usual for a human.

“So, a marriage, is it? That’s a big commitment,” Korol drawled and began to wander around the empty archive, seeming to contemplate the request. “Haven’t done a wedding in a while - what belief do you two have? Is it the same, or not?”

Nova and Kylo seemed confused by the question, looking at each other for a brief moment before Korol popped beside them, staring at the taller man with a cheshire grin. “You, I see, have been raised to witness many. Certainly you’ve seen some weddings in your youth and asked questions when you could. The more usual, traditional kind of vows and rings, witness and a celebration with family, isn’t that right?”

Kylo didn’t have the chance to respond before the humanoid turned to Nova, more gentle and patient. “You, on the other hand, my dear beauty,” he said softly, “have never seen any sort of matrimony, only heard of your customs through others. Your rings are worn around your necks, wrists and ankles, instead of on the fingers.”

The Commander was about to snap at the creature, but Nova simply shrugged and gave Korol an honest, genuine answer. “No, I’ve never seen a wedding or a union of people, but I certainly do know that what I feel for Kylo is more beyond of what I was ever taught in my life. My very heart doesn’t belong to anyone else, but him. Surely, that’s enough for you to accept our request to marry us.

“I don’t need a ring, or any promise to a Master during a ceremony of promising ourselves to each other, if we were to be sold off, because I know as well as you do that we already stand by what we want, and our future is nonexistent without the other,” Nova went on with a smile. “You can see that, can’t you?”

Korol made an odd laugh as he jumped and clapped. “You’re a special one, yes! You can see more than what anyone else can, yes you can. I certainly can’t lie to you! You see what I see of you two!”

“So, is there going to be a wedding, or not,” Phasma blurted rather impatiently. “Because, if I may be honest with all of you, I can think of many other things I could be doing right now, instead of listening to this weird man. Commander, you know I’m really doing this because she asked me to, but this little creeper is -”

“Of course there will be a wedding,” Korol announced gleefully. “This is going to be the most genuine, the most best wedding I’ve ever officiated on this planet. Never mind the beliefs, you two have all you need, just do as I say for the most simple wedding ceremony I’ve learned.”

Korol went to what used to be a main desk of the archive hall, beckoning them over to follow. He was brief to make Kylo and Nova stand accordingly, encouraging them to hold hands - which Kylo had no problem with as he held Nova’s hands firmly within his own, his head twisting around to make sure he kept his eyes on the odd humanoid. With Phasma, after being slapped on the hand, it seemed Korol learned his lesson from touching the Captain’s armor; easily requesting her to stand to the side as a simple witness. Korol took a few hobbling steps back to look at the scene in front of him, then scurrying around the main desk and climbing on. For the humanoid-hybrid, he seemed a lot more delighted by the situation than the two who were intended to marry (although, both Kylo and Nova mentally agree that it just happens to be the whole set-up of being within an abandoned palace with a hermit officiating their wedding). From what Nova could sense, Phasma was just here to be a witness in favor of both of them…

“Because it seems there is a level of secrecy for this wonderful moment, I won’t ask for your names. Your presence here is enough to satisfy the union,” Korol explained with a smile. Then, looking to Nova, he rest his mixed-colored palm on top of her braids, patting politely. “My dear, would you like to state your vows first?”

Nova looked between him and Kylo for a moment, her husband-to-be’s eyes patient as ever while he held her hands. Korol took notice of her hestitance and pressed his fingers together, like a wise elder educating his pupil. “A vow, dear, is like giving a promise of what you intent to provide within your marriage. Most will often say ‘until death do you part’, but I much rather leave it open for you to decide what will suffice. Not everyone agrees with the death section of the traditional vows. If that will work for you, sir?”

Kylo didn’t spare another glance at Korol. “She can do whatever she pleases,” he explained, his thumbs caressing her knuckles to make her smile with a bit more confidence.

Feeling her cheeks warm and her chest thumping with her heart hammering against her ribcage, she felt the words slip from her lips with such ease and yet with an overwhelming effect.

“Before meeting you, I never thought I could live another day with where I once was. I was trapped in a place with no way out, and I was willing to accept my fate as nothing more than someone else’s benefit,” she began, her hands holding his a little bit tighter. “I never thought my life was worth anything, until you came to me and said my name. No one had ever done such a thing for me, like all the things you’ve done from the smallest gestures; you let me read, to learn what I can do, and allowed me to have a voice for the first time in my life, and there is so much more that you’ve done that I can’t even begin to list.

“I can’t thank you enough for everyone you have done for me, since that day you came to that damn planet. I don’t think there’s enough time left of my life to do so,” she snorted with her own amusement. “Instead, I want to give you everything I have and all that I am to you; you taught me that I can be more than just nothing, and that I am allowed to feel things that I was always told I couldn’t. I will give you my heart, my body and everything else I can to you and, hopefully, that will just be enough to repay a piece of all you’ve done for me.”

Looking up to him, trying to keep all her tears at bay, because she couldn’t see how crying was acceptable for her pouring her heart out in a time of happiness to let them slip. “I love you,” she told him. “I loved you the first day, before I even knew what love was; I loved you when I first said it to you, and every time after, and I love you today and now. And, I vow to you, even after either one of us is long gone from this vast galaxy of existing, that I will love you forever for as long as the Force thrives and even once if it disappears. I will do everything I can to be the best wife you could ever ask for, and promise to make every moment we spend together worthwhile. I vow to the wondrous galaxy that I will forever be yours and yours alone.”

Taking a deep breath, refusing to break eye contact with him and trying so hard not to cry, Nova felt his response grow tenfold and melt into her Force signature with the same sentiment and emotions that she was projecting to him. Korol hummed in approval and she sensed Phasma was doing her very best to resist her own emotions overtaking her usual stoic posture, making Nova feel a swell of pride in making the one she considered a friend to feel emotional over something that truly came from her heart.

“And now, young man,” Korol spoke, turning his nose to Kylo, who remained staring at Nova, “it’s your turn to say your vows, if you wish.”

What was next was not what anyone expected.

Releasing her hands for just a moment, Kylo moved his cloak away from the backside of his legs as he slowly got to his knees. Still, despite the major difference with his long legs folding in half, he was still fairly tall - a thought that amused Nova so much and he returned it through their bond with a teasing tickle. Settling into a comfortable position, similar yet different to how he would when addressed to Snoke, he took one of her hands. There was a sense of being another level above the Supreme Leader that sparked inside Phasma and Nova together, and he looked up to his beloved as if she was the holiest being known to exist.

“I am a man of many sins, and of a family with a history that no one will forget,” he said with so much confidence. “Meeting you was the first time I was being seen differently than I ever experienced in my life. I will continue to have blood stain my hands and destroy things without abandon, but now for a whole new different purpose.

“I vow to you, my love, that you will see the galaxy in all its glory and terror that you have yet to see for yourself,” Kylo declared. “I will take whatever blade and bullet that will be aimed at you upon myself, and make whoever dares to bring harm to you suffer. The galaxy is not worthy of you yet, and I will make it my mission to morph it into a perfect utopia of peace and order, all for you.”

With the one hand he was holding, he opened her palm and brought it to rest against his bare cheek and closed his eyes. “I will fight all the armies and kill anyone who tries to take you away from me, even our own Master, if it came to that. My loyalty may be with the Order, but my heart only belongs to you. You are the stars that light up the black mass in my chest, the reason I keep fighting and training to make a better future for you.”

Turning to nuzzle her wrist, Kylo’s lips twitched. “I vow to protect you, treat you as my equal and bring you the happiness that you deserve from the day you first drew breath, for all that I am capable. I will fight for you, sacrifice my life in order for you to live and see the peaceful future that I will build for you. I vow to be the best husband, and be forever yours, for my heart and life belong to you and no one else.”

Korol looked between them and then to Phasma. He seem to have waited for some kind of response from the witness and had gotten what he wanted, because pat his palms on top of both Kylo and Nova’s heads and tilt his head back. A blissful smile on his aged face, Korol hummed once more before speaking.

“By the power invested within me, I hereby proclaim with my life that you two are husband and wife,” he announced, the echo of the archive hall echoing his voice at a perfect volume. “By your witness as proof, and within these ancient walls, you may now kiss your beloved, and let your hearts become one.”

Kylo was quick to get back on his feet and take hold of Nova’s face by gently cupping them with both of his large hands, kneeling down to kiss her when Nova jumped on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Phasma knew that both of them sensed her grin and happy tears staining the inside of her helmet, but she would let this one slide for being allowed to attend the wedding.

xxx.

“Did you see anyone inside the Palace, Madam Nova?” Lumiya asked curiously, whispering as quietly as possible. “Or see any ghosts?”

“No? Do people live inside anymore?” Nova asked back with a confused frown, making Lumiya flustered under her mask and look away from her, facing the ground.

“Well, knowing what history that place holds, I remember hearing how this place still echoes the dying screams and orders of the Emperor. I grew up not too far from here, so, you know, stories get around.” Standing up straight, she did her best not to emanate her past when Kylo Ren was nearby, leading the group away and back to the shuttle.

“Well, I hope this doesn’t disappoint you, but I didn’t sense any other lifeforms inside, besides Phasma, Kylo and myself. There was a lot of dust and broken things inside,” Nova told her with a shrug.

“It doesn’t. It feels more relieving, actually, knowing that no one dares to enter such a place. And the mission was a success, so the Supreme Leader will be more than pleased that you got what we came for.”

Watching for the group of First Order personnel leave down the gateway of the old palace, Korol smiled to himself as he returned indoors to the archive hall. Hobbling over to a singular pillar that held an archway above, Korol felt around the old, worn-out panelboard until he found a functioning switch to bring up a half-formed hologram.

Reaching to the hologram, he ejected the small drive from the slot provided and took hold of the blue colored block and placed it in his pocket, patting the newly added lump.

“Another nice piece for my good ol’ collection, mm?” Korol chuckled to himself as he turned back to see the sunset, the same direction the secret newlyweds and their entourage faded off to. “Could really sense the bonding of their love for one another - don’t find that from the First Order nowadays, no sir. Those two must be the best match, if I’ve ever seen one…”

Laughing freely, Korol scurried over to a hidden corridor - a vent that has been pried open with a tool some odd years back - and stuck his irregularly shaped head inside. The vent was illuminated from dated lights, making the pile of collected hard drives and security footage seem to sparkle like little diamonds.

Taking the chip in his pocket, Korol was careful to set it gently among the rest of the collection, adding another piece of light reflecting off of it. He smiled proudly before pulling back out of the vent and sat on the ground with a pleased sigh.

“Yes, it’s good to put more happy memories in the walls,” he told himself with a toothless grin. “Good ol’ collection is gonna overpower all the sad memories with all the good, thanks to those two newlyweds.”

Fun fact: Korol is a canon name in the SW universe, who is rumored to be an ancestor of Han Solo. Can anyone guess what they went to go retrieve from the Temple/Palace? c:

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Remember, if you would like to be tagged for future chapters, please don’t hesitate to message me! I’d be more than happy to add you. Thank you for reading and I hope to hear from you!

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shamelesslypoetic · 5 years

Text

I: The Birds and The Dee

Summary: The Forrester household is home to four pets. Dastan’s ball python, Nova, who bit Park in the ankle is one of them. To make up for it, Dee decides to increase the pet count to five but ends up getting two more. TW: Self-deprecation, body image issues, snakes, strippers Word count: 2.4k

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Nova’s eyes narrowed as her tongue flicked out at me, rolling up and down in the air as I fixed her with a firm glare. Squirming, she looked away. I followed her gaze to the bird she'd killed and felt a slight twinge of guilt. Grave mistake keeping her cage open by the window. Park would be devastated. The pain he went through was enough so I decided not to tell him. A groan sounded from Park’s room. Sighing, I pulled a pillow over my head, frustrated that, yesterday, she’d gotten out and bit him. Because he’s Park, of course, he kept telling me it didn’t matter, that he was okay and that he’d ‘tempted’ her by wearing gray socks with mouse patterns. I knew better, though. So fragile despite the strength of his mind, my brother bruised very easily.

Distraction. I need a distraction. My hand itched for a cigarette but Park didn’t like the smell and Pops wouldn’t want me to. Mulling over going to the store to get a pack, I grabbed my phone from the bedside. The black screen showed my face staring back at me, twin to Park’s in every way except the dark, uneven patches spread like rot on fruit. Tomato pits. Banana bruises. Pretty patterns. Park’s voice answered in my head. I hurled the phone, letting it bash against the headpost. It fell onto the bed with a thunk and I exhaled sharply, running both hands through my hair. I stood up, fingers drumming on my thigh as I paced back and forth around the room. Finding myself in front of the hollowed carcass of the bird, I grit down on my teeth. Brown, eyes two slits, beak open in an uneven angle and wings still slightly raised, it lay there, dead. If she weren’t sleeping Nova’s eyes would have spoken to me, teasing because she knew I couldn’t be mad at her for answering to her survival instincts. That anger only existed because of what she’d done to Park, after all. I stared at the bird some more, moving a bit closer to Nova’s cage. One way or another we all end up dead. I felt a consolation, for at least its death had given me an idea.

“Dastan!” Pops’ concerned voice caught me at the door, hand frozen on the handle. I didn’t turn. “Where are you going?” I squeezed the cool metal, tensing. “Out.” Wearily, he repeated, “Where are you going?” “Don’t worry, old man, I’ll be back in an hour,” I said. He inhaled a sharp breath and I bit my lip, imaging his red face and the hand running through his graying hair. Too young for this. I pressed another mild insult, “Take care of Park.” Kitty, our golden retriever – courtesy of Park – whined in front of my brother’s door, scratching at the wood. As Pops turned to her, I pushed my way through, tossing a glance over my shoulder. Soulful, worried eyes and a heavy brow met mine. Vitiligo or no vitiligo, you’re my son and I love you. Slamming the door behind me, I sighed.

A shop window revealed that the concealer I’d applied held up well through the town square’s usual buzz and bustle. Park’s words echoed in my head. You’re perfect just the way you are. He didn’t understand, how could he with his clear honey eyes, freckled face and curly hair? Various birds, fish, cats and dogs blurred in my vision, face coming into focus. Muddy brown and green gazed back. Without breaking stride, I pushed into the nearest pet shop, tearing my eyes away from the display window. I hadn’t managed to see a single creature anyway. Ding. The bell went. I wanted to break it. The hot summer air licked at my cheeks and ears. Air conditioner who? Scrunching up my nose at the cat piss and cheap air fresher meant to cover it up, I glanced over to a girl with an exposed midriff. “How can I help you, babycakes?” her eyes went down, tattoo of an arrow pointing to the bottom from her navel. Downcast eyes met mine again as she swayed towards me. I curled my lip. Classy. “Stuck up dick,” she murmured. Flashing her the black ring on my middle finger, I turned to another aisle. Basically, ‘Fuck off. I’m not interested.’ A little harsh, yes, but how else would people know I’m ace? Her presence stayed there, cloying perfume nearly suffocating. A vaguely Australian accent greeted me, “Tattoo’s for a strip club I work at after shifts.” My head fell back, something close to regret washing over me. “Whaddya need?” Another blast of hot air from outside had me worried that the powder would come off with the heat and I touched a hand to my face. Great. Exactly what I needed. “Cool how you don’t have air conditioning here,” I said, eyes falling on her name-tag. “Annabelle.” She gave an apologetic smile and I stuffed a five dollar bill into her hand as I brushed past, silently apologizing for being an ass.

Well, well, what have we here? Cat food. That’s what. And a nerd. Such a curious sight, the two of them together. Earlier, Viridian had called to tell me of his common cold, delirious as he begged for dry food. ‘Dirthersh’, that British short-hair Macy insisted they keep, seemed more trouble than he's worth. I browsed the birds section and two lovebirds rubbing their against each other caught my attention. A gradient gray and a gradient brown. Just the colors I was looking for. I’d learnt by now. Red and orange showed me different shades of brown and green gave me gray but my heart still thumped an unsteady beat. Another convenience took for granted among people. Despite anything I could tell myself it would always hurt, having eyes that don’t work properly, ill skin, uneven body and mind at every turn. What if I got them wrong? I just wanted to get one thing right. Just his favorite color, damn it. But it’s not orange! It’s purple! Of course, he always said that because he didn’ want the colors I couldn’t see to be the ones he liked. Oh, shut up. Slate spun towards me and I clamped my lips shut. Of course I’d said it out loud. Stupid. Raising a hand, I walked towards him, pinning him with my gaze. He leveled a calm stare. “Can I help you?” Formal as ever. “Yeah, Malachi,” I said, giving a crooked smirk. “You see colors, right?” Slate adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat. “As far as I’m concerned.” “Well, that makes one of us,” I pointed at the two birds and Slate’s thick, wire rimmed glasses followed my finger. “What are those?” An Encyclopedia exploded in my face, “Lovebirds, the common name for Agapornis is a species popular amongst pet owners and typically bought in pairs—” “Oh for fuck’s sake, their colors, Slate.” Slate blinked in disinterest, shifting in the same monotone voice as if I’d asked Siri. “The one on the right is red and orange, the other is a gray and mint green gradient,” for once, his specificness paid off. “Make sure to buy a spacious cage. They’re quite lively and need room to be healthy.” I nodded, catching Annabelle’s eyes across the shop. She smiled at me, mouthing ‘thanks’. “Why are you buying them?” The scorn in my voice hiding the fact I was grateful, I turned back to him. “I decided our house wasn’t enough of a zoo as it is.” “For someone who likes salt, this is a very sweet gesture to your brother.” “Park,” I said, arching a brow. “He has a name.” Slate cleared his throat, looking away. “I am aware.” “And that’s not the phrase,” I added, peering at the slight color on his cheekbones. “I’m salty, but I’m not a complete jerk.” The corners of his mouth turned up. “The debate team would beg to differ.” “Bunch of pussies,” I dismissed, waving my hand. “Why are you here? Last time I checked, you didn’t have any pets.” “Viridian wasn’t feeling well so he asked if I could buy cat food for Hershey.” “What was our next discussion supposed to be about anyway?” I asked. “You don’t take notes?” I scoffed, almost offended. “Of course not.” “How do you manage to keep up with tasks then?” “I don’t,” I said smoothly. “I forget, like a cool person.” He crossed his arms, indulging me. “The Israel Palestine feud” “Thanks for the help, nerd.”

At the cash register, Slate strode over with the cat food. He placed a five dollar bill on the counter and stared ahead. He cleared his throat, adjusted, readjusted his glasses and then looked at me. “Dastan.” I rolled my eyes. “I told you, I go by Dee.” “Tell Park our next session is on Wednesday,” his voice cracked at my brother’s name. Coffee brown eyes grew just a shade lighter as he squared his shoulders, holding my gaze. “Oh, he can’t,” I said, sizing him up. “He’s been bitten by a snake.” Slate tensed, eyes widening despite his best efforts. “What!? Is..is he alright?” I’d spent my whole life thinking myself a mutation because I’d never seen in my face what I saw in his but I pretended not to notice, jaw clenching as I subdued him. “Relax, it was just Nova.” His flushed face deepened in color. Trembling and steadying, hitting uneven notes, his usually deep voice stretched thin. “Is he in any pain at all? Are you quite sure the snake isn’t venomous?” My heart pumped, mind running, scrambling with the impossibility that I’d never noticed before. “No.” “May I come with you to check on him? If it’s a suitable time, of course. I mean, I must...reschedule with him.” Words were pushed out of him in a flurry, cracking his composure enough for me to sense his worry. “We have an Algebra exam next Monday.” “I’ll have him call you.” A pause. Slate, leader of the debate team, son of Principal Marvin and valedictorian student, Slate Malachi hesitated, barely audible. “I’d like to see him in person.” I looked him up and down, head to toe, drinking in his nervousness. Eyes snapping to his stiff shoulders, pursed lips, his bumped eyebrows. I could almost smell it, taste the tang of his concern. It left a bad taste in my mouth. “No, Slate,” he blinked, expression shifting in an instant. “It’s not a good time. We need to just be a family right now.” “I—” “We don’t need you there,” I pressed. “Right, well,” he swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He turned to leave, froze, hastily throwing his last words over his shoulder before stalking out. “Tell him to call me when he can.”

Kitty barked from inside and Pops opened the door, eyebrows raised at the fact I’d help up on my promise. “You’re back.” “No, I’m still at the city square,” I said. “Should I get you something on the way?” Park shuffled out of his room. I kept my hands behind my back, legs pressed together. “Hey.” “Deedee!” I grimaced at the nickname, pulling the cage in front of me where he could see it. Instantly, his eyes brightened. Park stopped limping towards me, bandaged foot stilling on the floorboards. “Are...are those what I think they are?” I restrained a smile. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?” I gave it a gentle push and the cage rolled rolled right towards him. Falling to his knees in front of it, he ran his hand over the thin bars, gaping at the chirping balls of feather inside. Tears brimming in the corners of his eyes, he looked up at me with a limpid, clear gaze. Leaning my back to shut the door, I tilted my head at him, arms crossed. “You like them?” He nodded frantically, sniffing. “But my favorite color isn’t orange.” I smiled. “Is that so?” “Yes! I, I hate red and I hate green!” he sobbed, hugging the cage. “I like purple and...and blue!” Pops ran his hand through the tangles of Park’s hair, smiling. When the two looked at me again, tears spilled from Park’s eyes. A few minutes passed with Park repeatedly thanking me and the lot of us gathering in the living room with Sardine, Fredrick and Kitty to decide the two newcomers’ names. Pops held onto Sardine and Fredrick slept on the couch while Park lay flat on the floor, arms cushioning his chin. “She looks like a mango.” I snickered, shaking my head. “You should make that her name.” He looked from me to the cage and squealed. I took off the beanie on my head, scratching at my scalp in disbelief and praying the fresh air would save my head from this silliness. “You can’t be serious.” “I’ve never been more serious in my life!” Rubbing my temples, I watched as he scrutinized the other bird, suddenly blurting out, “Pierre!” Pops smiled. “Sounds good, Park.” “Get it?” glowing, he sat up, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Cause he’s green! Like a pear!” “Ugh, I never thought I’d regret this,” I groaned. “Shut up, you love them!” Just as I opened my mouth to deny it, Park’s phone rang. It belted out a bubbly tune and my brother’s face tinted scarlet. I kept my arms crossed over my chest, clenching my fists so I wouldn’t do anything rash when I saw the caller’s name. ‘Slate’ shone on the buzzing phone’s screen beside a blue heart. Park showed his love in a lot of ways, this was a common one. But I knew better, this time, that heart spoke volumes. My jaw clenched and my attention rested on a yellowed patch on the carpet, thumb pressing down on my knuckles. “Dee?” I looked up, carefully focusing on the wallpaper over his shoulder. “Hm?” He gave a disarming smile. “Thank you.” I returned a half grin, sighing, “Welcome, fluffball.” My grin lasted till Park shut his room’s door behind him. Frowning, I looked over at Pops who scritched at Sardine’s forehead. “I’m worried for Sardine. She, I mean, they haven’t been eating well lately. Do you think they might be sick?” Normally Pops’ attempts at getting used to modern pronouns tickled but this time, I just shrugged, mind worked up as I stared at the sky blue of Park’s door. His voice came in happy torrents, divided by giggles just a bit louder than normal. Blood throbbed in my ears because I knew, I knew with the same surety I felt my thumb grinding over my skin the guy I had to blame. What the fuck are you trying to do with my brother?

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AN: So this is my first prologue for Inner Monologue. Expect a lot of these in the future. They're canon and they happened in universe but you don't have to read this to enjoy IM. These are just Easter Eggs and snippets of my writing style. Thank you so much for reading. Love you <3

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#inner monologue #original content #original character #original writing #my writing #prologue #prologue fic #dastan forrester #park forrester #slate malachi #slark

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