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from-memphis-with-love · 5 months

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A Cowboy for Clementine - An Elvis Presley AU Cowboy Fanfic

Summary: Clementine looked to Elvis, her expression coolly determined. "If there's nothing else, I'll go unpack and change. See you at the barn."

With that, Elvis turned on his heel and strode off, spurs jingling. Clementine released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Lord, what had she gotten herself into? Wrangling cattle was one thing. Wrangling a surly cowboy with an itchy trigger finger and an apparent grudge was quite another. She had a feeling this Elvis Presley would prove as untamed as the land itself.

Word count: 26,000 (first four chapters)

Chapter 1

The stagecoach lurched and swayed as it wound its way through the rugged mountain pass. Inside, Clementine Olivetti gripped the worn leather seat, her knuckles white from the effort. She peered out the dust-caked window at the forbidding landscape rolling by—jagged peaks, skeletal trees, sun-baked earth. A far cry from the cobblestone streets and genteel townhouses of New York.

What am I doing out here? Clementine thought, not for the first time since beginning this journey west. Traveling across the country to take ownership of some rustic ranch she'd never laid eyes on, bequeathed by an uncle she barely knew. It was rash, reckless even. Very out of character for the practical, level-headed Clementine. A girl who always had a plan.

But perhaps that was precisely the point. To do something unexpected, impulsive for once. To break free from the comfortable confines of her predictable city life. There was a certain romantic notion to it all—a young woman striking out on her own to start anew in the untamed frontier. Like something out of the dime novels she and her best friend Bonnie used to giggle over late at night.

Bonnie Mae Blakely. Her vivacious partner in crime since childhood. The yin to Clementine's yang—bold where she was cautious, impetuous where she was measured. They had shared so many dreams and secrets over the years. When Clementine told her about the surprise inheritance, Bonnie had squealed and hugged her fiercely.

"Oh Clemmie, it's just like a storybook! A rugged ranch out west, waiting for a plucky heroine to make it her own. Promise you'll write and tell me every adventure! And maybe I'll even come visit once you're all settled."

Clementine smiled at the memory, picturing Bonnie's pretty face alight with excitement. In truth, having her friend's unconditional support had given Clementine the courage to undertake this journey. To believe she could reinvent herself and start fresh, even without any family left to tether her to New York.

Her parents had passed on years ago and she had no siblings. Just an uncle out west she scarcely remembered from childhood. The letter from the lawyer informing her of Uncle Ned's death and his bequeathing of Windy Creek Ranch had come as a shock. Almost as much as his written words, which she now withdrew from her handbag to read once more:

"Dearest Clementine,

If you are reading this, then I am gone and the Good Lord has finally called me home. I regret that I did not make more of an effort to be a presence in your life. But know that not a day went by that I did not think of you and wish for your happiness.

I leave to you my most prized possession: the Windy Creek Ranch. Six hundred and forty acres of prime grazing land nestled in the heart of cattle country. It isn't much to look at, but it has potential. Like a rare gem in the rough just waiting to be polished. I built this spread from nothing, with just grit and determination. I know you have that same strength within you.

There is a small town close by called Crossroads. You'll be able to purchase any supplies there and the townsfolk are generally amiable. But be warned, there have been rumors lately of cattle rustlers and claim jumpers looking to prey on the local ranches. Trust your instincts and keep your wits about you.

I wish I could be there to guide you as you begin this new chapter. But I take comfort knowing the ranch is in capable hands. Take care of it and it will take care of you. Never forget, you are my niece. We are made of tougher stuff than most.

Yours, Uncle Ned"

Clementine folded up the letter, blinking back tears. She barely remembered Uncle Ned—a grizzled, wild-eyed man who would occasionally blow into town like a tumbleweed, his clothes smelling of leather and horses and endless sky. Her father's eldest brother. A dreamer. An adventurer. Everything her straight-laced father was not... and did not approve of. The brothers had a falling out when Clementine was just a girl and Ned rode off into the sunset, never to return.

She used to envy his freedom, his daring. While her days were filled with needlework and piano lessons, she imagined Uncle Ned out there living a thrilling life. Herding cattle, exploring the wilderness, sitting around a campfire under a canopy of stars. It all seemed terribly romantic to her younger self.

But as she grew older, Clementine came to accept her lot. Became the obedient daughter, always striving to please, to fit the mold of a proper young lady, accepting decisions made for her and on her own behalf. She buried those yearnings for adventure deep down where they couldn't hurt her. Convinced herself that she was content with her sensible, uneventful existence.

Until that letter arrived and reawakened something within her. A spark. A hunger for more that she could no longer ignore. It was high time Clementine Olivetti started living life on her own terms. Even if that meant venturing into the unknown wilds of cattle country to claim her unexpected inheritance—a ranch that would be hers and hers alone. The prospect both thrilled and terrified her.

The stagecoach hit a particularly deep rut, jolting Clementine from her musings. She clutched her carpet bag closer and said a silent prayer that her worldly possessions would survive the journey intact.

As if reading her thoughts, the driver called out, "Almost there, miss! Crossroads is just up ahead."

Clementine's heart rate quickened. This was it. No turning back now. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and prepared to meet her destiny. Whatever that may be.

The stagecoach rumbled down the main thoroughfare of Crossroads, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake. Clementine peered out at the rustic frontier town, all wooden storefronts and hitching posts. Rough-hewn men ambled down the street in dungarees and cowboy hats. Bonneted women swept front porches and corralled children. A distant clang rang out from the blacksmith and the mouthwatering scent of baking bread wafted on the breeze. Quaint yet industrious. A town where everyone knew everyone else's business and no secret stayed buried for long.

The coach rolled to a stop and the driver hopped down to assist Clementine. A few coins were plunked into his hand. She stepped out into the bright sunlight, stretching her travel-weary limbs. Her legs wobbled a bit, unaccustomed to solid ground after so many hours.

"Miss Olivetti?" a voice inquired. Clementine turned to see a short, wiry man hurrying toward her, his bald pate gleaming.

"Yes, I'm Clementine Olivetti," she replied.

"Hezekiah Gruber, attorney at law," he said, pumping her hand enthusiastically. "We exchanged telegrams about your inheritance. My condolences for your loss."

"Thank you, Mr. Gruber. It was a shock to us all."

"Your uncle was one of a kind, that's for sure. Now then, I imagine you're eager to get out to the ranch and take possession. I won't keep you but let's get your signature on a few documents at my office to make it all official-like."

Clementine followed him down the creaking wooden sidewalk to the lawyer's storefront, noting the curious glances directed her way. She was used to it—a fashionable girl with a funny surname drew attention even back east. She could only imagine the gossip her arrival would stir up here.

"Here we are," said Gruber, ushering her into his cluttered office. "Won't take but a minute to get you squared away."

He shuffled some papers on his desk and handed Clementine a pen. She dutifully signed her name on the dense lines of legalese, the gravity of the moment not lost on her. With a few strokes of ink, she was now the rightful owner of Windy Creek Ranch. Her future.

"It's all yours, Miss Olivetti," said Gruber, blotting the documents. "I'll file these with the deed office today. In the meantime, let's get you on your way to your new home. I'll have Jebediah bring 'round the rig."

"The rig?" asked Clementine, perplexed.

"For your baggage. Unless you were planning to carry those trunks to the ranch yourself?"

Clementine blushed. Of course. This wasn't New York where deliveries arrived directly at one's doorstep. What would Bonnie say if she could see her now, preparing to rattle off in a dusty wagon toward an uncertain future? Probably clap her hands in glee and tell her it was the start of a grand adventure, the kind they'd always dreamed of having.

"Much obliged, Mr. Gruber," Clementine managed, her smile bittersweet. "I'm afraid I have a lot to learn about life out here."

"You'll get the hang of it," he assured. "Now remember, if you run into any trouble out there at Windy Creek, you just send word. I've been looking out for the place since your uncle took ill. I'd hate to see it fall into the wrong hands."

Something in his tone gave Clementine pause. Was that a note of warning? But before she could inquire further, Gruber had ushered her out into the dazzling daylight where a rickety wagon waited.

A grizzled old man sat hunched on the bench. He squinted at Clementine and gave a gap-toothed grin. "All aboard for Windy Creek Ranch!"

Trepidation pricked at her insides but Clementine forced a smile, determined to meet each new challenge with pluck and poise. She clambered up beside Jebediah, her trunk secured in the wagon bed.

"Much obliged," she told the driver. He clicked his tongue and snapped the reins. The mules lurched forward and they set off at a bone-rattling pace. Clementine gripped the sideboard, already regretting her choice of footwear. Perhaps button-up kid boots weren't the most practical for a cross-country trek.

The road out of town quickly turned to a rutted dirt track winding through a patchwork of ranches and farmsteads. Jebediah kept up a steady stream of chatter, pointing out local landmarks and the neighboring spreads.

As Crossroads receded behind them, the landscape opened up into a vista of endless grassland and rolling hills. Herds of cattle grazed in the distance, mere specks on the horizon. The air smelled of sage and leather and something else... of possibility.

"That there's the Circle J, belonged to old Joe Abernathy nigh on forty years 'til he passed on last spring. His boys run it now. And over yonder's the Triple Cross—biggest outfit in the county, but too big for their britches if you ask me."

She thought again of the cryptic warning from Mr. Gruber. Claim jumpers and cattle rustlers, he'd said. The untamed frontier was full of dangers she knew nothing about. As if sensing her unease, Jebediah spoke up.

"Yep, Windy Creek is a right fine piece of property. Yer uncle was real proud of what he built out there. 'Course, ranch life ain't for the faint of heart. Takes grit and know-how to make a go of it."

"I'm a quick study," replied Clementine with more confidence than she felt. "And I'm not afraid of hard work."

"That's good 'cause there'll be plenty of it," said Jebediah with a dry chuckle. "Between the repairs and the brandin' and the drives, ranch folk earn ever' penny of their keep. And that's assumin' the weather cooperates and the rustlers keep their distance."

"I've heard tell of such threats," said Clementine carefully. "Have there been many incidents hereabouts?"

"More'n there oughta be," said Jebediah. "Buncha no-good varmints that'll stop at nothing to line their own pockets. Thievin' cattle, cuttin' fences, raidin' homesteads. Even murderin' folk that get in their way."

Clementine suppressed a shudder, trying not to let her imagination run away with grisly scenarios. If only Bonnie were here to bolster her courage with a saucy quip or two. Her friend had always been the brave one, ready to take on any challenge with a laugh and a toss of her auburn curls. But Bonnie was thousands of miles away, living her own life. This was Clementine's adventure now. Her dream to chase, for better or worse.

"Still, a body can't borrow trouble," continued Jebediah. "Windy Creek's got a solid crew of hands to help you protect what's yours."

Clementine nodded, somewhat reassured. She knew there would be cowhands and ranch staff to assist her, though Uncle Ned's letter had been scarce on specifics. No matter. She would learn everyone's roles and prove herself a capable mistress. How hard could it be?

The wagon crested a hill and suddenly the breathtaking expanse of Windy Creek Ranch stretched out before them—640 acres of pristine range, just like Uncle Ned had said, framed by distant blue mountains under an endless dome of sky. Clementine's heart swelled at the sight of the whitewashed ranch house, the red-roofed barn, the towering windmill spinning lazily in the breeze. Cattle dotted the pasture, fat and healthy. Chickens pecked in the dust and a pair of ranch hands paused in their work to regard the newcomers with frank curiosity. It was more beautiful than she'd dared imagine. Raw and wild and brimming with promise. And it was all hers.

Clementine drank it in, marveling that this was all a part of her uncle's spread. Her spread now. Doubt niggled at her again. What did a city girl know about running a cattle operation? About negotiating with cowhands and driving livestock to market? There was so much to learn, so much riding on her getting this right. She couldn't afford to fail, not when Uncle Ned had entrusted her with his legacy.

As they rolled to a stop in the front yard, Clementine gathered her skirts, preparing to descend with as much dignity as possible given her ungainly boots and the long journey. But before her foot touched the running board, a rifle shot cracked the air. Clementine yelped as a bullet gouged a tree trunk mere inches from her hand.

Heart pounding, she whirled toward the source to see a tall, black-clad figure emerge from behind the water trough, his features obscured by a low-pulled Stetson. He racked the lever of his Winchester with fluid ease and took aim again.

"That's far enough," he growled, his voice rough as saddle leather. "This here's private property. State your business or hit the road."

"Don't shoot!" cried Clementine, throwing up her hands. "I'm... T-this is my ranch now. I've c-come to take possession."

The man lowered his rifle a fraction but kept it at the ready. "That so? Got any proof?"

With shaking fingers, Clementine fumbled to produce the deed from her handbag. "It's all here. Signed and notarized."

She held out the document but he made no move to take it, his stance unwavering. Clementine bristled at his rudeness. Of all the welcomes she'd imagined, being shot at by her own ranch hand was not one of them.

Jebediah, who had wisely taken cover, peeked out from behind the wagon bench. "Now Elvis, what's the big idea? This here's Miss Clementine, Old Ned’s niece and heir."

Elvis? Clementine looked again at her antagonist. Was he one of the hardworking ranch foreman Uncle Ned had spoken so highly of? He certainly hadn't mentioned the man's alarming propensity for gunplay.

"Never heard of her," said Elvis flatly. "And I ain't about to hand over the keys on the say-so of some pretty city gal. Could be anyone—a rustler scoutin' the place or worse. Ned never said nothin' 'bout no niece."

Clementine scowled at his dismissal. "Yes, well, I suspect there's quite a lot Uncle Ned neglected to mention all around. Starting with the presence of an armed squatter on my property!"

Elvis darkened at that but before he could retort, a hulking bear of a man in a sweat-stained union suit came lumbering out of the barn.

"What's all the ruckus?" he called, scratching his fiery beard. "I heard shootin'."

"Stay back, Red," ordered Elvis. "We got us a trespasser."

The big man squinted at Clementine and broke into a slow grin. "Well I'll be hogtied. If it ain't Miss Clementine in the flesh! Spittin' image of ol' Ned, ain't she? 'Specially 'round the eyes."

"You know her?" demanded Elvis.

"'Course I do! Ned's been braggin' on his pretty niece comin' to take over the place for weeks now. Clear 'fore he passed."

Red was a huge bear of a man with a shock of fiery hair and a bushy beard to match. Clementine thought he looked like he could lift a steer with one hand. He stepped forward, his face split by a friendly grin. "Pleased to meetcha, Miss Clementine. I'm Moses Redding, but everyone calls me Red on account of, well..." He gestured to his hair self-consciously.

Clementine couldn't help but return his smile. "A pleasure, Red. I look forward to working with you."

Realization dawned on Elvis' stony features. "Hellfire," he muttered. "Reckon that's my cue to start packin'."

"What on earth are you talking about?" said Clementine.

Elvis met her gaze, resigned. "Way I figure, a fine lady owner ain't gonna want the likes of me hangin' around. Know when I'm not wanted."

Comprehension clicked into place and Clementine gasped. Good lord, Uncle Ned hadn't just failed to mention a few cowhands. He'd neglected to tell her about the man living on the ranch itself! This Elvis character had obviously made himself quite at home in her absence, acting the lord of the manor. And now with her arrival, he assumed he was out of a job and a place to lay his head.

She ought to be livid at the presumption. Ought to send him packing that instant for his insolence and trigger-happy reception. But something in his defeated posture and faraway look stirred an inconvenient pang of sympathy in her breast. Curse her soft heart. As satisfying as it might be to give him his marching orders, the fact remained that Windy Creek was woefully shorthanded. She couldn't afford to lose a single man, especially not one who knew the spread top to bottom. Elvis had been Uncle Ned's right hand. It stood to reason he would be valuable in her transition to ownership, prickly attitude notwithstanding.

Clementine drew herself up, mustering an air of unruffled authority. "That won't be necessary, Mr... Elvis, was it? I've no intention of displacing anyone, provided they pull their weight. If you've been a loyal employee to my uncle, I see no reason why that should change on my watch."

Surprise and something like relief flickered across Elvis' rugged features before he could school them into impassivity. "That so?"

"It is," said Clementine firmly. "I'll need all hands on deck to keep Windy Creek thriving. Starting with a thorough tour of the premises and a briefing on daily operations. As the new owner, I plan to take a very active role in management."

Elvis looked as if he wanted to argue but thought better of it. He gave a curt nod. "Whatever you say, boss lady. Reckon we best start in the barn then. Red can see to your bags."

"Very well," she said crisply. "I'll change into suitable attire and meet you at the barn in half an hour."

Elvis looked mildly impressed by her ready acquiescence, but his expression quickly shuttered. "Suit yourself. But I should probably introduce you to the rest of the gang before you get too high on that horse of yours."

He turned and hollered over his shoulder. "Slim! Rusty! Get on over here!"

Two men materialized from various corners of the ranch yard, ambling over to join them on the porch. The first was a wiry old-timer with a weathered face and a wad of chaw bulging in his cheek. The second was a gangly youth who couldn't have been more than eighteen, all freckles and awkward limbs.

"Boys, this here is Miss Clementine Olivetti," Elvis announced. "Ned's niece and the new owner of Windy Creek. She aims to learn the ropes, so I expect you to show her the same respect you would've shown Ned. We clear?"

The men nodded, touching their hats respectfully. The old-timer spat a stream of tobacco juice and nodded curtly. "Slim Jackson. Been wranglin' beeves since before you was born, missy. You need any pointers, you just holler."

The young man ducked his head shyly, scuffing a boot in the dust. "Rusty Calhoun, miss. I'm real sorry about your uncle passing. He was a fine man and a heck of a boss."

"Thank you, Rusty. I hope I can live up to his example." Clementine turned back to Elvis, her expression coolly determined. "If there's nothing else, I'll go unpack and change. See you at the barn."

But Clementine was no shrinking violet. She had not traveled hundreds of miles to be cowed by one ornery ranch hand, no matter how unsettling his smoky gaze or how broad his shoulders. She would meet this challenge as she intended to meet all others—with grace, gumption, and a stubborn refusal to back down.

Elvis looked Clementine up and down appraisingly as she approached.

"Well now, don't you clean up nice," he drawled. "Those dungarees suit you. Almost take the city polish off."

Clementine wasn't sure if it was meant as a compliment or an insult. Likely both, knowing this man. She tilted her chin and replied evenly, "I believe in dressing for the occasion. So, show me around the barn?"

Lifting her chin, Clementine marched after Elvis, determined to assert her authority and begin this new chapter on her own terms. Ranch life was already proving far more complicated and unpredictable than she'd bargained for. But she had to believe that with hard work, an open mind, and perhaps a bit of that famous Olivetti pluck, she would find her way.

She thought fleetingly of Bonnie, no doubt going about her day back in New York, blissfully unaware of the upheaval in her friend's life. What would she make of all this—the sprawling ranch, the motley crew of cowhands, the arrogant and mysterious Elvis? Clementine could almost hear Bonnie's laughter, could picture her delighted grin and twinkling green eyes.

"Oh Clemmie, it's better than any dime novel!" she would say. "Handsome cowboys, wild horses, wide open skies... and you, the unlikely heroine out to prove herself and tame them all! Just think of the adventures you'll have!"

The corners of Clementine's mouth twitched with an unbidden smile. Trust Bonnie to see the romance in even the most daunting of circumstances. Perhaps there was something to that unshakable optimism. With any luck, Clementine would live to write her friend a bushel of thrilling letters detailing her exploits as the mistress of Windy Creek Ranch.

Provided she survived her first day as Elvis' employer, of course.

Clementine forced down a flutter of trepidation as she neared the looming barn door. Steeling her nerve, she stepped across the threshold into the cool shadow, the pungent scents of hay and horses and honest sweat enveloping her. Her heels sank into the earthen floor, the faint clucking of chickens and a few falling feathers drifting from the loft above.

Elvis stood at the far end of the aisle, backlit by a shaft of sunlight. He had one hip cocked against a stall door, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her approach with an inscrutable expression. Clementine tried not to notice the way his chambray shirt pulled taut across his muscled torso or how his worn denims hugged his lean thighs. She had no business admiring the physical attributes of a subordinate, no matter how undeniably attractive.

He started further into the barn, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. "You alright there, princess? Need me to fetch you a fainting couch?"

Clementine glowered at him behind his back.

"Welcome to the heart of Windy Creek," he said as she drew near. "This here's where the magic happens."

Clementine arched a brow. "Magic?"

Elvis' mouth twitched, his eyes glinting with something suspiciously like amusement at her primness. "Figure of speech. I mean this is where we break the horses, mend the tack, store the feed. Pretty much everything that keeps the place runnin' starts and ends right here."

He pushed off the stall and gestured for her to follow. "C'mon, I'll show you the layout. Reckon you'll be spendin' a fair bit of time in here, seein' as how you're aimin' to be a hands-on boss and all."

Clementine chose to ignore the note of condescension in his tone and fell into step beside him. For the next half hour, Elvis led her through the barn and corrals, rattling off details about everything from the hay inventory to the farrier schedule to the breeding records of the small remuda. His taciturn demeanor thawed by degrees as he spoke of Windy Creek's prize bloodlines and the foals he hoped to see come spring. It was clear this ranch was more than a job to him; it was his life's work, his pride and joy.

Despite herself, Clementine found she was hanging on his every word, absorbing the intricacies of a world so different from her own. The easy confidence with which Elvis navigated this domain, the surety of purpose in his every move, was oddly compelling. She could see why Uncle Ned had trusted him implicitly.

As they circled back to the main barn, Elvis nodded to a large fenced pasture dotted with grazing cattle. "That there's the heart of the herd. 'Bout 300 head of prime Hereford. The real moneymakers. They'll be your bread and butter once we drive 'em to market come fall."

Clementine shaded her eyes against the glare, marveling at the sea of dun backs and lowing faces. Never in her life had she been responsible for so many living creatures. The weight of it settled on her shoulders like a tangible thing.

"And you're certain we have enough hands to see them safely to market?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "I won't pretend to be an expert, but it seems an awful lot of ground to cover with just the few men I've seen so far."

"We're a lean crew but we're solid," said Elvis. "Me, Red, a couple fellas who drift through as needed. Ain't never lost a steer yet and don't aim to start now." He cut her a sidelong glance. "Course, an extra pair of hands come drive time is always welcome. You any good with a horse?"

Clementine's cheeks warmed at the challenge in his eyes. "I'm a fair rider," she said, lifting her chin. She had ridden in Central Park quite a few times when she was younger. "Though I'll admit it's been a while since I've sat anything beyond a sedate little mare on a bridle path."

"Ain't nothin' sedate about the mounts we raise here," said Elvis with a slow grin that did funny things to her insides. "But I reckon we could find you a steady cow pony, get you back in the saddle."

"I'd like that," said Clementine, pulse quickening at the thought of flying across the open range with the wind in her hair. Yearning for speed and freedom and a taste of the untamed life that had always been denied her.

Something shifted in Elvis' gaze, his eyes darkening as they dipped briefly to her mouth. "Bet you would."

The air between them thickened, charged with a sudden crackling tension that raised the hairs on Clementine's nape. For a long, suspended moment, neither of them moved. Clementine hardly dared breathe, caught in the snare of Elvis' penetrating stare. What was happening? Why did it feel as if the very ground had tilted beneath her feet?

Then Elvis blinked and the spell was broken. He took a measured step back, features shuttering. "Best we get you settled in the house," he said brusquely. "Red's probably fixin' to break down the door wonderin' where we got to."

Clementine swallowed, her tongue darting out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. "Of course," she managed. "After you."

They walked in silence back to the ranch house, a palpable charge still shimmering in the scant space between their bodies. Clementine's mind raced as she tried to make sense of the strange, heated little moment in the barn. Surely it was just a trick of the light, an odd fluke of exhaustion and overwrought nerves. There could be no other explanation for the way her skin had flushed and her stomach fluttered under Elvis' intent gaze.

She was just tired, that was all. Tired and overwhelmed and in desperate need of a bath and a good night's sleep in a proper bed. Everything would seem much more manageable in the clear light of morning. Including a certain confounding cowboy who seemed to swing between hostility and allure at the drop of a hat.

By the time they reached the house, Clementine had convinced herself she had imagined the whole unsettling interlude. Elvis deposited her on the front porch with a perfunctory nod and a promise to have one of the hands bring up a hip bath and hot water. Then he was gone, striding off towards the corrals with that swagger that drew entirely too much of her attention.

Clementine pushed through the door, resolved to put the perplexing man out of her head for the time being. She had more pressing concerns, like acquainting herself with her new living quarters and trying to impose some order on the chaos of this abrupt upheaval.

But as she climbed the creaking stairs to the second floor, dusty carpetbag in hand, she couldn't shake the feeling that her true adventure was only just beginning. That Elvis and Windy Creek Ranch might wind up changing her life in ways she had never dared dream.

With a flutter of nervous anticipation, Clementine stepped across the threshold of her new bedroom, ready to embrace whatever challenges and surprises lay ahead. She could only hope she proved equal to them.

As Clementine explored her new bedchamber, she couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the rustic charm that surrounded her. The room was simply furnished with a sturdy oak bed, a weathered dresser, and a washstand bearing a chipped porcelain basin. Faded calico curtains fluttered at the open window, letting in a breeze that carried the scent of lavender and distant pine.

It was a far cry from her cozy apartment back home, with its gas lamps and indoor plumbing and nosy neighbors just a thin wall away. But there was something undeniably appealing about this rough-hewn space, with its sense of history and hard-won comfort. She could almost imagine Uncle Ned sitting on the edge of this very bed, pulling off his boots after a long day in the saddle.

A lump rose in Clementine's throat as she thought of her uncle, of the legacy he had entrusted to her. She still couldn't quite believe he was gone, that she would never again hear his booming laugh or see the twinkle in his eye as he regaled her with tales of the wild west. He had been a larger-than-life figure, a beacon of adventure in her otherwise orderly world.

And now he had given her the greatest adventure of all. A chance to build something of her own, to carve out a place for herself in this untamed land. It was a daunting prospect, but also an exhilarating one. For the first time in her life, Clementine felt truly free. Free to make her own choices, to chase her own dreams, to become the woman she had always longed to be.

Oh, there would be challenges aplenty. She was under no illusions about that. Running a ranch was backbreaking work, and she had no experience with any of it. She would have to learn everything from scratch, would have to earn the respect of the men who worked for her. Men like Elvis, who seemed determined to undermine her at every turn.

Clementine's mouth tightened as she thought of the infuriating cowboy. He had made it abundantly clear that he thought she was in over her head, that a city girl like her had no business trying to run a cattle operation. Well, she would just have to prove him wrong. She would work twice as hard as anyone else, would study and practice until she knew this ranch inside out. She would show Elvis and everyone else that Clementine Olivetti was more than just a pretty face in a fancy dress.

With renewed determination, she set about unpacking her trunk. She carefully hung up the simple frocks and sturdy boots she had brought for work, then tucked away the few more fashionable items she couldn't bear to leave behind. Her fingers lingered on a photograph of her parents on their wedding day, their faces alight with joy and promise. She placed it gently on the dresser.

A knock at the door startled Clementine from her reverie. "Come in," she called, smoothing her skirts self-consciously.

The door swung open to reveal a plump, motherly woman with greying hair and a flour-dusted apron. She bobbed a curtsy, her lined face creasing into a warm smile.

"Beggin' your pardon, miss, but I thought you might be ready for some supper. It's been a long day for you, I reckon."

Clementine's stomach rumbled at the mention of food. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, too nervous to do more than nibble on the journey. "That would be wonderful, thank you. Mrs...?"

"Jameson, miss. Ida Jameson. I've been cookin' and cleanin' for Windy Creek nigh on twenty years now. Ever since Mr. Ned hired me on after my dear Henry passed."

"I'm so pleased to meet you, Mrs. Jameson," said Clementine sincerely. "I hope you'll be patient with me as I learn my way around. This is all quite new to me."

"Oh, don't you fret none. We'll get you settled in right quick. Ain't nothin' to runnin' a house once you get the hang of it." Mrs. Jameson's eyes twinkled with kindly amusement. "And don't mind that Elvis none. His bark's worse than his bite. He's just used to havin' things his own way."

Clementine felt her cheeks heat at the mention of the exasperating foreman. Did her consternation show so plainly on her face? "I'll keep that in mind, Mrs. Jameson."

"You do that, miss. Now, let's get you fed afore you faint dead away. I've got a nice beef stew on the simmer and fresh bread just out of the oven."

Clementine's mouth watered at the thought. Suddenly ravenous, she followed Mrs. Jameson down to the kitchen, the delectable scents wafting up the stairs making her stomach growl audibly.

The kitchen was a large, homey space, dominated by a massive cast iron stove and a long wooden table that could easily seat a dozen. Bunches of drying herbs hung from the rafters, jars of preserves lined the shelves, and a motley collection of skillets and kettles dangled from hooks on the walls. It was a far cry from the convenient, modern kitchens Clementine was accustomed to, but there was a cozy charm to it that put her instantly at ease.

Mrs. Jameson bustled about, ladling steaming stew into a blue willow bowl and cutting a thick slice of crusty bread. She set the meal in front of Clementine with a flourish, then poured a tall glass of cool, creamy milk from a stoneware pitcher.

"There you are. Eat up now, and don't be shy about askin' for seconds. Lord knows there's plenty to go around."

Clementine breathed in the savory aroma, her eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. She couldn't remember the last time a simple meal had looked so enticing. Murmuring her thanks, she dug in with gusto, the rich flavors exploding on her tongue.

For a few blissful minutes, there was no sound but the clink of Clementine's spoon against the bowl and the occasional appreciative hum as she savored each mouthful. Mrs. Jameson puttered about, wiping down counters and setting a pot of coffee to brew, a small, satisfied smile on her face as she watched her new mistress eat.

But the peaceful moment was shattered by the sudden bang of the screen door flying open. Elvis strode into the kitchen, his spurs jingling and his hat pulled low over his brow. He drew up short at the sight of Clementine, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly.

"Mrs. J, we got any of that stew left? I'm powerful hungry after wranglin' that new string of horses all afternoon."

"Sit yourself down, Mr. Elvis, and I'll fetch you a bowl," said Mrs. Jameson placidly, seemingly impervious to the sudden tension in the room.

Elvis hesitated, his gaze flicking between Clementine and the empty chair across from her. For a moment, she thought he might make some excuse and flee, but then he shrugged and sank down onto the bench, his long legs stretching out beneath the table.

Clementine kept her eyes fixed on her bowl, her appetite suddenly deserting her. She could feel Elvis watching her, could sense the coiled energy radiating off him like heat from a stove. It made her skin prickle and her heart thump erratically in her chest.

Mrs. Jameson set a heaping bowl in front of Elvis, then tactfully withdrew, muttering something about needing to tend to the laundry. Clementine silently cursed the woman for abandoning her, even as she understood the impulse. The air between her and Elvis was thick with a strange, charged energy that made it hard to breathe, let alone carry on a normal conversation.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Clementine pushed a chunk of potato around her bowl, acutely aware of Elvis' every move as he tore off a hunk of bread and sopped up the rich gravy. She could hear the soft, wet sounds of his chewing, could catch the faint scent of horse and leather and sweat that clung to his skin.

It was all suddenly too much. Too intimate, too unnerving. Clementine pushed back from the table, nearly upending her milk glass in her haste. "Please excuse me," she mumbled, not meeting Elvis' eyes. "It's been a long day and I'm quite exhausted."

She fled the kitchen before he could respond, her cheeks burning and her pulse pounding in her ears. She didn't slow down until she reached the sanctuary of her bedroom, the door slamming shut behind her with a satisfying bang.

Clementine leaned back against the solid oak, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. What on earth was wrong with her? She had never been one to let a man fluster her, had prided herself on her poise and composure in even the most trying of circumstances. But something about Elvis made her feel off-balance, unsettled in a way she couldn't quite define.

It was more than just his rough manners and challenging attitude. There was a rawness to him, a sense of barely leashed power that sent a thrill down her spine even as it set her nerves on edge. When he looked at her, she felt stripped bare, as if he could see straight through her proper facade to the wild, yearning heart beneath.

It was terrifying. And if Clementine was being honest with herself, it was also strangely exhilarating. All her life, she had played by the rules, had done what was expected of her. She had been the dutiful daughter, the demure debutante, the efficient employee. But here, in this rugged land so far from everything she had ever known, she could feel those old constraints falling away. Here, she could be anyone she wanted to be, could chase dreams she had never dared voice aloud.

Even if those dreams involved a certain brooding, impossible cowboy with eyes the color of a stormy sky.

Clementine pushed off the door, shaking her head at her own foolishness. She was being ridiculous. Elvis was just a man, no different from any other. A bit rougher around the edges, mayhap, but certainly not worth losing her head over. She had more important things to worry about, like learning to run this ranch and proving herself worthy of her uncle's trust.

With a resolute nod, Clementine began to undress for bed, her fingers deftly unfastening the long row of buttons down the back of her bodice. She slipped the heavy garment off, sighing with relief as the cool air hit her sweat-dampened skin. She reached for her nightgown, a simple cotton shift that fell to her ankles in soft folds.

But as she lifted the garment over her head, a sudden gust of wind from the open window sent the curtains billowing inward, the fabric brushing against her bare skin like a lover's caress. Clementine shivered, gooseflesh rising on her arms and legs. For a moment, she imagined it was Elvis' hands on her, his callused fingers tracing the curve of her spine, the hollow of her throat, the swell of her breast...

With a gasp, Clementine wrenched the nightgown down, her face flaming with mortification. Good heavens, what was she thinking? She must be more tired than she realized, to let her mind wander down such inappropriate paths. Elvis was her employee, nothing more. To allow herself to entertain such lurid fantasies was not only foolish, but dangerous.

Flustered and out of sorts, Clementine crawled beneath the patchwork quilt, the bed creaking beneath her weight. She thumped the pillow a bit harder than necessary, then lay back with a huff, staring up at the shadowy rafters above.

Sleep. That was what she needed. A good night's rest to clear her head and settle her nerves. Tomorrow would be a new day, full of challenges and opportunities. She would rise with the sun, would throw herself into the work of the ranch with all the energy and determination she possessed. And if her thoughts should happen to stray to a certain dark-haired, blue-eyed cowboy, well... she would just have to deal with that when the time came.

With a sigh, Clementine closed her eyes, willing her racing mind to quiet. But even as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn't shake the feeling that her life was about to change in ways she had never dared imagine. That Elvis and Windy Creek Ranch would test her in ways she had never been tested before.

And that maybe, just maybe, she was ready for the challenge.

Chapter 2

The shrill crow of a rooster jolted Clementine from a dreamless sleep. She sat up with a start, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. Then memory came flooding back - the long journey west, the startling confrontation with Elvis, the strange, charged moment in the kitchen the night before.

Clementine groaned, flopping back against the pillows. She had hoped that a good night's sleep would clear her head, would settle the unsettling flutter in her stomach whenever she thought of the taciturn cowboy. But if anything, the light of day only made her confusion and trepidation worse.

How was she supposed to face him this morning, after fleeing from him like a frightened rabbit? He must think her a complete fool, a silly city girl who couldn't handle the slightest hint of rough manners. And what must the other ranch hands think, seeing their new boss so easily flustered by their foreman?

Clementine set her jaw, a spark of determination igniting in her chest. No. She refused to let Elvis or anyone else rattle her. She was Clementine Olivetti, mistress of Windy Creek Ranch. She had faced far greater challenges than one surly cowboy, and she would face this one with the same grit and grace that had gotten her this far.

With a resolute nod, Clementine threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She winced as her feet hit the cold floorboards, the chill of the early morning air raising gooseflesh on her arms. Shivering, she hurried to the washstand and poured a measure of tepid water from the pitcher into the basin. She splashed her face and neck, the bracing coolness helping to chase away the last vestiges of sleep.

As she toweled off, Clementine caught sight of herself in the small, spotty mirror hanging above the washstand. Her reflection stared back at her, wide-eyed and a bit wan. The long journey and the stress of the previous day had taken their toll - there were shadows beneath her eyes and a pinched look to her mouth. But there was also a new resolve in the set of her chin, a glint of steel in her gaze.

She was not the same woman who had left New York. The old Clementine would have balked at the idea of manual labor, would have blanched at the thought of getting her hands dirty. But the new Clementine, the Clementine who had crossed a continent to claim her inheritance, was ready to roll up her sleeves and get to work.

With that thought firmly in mind, Clementine set about dressing for the day ahead. She chose a simple frock of sturdy blue calico, the skirt full enough to allow for ease of movement. Over it, she layered a crisp white apron, the bib protecting her bodice from any stray bits of dirt or debris. She pulled her hair back into a practical bun at the nape of her neck, then topped the ensemble with a wide-brimmed straw hat to shield her face from the sun.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Clementine felt a surge of satisfaction. She looked like a woman who meant business, a woman ready to take on whatever challenges the day might bring. With a nod of approval, she turned away from the glass and made her way downstairs.

The kitchen was already a hive of activity when Clementine entered. Mrs. Jameson stood at the stove, stirring a pot of bubbling oatmeal with one hand while flipping pancakes with the other. The air was thick with the scent of frying bacon and fresh coffee, making Clementine's stomach rumble in anticipation.

"Good morning, Mrs. Jameson," she said, taking a seat at the long wooden table. "That smells heavenly."

"Mornin', Miss Clementine," the housekeeper replied, casting a smile over her shoulder. "I hope you slept well. I know the first night in a new place can be a bit unsettlin'."

"I slept just fine, thank you," Clementine lied, not wanting to admit to the restless thoughts that had kept her tossing and turning half the night. "Is there anything I can do to help with breakfast?"

Mrs. Jameson looked scandalized at the very idea. "Heavens no, miss! You just sit right there and let me take care of everything. It's my job to make sure you're well-fed and rested, not the other way around."

Clementine opened her mouth to protest, but the housekeeper cut her off with a stern look. "I mean it, miss. You've got enough on your plate as it is, learnin' the ropes of runnin' this ranch. Leave the cookin' and cleanin' to me."

Chastened, Clementine sat back in her chair, feeling a bit useless. She was used to being busy from sunup to sundown, to having a full day's work ahead of her. The idea of sitting idle while others bustled about made her itch with restlessness.

But before she could dwell on it too long, the kitchen door swung open and Elvis strode in, his spurs jingling with each step. Clementine's heart gave a traitorous leap at the sight of him, her skin prickling with awareness as his gaze landed on her.

"Mornin', Mrs. J," he said, tipping his hat to the housekeeper. Then, almost as an afterthought, "Miss Clementine."

"Good morning, Elvis," Clementine replied, proud of how steady her voice sounded. "I trust you slept well?"

Elvis shrugged, hooked his thumbs in his gun belt. "Well enough. Got a full day ahead, so I reckon I'll sleep when I'm dead." His blue eyes glinted with something that might have been amusement, or might have been challenge. "You ready to get your hands dirty, boss lady?"

Clementine lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. "I am. Just tell me where to start."

Elvis' mouth twitched, as if he were fighting back a smile. "Reckon we'll start with the chickens. Gotta collect the eggs and feed the birds 'fore we do anything else."

Clementine's nose wrinkled at the thought of mucking about in a chicken coop, but she nodded gamely. "Lead the way, then."

Elvis cocked a brow, looking almost impressed by her easy acquiescence. He jerked his chin toward the door, then strode out into the morning sunlight without a backward glance.

Clementine hurried to follow, her heart hammering with a mix of nerves and excitement. This was it - her first real test as mistress of Windy Creek. She could only hope she was up to the challenge.

The chicken coop was a ramshackle affair, all weathered wood and rusting wire. It stood at the edge of the yard, a few dozen scrawny birds pecking and scratching at the dirt around its base. They scattered as Elvis approached, clucking and flapping in agitation.

"Little bastards," Elvis muttered, kicking at a particularly bold rooster who dared to dart across his path. "More trouble than they're worth, most days."

Clementine eyed the birds warily, keeping a safe distance as Elvis unlatched the coop door and ducked inside. She could hear him moving about, the soft cluck and coo of the hens as he gathered their eggs. A moment later, he emerged, a basket hooked over one arm.

"Here," he said, thrusting the basket into Clementine's hands. "Hold this while I scatter the feed."

Clementine took the basket gingerly, peering down at the warm, speckled eggs nestled in the straw. They were still faintly damp from the hens' nests, and they gave off a rich, earthy scent that made her think of new life and green growing things.

As Elvis scattered handfuls of cracked corn across the yard, the chickens swarmed around his feet, pecking and jostling for position. Clementine watched in fascination as they darted and fluttered, their beady eyes bright with greed. She had never seen anything so vibrantly alive, so utterly unconcerned with human affairs.

"They're quite something, aren't they?" she murmured, almost to herself.

Elvis glanced up at her, surprised. "What, the chickens? I suppose so. Never gave 'em much thought, to be honest. Just another chore to be done."

Clementine shook her head, a small smile playing about her lips. "There's a lesson in that, I think. They don't worry about yesterday or tomorrow. They just live in the moment, taking what they need and letting the rest go."

Elvis straightened, dusting his hands off on his chaps. He regarded her with a new intensity, as if seeing her for the first time. "Ain't you just full of surprises, Miss Clementine."

Clementine felt a flush creep up her neck at his words, at the way his gaze seemed to linger on her face. She ducked her head, suddenly fascinated by the eggs in her basket.

"We should get these inside," she said briskly, turning back toward the house. "Mrs. Jameson will be wanting them for breakfast."

She could feel Elvis' eyes on her back as she walked away, could sense the weight of his regard like a physical touch. It made her skin tingle and her stomach flutter, made her feel alive in a way she never had before.

But she couldn't let herself dwell on it. Couldn't let herself get distracted by the way he made her feel. She had a ranch to run, a legacy to uphold. And she would do it with or without Elvis' approval.

With a determined set to her shoulders, Clementine marched up the porch steps and into the kitchen, ready to face whatever the day might bring. And if her thoughts kept straying to a pair of piercing blue eyes and a crooked, knowing smile, well...that was nobody's business but her own.

As the morning wore on, Clementine found herself thrown headlong into the daily rhythms of ranch life. After breakfast, Elvis put her to work mucking out stalls in the barn, a task that left her sweaty and aching but oddly satisfied. There was something soothing about the repetitive motions, the earthy scent of hay and horse, the soft whickers and snuffles of the animals as she worked.

Next came a lesson in saddling a horse, Elvis' hands guiding her through the intricacies of cinches and stirrups. Clementine tried not to think about how close he stood, how the heat of his body seemed to seep into her skin through the layers of her dress. She focused instead on the task at hand, on the supple leather beneath her fingers and the solid weight of the saddle as she hefted it onto the horse's back.

By the time the sun reached its zenith, Clementine was sore and sweat-streaked but buzzing with a sense of accomplishment. She had never worked so hard in her life, had never pushed herself to such physical limits. But there was a deep satisfaction in it, a pride in knowing that she was capable of more than she had ever imagined.

As they made their way back to the house for dinner, Elvis fell into step beside her, his long legs easily matching her shorter strides. Clementine glanced up at him, surprised to find a glint of approval in his eyes.

"You did good today," he said gruffly, as if the words pained him. "Reckon you might just have what it takes to make a go of this place after all."

Clementine felt a warm glow of pleasure at his praise, even as she bristled at the note of surprise in his voice. "Did you doubt it?" she asked archly.

Elvis' mouth twitched, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Let's just say I had my reservations. But you're full of surprises, Miss Clementine. Reckon I'm gonna have to keep an eye on you."

There was something in the way he said it, a hint of challenge and something else, something that made Clementine's pulse skip and her skin tingle. She met his gaze squarely, refusing to back down.

"I suppose you will," she said, her voice steady even as her heart raced. "But I intend to keep an eye on you as well. We're in this together, Elvis. Whether you like it or not."

For a moment, Elvis just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded, a glimmer of respect in his eyes.

"Reckon we are," he said, his voice low and rough. "Reckon we are."

And with that, he turned and strode off toward the barn, leaving Clementine to watch him go, her heart hammering in her chest and a new determination burning in her veins.

One morning, Elvis gathered the ranch hands for the afternoon's work—a cattle drive to the south pasture to check on the herd and survey the fence lines. Clementine insisted on going along, despite Elvis' skeptical look and Slim’s poorly concealed grin.

Elvis gestured to a small bay mare tethered nearby. "That there is Nutmeg. She's gentle as a lamb and sure-footed on any terrain. Figured she'd suit a greenhorn like you."

Clementine eyed the saddle and tack warily. She knew she was badly out of practice. But she'd be damned if she let Elvis see her falter.

"Lovely," she said brightly, untying Nutmeg's reins and leading her out into the sunlight.

Now came the tricky part. How in blazes did one mount a horse unassisted whilst wearing trousers? Clementine's mind raced as she tried to recall the particulars. There had been talk of a mounting block or some sort of assistance from a groom...

Before she could make a bigger fool of herself, a large, work-roughened hand appeared in her peripheral vision.

"Allow me," Elvis murmured, his breath tickling her ear.

Clementine stiffened but managed a jerky nod, steeling herself as he gripped her waist and practically tossed her into the saddle as if she weighed nothing at all. Good lord, the man was strong as an ox!

"There now," Elvis said, sounding faintly amused. "Snug as a bug. Let's hit the trail."

He swung aboard his own horse, Rising Sun, with effortless grace and set off at a brisk trot, leaving Clementine scrambling to gather her reins and urge Nutmeg to follow. The mare fell into step readily enough, but the motion of the saddle had Clementine lurching and sliding like a sack of potatoes. She clung to the horn for dear life, her teeth rattling and her hat threatening to fly off with every jolting stride.

“You alright there, city slicker?” Elvis offered with a smirk.

Clementine scowled at him, her face flushed with exertion and embarrassment. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you. It's just been a while since I've ridden."

"I can see that. You're bouncin' around up there like a flea on a hot griddle." Red, Slim, and Rusty chuckled.

Clementine's temper flared. "Well, forgive me for not being born in the saddle like some people. We can't all be insolent, arrogant cowboys!"

Elvis' eyes narrowed, his smile fading. "Careful now, missy. That insolent, arrogant cowboy is the only thing standing between you and a long walk back to the house. Might want to mind your manners."

“Aw hell, Elvis, leave the little lady alone,” Slim attempted to diffuse the budding argument.

Clementine knew she should back down, should swallow her pride and apologize. But something about this man just rubbed her the wrong way, stirring up a reckless, contrary streak she didn't even know she possessed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said sweetly to herself, not expecting anyone to hear her. "I thought I was the boss around here. My mistake."

Elvis' jaw clenched, his hand tightening on the reins. "Boss or not, out here you're just another greenhorn. And greenshorns who don't listen to good sense often end up buzzard bait. So you can either stow that snippy attitude and let me teach you a thing or two, or you can take your chances on your own. What'll it be?"

Red, Slim, and Rusty slowed their horses down, holding their breath and waiting for her answer. Clementine glared at Elvis, her pride warring with her common sense. As much as it galled her to admit it, Elvis was right. She was out of her depth out here and antagonizing her only guide was foolish at best, deadly at worst.

"Fine," she bit out. "Teach away, oh wise one. I am your humble student."

Elvis snorted, shaking his head. "You sure don't make it easy, do you? Alright, first things first—loosen up on them reins. You're holding 'em like you expect Nutmeg to bolt any second. She ain't going nowhere, trust me."

Clementine forced her white-knuckled grip to relax, letting out a shaky breath as the mare flicked an ear back curiously.

"Good. Now, stand up in them stirrups a bit. Let your knees absorb the motion 'stead of your backside. And keep your heels down for balance."

Clementine did as instructed, wobbling precariously for a moment before finding a rhythm. To her surprise, the ride smoothed out considerably, Nutmeg's rocking gait almost pleasant now that she wasn't being jounced to pieces.

"Well, would you look at that," Elvis drawled. "She can be taught. Keep that up and we might make a passable rider out of you yet, Miss Clementine."

Clementine felt an absurd flush of pleasure at his gruff approval. Honestly, what did she care what this uncouth lout thought of her? Still, perhaps it wouldn't kill her to bend a little, to put aside her wounded pride in service of the greater goal. She needed Elvis' cooperation if she hoped to make a go of this venture. Catching more flies with honey and all that.

Red’s mare caught up to hers, and he gently squeezed Clementine’s arm. “Don’t pay old Elvis no mind. He’s always a little ornery in the morning.”

The four of them rode on in relatively companionable silence, the raw beauty of the landscape stealing Clementine's breath. Towering buttes and mesas rose up from the sun-baked earth, their banded layers glowing red and gold in the slanting light. Gnarled junipers dotted the hillsides, providing scant shade for the cacti and scrub brush that clung tenaciously to the rocky soil. In the distance, a band of wild mustangs kicked up dust as they fled across the flats, tails streaming behind them like banners.

It was a harsh, unforgiving land, but stunning in its austerity. Clementine tried to imagine her uncle Ned riding these same trails, his weather-beaten face creased in a smile as he surveyed his domain. She may not have known him well, but she sensed a kindred spirit—someone drawn to challenge and adventure, to pitting themselves against an untamed wilderness and emerging the victor.

Well, here I am, Uncle Ned, she thought. Following in your boot prints at last. I just hope I'm up to the task.

Lost in thought, Clementine scarcely noticed when Rusty reined in his horse at the crest of a rise, his keen gaze scanning the horizon.

"There," he said, pointing to a distant smudge of brown against the green and gold. "The herd's just over that next ridge. About three hundred head of prime Hereford, Ned's pride and joy. Let's ease up on 'em slow and quiet-like. Don't want to spook 'em into a stampede."

They approached the grazing cattle cautiously, Clementine's heart thudding with anticipation. Her first real look at her newfound livelihood. What would Ned have thought, seeing her astride a ranch horse, ready to take the reins of his empire? Would he be proud or appalled? Amused or aghast?

"You sure you're up for this, Miss Clementine?" Red asked, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth. "Ridin' herd ain't no picnic, 'specially for a greenhorn."

Clementine lifted her chin, giving him a cool smile. "I'm tougher than I look, Mr. Redding. And I'm a quick study. I'll be just fine."

The cattle regarded the riders placidly, chewing their cud and swishing their tails at the flies. Up close, they were even more enormous than Clementine had imagined, their heavy bodies and wickedly curved horns dwarfing the horses. She felt a flicker of unease, remembering tales of cowpokes gored and trampled by unruly steers.

As if sensing her trepidation, Elvis murmured, "Easy now. They're more scared of you than you are of them. These are good, docile beasts, well-used to human handling. Just keep your movements slow and predictable and you'll be fine."

Clementine nodded jerkily, fighting the urge to wheel Nutmeg around and gallop in the opposite direction. She trusted Elvis' expertise, even if she didn't particularly like or respect the man himself. He'd kept this herd thriving for five years—that had to count for something.

They meandered through the milling cattle, Elvis pointing out choice specimens and explaining the finer points of branding, breeding, and husbandry. Clementine did her best to absorb the onslaught of information, her head fairly spinning with talk of bloodlines and feed supplements and market prices.

One thing was becoming crystal clear. She was hopelessly out of her depth when it came to the day-to-day realities of running a ranch. Short of a miracle or divine intervention, Windy Creek would be bankrupt and in ruins within a month under her ignorant guidance.

Clementine's throat tightened with despair at the thought of failing her uncle, of losing this land that meant so much to him. And what of the people who depended on Windy Creek for their livelihood? Red and Slim and Rusty and the other hands she had yet to meet—how could she face them if her incompetence cost them their jobs, their homes?

No, it was unthinkable. She needed help, loath as she was to admit it. She needed Elvis.

Clementine was just working up the nerve to broach the subject when the quiet afternoon exploded into chaos. One moment the cattle were grazing peacefully, the next they were bellowing in alarm, eyes rolling and hooves churning the earth. The cause of their distress soon became apparent—a pair of snarling, yipping coyotes had burst from the underbrush, harrying the herd's flanks in search of an easy meal.

"Damnation!" Elvis swore, spurring his mount towards the threat. "Slim! Red! Rusty! Get after 'em 'fore they scatter the herd!"

Clementine watched in amazement as the cowhands sprung into immediate action, whooping and hollering as they rode to head off the predators. Red in particular was a sight to behold, his enormous frame dwarfing his horse as he thundered after a fleeing coyote, his lasso whirling overhead.

In the midst of the pandemonium, Clementine lost sight of Elvis. She reined in Nutmeg, heart in her throat as she scanned the milling herd for any sign of him. Panic clawed at her insides as horrible visions flashed through her mind—Elvis thrown from the saddle, trampled beneath a hundred hooves, bleeding and broken on the unforgiving ground...

A flash of movement caught her eye and Clementine shrieked in alarm, instinctively wrenching Nutmeg to the side. Too late, she realized her mistake as a coyote darted from the brush directly underfoot, spooking the mare into a wild, twisting buck.

Clementine felt herself slipping, her tenuous grip on the saddle horn failing as Nutmeg crow-hopped and whirled beneath her. She had one instant of sickening clarity, the knowledge that this was going to hurt, before the ground rushed up to meet her with stunning force.

The impact drove the air from her lungs in a whoosh, black spots crowding the edges of her vision. Dimly, she registered the thud of approaching hoofbeats, the bawl of frightened cattle, someone shouting her name with increasing urgency.

"Clementine! Clementine, goddammit, answer me!"

Rough hands seized her shoulders, rolling her onto her back. Clementine blinked up at Elvis' ashen face, his blue eyes wide with fear.

"I'm... alright," she croaked, wincing at the stabbing pain in her ribs. "Just had the wind knocked out of me."

"You're hurt," Elvis said roughly, his fingers coming away from her temple sticky with red. "What the hell were you thinking, pulling a stunt like that? You're lucky you didn't break your damn fool neck!"

"I was thinking that I didn't particularly want to be some coyote's dinner," Clementine snapped, struggling to sit up. "What was I supposed to do, let it take a chunk out of Nutmeg?"

"Better the horse than you!" Elvis shot back. "Christ almighty, do you have any idea what it would've done to me if you'd been killed on my watch? On your first day here?"

There was something raw and desperate in his voice, an emotion Clementine couldn't quite name. She stared at him, struck speechless by the intensity of his reaction.

Before she could formulate a response, the sound of pounding hooves announced the return of the other cowhands. Red reined up hard beside them, his ruddy face creased with concern.

"Miss Clementine! You okay? We saw you take that spill and feared the worst!"

"I'm fine, Red," Clementine assured him, accepting Elvis' hand up with as much dignity as she could muster. "Just a little tumble. No permanent damage."

Rusty looked skeptical, eyeing the bloody gash on her forehead. "That's gonna need some doctorin'. We best get you back to the house and have Juanita take a look."

"I said I'm fine," Clementine insisted, swaying slightly as a wave of dizziness washed over her. "There's no need to fuss."

Elvis made a wordless sound of frustration, scooping her up into his arms as if she weighed no more than a sack of flour. "Stubborn woman! You're gettin' patched up and that's final. Rusty, ride back to the ranch and tell Juanita to put the kettle on and set up a place on the porch.”

"Yessir, boss!" Rusty wheeled his horse and took off at a gallop, stirring up a cloud of dust.

"Slim, you get this heard settled and head on back when you can. Red, you lead Nutmeg back. I'm takin' Miss Accident-Prone here home before she finds more trouble to get into."

Elvis plunked Clementine onto his saddle and swung up behind her, caging her in with his long arms. She opened her mouth to protest the indignity of it all, but a stern look from those flinty blue eyes had her subsiding into sullen silence.

The ride back to the house seemed to take an eternity, every jolt and jostle sending fresh sparks of pain through Clementine's battered body. She could feel the heat of Elvis' chest at her back, the tickle of his breath ruffling her hair. It was unsettling, being in such close proximity to him. Like trying to relax with a loaded gun at your temple.

By the time they reached the ranch yard, Clementine's head was throbbing and her stomach was churning alarmingly. Black spots swarmed her vision as Elvis lifted her down from the saddle, his hands exceedingly gentle for all their strength.

"Easy there, darlin'. I got you."

Clementine leaned into him, too woozy to protest the endearment. He smelled of leather and sweat and something uniquely male, a scent that made her pulse flutter in a way that had nothing to do with her injuries.

She was only vaguely aware of being carried up the porch steps and settled onto a low cot, clucking female voices buzzing around her like concerned hens. Cool hands smoothed her brow, a damp cloth dabbing at the sticky mess at her hairline. The sting of alcohol made her hiss, flinching away.

"Hush, child," crooned Juanita, the middle-aged Mexican woman who served as the ranch’s de facto doctor-slash-veterinarian. "This will clean the cut, keep it from putrefaction. Drink this now, for the dolor de cabeza."

A cup was pressed to Clementine's lips, bitter tea laced with something sharper, medicinal. She gulped it obediently, desperate for anything to dull the relentless pounding behind her eyes.

Gradually, blessedly, the pain receded to a distant ache, her limbs growing heavy with languor. Clementine felt herself sinking into the downy embrace of the cot, the muted sounds of the ranch fading to a distant hum. Just before oblivion claimed her, she thought she felt the calloused touch of a hand smoothing her hair, the gruff timbre of a voice rumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "rest now, wildcat."

But it was probably just a dream, a product of her exhausted, concussed brain. Elvis Presley would never be so tender, so solicitous. Not to her. Not in a million years.

Clementine slept, and did not dream at all.

She awoke slowly, surfacing from the depths of unconsciousness like a diver ascending sunlit waters. Her head felt muzzy, her mouth dry as cotton, but the pain had faded to a faint, distant throb. Blinking gummy eyes, she struggled to focus on her surroundings.

She was lying on the cot on the front porch, a patchwork quilt tucked around her legs. The sun was setting in a blaze of orange and pink, the long shadows of the outbuildings stretching across the yard like grasping fingers. Somewhere nearby, a lone cicada buzzed in the cooling air, a herald of the approaching dusk.

"Well now, look who's back among the living."

Clementine turned her head, wincing at the twinge in her neck. Elvis was seated in a rocking chair a few feet away, his long legs stretched out before him and his hat tipped low over his eyes. He looked relaxed, indolent even, but Clementine could sense the coiled energy beneath the languid facade, the watchful tension of a predator at rest.

"What happened?" she croaked, struggling to sit up. "How long was I out?"

"Couple hours," Elvis replied, leaning forward to hand her a tin cup of water. "You took a pretty good knock to the head when that mare bucked you off. Juanita cleaned you up and dosed you with one of her concoctions. Said you'd be right as rain after some rest."

Clementine sipped the water, frowning as memory returned in fits and starts. The coyote, Nutmeg's panicked thrashing, the sickening weightlessness as she flew through the air...

"The cattle!" she exclaimed, slopping water down her front in her agitation. "Did they scatter? Was anyone hurt?"

Elvis shook his head, a faint smile playing about his lips. "Nah, we got 'em rounded up and settled quick enough. And other than a few bumps and bruises, everyone came through just fine. Except for you, a'course. Damn foolish stunt you pulled out there."

Clementine bristled at the censure in his tone, even as a tiny part of her acknowledged the truth of it. "I was just reacting on instinct. I didn't want Nutmeg to get hurt."

"And I didn't want you to get dead," Elvis retorted, a sudden edge to his voice. "Do you have any idea how close you came to dying today? How it felt to see you layin' there in the dirt, bleedin' and still as a corpse? Christ, Clementine, you 'bout stopped my heart."

Clementine stared at him, caught off-guard by the admission.

She flushed, both at the scolding and the backhanded compliment. "Yes, well, I suppose I've learned my lesson about playing the hero. Ranch work is a sight more dangerous than minding a shop or keeping accounts."

To her surprise, Elvis chuckled. "Reckon that's true enough. But you showed some real grit out there today, greenhorn or no. Not many city gals would have stuck it out like you did."

His praise, grudging as it was, warmed Clementine down to her toes. She ducked her head to hide her pleased smile, suddenly very aware of his nearness, of the way his knee brushed her hip through the quilt.

"I guess I'm tougher than I look," she said, aiming for nonchalance.

"Guess you are," Elvis agreed. Something in his tone made Clementine look up, her breath catching at the intensity in his blue eyes. For a long, charged moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them fairly crackling with an unnamed tension.

Then Elvis blinked and looked away, clearing his throat gruffly. "Best you get some more rest," he said, rising from the rocker. "I'll have Ida bring you up some supper later. Holler if you need anything."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Clementine alone with her whirling thoughts. She lay back against the pillows, her heart racing and her skin tingling where his gaze had lingered. What on earth had just happened? One minute Elvis was his usual gruff, scolding self, the next he was looking at her like... like...

Like a man looks at a woman he desires, a traitorous voice whispered in her head. Clementine shook the thought away, scandalised. Surely she was imagining things, seeing more than was there. She and Elvis were like oil and water, always rubbing each other the wrong way. He tolerated her for the sake of the ranch, nothing more. The idea that he might feel something deeper, something tender and passionate and real... it was impossible.

Wasn't it?

Clementine groaned and turned her face into the pillow, suddenly exhausted. Her head ached abominably, and her heart felt like a bird beating its wings against the cage of her ribs. She needed sleep, needed time to sort through the jumble of her emotions and the strange, unsettling effect Elvis Presley seemed to have on her good sense.

But even as she drifted off into a fitful doze, Clementine couldn't shake the memory of his eyes on hers, intense and searching and full of something that looked achingly like longing. It haunted her dreams, that look—a promise, a challenge, a invitation to something thrilling and terrifying and utterly forbidden.

Something Clementine knew she shouldn't want... but lord help her, she did.

She wanted it with every fiber of her being.

Over the next few days, as Clementine recovered from her injuries, she had ample time to reflect on her growing feelings for Elvis. It was maddening, the way he seemed to invade her every waking thought. She would be in the middle of some mundane task—shelling peas with Ida in the kitchen, or mending a torn shirt in her room—and suddenly his face would swim before her mind's eye, those piercing blue eyes and that crooked, knowing smile making her stomach flutter and her cheeks heat.

It was ridiculous. It was inappropriate. It was... inevitable, if Clementine was being honest with herself. From the moment she'd first laid eyes on Elvis, standing tall and proud on the porch of Windy Creek Ranch, she had felt the pull of him. The attraction, the fascination, the infuriating urge to crack that stony facade and see the man beneath.

But it was more than just physical allure. As the days turned into weeks and Clementine settled into her new life at the ranch, she began to see glimmers of the real Elvis: the loyal friend, the tireless worker, the unexpected jokester. Oh, he could be maddening, with his gruffness and his stubborn pride. But he could also be unexpectedly kind, unbelievably patient, and downright entertaining when the mood struck him.

Like the time he'd caught her trying to sneak a peek at his guitar, the one he kept propped in a corner of the bunkhouse. She'd been sure he would scold her for snooping, or worse, laugh at her clumsy attempts to pluck out a tune. But instead, he'd just shaken his head and smiled that crooked smile of his, then sat down beside her and showed her how to hold the instrument, his callused fingers guiding hers over the strings until she could pick out a passable melody.

Or the night he'd found her crying in the hayloft, homesick and overwhelmed and halfway convinced she'd made a terrible mistake in coming to Windy Creek. He hadn't said a word, just sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms, letting her sob into his shirt until she was spent. Then he'd tipped her chin up and looked into her eyes, his own gaze fierce and tender all at once.

"You're doing just fine, Clementine," he'd said, his voice low and rough. "You're right where you're meant to be."

It was moments like those that made Clementine's heart ache with a longing she couldn't quite name. A yearning for something more than friendship, more than partnership.

Something that felt suspiciously like affection.

But it was impossible. She and Elvis were too different, too stubborn and set in their ways. They would drive each other mad within a year, Clementine was sure of it. And even if by some miracle they could make a go of it, there was still the ranch to consider. Windy Creek needed her, needed Elvis. They couldn't afford any distractions or entanglements.

No, it was better to put such foolish notions out of her head. To focus on her duties and her goals, and let her heart's desire remain just that—a secret, wistful dream.

But oh, how she dreamed.

As the weeks passed and Clementine grew stronger, she threw herself into life at Windy Creek with renewed determination. She rose with the sun each morning, joining Mrs. Jameson in the kitchen for a hearty breakfast before heading out to tackle the day's chores. She rode herd with the cattle, mended fences with Red and the boys, even tried her hand at roping and branding.

She still felt hopelessly out of her depth at times, but she was learning fast. And she had Elvis to thank for that. He was a patient teacher, though a demanding one. He pushed her hard, expecting nothing less than her very best effort. But he was also quick with a word of praise when she got something right, or a steadying hand when she faltered.

Slowly but surely, Clementine could feel herself changing. Growing tougher, more resilient. The blisters on her palms turned to calluses, the ache in her muscles to a pleasant sort of soreness. And though her prim city dresses were a thing of the past, she found she didn't miss them all that much. There was a freedom in denim and calico, a practicality that suited her new life.

She knew she still had a long way to go before she could truly call herself a rancher. But for the first time since arriving at Windy Creek, Clementine felt like she might actually belong here. Like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

And if her gaze still strayed to Elvis more often than it should, if her heart still raced at his nearness and her skin tingled at his touch... well. That was her secret to keep. Her cross to bear.

But lord, what a sweet burden it was.

One evening a few months later, as the sun dipped low on the horizon and painted the sky in shades of gold and pink, Clementine found herself alone with Elvis on a bluff overlooking the ranch. She'd gone up there to get away from the noise and bustle of the house for a while, to let the peace of the prairie soak into her bones and ease the remnants of the day's tension.

She hadn't expected Elvis to follow her. But then, he seemed to have a knack for turning up wherever she was. A coincidence, she told herself each time. Just a quirk of ranch life, two people whose paths were bound to cross often. It didn't mean anything.

But as Elvis came to stand beside her, his shoulder brushing hers as they looked out over the rolling expanse of Windy Creek, Clementine felt that old familiar flutter in her chest. The hitch in her breath, the skip of her pulse.

It meant something. It had to.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the wind rustling through the grass, the distant lowing of the cattle in the pasture. Clementine breathed it in, let it fill her lungs and settle in her bones. This place, this land. It was a part of her now, as vital as her own beating heart.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, almost to herself.

Elvis hummed in agreement, his gaze never leaving the horizon. "Never get tired of this view. No matter how many times I see it."

Clementine glanced at him, struck by the wondering note in his voice. "You really love this place, don't you?"

Elvis nodded slowly. "It's in my blood. Has been since I was old enough to sit a horse. Used to dream about having a spread like this, a place to call my own." He paused, his jaw working as if wrestling with some inner debate. Then, quietly, "Never thought I'd find someone to share it with, though."

Clementine's heart stumbled, then began to race. Surely he didn't mean... no. He couldn't have.

They rode home in silence.

Chapter 3

The sun beat down on Clementine's back as she rode across the pasture, her eyes scanning the herd for any signs of trouble. It had been just over a year since she'd arrived at Windy Creek Ranch, and in that time, she'd learned more about cattle and cowboying than she'd ever thought possible.

She'd also learned a thing or two about herself. Like the fact that she was stronger than she'd ever given herself credit for, and that the wide-open spaces of the West felt more like home than the bustling streets of New York ever had.

As she turned her horse back towards the ranch house, Clementine couldn't help but smile. Despite the long days and the hard work, she'd never been happier. She had a purpose here, a place where she belonged.

She had Elvis.

Of course, he was as quiet as ever. Truly, the strong and silent type. But somewhere along the way, through all the disagreements and teasing, a comfortable companionship had grown between them, and Clementine was grateful.

She dismounted in front of the house, handing the reins off to one of the ranch hands. "Take good care of him, Johnny," she said, giving the boy a pat on the shoulder. "He worked hard today."

Johnny grinned, his freckled face beaming with pride. "Yes, ma'am, Miss Clementine. I'll give him a good rubdown and some extra oats."

Clementine nodded, grateful for the enthusiasm and dedication of her crew. Over time, the workers at the ranch had become like her family. In addition to Red, Slim, and Rusty, there was Johnny, the eager young newcomer; Hank, the grizzled old-timer who'd been working the ranch since before Clementine was born; Juanita, the no-nonsense veterinarian who kept the animals healthy and her affable husband Gerónimo; Ida, the motherly housekeeper and cook whose fried chicken was legendary around these parts; and a handful of other steady, reliable hands.

She made her way into the house, sighing with relief as the cool shade enveloped her. She had just taken off her gloves and settled down at her desk to go over the day's receipts when a letter caught her eye. It was postmarked from New York.

Clementine smiled as she unfolded the pages, eager for news from home. But before she could read more than a few lines, the door burst open and Elvis strode in, his face grim.

"We got trouble," he said without preamble. "Rustlers hit the Falling Tree Acres last night. They're missing a dozen head."

Clementine's blood ran cold. Rustlers. The scourge of the open range, the nightmare of every rancher west of the Mississippi. She had heard the stories, had listened to the ranch hands swap tales of cattle thefts and midnight raids. But she had never thought it would happen here, in their peaceful valley.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Elvis nodded grimly. "They found tracks this morning, out by their western pasture. Looks like the bastards cut the fence and drove off a dozen head in the night. Took ‘em 'til now to make sure there weren't no stragglers."

Clementine sank back into her chair, her knees suddenly weak. A dozen head. It didn't sound like much, but she knew that every animal counted, that even a small loss could be devastating to any ranch.

“What’ll they do?” she asked, hating the tremor in her voice. "What if the rustlers come here?"

Elvis sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "Ain't gonna be easy. These rustlers, they're smart. They know how to cover their tracks, how to disappear into the wilderness like ghosts. We could spend weeks chasin' 'em and never see hide nor hair."

Clementine's heart sank even further. Something had to be done, but... weeks of fruitless searching, of neglecting the ranch and the rest of the herd? They couldn't afford it, not now. Not when they were just starting to find their footing. Then again, they needed to do something about it—prevent any losses before they happened.

But then, a sudden thought struck her. A memory of something her uncle had said, long ago, when she was just a girl. Something about the importance of neighbors, of community, of banding together in times of trouble.

"What about the other ranchers?" she asked, sitting up straighter in her chair. "Surely we're not the only ones who have been hit by these rustlers. What if we joined forces, pooled our resources and manpower?"

Elvis looked at her in surprise, as if the idea had never occurred to him. "You mean, like a meeting?"

She took a deep breath, her mind already racing. "Yes," she said, standing up from her desk. "Let's get the word out. I want every rancher in the valley here tonight. We need to figure out a plan."

Elvis nodded, his jaw tight. "I'll send Rusty and Johnny to spread the news. You want me to ride over to Big Sky, let them know?"

Clementine hesitated, remembering the last time she'd seen Nathaniel Hawthorne. The man had been cold and dismissive, making it clear that he didn't think much of a woman running a ranch. But Big Sky was one of the largest spreads in the area, and they needed all the help they could get.

"No," she said finally. "I'll go myself. It's time Nathaniel and I had a little chat."

Elvis's eyes narrowed, but he didn't argue. "Alright then. I'll hold down the fort here, make sure everything's ready for tonight."

Clementine nodded, grateful for his support. She knew that Elvis had his doubts about her plan, but he trusted her enough to follow her lead. It meant more to her than she could say.

She rode hard for Big Sky, her thoughts churning as she tried to come up with a way to convince Nathaniel Hawthorne to join their cause. The man was as stubborn as a mule, and twice as mean. But if they had any hope of stopping the rustlers, they needed Big Sky on their side.

When she arrived at the ranch, she was surprised to be greeted not by Nathaniel, but by his son Aaron. The young man was a few years older than Clementine, with sharp hazel eyes and a no-nonsense air about him.

"Miss Olivetti," Aaron said, his tone cool but polite. "I'm afraid my father is indisposed at the moment. What can I do for you?"

Clementine dismounted, dusting off her hands on her skirt. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said, though she wasn't entirely sure she meant it. "I've come to talk to him about the rustler problem. We're calling a meeting tonight, and I was hoping Big Sky would be represented."

Aaron’s eyes narrowed, and Clementine got the sense that she was being sized up. "I see," the young man said finally. "Well, I can't speak for my father, but I'll be there. Big Sky takes the rustler threat very seriously."

She rode back to Windy Creek feeling accomplished, like they might just have a chance against the rustlers after all. But as the sun began to set and the ranchers began to arrive, Clementine felt her confidence waver.

The main room of the ranch house was crowded, the air thick with tension and the murmur of voices. Clementine looked around at the gathered men, recognizing most of the faces. There was Jake McAllister from the Circle B, his weathered face set in a scowl. Tom Hawkins from the Rocking H, his fingers drumming an agitated beat on his thigh. Hank Brewster from the Lazy J, his shoulders slumped with weariness. Of course, Jake Dawson from Falling Tree Acres was there, too, hopping mad. And a half-dozen others, all looking to her for answers.

Her own men were there as well—Red and Slim and Rusty, their expressions grim. And a few more she'd come to rely on over the past year: Jeb Thompson, a grizzled hand who could coax a calf from the orneriest of heifers; young Billy Turner, eager to prove himself; and Lyle Davis, quiet and steady, with a gift for gentling horses.

But there was one face Clementine didn't recognize—a woman, standing slightly apart from the rest. She was tall and slim, with honey-blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. When Elvis saw her, he stiffened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face.

"Katie," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "Didn't expect to see you here."

The woman—Katie—smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Desperate times, Elvis. My father and Aaron sent me in their stead." Aaron Hawthorne. Katie was Aaron’s brother, and Nathaniel’s daughter.

There was a story there, Clementine could tell. A history between Elvis and this Katie Hawthorne. But now was not the time to dwell on it. They had bigger problems to deal with.

As if on cue, Tom Hawkins spoke up, his voice tight with anger. "We all know why we're here. These rustlers are bleeding us dry, and something needs to be done about it. But I think we ought to wait and see." A murmur went around the room, heads shaking and fists clenching.

"And what good would hunkering down do?" demanded Sam Johnson, his fists clenched at his sides. "They'd just pick us off one by one, like lambs to the slaughter. No, we need to take the fight to them, hit them hard and fast before they can hit us again."

"Are you out of your mind?" Hank Brewster's voice cut through the din like a knife. "You're talking about going up against armed men, men who won't hesitate to put a bullet in your back. It's suicide, plain and simple."

"I say we let the law handle it," said Hank Brewster, his tone weary. "It's their job, ain't it?"

Jake McAllister snorted. "The law? You mean Sheriff Hodges? That old drunk couldn't find his own ass with both hands and a map. We'd be better off hiring a pack of coyotes to guard the henhouse."

A ripple of uneasy laughter went through the room. Clementine frowned, her patience wearing thin. They were getting nowhere with this bickering. Soon, the men all erupted into argument, voices rising and tempers flaring. Clementine looked from one angry face to another, her heart sinking. This was exactly what she'd been afraid of—that the ranchers would be too divided, too set in their ways to find common ground.

"We have to do something," she said, her voice ringing out clear and strong. "We can't just sit back and watch everything we've worked for be taken away."

"And what do you suggest, Miss Olivetti?" Katie asked, her tone faintly mocking. "That our men go out there, guns blazing, and get themselves killed?"

Clementine opened her mouth to retort, but Elvis beat her to it, his deep voice cutting through the din like a knife.

"Seems to me," he said slowly, "that we don't have much choice in the matter. Either we take the fight to the rustlers, or we sit back and watch everything we've worked for get stolen out from under us. I don't know about y'all, but I ain't too keen on the second option."

A heavy silence fell over the room, broken only by the occasional cough or shuffle of feet. Clementine could see the indecision on every face, the warring impulses of self-preservation and solidarity.

But then, slowly, heads began to nod. Shoulders straightened, jaws set with determination. "The man's right," Jake McAllister said grudgingly. "We can't just sit back and let them pick us off one by one. We have to stand together, or we'll all fall alone."

There were murmurs of agreement from around the room, a sense of purpose beginning to take hold. Clementine felt a surge of pride and gratitude, her eyes seeking out Elvis's across the sea of faces. He met her gaze steadily, something warm and reassuring in the blue depths.

"Alright then," Elvis said, his voice ringing out with confidence. "Let's get to planning. We'll need every able-bodied man who can ride and shoot. We'll track the rustlers to their hideout, and we'll make sure they never trouble us again."

The meeting broke up soon after that, the ranchers dispersing to make their preparations for the evening. As she was lighting a candle, Clementine caught a glimpse of Katie Hawthorne deep in conversation with Elvis, their heads bent close together as they spoke in low, urgent tones.

Something twisted in Clementine's gut at the sight, a flare of jealousy that she didn't quite understand. But she pushed it down, focusing instead on the task ahead. There would be time to worry about Katie Hawthorne later.

Later that evening, Clementine found herself wandering the quiet halls of the ranch house, her mind too full of worries to settle. She was just about to open the cupboard when she heard a noise from the living room, a soft clink of glass on wood.

Curious, she padded over to the doorway, peering into the dimly lit room. Elvis sat at the table, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of him and a troubled expression on his face. He looked up as she entered, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Clementine,” he said, his voice rough. “What are you doing up?”

She shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious in her nightgown and robe. “Couldn’t sleep. Too much on my mind, I guess.”

Elvis nodded, his gaze dropping to the glass in his hand. "I know the feeling," he said, taking a swig of whiskey.

Clementine's heart clenched at the weariness in his voice, the vulnerability he so rarely showed. "You don't have to go tonight, you know," she said softly, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. "The other men can handle it. You've done enough already, Elvis. More than enough."

He looked up at her then, something fierce and determined in his eyes. "Ain’t no way," he said, his voice low and intense. "I promised your uncle I'd look after this place, Clem. I ain't about to break that promise now."

Clementine felt a rush of warmth at his words, a flutter of something deeper and more complicated than gratitude. But she tamped it down, focusing instead on the danger ahead.

"It's going to be risky," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "I don't want you getting hurt on my account, Elvis. I couldn't bear it if something happened to you."

He covered her hand with his own, his skin warm and rough against hers. "Good thing I ain't planning on gettin’ hurt, then," he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, it’s just a search party. We ain’t gonna do no shooting tonight. We’re just gonna track the rustlers, that’s all.”

Clementine laughed, the tension draining out of her in a rush. "Well, I suppose I can live with that," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Just promise me you'll be careful out there, alright?"

"I promise," Elvis said, his voice solemn. "And you promise me, Clementine. You’ll be waiting when I get back?"

She nodded, her throat suddenly tight. "I promise," she whispered, meaning it with every fiber of her being.

They sat like that for a long moment, hands clasped and eyes locked, the silence stretching out between them like a promise of its own. And then Elvis cleared his throat, releasing her hand and standing up from the table.

"Best get some rest," he said, his voice gruff. "Got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Clementine stood as well, her heart racing as she followed him to the door. "Goodnight, Elvis," she said softly, her hand on the knob. "And thank you. For everything."

He paused, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair back from her face. "Anytime, Clem," he murmured, his eyes soft. "Anytime at all."

And then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him, leaving Clementine alone with her thoughts and the pounding of her own heart.

The ranch house was quiet that night, the usual bustle and chatter replaced by a tense, watchful silence. Clementine wandered the halls like a ghost, her mind spinning and her heart aching.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, that some disaster was looming just beyond the horizon. And she couldn't help but wonder if she had made the right choice, staying behind while her men out to face the danger alone.

She found herself in the kitchen just as dawn was breaking, staring blankly at the coffeepot as it burbled and hissed on the stove. She couldn't remember how she'd gotten there, or why she'd come. All she knew was that she needed something, anything, to take her mind off the worry and the fear.

And then, like a miracle, Elvis appeared in the doorway. He looked haggard and worn, his face lined with exhaustion and his eyes shadowed with some dark emotion. But he was alive, and whole, and Clementine felt her heart leap with relief.

"You're back," she breathed, stepping forward to meet him. "What happened out there? Did you find them?"

Elvis shook his head, his jaw tight. "No. We rode hard all night, followed their trail as far as we could. But they're clever bastards, know how to cover their tracks. We lost the scent somewhere around Coyote Creek, and by then it was too dark to go on."

Clementine's heart sank, disappointment and frustration welling up in her throat. "So what now?" she asked, her voice small. "What do we do?"

Elvis sighed, running a hand over his face. "We start again the day after tomorrow, at first light. Keep searching until we find them, or until we can't search no more."

He looked at her then, his eyes dark and intense. "I need you to be strong, Clementine. I need you to keep this place running, keep the men in line. Can you do that for me?"

Clementine swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in her throat. "Of course," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "I'll do whatever needs to be done, Elvis. You know that."

He nodded, something like pride flickering in his gaze. And then, to her surprise, he reached out and pulled her into his arms.

Clementine stiffened for a moment, unused to such displays of affection from the taciturn cowboy. But then she melted into him, her hands fisting in the back of his shirt and her face pressing into the warm, solid strength of his chest.

"I'm scared, Elvis," she whispered, the words muffled against his skin.

He tightened his hold on her, his chin resting on the top of her head. "I know, darlin'. I'm scared too. But we can't let that fear control us, you hear me? We gotta be strong, for each other and for this ranch."

Clementine nodded, drawing in a shuddering breath. And then, before she could lose her nerve, she tilted her head back and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was quick and chaste, a gentle exploration that made her heart race and her blood sing. Elvis made a low, desperate sound in the back of his throat but before things could go any further, he tore himself away, his breath coming hard and fast. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’ta done that." he said, his voice rough with wanting. "We can’t. I ain’t gonna take advantage of you.Not when we both don't know what tomorrow might bring."

“I—you’re right.” Clementine knew it, even as her body screamed in protest. She stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself as if to ward off the chill of his absence. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't know what came over me. It's just... the thought of losing you..."

"Shh." Elvis placed a finger over her lips, silencing her.

"Don't talk like that. We're gonna make it through this, you and me. And when we do, we'll have all the time in the world to figure out what this is between us."

Clementine nodded.

He leaned in, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to her forehead. "But for now, we gotta focus on the task at hand. We gotta be strong for the ranch. Can you do that for me, Clem?"

She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. "I can. I will."

He smiled then, a real smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and made her heart skip a beat. "That's my girl. Now, let's get some rest. We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

The first rays of the sun were just beginning to paint the sky in shades of pink and gold when Clementine stepped out onto the porch, a rifle slung over her shoulder, two pistols at her hip, and a steely glint in her eye.

The ranchers were already gathered in the yard, checking their tack and loading their saddlebags with grim determination. Elvis stood at the center of the group, his black hat pulled low over his brow as he issued last-minute orders and instructions, saddling his mount quickly and efficiently.

He looked up as she approached, his eyes widening in surprise and something like consternation. "What do you think you're doing? I thought I told you to stay put," he demanded, striding over to block her path. "You ain't comin' with us, Clementine. It's too dangerous."

She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. "The hell I'm not," she said, her voice ringing with conviction. "This is my ranch, Elvis. My land, my cattle, my responsibility. My men. And I'll be damned if I'm going to sit back and let someone else fight my battles for me."

He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture. "I know what you're going to say," she said. "That I'm just a woman, that I don't know how to handle a gun or ride with a posse. But you're wrong, Elvis. I've been learning this past year. I can shoot as straight as any man here, and ride twice as quick."

Red’s face split into a big, knowing smile. Elvis elbowed him, and his ruddy companion stood ramrod straight. She saw the flicker of surprise in Elvis’ eyes, too, the grudging respect that warred with his instinctive need to protect her. But she wasn't about to back down, not now, not when so much was at stake.

"I'm coming with you," she said, her voice low and intense. "And that's final. You can either accept it, or you can try to stop me. But either way, I'll be riding out of here at your side, come hell or high water."

For a long, tense moment, Elvis just stared at her, his jaw working as if he were chewing on a particularly tough piece of rawhide. Then, slowly, he nodded, his eyes glinting with something that might have been pride, or exasperation, or a little bit of both.

"Alright, then," he said gruffly. "But you stay close to me, you hear? And if I give you an order, you follow it, no questions asked."

They rode out in a thunder of hoofbeats, the sun high overhead and the wind whipping at their faces. Clementine could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, the thrill of the hunt mingling with a cold, creeping fear. She knew that they were riding into danger, that there was no telling what they might face out there on the open range.

But she also knew that she was not alone, that she had Elvis and the others by her side, ready to fight for what was theirs, and that knowledge gave her the courage to keep riding.

They rode for hours, following the rustlers' trail across the rugged terrain. The sun beat down on them, the heat shimmering off the rocks and the scrubby brush. Clementine could feel the sweat trickling down her back, the dust caking her face and hair. But she hardly noticed, her mind focused on the task at hand, on the need to find the stolen cattle and bring the thieves to justice.

It was nearly sundown when they finally caught sight of the rustlers' camp, a thin plume of smoke rising from a hidden canyon up ahead. Elvis called a halt, his hand raised in warning.

"We'll have to go in on foot from here," he said, his voice low and tense. "Can't risk them hearing us coming."

Clementine nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. This was it, the moment of truth. She slid from her saddle, her legs stiff and sore from hours of riding. She checked her rifle, making sure it was loaded and ready, then fell in behind Elvis as he led the way toward the canyon.

They crept through the underbrush, the only sound the crunch of their boots against the dry leaves and twigs. Clementine could feel the tension in the air, the sense of impending danger. She knew that the rustlers would be armed, that they would fight to keep their stolen herd. But she also knew that they were outnumbered, that the posse had the element of surprise on their side.

As they neared the edge of the canyon, Elvis held up a hand, signaling for them to stop. He peered over the edge, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene below.

"They're down there, alright," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Looks like they've got the cattle penned up in that box canyon. I count six men, maybe seven."

Clementine swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. Six men. Six armed, desperate men who would stop at nothing to keep what they had stolen. She knew that the odds were in their favor, that they had the rustlers outnumbered and outgunned. But she also knew that anything could happen in the heat of battle, that there was no guarantee that they would all make it out alive.

She looked at Elvis, saw the grim determination in his eyes, the set of his jaw. And she knew that he was thinking the same thing, that he was weighing the risks and the rewards, the need to protect their own against the danger of the unknown.

"What's the plan?" she asked, her voice steady despite the hammering of her heart.

Elvis took a deep breath, his gaze still fixed on the canyon below. "We'll split up, come at 'em from both sides. Jake, you take half the men and circle around to the north. Tom, you take the other half and come in from the south. Clementine, you're with Jake. I’ll go straight down the middle, try to draw their fire and give the others a chance to get in close."

Clementine felt a sudden, sharp fear at his words, a sense of dread that she couldn't quite shake. She knew that Elvis was putting himself in the greatest danger, that he was using himself as a distraction to give the others a chance. And she knew that she couldn't let him do it alone.

"I'm coming with you," she said, her voice brooking no argument.

Elvis looked at her, his eyes widening in surprise. "Clementine, I don't think—"

"I'm not asking, Elvis," she said, cutting him off. "I’m coming."

For a moment, Elvis just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he nodded, a flicker of something like pride in his eyes.

"Alright then," he said, his voice gruff. "Let's do this."

They made their way down the steep slope of the canyon, the loose shale and gravel sliding beneath their feet. Clementine could hear the low murmur of voices from the camp below, the soft lowing of the penned-up cattle. Her heart was pounding in her ears, her palms slick with sweat on the grip of her rifle.

As they neared the bottom of the canyon, Elvis held up a hand, signaling for her to stop. He peered around the edge of a boulder, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

"Alright," he said, his voice low and tense. "On my signal, we move in. You stay close to me, you hear? And if things start to go south, you get the hell out of there and don't look back."

Clementine nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She knew that he was trying to protect her, that he was willing to lay down his life to keep her safe. And she knew that she couldn't let that happen, that she would fight to her last breath to keep him alive.

Elvis took a deep breath, his hand tightening on the grip of his pistol. Then, with a nod to Clementine, he stepped out from behind the boulder, his voice ringing out across the canyon.

"Drop your weapons and let the cattle go!" he shouted, his pistol leveled at the nearest rustler. "You're surrounded and outnumbered. There's no way out!"

For a moment, there was silence, the only sound the low moan of the wind through the canyon. Then, with a shout of defiance, the rustlers opened fire, their bullets whizzing past Clementine's head and shattering the rock at her feet.

She dropped to the ground, her heart pounding in her chest. Beside her, Elvis was returning fire, his pistol barking in the still air. She could hear the shouts and curses of the rustlers, the panicked bellowing of the cattle as they milled about in their makeshift pen.

Clementine leveled her rifle, her hands steady and her aim true. She squeezed the trigger once, twice, three times, watching with grim satisfaction as the rustlers fell, clutching at their wounds.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something that made her blood run cold. Elvis, locked in hand-to-hand combat with one of the rustlers, his gun lying forgotten on the ground.

The man was huge, easily a head taller than Elvis and twice as broad. He had a knife in his hand, the blade glinting wickedly in the sun, and a feral grin on his face as he bore down on the smaller man.

Clementine didn't hesitate. She got up from her position, charging towards the two men with a shout of fury. She leaped, tackling the rustler around the waist and sending them both tumbling to the ground.

They grappled in the dirt, the man's knife slashing at the air as Clementine tried to wrestle it from his grip. She could hear Elvis shouting her name, could feel the impact of bodies hitting the ground all around her as the battle raged on.

And then, with a final, desperate twist, she wrenched the knife free. The man lunged for her, his eyes wild with rage and desperation, but Clementine was faster. She plunged the blade into his chest, feeling the sickening give of flesh and bone.

The rustler's eyes went wide, his mouth opening in a silent scream. And then he was falling, his body hitting the ground with a dull, final thud.

Clementine staggered to her feet, her breath coming in great, heaving gasps. She looked around wildly, taking in the scene of carnage and chaos.

All around her, the canyon exploded into chaos. The posse had burst from cover, guns blazing as they bore down on the rustlers. She could hear shouts and screams, could smell the acrid tang of gunpowder on the air. Bullets whizzed past her head, kicking up puffs of dust at her feet.

It seemed to go on forever, that nightmarish battle in the heart of the canyon. But in reality, it was over in a matter of minutes. The rustlers, outnumbered and outgunned, threw down their weapons and surrendered, their hands raised in supplication.

Clementine sagged with relief, her knees suddenly weak. She looked around, taking in the scene of carnage—the bodies sprawled on the ground, the wounded men groaning in pain, the cattle milling about in confusion.

And then her gaze fell on Elvis, and her heart stopped.

He was lying on the ground, his face pale and his eyes closed. There was a spreading stain of red on his shirt, a wound in his chest that pulsed with each labored breath.

"No," Clementine whispered, stumbling forward on numb, leaden feet. "No, no, no."

She fell to her knees beside him, her hands shaking as she pressed them to the wound, trying desperately to stem the flow of blood. Elvis's eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused.

"Don't you dare," she said fiercely, her tears falling hot and fast on his face. "Don't you dare leave me, Elvis Presley. Not now, not like this."

"Somebody help me!" Clementine shouted, her voice raw with desperation. "Please, he's hurt, we need to get him back to the ranch!"

The others crowded around, their faces grim as they took in the sight of their fallen comrade. Tom Hawkins knelt down on Elvis' other side, his fingers searching for a pulse.

"He's alive," he said, his voice tight. "But he's lost a lot of blood. We need to get him back to Windy Creek, and fast."

Clementine nodded, her vision blurring with tears.

“Put him on White Lightning!” Rusty cried, “Clem’s horse is the fastest.” She watched as the men lifted Elvis onto the back of her horse, his head lolling limply against his chest. She wanted to go to him, to gather him into her arms and will the life back into his broken body. But she knew that she couldn't, that she had to be strong now, for him and for herself.

"I'll go with you," said Jake, swinging up into his own saddle. "Red and Tom, you, round up the herd and head on back. The rest of you, tie the rustler up. We'll meet you there."

The ride back to the ranch was a blur, a nightmare of dust and sweat and clenching fear and Elvis’ limp form cradled against her chest as she urged White Lightning onward. She could feel his blood soaking through her shirt, could hear the rattling wheeze of his breath in her ear.

But she refused to give up hope, refused to let the fear and the despair take hold. Elvis was a fighter, a survivor. He would make it through this. He had to.

They reached the ranch just as the sun was setting, the sky painted in shades of orange and gold. Clementine leapt from the saddle, shouting for Juanita and the ranch hands as she half-carried, half-dragged Elvis inside.

"Help him!" she demanded, her voice tight with fear.

Mrs. Jameson hurried over, her face creased with worry. "They took him straight up to his room, miss. Juanita's with him now, doing what she can to stop the bleeding. But he's in a bad way, I won't lie to you."

The next few hours passed in a haze of activity and dread, the ticking of the clock on the mantel the only sound in the silent house. Juanita worked tirelessly, cleaning and stitching and bandaging, her face set in grim determination.

It had been hours, and Clementine had no news. "I need to go to him, Ida" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need to be with him."

The housekeeper nodded, her eyes soft with understanding. "Of course, miss. You go on up. I'll see to the hands and the stock."

Clementine managed a grateful nod, then turned and fled into the house, her heart pounding and her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She took the stairs two at a time.

She burst into Elvis' room without knocking, her eyes wide and wild as she scanned the dimly lit space. He was lying on the bed, his shirt torn open to reveal the ugly, seeping wound in his chest. Juanita was bent over him, her hands bloody as she worked to staunch the flow.

"How is he?" Clementine asked, her voice thin and reedy to her own ears. "Will he... will he live?"

Juanita looked up, her dark eyes unreadable. "I don't know, Clem. He's lost a lot of blood, and the bullet's still in there. I've done what I can to clean and bind the wound, but he needs a real doctor, and soon."

Clementine nodded, her throat too tight for words. She sank down onto the edge of the bed, her hand reaching out to brush the sweat-soaked hair back from Elvis' brow. He was burning with fever, his skin hot and dry beneath her palm.

"Oh, Elvis," she whispered, the endearment slipping out before she could stop it. "What have they done to you?"

She sent Red to fetch Doc Jamison from town, his saddlebags laden with all the medical supplies they could spare. And then there was nothing to do but wait, and pray, and hope against hope that Elvis would pull through.

The sun rose and set, the hours bleeding into days.

Clementine sat by Elvis's bedside, holding his hand and whispering words of encouragement. She barely slept, barely ate, her whole world narrowed down to the rise and fall of his chest, the fluttering of his eyelids, the faint pulse at his wrist.

And then, on the eighth day, a miracle. Elvis's fever broke, his breathing easing and his color returning. He opened his eyes, blinking up at Clementine with a weak, crooked smile.

"Hey there, darlin'," he rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse. "Fancy meeting you here."

Clementine let out a sob, tears of relief and joy streaming down her face. She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his neck and breathing in the warm, familiar scent of him.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," she whispered fiercely. "You hear me, Elvis Presley? Never again."

He chuckled softly, his hand coming up to stroke her hair. "Yes, ma'am," he murmured. "I promise."

The next morning, Clementine awoke to Elvis screaming in agony. Before long, Doc Jamison was at his bedside, procuring a large needle from his medicine bag and injecting it into the patient’s arm. Clementine watched with bated breath as Elvis slowly settled back into a comfortable sleep, floating in the twilight of morphine.

She sat at his bedside, keeping vigil, praying for him. At one point, he whispered something.

"Marry me," she thought she heard. "Be my wife, Clementine."

Chapter 4

Clementine sat at her desk, sorting through the mail that had arrived the previous week. Among the various bills and correspondence, one letter caught her eye. The familiar handwriting on the envelope made her heart skip a beat. It was from Bonnie.

With trembling fingers, Clementine opened the letter and began to read:

"My Dearest Clemmie,

I hope this letter finds you well and thriving in your new life at Windy Creek Ranch. I miss you terribly, and the city feels empty without your laughter and companionship.

I have exciting news! I've decided to take a break from the hustle and bustle of New York and come visit you at the ranch. I long to see the beautiful landscapes you've described and meet the intriguing characters you've mentioned in your letters.

Expect me to arrive within the fortnight. I cannot wait to embrace you and hear all about your adventures.

Your loving friend, Bonnie"

Clementine clutched the letter to her chest, a wide grin spreading across her face. The prospect of having Bonnie at the ranch filled her with joy and excitement. She couldn't wait to show her best friend around and introduce her to everyone, especially Elvis.

Elvis. The thought of him made Clementine’s smile falter.

Since his injury, their relationship had been somewhat strained. She had been tending to him diligently, changing his bandages and ensuring he was comfortable. However, every time she tried to bring up his morphine-induced mumblings, Elvis would change the subject or feign exhaustion. It was starting to worry her.

A knock at the door startled Clementine from her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, setting the letter aside.

To her surprise, Katie Hawthorne stepped into the room, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed and her blue eyes sparkling. She looked stunning in a sage green day dress that complemented her fair complexion.

"Good morning, Clementine," she greeted, her voice polite but cool. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

Clementine forced a smile, trying to ignore the twinge of unease that Katie's presence always seemed to evoke. "Not at all, Katie. What brings you here?"

Katie walked over to the desk, her posture poised and confident. "I was hoping to visit Elvis. I heard he's recovering well, and I thought he might appreciate a familiar face."

Clementine's stomach churned at the thought of Katie spending time alone with Elvis. She knew there was a history between them, but the details remained a mystery. "I'm sure he would appreciate that," she managed to say, her voice even. "He's in his room, resting."

With a nod and a polite smile, Katie left the room, leaving Clementine alone with her thoughts. Unable to concentrate on her work, Clementine decided to take a walk around the ranch to clear her head.

As she stepped outside, the warm sun and gentle breeze greeted her. The sound of laughter caught her attention, and she spotted Red and Slim engaged in a lively conversation near the stables.

"Miss Clementine!" Red called out, waving her over.

Clementine made her way over to them, eager for a distraction. "You're just in time. Slim here was about to share a story about the time he singlehandedly fought off a pack of coyotes."

Slim grinned, puffing out his chest. "It's true! I was out on the range, minding my own business, when suddenly..."

But as Slim launched into his tale, Clementine found herself only half-listening. Her mind wandered to the conversation she had overheard earlier between Katie and Elvis. She had been passing by Elvis' room when she heard their voices, low and intense.

"Elvis, I know things ended badly between us," Katie had said, her tone sincere. "But I want you to know that I still care about you. I always have."

"Look, I appreciate you coming to see me, but things are different now," Elvis had replied, his voice firm but not unkind.

Katie had scoffed. “I know you don't mean that—”

“Katie, I’m not the same man I was back then.”

"I know that, Elvis. And I respect it. I just... I don't want us to be strangers. We have too much history for that."

There was a pause, and Clementine could picture Elvis considering her words. "You're right. We can be friends, Katie. But that's all we can be."

Clementine hurried away before she could hear Katie's response, her heart racing and her mind reeling. What exactly had happened between them? And why did the thought of them together make her feel so unsettled?

Feigning a stomachache, Clementine gently extracted herself from Slim and Red and started back for the house.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice Ida approach until the older woman placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Miss Clementine, you look troubled," Ida said, her kind eyes filled with concern. "Is everything alright?"

Clementine sighed, offering Ida a weak smile. "I'm fine, Ida. Just a lot on my mind, I suppose."

Ida nodded, understanding dawning on her face. "It's about Mr. Elvis and Miss Katie, isn't it?"

Clementine's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

Ida chuckled softly. "I've been around long enough to notice things, Miss Clementine. And I can see the way you look at Mr. Elvis, and the way Miss Katie looks at him too. Frankly, I’d look at him that way too if I were younger,” she chuckled.

Clementine felt her cheeks heat up. "I don't know what you're talking about, Ida."

The housekeeper smiled knowingly. "It's alright, Miss Clementine. You don't have to pretend with me. I know it's not my place to gossip, but I feel like you should know the truth about Mr. Elvis and Miss Katie."

Curiosity got the better of Clementine, and she found herself leaning in closer. "What truth, Ida?"

Ida glanced around to make sure they were alone before lowering her voice. "Mr. Elvis and Miss Katie were engaged to be married once, years ago. They were young and in love, or so they thought. But then Miss Katie got it into her head that she wanted to see the world, experience life beyond the ranch. She left Mr. Elvis behind without so much as a goodbye, broke his heart into a million pieces." She sighed, shaking her head. "It was a terrible thing to see."

Clementine's heart sank. "I had no idea," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Ida patted her hand reassuringly. "Mr. Elvis was never the same after that. He threw himself into his work, closed himself off from the world. But then you came along, Miss Clementine. I've seen the way he looks at you, the way he smiles when you're around. You've brought light back into his life."

Clementine felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "But what about Katie? She's beautiful, and wealthy, and she knows this life. How can I compete with that?"

"Miss Clementine, you listen to me. You are a smart, strong, and kind-hearted young woman. You have brought so much good to this ranch, and to the people who live and work here. Don't you ever doubt your worth."

Clementine nodded, blinking back her tears.

The housekeeper smiled warmly. "Now, why don't you go and check on Mr. Elvis? I'm sure he could use some company."

Taking a deep breath, Clementine squared her shoulders and made her way back upstairs. She waled down the hall to Elvis' room, her heart pounding in her chest. She raised her hand to knock on the door, but hesitated when she heard voices coming from inside.

"... and do you remember that night by the creek? The stars were so bright, and you held me so close. I felt like I could stay in your arms forever." Katie's voice was soft, tinged with nostalgia.

“Sure do.” Elvis’ deep chuckle reverberated through Clementine’s bones.

"Hold still," Katie's voice was soft, almost tender. "This poultice will help with the pain."

There was a moment of silence, followed by a sharp intake of breath from Elvis. "Ouch! Careful, Katie."

"Don't be such a baby," Katie chided, her tone playful. "You've had worse."

Then, a sigh.

"Katie, we can't keep doing this. I told you things are different now." Elvis sounded tired, his voice strained.

"Are they? When I'm with you, it feels just like old times. We sure had something special, didn’t we, Elvis? Don't you miss it?"

Clementine's stomach churned as she imagined Katie sitting close to him, her hands gentle on his skin. She knew she shouldn't be eavesdropping, but she couldn't seem to make herself move.

There was a long pause, and then Elvis spoke, his words hesitant. "I... I don't know, Katie. It's been so long. I’m not the same man I was before."

Katie's voice turned pleading. "But you could be. We could be happy again, Elvis. Just like we used to. If you just give me a chance—"

Another pause, heavy with unspoken words. "I can't make any promises, Katie. But... I won't deny that being with you brings back a lot of memories. Good ones."

Clementine's heart raced, her palms sweating as she listened to their exchange. Did Elvis still have feelings for Katie? Was she just a temporary distraction, a way to forget his past heartbreak?

“Why, Elvis? Why can’t you make any promises? Is it... because of her?” Katie asked, Katie asked, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice. "The city girl who's come to play at being a rancher?"

"Don't do that, Katie."

Katie scoffed, the sound sharp and brittle. "Oh, Elvis. Can't you see? She doesn't belong here. She's not one of us. Sooner or later, she'll realize that and go running back to her fancy city life. And where will that leave you?" She got up, dusting herself off. "Sometimes, you're a damned fool, Elvis Presley."

Clementine backed away from the door, her mind reeling. She couldn't bear to hear any more, couldn't face the possibility that Elvis might choose Katie over her. With a choked sob, she turned and fled down the stairs, out into the yard where she could breathe, where she could think.

Shaking her head, Clementine decided to focus on the one thing she could control—her work. She made her way downstairs and out to the barn, determined to throw herself into the daily chores and put all thoughts of Elvis and Katie out of her mind.

As she mucked out the stalls and fed the horses, Clementine found herself falling into a comfortable rhythm. The physical labor was soothing, allowing her to clear her head and focus on the task at hand. Before she knew it, she was hours deep into her tasks, the sun was setting, and it was time to head home.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn't hear the sound of hoofbeats approaching the front yard until a familiar voice called out, "Clemmie!"

Clementine turned her head, her eyes widening in disbelief. There, sitting in a stagecoach, was Bonnie, her fiery red curls blowing in the breeze and her green eyes sparkling with mischief in the golden hour.

"Bonnie!" Clementine exclaimed, dropping her pitchfork and rushing forward to embrace her friend. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't arriving for another week!"

Bonnie laughed, hugging Clementine tightly. "I couldn't wait that long to see you, darling. I hopped on the first train out of New York and made my way here as fast as I could."

Clementine stepped back, taking in the sight of her best friend. Bonnie looked radiant, her cheeks flushed from the ride and her smile as wide as the sky. "I can't believe you're really here," Clementine said, shaking her head in amazement.

Bonnie grinned, linking her arm through Clementine's. "Well, believe it, darling. I'm here, and I'm ready for an adventure. Now, show me around this ranch of yours. I want to see everything!"

Clementine laughed, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. With Bonnie by her side, everything seemed brighter, more manageable. She led her friend around the ranch, introducing her to the horses and the cattle, showing her the sprawling fields and the cozy bunkhouse.

As they walked, Clementine found herself pouring out her heart to Bonnie, telling her all about Elvis and Katie and the confusion she felt. Bonnie listened intently, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"It sounds to me like you're in love with this Elvis fellow," Bonnie said finally, her tone matter-of-fact.

Clementine sputtered, her cheeks turning crimson. "What? No! I mean, I care about him, of course, but love? That's ridiculous."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow. "Is it? Clemmie, I've known you since we were in pigtails. I've never seen you this worked up over a man before. And from what you've told me, it sounds like he feels the same way about you."

Clementine wilted. "But this Katie… She's beautiful, and accomplished, and she understands this life in a way I never will."

Bonnie took Clementine's hands in hers, her green eyes fierce and determined. "Now you listen to me. You're smart, and strong, and you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. If this Elvis character can't see that, then he's a fool."

“Thanks, Bon. You always know just what to say. What would I ever do without you?”

“Shrivel up and die of sadness and boredom, most likely,” her best friend laughed. “Now, let's go find some trouble to get into. I've been cooped up on that train for far too long."

Clementine laughed, feeling a rush of affection for her friend. "I think I know just the thing. How do you feel about a little horseback riding?"

Bonnie's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Lead the way, darling. I'm ready for anything."

As they made their way to the stables, Clementine spotted Red and Slim leaning against the fence, deep in conversation.

Red's eyes widened as he took in Bonnie's fiery red curls and sparkling green eyes.

Bonnie smiled, holding out her hand. "I’m Bonnie, Clementine's friend from New York."

Red took her hand, holding it a beat longer than necessary. "New York, huh? What brings a city girl like you out to our humble ranch?"

Bonnie laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Oh, you know. Adventure, excitement, the chance to see my best friend in the world."

Red grinned, leaning in closer. "Well, I can certainly promise you adventure and excitement, Miss Bonnie."

Slim rolled his eyes, elbowing Red in the ribs. "Ignore him, Miss Bonnie. He's all talk and no action."

Red chuckled, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I don't know about that, Miss Bonnie. I do my best to make all our guests feel welcome."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. "Is that so? Well, I guess I'll just have to see for myself."

As Bonnie and Red continued their flirtatious banter, Clementine felt her spirits lift. It was good to see her friend getting along so well with the ranch hands.

Suddenly, a shout rang out across the yard. "The fence is down! The cattle are escaping!"

Clementine's heart raced as she saw the herd of cattle stampeding through the broken fence. "We have to round them up!" she cried, running towards the stables.

Red and Slim were already saddling up their horses. "Miss Clementine, you take the north pasture," Red called out. "Slim and I will head south. Rusty, Billy, head east. We'll meet up at the old oak tree." He looked back at Bonnie. “You alright to stay here a spell?”

Bonnie nodded as Clementine swung herself up into the saddle, her face set with determination.

They rode hard, the wind whipping through their hair as they chased down the errant cattle. It was a minor crisis, but it forced everyone to work together to resolve the issue.

Finally, after several hours of hard work, they managed to herd the last of the cattle back into the pasture.

Exhausted but triumphant, Clementine, Red, and the rest of the ranch hands made their way back to the house for a very late dinner, where Bonnie was helping prepare a bountiful spread.

As they entered the dining room, Clementine was surprised to see Katie sitting at the dining table.

"Katie!" Ida exclaimed, setting down a steaming pot of stew. "I'm so glad you could join us for dinner."

Katie smiled, her flaxen hair gleaming in the candlelight. "Thank you for asking me to stay, Miss Ida. It's always a pleasure to share a meal with friends."

Clementine's stomach churned at the sight of Katie, memories of the woman’s earlier conversation with Elvis still fresh in her mind. She took a seat at the table, trying to ignore the way Katie's eyes seemed to be searching around the room. For him.

Bonnie leaned over to Clementine, her voice low. "So that's the famous Katie Hawthorne? I can see why she's got Elvis all twisted up."

Clementine sighed, nodding. "Yeah, they were going to get married until she up and left one day. They’ve got... history."

Bonnie raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "I see."

As they sat down to eat, Clementine found herself seated across from Katie. The blonde gave her a polite smile, but there was a guardedness in her eyes that made Clementine uneasy.

"Clementine, I hear you had quite the adventure today," Katie said, her voice cool but not unkind. "I'm glad to see you're settling into ranch life so well."

Clementine forced a smile, determined to be civil. "Thank you, Katie. This year’s been a learning curve, but I'm enjoying the challenge."

Katie nodded, taking a sip of her water. "It's not an easy life, but it can be a rewarding one. If you're cut out for it."

Clementine bristled at the implication, but before she could respond, the door opened and Elvis stepped into the room. He was moving slowly, his face still pale, but there was a determined set to his jaw.

"Elvis!" Ida exclaimed, her face lighting up. "It's so good to see you up and about!"

"Elvis, darling, you're here," Katie purred, patting the seat beside her. "Come, sit with me. We have so much to catch up on."

Elvis hesitated, his gaze flickering to Clementine before he nodded and took the offered seat. Clementine felt a stab of jealousy, her appetite suddenly deserting her.

"Evening, everyone. Sorry I'm late."

He made his way to the table, his steps measured and careful. As he neared Katie, she reached out and touched his arm, a look of concern on her face. "Elvis, are you sure you should be out of bed? You're still recovering."

Elvis patted her hand. "I'm fine, Katie. Just a little sore, is all. Nothing a good meal and some good company can't fix."

He settled into the chair between Katie and Clementine, his leg brushing against Clem’s under the table. She felt a flush creep up her neck at the contact, her skin tingling where they touched. She forced herself to focus on her plate, not wanting to give away the effect he had on her.

As the meal progressed, Bonnie regaled them all with tales of her adventures in New York, her quick wit and easy charm winning over even the most taciturn of the ranch hands. Red, in particular, seemed taken with her, his eyes rarely straying from her face.

Even so, Clementine couldn’t focus on anything but the strange situation she found herself in. Even as she laughed and chatted with the others, Clementine could feel the weight of Katie's presence, assessing and calculating. It made her feel off-balance, unsure of her place in this world that Katie knew so well. Her stomach roiled.

She couldn't help but notice the easy familiarity between Elvis and Katie, the way they laughed and reminisced about old times. It was clear they shared a deep bond, a history that Clementine could never hope to match.

"Do you remember old Samson's face when he caught us sneaking out of the barn that night?" Katie giggled, her hand resting on Elvis's arm.

Elvis chuckled, shaking his head. "I thought he was gonna skin us alive. But you sweet-talked him out of it, as usual."

"What can I say? I've always been good at getting what I want." Katie's eyes sparkled with mischief, her lips curving into a seductive smile.

Clementine's heart sank as she watched their interaction, doubt gnawing at her insides. Did Elvis still harbor feelings for Katie? Was he considering rekindling their romance?

Bonnie, ever observant, leaned across the table to whisper in Clementine's ear. "Don't let her get to you, Clemmie. She's just trying to stake her claim."

Then, never one to let an awkward moment pass, Bonnie eased back into her chair with a mischievous grin. "So, Elvis, I hear you’re quite the foreman," she said, her voice carrying across the table. "Tell me, what's a handsome cowboy like you doing running a ranch all by your lonesome?"

Elvis choked on his stew, his eyes widening in surprise. The other ranch hands snickered, their faces red with barely suppressed laughter. “Nice to meet you too, Bonnie.”

“No, really! Do pray tell,”Bonnie grinned.

"Well, I... uh..." Elvis cleared his throat, clearly taken aback by Bonnie's forwardness. "I'm not running it alone, y’know. I have a whole team of hardworking folks helping me out."

Bonnie nodded, her expression serious. "Of course, of course. But still, it must get lonely out here sometimes. Don't you ever wish for a little companionship?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

Clementine kicked Bonnie under the table, her face flushing with embarrassment. But Bonnie just laughed, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on the usually unflappable Elvis.

As the dinner wore on, Bonnie kept up a steady stream of witty repartee, peppering Elvis with questions about life on the ranch and his plans for the future. The other ranch hands could barely contain their laughter, choking on their food as Bonnie's New York City directness clashed with Elvis's stoic cowboy demeanor.

At some point during the night, while everyone was in their sixth fit of laughter in a row, Bonnie cleared her throat and made an announcement. "I've been thinking," she said, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "I'd like to stay at the ranch for a while longer, if that's alright with you, Clementine."

Red, who had been hanging on Bonnie's every word throughout the meal, sat up straighter in his chair. "That's great news, Miss Bonnie," he said, his voice eager. "I'd be more’n happy to show you around the ranch, if you'd like."

Bonnie smiled, her cheeks dimpling. "I'd like that very much, Red. Thank you."

Clementine nodded, forcing a smile. Her best friend in the world was always welcome. But even as everyone laughed around her, she felt melancholy. Doubts lingered, gnawing at her heart. Somewhere between the second and third course, she felt lightheaded. She stepped out onto the porch, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. The evening's events swirled through her mind—Bonnie's arrival, the weird tension at dinner, sitting next to Elvis and nearly jumping out of her skin when his knee touched hers...

"Clem?" a familiar voice called out softly from behind her.

She turned to see him standing in the doorway, his handsome face illuminated by the warm glow of the lanterns.

He came to me, she thought, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Y’know, I wasn't sure if you'd be joining us tonight, Elvis, what with you still on the mend and all."

He stepped out onto the porch, his spurs jingling with each movement. "Aw shucks, you know me. I never could resist a party. 'Specially not with that firecracker friend of yours lightin' things up."

Clementine laughed. "Bonnie sure is something, isn't she? Hope she didn't put you too much on the spot in there."

Elvis leaned against the railing beside her, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Nothin' I can't handle. Your girl's got a tongue quicker'n a rattler's strike, but she means well. Kinda reminds me of someone else I know." He shot her a wink.

"Wonder who that could be," Clementine teased, bumping his shoulder playfully with her own. She took a moment to really look at him, warmth blooming in her chest. The past weeks had been hard on him, but he was finally starting to look like his old self again—color in his cheeks, that familiar glint of mischief in his blue eyes.

"I'm real glad you're feeling better, Elvis. We were all so worried about you, you know."

He ducked his head, suddenly bashful. "Shucks, ain't no need for worryin'. Can't keep a stubborn ol' mule like me down for long."

"I have never met a mule half as stubborn as you, Elvis Presley," Clementine ribbed.

"You got me there," he conceded with a chuckle. Then his expression softened. "I never did thank ya proper, Clem. For takin' such good care of me when I was laid up. Ida told me how you were always there, changin' my bandages and makin' sure I took my medicine... I 'preciate it. More'n you know."

Clementine felt a sudden lump in her throat. "Of course, Elvis. There wasn't anywhere else I would've been. I couldn't have bared it if... if we'd lost you. Windy Creek just wouldn't be the same without you."

Elvis looked at her intently, something flickering in his gaze that made her heart skip. "That so?"

"It is," Clementine whispered, feeling pulled in by some invisible force between them.

Elvis reached out, tenderly brushing a stray curl behind her ear. His fingertips lingered on her cheek and Clementine's breath hitched. "Clem, I..."

Just then, the sound of raucous laughter erupted from inside the house, breaking the spell. Elvis dropped his hand and they both took an unconscious step back, the air suddenly thick with words unsaid.

Clementine cleared her throat, trying to calm the riot of butterflies in her stomach. "We should probably head back in soon. Wouldn't want Bonnie to commandeer the whole evening."

"Heaven forbid," Elvis agreed, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

But neither of them actually moved. Clementine and Elvis lingered on the porch for a moment longer, not quite ready to rejoin the clamor inside. The night air was cool and sweet, the distant sounds of crickets and lowing cattle a soothing backdrop to their companionable silence.

Elvis fished in his pocket for a moment before withdrawing a battered harmonica. At Clementine's curious look, he just grinned and brought it to his full lips, blowing a few soft, experimental notes.

"Huh, I didn't know you played," Clementine said, pleasantly surprised.

Elvis shrugged, his eyes twinkling in the low light. "There's a lot you don't know about me, darlin'. I'm a man of many talents."

"Is that so?" Clementine arched a brow, fighting back a smile. "And here I thought I had you all figured out. The strong, silent type with a heart of gold."

"Aw shucks, you'll make me blush," Elvis teased. He leaned back against the porch rail, cradling the harmonica loosely in his hands. "Nah, I ain't nothin' special. Just a cowpoke who likes a good tune now and then."

"I don't believe that for a second," Clementine said softly. "I think you're a lot more than you let on, Elvis Presley."

He looked at her then, something raw and unguarded in his gaze. "Maybe so. But I could say the same about you. When you first blew into town with your fancy city clothes and your high-falutin' ideas, I reckoned you wouldn't last a month out here."

Clementine huffed out a laugh. "Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Lemme finish," Elvis chided gently. "What I'm tryin' to say is you surprised me, Clem. You're tougher than you look. Stronger. You've taken to this life like you were born to it, and you ain't afraid to get your hands dirty or speak your mind. It's a rare thing, and I admire it. Admire... you."

Clementine felt a flush creep up her neck at his words, her heart suddenly racing. "I... I don't know what to say. Thank you, Elvis. That means a lot, coming from you."

He ducked his head, suddenly bashful. "Ain't nothin' but the truth. Windy Creek's lucky to have you."

"I think I'm the lucky one," Clementine said softly. "I never knew how much I needed this place, these people, until I found myself here. It's like... like I finally found where I belong." She laughed self-consciously. "Listen to me, getting all sentimental. Bonnie would never let me hear the end of it."

"Secret's safe with me," Elvis promised with a wink. "But I know what you mean. This ranch... it has a way of gettin' under your skin, makin' you feel like a part of somethin' bigger. It ain't always easy, but it's a good life. An honest one." He raised the harmonica to his lips again, blowing a few mournful notes that seemed to hang in the night air.

Clementine closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her. When it faded away, she opened them again to find Elvis watching her, an unreadable expression on his face. "That was beautiful," she said honestly. "Will you teach me to play like that?"

Elvis's face split into a delighted grin. "You want to learn? Well alright then, c'mere." He beckoned her closer until they were standing side by side, shoulders almost brushing. He handed her the harmonica, arranging her fingers on the holes. "Now, purse your lips like you're gonna whistle, and blow real gentle-like."

Clementine did as instructed, letting out a breathy, off-key squeak. She dissolved into laughter. "I sound like a dying cow!"

Elvis chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, that was good for a first try. You just gotta adjust your embouchure a little, like this—"

“Embou-what?”

“Embouchure. What, you don’t speak Eye-talian?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s French.”

“Oh.” The two erupted into laughter, a deep belly ache that had them soon doubled over the porch railing and wiping tears from their eyes.

“Your mouth position, silly girl. Look at me, teachin’ a fancy New York City girl something!”

Clem playfully slapped him on the arm. “I am not fancy!” She bent her leg to show him her well-worn, mud-covered boot. “See?”

Elvis laughed and brought his own hands up to cup hers, guiding the harmonica back to her mouth. This close, she could feel the heat of him, could catch the faint scent of leather and soap and something uniquely Elvis. It made her head swim pleasantly.

Under his careful tutelage, Clementine managed to produce a passable chord. She beamed up at him, giddy with the small success. "I did it!"

"Sure did," Elvis praised, his eyes warm and proud. "Stick with me, kid, and you'll be a regular vir-tu-o-so in no time. Or... is that another word I gotta teach ya?”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

They stayed like that for a while, huddled together in the pool of lantern light, trading the harmonica back and forth as Elvis taught her a simple melody. It was a rare moment of peace, a stolen pocket of time where the rest of the world and all its troubles fell away.

As the moon climbed higher in the star-strewn sky, Clementine finally straightened up with a sigh. "I suppose we really should head back in. Bonnie's liable to send out a search party if we stay out here much longer."

Elvis huffed out a laugh. "Lord have mercy. I don't think I'm ready for another interrogation quite yet." He hesitated for a beat, then reached out to take Clementine's hand in his. "Clem, I... I just wanted to say..."

But before he could finish the thought, the porch door banged open and Bonnie's vibrant red head poked out. "There you are! I was starting to think you two had run off together." Her green eyes sparkled with mischief as she took in their linked hands and close proximity.

Clementine felt a blush stain her cheeks and she stepped back self-consciously, dropping Elvis's hand. "Bonnie! We were just... Elvis was showing me how to play the harmonica."

"Uh huh," Bonnie teased, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. "Well, hell, don't let me interrupt. I just came to tell you that apparently Ida's famous peach pie is being served, and if you don't get in there soon, Slim's liable to eat the whole thing himself."

"We'll be right there," Clementine promised. Bonnie flashed them a knowing grin and a jaunty salute before disappearing back inside, leaving them alone once more.

Clementine turned back to Elvis, an apology on her lips, but he just shook his head with a rueful smile. "Never a dull moment with that one around, is there?"

"Welcome to my world," Clementine said dryly. "I love that girl to pieces, but subtlety's never been her strong suit."

"Seems to me she's just lookin' out for her best friend," Elvis mused. "Can't fault her for that. You're lucky to have someone who cares about you so much. Hell, we all care about you."

For a suspended moment, they just stared at each other, the air heavy with unspoken longing. Elvis's gaze dropped to her mouth, his thumbs sweeping over the delicate arch of her cheekbones. Clementine's lips parted on a shallow inhale, her body thrumming with anticipation.

But before either of them could close that final distance, a sudden crash sounded from inside the house, followed by a peal of laughter and Red's booming voice calling out an apology.

The spell was broken. Elvis released her and stepped back, clearing his throat roughly. "We should, uh... we should probably get in there. Before they tear the place down around Miss Ida's ears."

"Right," Clementine agreed, trying to calm the riot of her pulse. "We wouldn't want that."

Elvis held out his arm to her, a small, crooked smile on his lips. "Shall we, boss lady?"

As the evening wound down, Katie stood up, smoothing her skirts. "Well, I should be getting back to Big Sky. Early morning tomorrow." She turned to Elvis, a soft smile on her face. "Walk me out?"

Elvis hesitated, glancing at Clementine. But then he nodded, pushing back his chair. "Of course."

Clementine watched them go, her heart sinking. She knew it was foolish to read too much into a simple gesture of courtesy. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted, that Katie's return had stirred up old feelings best left buried.

Bonnie, sensing her friend's distress, reached over to squeeze her hand. "Don't worry, Clemmie. He'll come around. He just needs time to sort through his feelings."

Clementine nodded, trying to take comfort in her friend's words. But the doubt lingered, a small, insistent voice in the back of her mind.

“Yeah, well, maybe by then I’ll already have moved on.”

Clementine sat at the card table, trying to focus on the game of poker in front of her. But her attention kept drifting to the table across the room, where Elvis and Katie sat huddled together, laughing and whispering like old friends.

She couldn't help but compare their easy intimacy to the tender moment she and Elvis had shared on the porch just a few nights ago. The way he had looked at her, the gentle brush of his fingers against her cheek... it had felt so real, so meaningful.

But now, watching him with Katie, Clementine couldn't help but wonder if she had been reading too much into it. If the connection she thought they shared was nothing more than wishful thinking on her part.

"Clemmie? It's your turn, darling." Bonnie's voice snapped her out of her reverie, and Clementine blinked, realizing she had been staring off into space.

"Oh, right. Sorry." She studied her cards, trying to remember what game they were even playing. Across from her, Red and Lyle exchanged knowing glances, their eyes flickering between her and the other table.

Clementine felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment and frustration. Was she really so transparent? Did everyone on the ranch know about her foolish, unrequited feelings for Elvis?

She was just about to make a halfhearted bet when the door to the bunkhouse swung open and Ida bustled in, a letter clutched in her hand.

"Miss Clementine, I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I completely forgot to give you this earlier. It arrived with the afternoon post." She held out the envelope, her face creased with a smile.

Clementine took the letter, recognizing Joseph's familiar handwriting. She had been corresponding with her old friend for weeks, sharing stories about life on the ranch and seeking his advice when things with Elvis got complicated. It had become a comforting routine, a way to stay connected to her old life while embracing her new one.

She opened the envelope, expecting to find another friendly, chatty letter full of news from home and words of encouragement. But as her eyes scanned the first few lines, Clementine felt her stomach drop.

"Oh no," she muttered under her breath. "Oh no, no, no. I’ve really made a mess now."

"Clemmie? What is it? What's wrong?" Bonnie leaned in close, her voice low and concerned.

Clementine looked up, her face pale. "It's Joseph. He's... he's coming to Windy Creek. Says he's booked a ticket and everything."

Bonnie's eyes widened. "Joseph? As in, your Joseph?"

Clementine nodded miserably. "I've been writing to him, just as a friend. I never thought he'd actually come out here. Oh, Bonnie, what am I going to do?"

Bonnie reached out, squeezing Clementine's hand. "Don't panic, Clemmie. We'll figure this out. It's not like you invited him, right?"

Clementine shook her head. "No, of course not. But... what if Elvis finds out? What if he thinks..." She trailed off, her gaze drifting back to the other table where Elvis and Katie sat, still deep in conversation.

Bonnie followed her gaze, her expression thoughtful. Even she had to admit it: "Clementine, honey, I don't think you have anything to worry about on that front. Elvis is clearly still hung up on Little Miss Perfect over there."

Clementine sighed, her heart sinking. Bonnie was right. Elvis had made his feelings for Katie abundantly clear. What right did she have to be upset about Joseph's visit when Elvis was practically fawning over his ex-fiancée right in front of her?

Still, the thought of her former beau showing up unannounced, stirring up old memories and complications... it was enough to make Clementine's head spin.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. "Okay," she said, more to herself than to Bonnie. "Okay. I can handle this. It's just a friendly visit from an old friend, right? No big deal."

Bonnie nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Exactly. And who knows? Maybe a little competition is just what Mr. Stubborn over there needs to pull his head out of his rear and realize what he's got right in front of him."

Clementine couldn't help but laugh at that, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. Trust Bonnie to find the silver lining in even the most awkward of situations.

Across the room, Elvis glanced over at the sound of Clementine's laughter, his brow furrowing slightly. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, that the letter Ida had delivered had upset Clementine in some way.

But before he could dwell on it further, Katie was leaning in close again, her hair brushing against his cheek as she whispered something in his ear. Elvis forced a smile, trying to focus on the conversation at hand, but Katie’s perfume smelled so good.

Taglist: @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @arrolyn1114 @missmaywemeetagain @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @prompted-wordsmith @precious-little-scoundrel @peskybedtime @lookingforrainbows @austinbutlersgirl67@lala1267 @thatbanditqueen @dontcrydaddy @lovingdilfs @elvispresleygf @plasticfantasticl0ver @ab4eva @presleysweetheart @chasingwildflowers @elvispresleywife @uh-all-shook-up @xxquinnxx @edgeofrealitys-blog@velvetprvsley @woundmetender @avengen @richardslady121 @presleyhearted @kendralavon7 @18lkpeters@lookingforrainbows @elvisalltheway101 @sissylittlefeather @eliseinmemphis@tacozebra051 @thetaoofzoe @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @crash-and-cure @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @devilsflowerr@dirtyelvisfant4sy @elvislittleone @foreverdolly @getyourpresleyfix@gayforelvis @headfullofpresley @h0unds-of-h3ll @hipshakingkingcreole @p0lksaladannie @doll-elvis @tacozebra051 @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997 @myradiaz@livelaughelvis @deke-rivers-1957 @atleastpleasetelephone @sloppiest-of-jos

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis fans #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fic #elvis x oc #elvis au #alternate universe #alternate universe fanfic #wild west fanfic

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theharrowing · 1 year

Text

White Lies

Yoongi is everything you could ask for. He is attractive, confident, and smart. And his partner Taehyung is as possessive as he is beautiful. Too bad a relationship would be a major conflict of interest.

You need to have them, at all costs.

🤍 Yoongi x Female Reader x Taehyung

🤍 word count: work in progress (currently 10.5k words) + images of social media posts & text conversations

🤍 college au, partial social media au with a lot of written story, strangers to lovers & established relationship, yandere, hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, angst, slash, poly, minor character injury & death, graphic violence, nsfw, 21+.

🤍 warnings: 🕊 dead dove 🕊. toxic relationships (dishonesty, jealousy, yandere behavior); ACAB includes our MC, sorry you found out this way; corrupt policing. more specific warnings coming soon, pending the release of each chapter.

🤍 part 2 of the Rose-Tinted Obsessions series

🤍 this is a sequel to Boy Blue! i highly recommend that you start at the beginning to fully understand the the dynamic & history between Yoongi & Taehyung. there will be a lot of references to Boy Blue; this fic will spoil the shit out of it. this includes some major character deaths!!! this MC/reader character is not the same MC/reader character from Boy Blue.

🤍 note: all detective work and cop jargon in this fic is either made up on the spot or comes from years of watching/listening to true crime media. i have no credentials in this field and i do not claim to know what i am talking about. for the sake of simplicity & also my sanity, all dialogue that is written and spoken is going to be in English. characters are from Korea and living/working in the US, and we can fill in the gaps between what language they are speaking in which context. also, although i try to keep the mc's physical description vague, i will refer to her as having curves and having hair that can be gripped onto. length and texture will be left vague. places mentioned are completely made up. i may be using actual city and neighborhood names to make it feel real, but every school, bar, etc. is fake and any similarities they have to real places is coincidence.

🤍 also note: this fic is going to be extremely contrived and dramatic, just like its predecessor was. we are not here for award winning story telling; think of it like a trashy daytime soap opera and a gore porn horror film had a baby. obviously, i do not condone the behaviors in this story; it is a work of fiction.

🤍 written parts beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🤍 check out the playlist!

🤍 posted nov. 2023 - present | read on ao3

INDEX

0: Introductions | 0 words + screencaps

1: Do not, under any circumstances, become emotionally attached to either of these men | 2.9k words + screencaps

— TaeGi POV 1: What the fuck is this??? | 0 words + screencaps

2: Sleep sweet, pretty | 7.4k words + screencaps

UPDATES ARE CURRENTLY PAUSED!!!

i have been struggling with mental health stuff, grief stuff, and writer's block, and so i am going to lessen how many fics i juggle at once. hopefully it won't be on hiatus for too long. 💜

tag list: @aidam9911 @andrea613 @bangtan-tee-86 @ffion451 @fluffybuns69 @here4kpopfics @icedtaericano @iloverubberduckiez-blog @kiki-zb @lovemeforeternity @mgthecat @moonleeai @mother2monsters @neoneunnajimin @oceansmerchild @unsureofwhathappens 🤍 by asking to join this tag list, you are agreeing that you are at least 18 or older and that you are comfortable engaging in dead dove content. please tell me at any time if you would like to be removed and i will be happy to pull you off.

#yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #yoongi smut #taehyung smut #taegi #taegi smut #yoongi yandere #taehyung yandere #bts smut #bts yandere #bts social media au

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slasherbvnnie · 1 year

Note

Omg- I would love a continuation whenever you get a chance! Maybe size kink within the smut section or even them getting caught or almost getting caught?

This part 2 is brought to you by learning Stu is a foot and three inches taller than me. I hope you enjoy this, I did my best with the smut. I'm still trying to work on smut, but I think I did a good job with this one.

Dirty Little Secret | Part 2

Part 1

Context: Stu and reader are in a secret relationship behind Tatum's back. Modern Scream Au. All characters 18+

Word Count: 1186

Every other night was always new. Whether it be because you were thinking of a new lie to tell your friends why you couldn’t meet with them or if it was because your heart was racing as Stu climbed up into your window.

Tonight, he chose to once again climb up through your window, which he did even after asking him to come in like a normal person. The reason why he did it was because of the exhilaration he got from sneaking in, not only because he was trying to evade your parents, but because your house was only two houses away from Tatum’s.

It was risky, especially with his car parked not too far away, but both of you loved the thought of potentially getting caught.

You heard the thumps of him climbing up, looking out your window and rolling your eyes. “You know, I’m glad your parents have money, you might be owing me a new wall,” you said as he smirked. “Oh will I,” he asked as you nodded, kissing his cheek as he threw his leg over the windowsill and climbed in. “Tate’s having a little sleepover with Sid tonight, so I figured we could have a little party of our own tonight,” he said as he put his hands on your waist, leaning down and kissing your neck as you smiled. “I’d love that, you haven’t come to see me in a few days,” you pouted as he chuckled against your skin.

“So the other day in that empty lab room meant nothing to you?” He questioned as you hummed, “no, but I do prefer when we can go longer than just a quickie,” you said, moaning softly as he bit down on your neck.

“Then I’ll take my sweet time with you today, sweetheart,” he promised as he pulled you towards your bed.

He smiled, beginning to undress you from your clothes, leaving kisses and hickies in his wake. “So pretty, so fucking gorgeous,” he said as he groped your chest. He smirked, kissing down your body before he got to your panties. He moved his hands off of your chest and instead pulled off your underwear, lifting your thighs to rest on his shoulders and planting little kisses on your inner thighs. You bit down on your bottom lip, letting out a needy whine. “Hurry up already,” you huffed out.

“What happened to not wanting a quickie,” he teased, laughing when you pouted down at him. He flicked his tongue against your clit, moaning at your taste. You whimpered, one hand curling into his hair as the other grasped at your bedsheets. He moved slightly to have his mouth on you, sucking on your clit as his right hand began to play with you. His middle finger teased your entrance, you could feel his smirk against you when you moaned as he slipped his finger inside of you, your grip on his hair getting tighter and holding him in place.

“Fuck,” you moaned out, whimpering when Stu added a second finger. You felt his mouth leave your clit with a little pop from releasing the suction, arching your back when his tongue joined his fingers. You attempted to squirm away from all the pleasure, but his free arm wrapped around you and pulled you back down onto his tongue. “Please, Stu, I need you,” you whined out, feeling happy when you heard him groan. “Don’t say that unless you want me to ruin you,” he murmured against your core as you whined.

“I want you to ruin me, Stu, please. I need you to ruin me,” you pleaded, smiling when he pulled away from your cunt and instead rose to plant a hard kiss on you. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he chuckled against your lips, holding your face as he kissed you again. He groped your breast with his other hand, taking the chance of you moaning to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You didn’t fight him, simply letting him do what he wanted with you. Even though you enjoyed teasing him sometimes, you both enjoyed when you gave him full freedom and let him use you as a toy.

“Such a good girl for me, yeah? Let’s see how much of a slut I can make you into,” he hummed, pulling away from you. He pulled off his jeans, quickly getting out of his shirt and underwear before grabbing you and getting off the bed. “Let’s try something new,” he said as he took you over to the window, your legs wrapping around his waist and connecting your ankles behind the small of his back. “Stu, but-“ “what? Afraid tate will see?” He asked with a smirk as you pouted, “Oh come on baby, who fucking cares. I want your neighbors to see how fucking hot that ass looks, especially when I’m fucking that pretty pussy of yours,” he said, kissing your neck again.

He pulled down the window, not wanting you to fall out mid fuck, pressing you against the glass after. He held onto you tightly, pushing inside of you, the two of you moaning as he pushed all the way inside. “Fuck, look at that, barely fucking fit inside,” he groaned, looking down at where the two of you connected. You grew wetter at his comment, moaning as you looked down and he thrusted all the way in.

You clung onto him, clawing at his back as he took no mercy on you. Stu knew exactly how you liked it by now, wasting no time to get the both of you off, not when he knew how many rounds you two could last together.

Your climax was beginning to build until you heard your phone ring, the two of you huffing as you looked over and saw Tatum’s id call. “Fuck, stu, hand it to me,” you requested, Stu rolling his eyes as he reached over and handed the phone to you. You thought he would stop, but was only met with him thrusting even harder into you.

“Holy shit, are you getting fucking plowed right now?” Tate asked as you blushed, “Tate! What are you doing outside,” you asked, trying not to moan and doing your best to not notice Stu’s shit-eating smirk at hearing your question. “Me and Sid made some cookies, came to give you some but it seems like you found something better,” she said as you whined. “Just leave them at the door okay!” You said before hanging up, moaning as Stu pushed even harder against you.

You moved your head to the crook of his neck, moaning into the crevice before hearing a loud exclamation from outside. You looked to Stu, blushing when you realized he was staring out the window down at whoever was yelling outside. “Fuck,” you huffed out, whimpering when Stu didn’t stop, instead quickening his pace. “S-Stu, Tate’s-“ “Getting a show along with Sid, come on, let’s at least get off before getting into a fight,” he laughed, kissing your neck as he continued to thrust inside of you.

#stu macher smut #stu macher brainrot #stu macher x reader #stu macher #scream 1996 #scream1996 #scream #scream x reader #scream au #ghostface x reader #ghostface

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 years

Note

still not over the fact that all your work is très magnifique 😍 (dont mind me binge reading at 4am)

if i may request, how do you think dream would react when his lover(reader) is very jumpy or easily flinches. we all know morpheus can be rather mysterious-in-the-shadows type and as someone with anxiety i feel like him popping out of no where will just make me jump all the time

Hold My Hand

Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures, your measure for Dream giving you near death experiences involved a very particular accessory.

Word Count: >600

Warnings: some kinky inclinations lol, gender neutral!reader, kitty meow meow dream (real), pouty!dream, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: HHIHIHI IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY FICS ENOUGH TO LOSE SLEEP OVER IT ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BUT ALSO GET SOME SLEEP PLS T_T the gif is how i imagine dream apologizes for scaring you Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

I let out a long, exaggeratedly prolonged, scream when I feel someone come up from behind me in this dead end of the library. It was instantaneous, the hug and the concerned voice that came after.

I mean I really was scared, but still, I was 100% sure I was born dramatic. I heaved heavily as I leaned into the embrace of the being behind me.

Dream cranes his neck down to kiss the side of my neck, "I apologize, my dear," he speaks with genuine guilt, "I was only thinking about how you told me you enjoyed back hugs and I could not help myself."

"It's fine," I sigh deeply, placing the book in my hand back in the shelf.

Dream, although he knew I was not making an attempt to leave him, pulls me back, as if unwilling to have a fraction of space between us. I chuckle, "alright, alright, gimme a sec, geez."

Once the book is back in its spot, I twist in his arms and position myself into a comfortable embrace, cheek pressing against his chest.

Dream tightens his hold, relaxing against me; his previous guilt of rousing my anxiousness finally seemed to leave him.

I can't help but chuckle when he nuzzles against my head, "rough day?"

He hums, "everything is suddenly bearable after I feel your touch."

I smile against him and pull back to show this. In contrast, he has his pouty lips curved down and it makes my brows raise, "what's wrong, Dreamy?"

"I do not enjoy the fact I keep agitating you when I phase to your side."

I snort, "well, actually," I pull away from him, "I may have a solution."

His brows furrow, appalled by the fact I was pulling away from him. His frown deepens.

"Dream," I chuckle, "I'm literally still right here, please, I just need to get something out of my pocket."

A line between his brows forms. He barely loosens his tight grip on me. I cannot help but press my lips as I look at him in amused annoyance.

"Here," I say, as a pull out a tiny choker and dangle it between our faces.

Dream averts his attention, furrowed brows raising.

"I had a cat once," I start, undoing the clasp of the necklace, "she was so sneaky, my family did not know peace until we gave her a bell."

I bring my hand over his shoulders, placing the black and gold thing around his neck. I rise to my toes and look over Dream's shoulder when I do this. Once I am done securing it, I release a sigh and fall flat on my feet. "Now," I smile, grabbing his cheeks, "I might find peace with your bell."

Dream looks down at the choker. I grab the bell at the center so that he could see it, but I'm unsure he does.

His hands travel up my back as he averts his gaze back upon me, "if it can rid of my jump scare tendencies-"

I snort at his use of my term.

"- then I am happy to wear it."

I break into a fit of giggles when he leans in and peppers my face with kisses. As innocent as those were, my breathing begins to grow heavy when his lips trail down my neck, "Dream... Lucienne might catch us again..."

Meanwhile Matthew's head cocks from side to side as he looks for bright ringing sound he could not for the life of him find. "Lucienne, am I going bonkers, or do you also hear that bell ringing?" "I thought you were already bonkers." "Lucienne, I'm serious-" Matthew's beak stays open when he sees Dream pass by out of nowhere. "D-Did you- did he- is he wearing a collar?" "Matthew, Dream is a consenting adult-- in fact, he's much older than that." Safe to say, the sound of the bell was so much more hard to ignore now.

#dream of the endless fanfic #dream of the endless fluff #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fluff #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless smut #morpheus fluff #the sandman x you #dream x you #dream fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x you #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you

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spinningwebsandtales · 11 months

Text

Imagine Tsugaru Making You Feel Accepted

Tsugaru Shinuchi X Kitsune FemReader

Rating: None

Warnings: Reader is self-conscious, mentions of death

Word Count: 663

Requested by @kawaistrawberry21

(A/N:) Thank you for your patience as I have been working on this! I hope you enjoy the fruits of your request as I enjoyed writing it! I love writing for Tsugaru as there's not much when it comes to him and it's a shame! I hope this is everything you wanted and more! Thank you for your request as I like to write things that my readers want to see! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The day was beautiful in the meadow you and Tsugaru found yourselves in. You hadn't seen him in so long and you wanted to enjoy every moment when he was around. His head was nestled in your lap as the sunshine played across his features. A gentle breeze tussling his hair, tickling his nose. He grunted itching at the tip of his nose when you began to thread your fingers through his dark locks. He moaned as you itched his scalp and lulling him back into peaceful slumber. While he was known as the Oni Killer he had never mistreated you for a moment. As a Kitsune and one of the last of your kind, you had taken to hiding your features from everyone.

You remember the moment vividly as Tsugaru had came across you in a weakened state when you first met. Your ears and tails on show for everyone to see. Normally monsters such as yourself were either hunted down or used to make money in a side show. You trembled to know that you were facing the man who was notorious for destroying beings like you. But instead of a killing blow he had offered you a hand. He had hid you, long enough for you to regain your strength to glamour yourself.

Your relationship had begun there and you had no regrets on finding such a man as Tsugaru. He gripped your wrist, pulling you from your thoughts as a butterfly flitted by.

"You're thinking about something again, instead of paying attention to me," Tsugaru pouted.

"Can a girl daydream about other things than the man she loves," you retorted kissing his forehead.

"Not when he's around," he winked. "He might get jealous."

"Like anyone besides you would want a Kitsune."

Tsugaru knew well how much it bothered you being different. He knew you feared humans and what they would do to you if they found out you were Kitsune. While he hunted creatures of your kind, it grew old and being part Oni made him realize that everything was more complicated than the populace lead on. Your sadness bothered him and he didn't want you to feel this way. Especially when he was around, though he understood that you needed comfort from him. He set up from your lap, turning around so he could face you. The grass swaying around you both, he plucked a flower and placed it in your hair.

"You don't have to glamour yourself when I'm around," he cooed.

You looked down releasing the spell, your fox ears and tails coming back into existence. One tail twitched in nervousness while your eyes darted around for anyone close by. Tsugaru cupped your chin, making you look at him. He stroked at your soft ear admiring the colors.

"You never have to glamour yourself when I'm around."

"I know," you mumbled. "I'm just used to it."

"I know," he nodded. "I hope one day it'll be where you don't have to worry about others seeing you. But until then you're always safe with me. You are perfect the way you are and don't believe any less."

You nodded, tears pricking your eyes. Tsugaru leaned in kissing you gently causing your breath to hitch. He pulled away, licking his lips before plopping his head back down in your lap. He closed his eyes grinning widely before placing your hand back on top of his head.

"You can pet me some more now," he purred.

"I'm beginning to wonder which of us is the true Kitsune," you snorted but went back to petting his head. This time you sat there in your true form letting the sunshine warm you. You would have no fear when Tsugaru was here accepting you. It made you feel safe and seen. He was everything you could ever dream and more as he made you feel like no other man could. As long as you had him, you felt like you had everything.

#Tsugaru Shinuchi X Reader #Tsugaru Shinuchi / Reader #Tsugaru Shinuchi #Undead Girl Murder Farce #Tsugaru Shinuchi Imagine #Undead Murder Farce Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

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laxmiree · 2 years

Text

[CN] MLQC Lucien’s Crazy date translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Translation under the cut!

(T/N: Very recommended to follow along the date because hnghh, I have never heard him this happy and alive before 😭. Sadly, I don't have this card, so I can't subtitle it myself. But you can check the date recording here in this link.)

The sea breeze passed through the moonlight, bringing the warmth of winter to the south.

I was leaning in Lucien's arms, watching the gripping movie plot on the projector with great interest.

Keeping the same position will inevitably make my back ache, but I don't want to leave his arms.

Just as I adjusted my posture for the third time without making any noise, a soft pillow was placed under my waist.

MC: ...?

Raising my head in a daze, I met Lucien's smiling eyes.

MC: How can you still catch my little move?

Lucien: If it hadn't been for the fact that you made me feel a little tickled, maybe it won't be so quickly discovered.

I laughed and rubbed against the crook of his arm before looking back at the screen.

A few days ago, Lucien was invited to a New Year's Eve party hosted by his research colleagues. The party isn't formal. It's mainly for relaxation and communication.

So at his suggestion, I was happy to accompany him. We arrived early and rented a small manor to start our vacation time.

During the day, we walked around with the camera, and at night we nestled on the sofa, drinking wine and watching movies.

No work and no worries, just a happy and relaxed us.

??: Mary, I've figured out that even if my life were to stop tomorrow, I would still be on the end of the road

Mary: Then I'll go crazy with you and accompany you until the end.

The main character, who has been sentenced with the "death penalty" is dressed in a hospital gown. But his pale face is radiant as he and Mary dragged the IV and ran toward the hospital gates.

The sunset dragged their long shadows, and they took a long way away with each step. It was only when the gorgeous images jumped out of the black end credits that I realized the film was over.

After exhaling a deep breath, I noticed elderly people with gray hair appearing on the left side of the credits one by one.

??: Love is the most important thing in the world.

??: Life is always crazy. You want it? Just get it!

I was deeply touched by their sincere advice to young people, and I felt as if there was a hot fire burning in my heart.

Perhaps in the long road, I also need to have this impulse to run for the heart's desire more often.

MC: Lucien...

While thinking, I sat up and looked earnestly into those long, narrow eyes.

Lucien: What to do? I seem to have guessed MC is about to stir up troubles.

(T/N: 蠢蠢欲动 is an idiom meaning to begin to stir (idiom) / to get restless / to become threatening)

He raised his chin and narrowed his eyes. His magnetic voice fell on my ears.

Lucien: (whisper) You seem to want to do something you've never done before.

Lucien: Just like the protagonist of this movie, he leaves some out-of-the-ordinary, crazy traces in this world.

MC: ...

He said it almost perfectly and even poetically summed it up for me. I pouted and lightly jabbed him on the arm.

MC: No fun. I just ignited three minutes of enthusiasm, and then 80% of it was doused by a clever man!

He intentionally frowned in distress, took me into his arms, and nuzzled against the tip of my nose.

Lucien: (in that grieving tone) So what should I do? I don't know if I have a chance to atone for it...

Lucien: Let's get your three-minute enthusiasm going again.

His eyes rested between my lips almost imperceptibly. Without waiting for me to react, a soft sensation gently sealed my breath.

He slowly teased and nibbled on my lips as if trying to increase the heat little by little.

Lucien: (whisper very, VERY hoarsely) MC, tell me... what were you trying to do just now?

I subconsciously intended to speak but caught an inch of his smile in my dazed vision.

....He was leading me by nose again.

I drew back to my senses and pulled my neck away, escaping from the air that was getting thinner.

Lucien: Looks like my atonement wasn't enough.

Lucien smiled, and another kiss fell on the corner of my eye. His fingertips restlessly touched and lingered on my waist, making me tremble lightly.

And he had no intention of letting me go. His other hand was covering my eyes as if to block all possibility of me ever coming to my senses.

The string called reason shook and swayed as the kiss slowly moved downward, and I buried my face in his coat.

MC: Lucien, be serious.

MC: If this continues even further, I really won't be able to think anymore!

His chest trembled gently under my cheeks as if it was enduring something unbearable.

Lucien: [chuckle] In fact, you don't need to spend time thinking about it.

I pulled my head out of his embrace. I watched in a daze as he took a sip from a glass of wine on the table and casually swayed my fingers with his other hand.

Lucien: Crazy thoughts are inherently irrational.

Lucien: So when these thoughts come up, it's better to follow your heart than to think about it more deeply.

(thinking of his sp date-)

Looking at his serious look, I raised my cheeks and looked up and down.

MC: It always feels strange to hear such words from Professor Lucien's mouth, who usually speaks sensibly.

Lucien: Is that so?

Lucien: Reason and madness may sound like opposites, but sometimes they can exist at the same time.

MC: But isn't it usually when you lose your mind that you get called "crazy"?

Seeing that I objected, Lucien smiled and raised his hand to rub my nose.

Lucien: MC, we tend to think that reason is about what we shouldn't or should do.

Lucien: But in many cases, "unreasonable" is not the same as "wrong".

Lucien: It's just not predictable.

I couldn't help but think of the movie I just saw, where the main character's life changed in amazing ways when he did things he would never have done before.

My heart felt moved, so I sat up and kissed the person in front of me.

MC: Hey, is it like this?

Lucien was stunned by my sudden movement and slightly bent his eyes.

Lucien: This seems to be only a start.

Lucien: After all, this happens to me every day, doesn't it?

MC: It seems this kind of "crazy" to do whatever I want is not enough to satisfy our Professor Lucien.

I said as I intentionally rested my eyes between his lips. My hands slid down to his chest little by little and slowly pressed close to his body.

Lucien seems to have guessed my mind and letting me go close, but the palm of his hand is covering my waist like declaring the initiative.

Seeing that he would pull me close to his arms, I quickly used my hands to resist against his chest.

MC: I admit defeat. I really can't "fight" you and win!

He raised the corners of his lips in triumph, leaned over, and picked up the glass to hand it to me.

Lucien: Anything else you want to do tonight?

Lucien: For example, finishing the landscape you painted yesterday or taking the scones out of the fridge for a midnight snack?

I pondered and took a sip of wine. The choking warmth slid into my stomach.

MC: ...I haven't thought about it. Why don't we do what you said, think of something, and then do it?

MC: Anyway, it's a holiday, so relax your tense nerves and don't worry about anything.

Lucien: Okay. Then I won't worry about it. The painting can be done at another time.

Lucien: If you don't feel like eating a late-night snack, you can also wait until tomorrow to eat the scones that have missed their optimal taste.

MC: Pfft...

What he said made me burst into laughter. I got up, took my wine, and slowly looked around the room.

When I glanced over the spiral staircase, my eyes lit up, and I happily pointed to the slanted moonlight on the steps.

MC: Lucien, look. I can't believe that just by watching a movie, the clouds have dispersed and the stars have come out.

I looked up at the transparent dome and gazed at the stunning view of the galaxy.

MC: Is it just me, or is the air quality really good these few days. Why does it seem like the stars are getting brighter each day?

As I joked around, Lucien also sat down beside me, holding a wine glass.

Lucien: Then I guess we'll be seeing even more dazzling stars over the next few days.

I laughed and pretended to look at him in a serious way.

MC: Lucien, you can't use the fact that you are a professor to speak nonsense.

Lucien: Can't I make a joke?

I reached out and poked his cheek.

MC: You can, but your face is so deceiving that I can easily take anything you say seriously.

Seeing that Lucien was amused by me and laughed, I nuzzled against his shoulder in a good mood.

MC: Say, if we just sit here and watch the stars all night until sunrise…

MC: Would that be a crazy thing to do?

Lucien: Hmmm... I don't think it's necessary to measure the scale of craziness.

Lucien: As long as that is something you want to do, whether you sit here all night or sit for five minutes and then return to bed….

Lucien: It's all good.

Everything is tranquil and time seems to slow down, making my senses increasingly clear.

I can hear the wind blowing through the curtain at the window and the sound of Lucien's hair rustling in my ears.

I couldn't resist closing my eyes to listen to more subtleties that I hadn't noticed before.

Whoosh-

Suddenly there was a soft crashing sound from afar. It was like the sound of an hourglass ticking away in the night.

MC: Lucien, did you hear that?

I opened my eyes, and my hand pointed out the window to the sound. Lucien slightly held his breath as if he was carefully distinguishing.

Lucien: The place we live is not far from the beach. I think it should be the waves.

MC: …The waves?

The rustling sounds kept coming to my ears, and perhaps because of the influence of alcohol or because of the "grand words" just now –

A thought struck my mind, and I stood up.

MC: Lucien.

Lucien: MC, would you like to see the sea right now?

Looking at each other tacitly, a small warmth flowed through my heart, but when I couldn't refrain from nodding my head-

I saw the clock behind Lucien, pointing to one in the morning.

MC: ...

MC: I'm tempted, but it's almost one o'clock now.

MC: We still have to attend the party tomorrow. It won't be good if it affects your condition…

Lucien: It doesn't matter if I sleep less, but it might make MC a little sleepy.

Lucien: So…You can totally reject me.

Lucien smiled lightly, the moonlight cast a hazy color on him, and his collarbone was also faintly visible under the open skirt.

His usual soft and smooth hair was also a little messy because he was lying on the couch with me all night, giving him a little "unkempt" sense of laziness.*

(T/N: 不修边幅 is an idiom meaning not care about one's appearance/ slovenly in dress and manner)

Even though he said that, there was a dark tidal current that swept me deeply into those dark eyes.

It made me sink into them.

I winked and beamed with a big smile.

MC: No, let's go to see the sea.

MC: I don't care if I will be a bit sleepy tomorrow. I want to see the sea with you now.

The interest in Lucien's eyes grew even stronger, his hand absent-mindedly resting on the back of his neck while the other hand holding the wine glass clinked lightly with mine.

It sounded clear and beautiful.

Lucien: Then, we seem to hit it off.

(T/N: 一拍即合 is an idiom lit. to be together from the first beat (idiom) /to hit it off/to click together / to chime in easily)

At night, it turns out that nothing can be seen on the sea except the ivory moonlight falling on the tide.

At the far end of the horizon, a long, thin line of lights from thousands of homes spreads horizontally, so far away that it seems like another untouchable world.

MC: Lucien, there are only two of us here.

MC: It seems that the idea of going to the beach at one o'clock in the morning is really unreasonable~

Lucien: But by occasionally doing the opposite, the sea belongs to us for a brief time.

Lucien: Even though the sea is not blue at all, there are no seagulls to be seen, and you might even step on a small crab moving in the night.

Seeing Lucien joking around, I'm happily took off my shoes and quickly run to the waves to feel the tide soaking through my ankles.

MC: I can't see the sea, but I'm in the sea right now.

MC: I can still feel the sand slipping past my ankles along with the tide and then quietly slipping away from the soles of my feet.

Lucien: The Great Producer seems to be extraordinarily attentive today.

Lucien: I don't know if it's because of the wine or the movie...

MC: Of course, it's because of you.

I was quick to take over his words, winking playfully. Seeing me like this, Lucien burst out laughing.

Lucien: (laughs) What to do? I feel a bit helpless with this slightly drunk lady.

Hearing his little teasing, I purposely flicked my foot and brought the seawater onto the edge of his shoe.

MC: Then Professor Lucien, don't let me stay alone in the sea~ why don't you take off your shoes too? It's comfortable here,

He didn't answer, and just when I thought he would smile and politely decline, Lucien bent down to take off his shoes and walked beside me.

Lucien: Indeed, It's very comfortable, just a little cooler than I thought.

Although taking off the shoes is not a big deal, I feel that his natural response is a bit unexpected

MC: Lucien, how many drinks did you have tonight?

Lucien: Do you think I'm drunk?

His long, narrow eyes were clear under the moonlight, and they clearly captured me in them. I smiled, shook my head, and continued using my foot to send the cold water over his ankles.

MC: It doesn't matter if you are drunk or not. There is no one else here anyway.

MC: So, it's okay for you to be a little more "let loose".

Lucien: Can teacher MC teach me some examples?

My eyes seemed to linger on him. Then I leaned down to cup a small amount of water and splashed it on him.

MC: Just like this?

He nodded thoughtfully, took two steps forward, and when I thought he was going to counterattack, I was about to turn and run-

Before Lucien tenderly shackled me in his arms.

Lucien: (whisper) Teacher, can I draw another example from what you just taught me?

MC: O-of course.

He gazed deeply at me. His fingertips brushed my eyebrows, my eyes… And finally, he held my face and kissed it.

The waves hit the rocks again, but this time, we were in the middle of the waves, surrounded by dense foam and entwined by the sweet taste of wine between our lips and teeth.

I was immersed in this sweet taste. Lucien only pulled away from me a while later. The cold sea breeze lingered at the tip of my nose and tickled me a little….

MC: Ah-choo-!

I quickly covered my mouth, and a chill ran through my body.

MC: … Although it is in the south, the sea is still a bit cold at night.

Lucien: This seems to be an oversight on my part.

He turned and bent down, grabbed my thighs with both hands, and put me directly on his back.

A moment of weightlessness made me cling tightly to his neck.

MC: Eh? Are we going back? But I'm just a little cold and not tired.

Lucien: This lady seems to have misunderstood me.

He said as he walked forward, moving away from the direction of the manor.

Lucien: Since we came to the beach late at night, we should have some fun before returning.

Lucien: It's just that if you stay in the sea all the time, it's easy to catch a cold.

Lucien: So, by carrying you on my back in the sea, we should be able to achieve almost the same effect.

Our shadows are close and seamless under the moonlight.

I contentedly put my face on Lucien's back and talked to him about one thing after another.

The faint sound of laughter rolled away with the waves until I saw the smoke coming from the distance, and I couldn't help but exclaim in a small voice.

MC: Lucien, it's a roadside stall! It looks like a stall for some kind of warm and hot soup.

Lucien: Want to go over and take a look?

MC: Um!

As we got closer, I faintly saw the stall owner turn off the small lights and put the ingredients into the box one by one…

MC: Shoot, looks like it's about to close!

Before I finished speaking, Lucien tightened his arms, and I felt a gentle jolt. I was stunned when I realized he was running with me on his back!

MC: Lucien...?

Lucien: (panting while shouting happily) MC, I'm curious, so without any hesitation...

Lucien: (still continuing shouting happily) I ain't gonna let you miss it.

(T/N: I DIDN'T THINK IT WAS POSSIBLE FOR HIM TO SOUND THIS HAPPY AND ALIVE-)

A relaxed laugh passed through my ears. Although I can't see his expression at this moment, I can imagine that calm but warm face.

I couldn't help but laugh and approached his ear-

MC: Professor Lucien, we seem to be a bit "crazy" now.

When I woke up the next day, Lucien was already fully dressed, sitting on the sofa and quietly reading a book.

His white shirt was clean, and his smooth hair was well-groomed.

I can't see that this is the same man from last night, who was so energetic that he chased the stall owner with me on his back so I could successfully drink hot soup, and only went to sleep at dawn…

I secretly laughed, then sat up and stretched.

MC: Lucien, what time is it? Why didn't you wake me when you got up?

Lucien: You were so tired from last night, so I wanted to let you rest a little longer.

Lucien: Plus, there's still plenty of time, so you can take it slow.

MC: So… Since it's early, can I ask for a good morning hug?

I grinned at him and opened my arms. Lucien put down his book, sat on the edge of the bed, and softly pecked me on the lips.

MC: Even Professor Lucien can misinterpret a question. I clearly ask for a hug.

Lucien: Then, just think of it as an additional question that I answered.

I stayed in his arms for a while before going to the closet. I took out a purple dress and a set of a white casual suit with trousers.

MC: Which one do you think I should wear today?

His eyes wandered between the two sets of clothes for quite a while.

Lucien: The party is relatively long, so it is reasonable that wearing a comfortable dress would be better.

Lucien: However, a certain lady was so excited about the party that she went back and forth to pick out her clothes several times while packing.

After a moment of pause, his eyes finally fell on the purple dress.

Lucien: So just wear it, and if you get tired by then, we'll come back early.

MC: Hehe, Professor Lucien understands my mind the most~

Lucien smiled and walked to the mirror. His fingertips lightly crossed the table's edge and took out a pair of butterfly earrings from the jewelry box.

Lucien: I also have a suggestion about the jewelry.

Lucien: You used to say it didn't have the right opportunity to shine, but I think today is that opportunity.

I took the earrings with a smile and hugged him around the neck.

MC: Then I would like to ask Professor Lucien to continue to help me with advice. Is that okay?

MC: I'll need you to help me choose the perfume I'm going to use when I go out. I'll go change first!

Without giving him a chance to react, I kissed him on the cheek and walked into the bathroom with my clothes and jewelry.

After changing clothes, I saw Lucien sitting lazily by the window, shaking the balm in his hand.

MC: Have you picked it out so quickly?

Lucien: To be precise, as soon as I smelled this scent, I knew it was the only way to go today.

MC: Oh? It looks like you're pretty confident in your choice~ Let me see which one you've chosen.

I picked up the balm to smell it, and my eyes widened

It has the scent of waves. The elegant fragrance carries a little bit of salty moisture, letting the memories of last night sweep into my mind.

The dark sea, the rolling waves, the moonlight sways in front of my eyes as he runs…

When I thought about it, I couldn't resist leaning into him, pressing closer to the scent in front of me.

(Cue 5th birthday bgm 🥺)

MC: You just said that you picked it right away. Can I take it that you enjoyed our experience at the beach last night?

Lucien: Mmm, I don't deny it.

Lucien: Although the scenery was pitch black last night, I can seem to remember it for a long time.

Looking at the balm in my hand, I suddenly thought of something and smiled.

MC: I've heard that scent can strengthen people's memories…

MC: So just remember with me a little longer.

As I said that, I leaned back a little. I slowly unbuttoned his shirt, one by one, with one hand.

I stopped when the sunlight cast a white light in front of his collarbone and rubbed my fingers on the balm.

As we looked at each other, my index finger slowly climbed up and down and slid down his chest with a little more force.

Lucien's palm covered my lower back as if in response to me. His fingertips were caressing. The lace tulle skirt made a rustling sound, just like the waves last night.

I couldn't help but press myself against his neck and breathe the scent of the ocean.

MC: Lucien...

Lucien: Hmm?

MC: In fact, looking back now, what we did last night didn't seem crazy.

MC: It's just strolling along the dark beach and then running after the stall that is about to close.

MC: But for some reason, I just enjoyed last night.

Lucien: Is this kind of "crazy" enough for you?

I stared deeply into his eyes without hesitation.

MC: Of course it's enough. Because you are the one who went to the beach with me, you are the one who held me, and you are the one who ran forward with me on your back.

I paused and pressed my forehead against his.

MC: For me, "crazy" is not about doing something out of the ordinary.

MC: My heart will still beat faster when I do ordinary things with you.

MC: Even when our hair is all gray, it'll still do the same.

MC: Isn't that just the craziest thing ever?

Lucien tightened his arms and pressed himself against me, without leaving any gaps.

Lucien: It really doesn't get any crazier than that.

Lucien: Your very existence has caused me to lose control from time to time.

I reached out to nudge the tip of his nose and smiled playfully.

MC: Then you must continue to be unreserved with me so that I can "occupy" you a little more.

He was stunned, and pretended to let out a sigh of chagrin.

Lucien: [sigh] Am I not unreserved enough in front of you? I can't believe that you have this "illusion".

MC: Because like you, I'm also very greedy.

MC: Although I also like the usual you, I want to see more of Professor Lucien from last night.

MC: And you will satisfy me, won't you?

Lucien answered softly. His quiet eyes seemed to set off layers of sea waves.

Suddenly, I thought of something else, curiously lying on top of him, twirling my fingertips around his hair.

MC: Speaking of which, what would you say is the craziest thing you've ever done before our hair turned gray?

Lucien bent his smiling eyes, lightly pursed his lips, and said nothing.

He just moved even closer to me while carrying the scent of the waves and lowered his head to kiss me.

-And once again, my heart bloomed like a flowering sea wave.

[T/N: 'Loving you is the craziest thing I've ever done in our lifetime' :”]

#SOBBING #awww those cute kisses #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #mlqc spoiler #mlqc cn #mlqc translation #will add more t/n later

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dreamdepot · 7 days

Text

Dreams of the Kingdom - Chapter 19: Winds of Change

Previous < First > Next

Your new quest begins, just not quite in the way you expect as you find yourself a bit farther in the past than expected...

AO3 Wattpad or below!

I'm sorry for the delay on this chapter, sometimes life gets in the way.

“Sahasrahla?!” You gasped. “Wait, the first or the second?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ah, the first,” you muttered. You were definitely before the Calamity, but by a good few centuries. Landing in the time of the first great scholar named Sahasrahla was definitely a blessing though – the Era of Light and Dark, and an era in which the Triforce was intact. “So, the king… the current ruler would be King Gustaf the Third?”

“Correct,” Sahasrahla said, studying you very carefully. “Well then, if you know so much, and given the Sheikah are not so bold as to wear their symbol proudly these days, who are you?”

You froze, realizing you hadn’t quite planned that far yet. Your tongue felt like it had turned to stone as you searched for words. How much was safe to talk about? If Ganondorf could change history, what if you accidentally changed it for the worse by saying the wrong thing? “I… um… my name is [Y/n].”

“And where are you from, [Y/n]?”

“Labrynna!” You blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Is that so?” Sahasrahla mused. “I suppose that makes sense, the Sheikah were said to move to the deserts.”

“Yes, of course. Easier to hide where there are less people.”

Sahasrahla then paused, a twinkle in his eye. “It’s a shame the deserts are in Holodrum, not Labrynna.” Your blood ran cold. “[Y/n], I suggest you get your story straight before jumping through time.”

“I… how?”

The elder waved his hand. “There’s no need to worry about explaining interworld or time travel. My brother Aginah and Princess Zelda have welcomed strangers from other worlds before, though I must say you seem to be different. Mentioning the ‘first or second’ in relation to my name and knowing the reigning king were dead giveaways. There is no reason to fear, maintaining the history of our realm has always been my passion, and I’d be happy to assist you. Assuming you mean no harm to Hyrule’s people, of course.”

“Of course,” you said, releasing your unintentional death grip on the chair. “Time travel is a bit new to me, if it wasn’t obvious. I didn’t mean to go back this far, but the Gate of Time seemed to have a different plan.”

Sahasrahla topped off your tea. “Perhaps it would be best if you start at the beginning, my new friend.”

==============================

Sahasrahla mused as you finished your story. “Hmm… troubling. Very troubling indeed. To hear the Ganon of my time is merely an avatar of a greater evil somewhere in our kingdom… I’m not sure what to say, let alone do.”

You sipped your tea. “As long as Ganon was stopped in your time, I don’t think there’s much else you can do. Err… your Link did stop Ganon, right?”

“Yes, yes. He is currently carrying out a goodwill mission for Princess Zelda overseas… though he has been gone for quite some time.”

You figured it best to not bring up the legends of Koholint and changed the topic. “Maybe you could help me understand something – the cycle of the hero, the princess, and Ganondorf.”

“Ah, the cycle, it is the core of our history, the single legend, if you will.” The elder got up and picked a heavy tome with a dark green cover off his shelf before returning to you. “Whenever great evil arises, there is always a hero and a princess who will rise to face it. Usually, that evil is an incarnation or servant of Ganon, attempting to spread his influence over Hyrule once more. The legend is oft studied in our religion as well, as each of the key players correspond to the Triforce. The Darkness’ Power, the Princess’ Wisdom, and the Hero’s Courage. Over and over, it repeats through our history, always a new reincarnation of the three, keeping our kingdom, and our world in balance… or at least that’s how it has been understood until now.”

“But, if Ganondorf is telling the truth, he was only reborn once and merely pulled the strings.”

“Perhaps, that’s not what concerns me though.” Sahasrahla turned back through the tome, pages creaking as he carefully flipped through. “If the Demon King Ganondorf has been pulling the strings this entire time, it means his evil has been slowly poisoning Hyrule for centuries. Each incarnation of Zelda and the Hero have been able to stop him, but it would appear that they’ve only weakened him.”

“Weakened him…” you muttered, thinking back to how powerful he was.

“Perhaps, ‘delayed’ would be a better word,” Sahasrahla added, with a hint of embarrassment. “The petrification of your Link and your friends though… that suggests something more. I believe Ganondorf is using his influence throughout time to manipulate your future.”

“Rauru and I thought the same.”

“Good, then you understand what must be done. If you can travel through time and find the sources of these disturbances, you can free your friends – and perhaps incapacitate Ganondorf further. My hypothesis would be that he is attacking key points in each of your friends’ lineage. Remove their ancestor and then they would cease to exist.” He paused for a moment. “There’s one other troubling thought – the Master Sword. You said it turned to stone too, correct?”

“Yes, there wasn’t even a glimmer of magic from it, even after Zelda spent all that time filling it with light.” You slumped back in the chair. “It’s almost ironic, the Sword that Seals the Darkness is sealed itself.”

Sahasrahla went rigid. “I beg your pardon, what did you call it?”

“The Sword that Seals the Darkness?”

The Elder hurried to the bookshelf, grabbing another book and flipping through it. He tossed it aside for another. “Yes… I see.” He shuffled back. “The Master Sword is not meant to merely seal darkness, but rather destroy it entirely! Its true title is the Sword of Evil’s Bane. Now that makes sense… it has been reforged over the years, it’s only logical it would lose some power over time.”

“But Zelda spent millennia recharging it?”

Sahasrahla shook his head. “Filling it with light is one thing, but there must be something missing, something that truly destroys evil.”

You frowned, your hand absently running along your scars. “If only I still had the Triforce… maybe that might have been what we needed.”

“I see now,” Sahasrahla mused. When you looked questioningly at him, he stroked his beard. “I understand how you view the Triforce. Now, how does that make you different from Ganon?”

“Pardon?”

“You used the Triforce as a tool for your own strength, just like Ganon. That is why the Triforce failed to help you. You were no longer worthy.”

“But I’m supposed to defeat Ganondorf! What am I supposed to do? Not use the Triforce?”

“I admit, many in your place would have come to the same conclusion. I, too, would have tried to use the Triforce to stop him, but this is why the goddesses didn’t choose me to fight him.” Sahasrahla said with a chortle. “The Triforce does not understand right or wrong, but it does understand violence. It doesn’t matter if you have good intentions, if it senses that you have violent intent, it shatters. All three elements – power, wisdom, and courage – must be balanced in the heart of the one who wishes to use it. Your anger towards Ganondorf, righteous as it may be, unbalanced your heart. Your anger overtook your wisdom and then your fear overtook your power, thus the Triforce did not see you as worthy.”

He continued. “The important part is that now you know. If you are desperate enough to chance traveling the corridors of time, I assume you are willing to change. The Triforce easily forgives, and I believe you will be worthy again when the time comes to reclaim it from him.”

“But Ganondorf himself has held the Triforce of Power in the past?”

“Yes, but it has always failed him when it matters most, hasn’t it? He certainly has the conviction to be worthy of such strength. Infinite power of a god, yet he is always defeated, even if the hero of that era doesn’t carry their own piece of the Triforce.” The elder winked at you. “I’d say that puts the odds in your favor.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “So Ganondorf won’t be able to use the Triforce at full strength. At least that should contain him until I can reverse whatever he’s done in the past – or present or future I guess?”

“A better question first, how do you plan to travel through time?”

“I have-” You stopped and groaned. The Timeshift Stone was part of the Gate of Time now. “Never mind. I can’t go back the way I came. I’ll need to find something else.”

“I’m sorry that I do not know where the Gate of Time is in this era, but I may have something similar.” He reached into the chest and pulled out a large blue ring with rather familiar symbols.

“That looks just like a smaller Gate of Time.”

“My understanding is that it’s quite similar. A strange witch with blue hair and odd clothes dropped it while passing through. I can say with certainty she was not from our time.” He then frowned and added under his breath, “Good riddance too, she kept stealing my Cuccos.”

Sahasrahla led you back outside to his garden. Part of you wished you could remain in the past just a little longer but knowing that Ganondorf was slowly corrupting everything you knew was more than enough to drive you forward. Sahasrahla handed you the gate, which hummed to life in your hands. “As you travel across the seas of time, I suggest you seek council, young prince. You may find new wisdom on this journey.”

“I plan on it. Anything can help.”

Sahasrahla nodded. “You now inherit a legacy. You stand at the last leg of a relay race, and the torch has been passed to you. I know you and your Link will be the ones to finish this once and for all. There may be little we can do to help but understand that all of Hyrule stands with you.”

You nodded yet felt a little pit growing in your stomach. “It’s… a heavy responsibility.”

“It is, but one you do not bear alone.” Sahasrahla thought for a moment. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to best guide the flow of time, nor do I presume to suggest where you should go, but if I may advise, perhaps speaking with an ancestor of yours may be of help?”

He was right. Rauru may not be able to help you right now, but your lineage spanned thousands of years and generations of kings and princesses, many of which faced Ganondorf or Ganon before. You pressed your hands to the cold mystic metal of the gate and focused your mind. “Please… please take me to an ancestor who can help me.”

The gate hummed before opening with a swirl of blue light. “Thank you Sahasrahla, I hope we can meet again someday.”

“As do I, your majesty. Good luck.” As the gate closed behind you, Sahasrahla looked down and muttered under his breath. “Blasted ring, I guess it doesn’t travel with him.”

==============================

This time, you awoke to a blustery sea wind. A tempest was brewing, and a squall was on its way. You rubbed your eyes, taking a look at the grassy island around you. Any other day, the island would be quite peaceful, but today the palm trees shook in the growing wind. All around was the vast ocean, far as the eye could see. The sea would light up with flashes of lightning, illuminating the dark silhouettes of islands in the distance. It was clear you were still in the past, this time in the Era of the Great Sea.

With the miniature gate gone, you were again stranded in another time. That was the least of your worries at the moment, considering you were also marooned on this island. You quickly made sure you still had your pack and ran for any sort of shelter.

The island was shaped oddly. A large cliff face cut the interior off from the beach, which you hoped would help keep some of the wind and rain out. As you ran through a pass to the inside, you quickly discovered the island was mazelike, with many hills and cliffs all around. You grumbled to yourself, wishing you had the Froggy Armor that Traysi had stashed away. There was no way you’d be able to climb the wet rock by yourself. From what you could see, the island had to be inhabited. Paths and stairs cut through some of the rock, and suspension bridges swayed in the wind.

“’Hoy! I say, ‘hoy there! Can you hear me!” Your head snapped up and looked around. You could barely make out the voice above the wind. “Up here!” High above in a wooden lookout tower, you could just make out two figures. “Ah yes! You good sir! As you can see, we’re in a spot of trouble!”

It was hard to see the top of the tower, so you grabbed your Purah Pad and used the scope. A man and a little Rito were trapped in separate cages. The man was – well, scruffy seemed generous, but he was dressed in an impressive sailor coat. The Rito was dressed more traditionally but looked a lot more frightened than the man.

The little Rito called out next. “Help please! Before the monsters come back!”

You waved to them. “I’ll do my best!”

“Be quick about it!” The man barked.

You started to turn down one path, but the Rito shouted, “No, not that way! There’s dangerous slime there!”

Your first thought was a Chu Chu, which was probably the least dangerous slime you could think of, but you soon saw the culprit: gloom. “What… how?” You muttered. Questions for later, first you needed to help the captives, and if there was gloom, there was a chance the monster they worried about wasn’t one you wanted to see.

The island maze was almost as bad as the Lomei Labyrinths. You skidded around another corner, only to find a dead end. Another path ended with a chest that was sadly empty. “Oh, for the Ocean King’s sake!” The man cried out. “Left! LEFT!”

“No, wait!” The Rito shouted, “Our left!”

“Make up your mind!” You yelled back. You slipped and fell into a ditch. You wiped the chilly mud off your face, freezing as you saw a series of red eyes looking at you from a pool of gloom. Slowly, you backed up the hill, but the shapes rose, forming into Hollows.

Once you were back on stable ground, you drew your Blue Lynel Reaver, watching as three hulking masses emerged from the dark ditch. Each wore heavy crimson armor with billowing capes and bore gladiatorial shields. They wielded claymores as easily as simple broadswords, their unwavering glares fixed on your every move. You had heard tales of these monsters, some of the strongest in the Demon King’s army. “Darknuts,” you whispered.

You leaped forward with your reaver, hoping to score a quick victory, but the blade simply glanced off their armor. Quickly, you jumped back to buy yourself more room. Your armor was far too light to hold for long against those swords. Instead, you began to circle, watching and waiting. Lucky for you, the monsters moved sluggishly under the weight of their armor.

You sheathed your sword, swapping out for your bomb flowers, hoping they’d light in the rain. “Really could use Fuse right now,” you muttered. You launched the bomb into the air, quickly drawing your bow. As the bomb fell, you fired, sending it straight into the horned helm of the first Darknut. With that one knocked back and the other two distracted, you slipped around, drawing your reaver and slicing up the back of the second, removing his cuirass. A few quick strikes to his exposed back, and the monster fell.

The first Darknut, now missing a helm and the third, fully intact, turned on you. You heaved the jagged claymore onto your shoulder. “Oh hello, aren’t you a beautiful sword!” With a grunt, you swung it over your head, slowly gaining momentum before launching into a spin attack. With a satisfying crunch, you saw the first Darknut disappear into gloom mist, and the final Darknut’s armor was destroyed.

Before you could swing again, the last Darknut kicked the sword from your hand. “Okay, fine,” you grumbled. You swapped back to your reaver and charged forward, dodging his fists as you slammed your blade into his chest, leaving only a pile of rupees behind.

With the monsters gone, the gloom seemed to melt around you. From there, it was much easier to reach the tower. You heaved one of the giant claymores up the stairs with you. “Both of you should duck!” In a single swing, you sliced off the top of their cages.

You set down the claymore, weighing the options of taking it home with you, before turning to the freed captives. The Rito boy was a bit different from the Rito you knew back home, looking a bit closer to Hylian or Zora than you expected. His big round eyes instantly reminded you of Tulin. “Thank you so much! You were so brave to fight that monster! I was so scared when they appeared and dragged me through that ooze to this island.”

“Quite, those monsters caused quite a problem for me when I tried to rescue this boy.”

The Rito glared at him. “You were not trying to rescue me; you were trying to plunder the island.”

“Semantics,” the man sniffed, dusting off his coat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to be going. It’s a long way to my next port of call, especially since Jolene’s been sailing in these parts…”

You caught his sleeve. “Wait, you have a ship? Would it be okay if I got a ride with you to port? It’d be helpful to get to the next major town.”

He brushed your hand off and began towards the beach – now a much more direct route with the gloom gone. “I suppose, if you agree to do work on the ship in the meantime. Consider yourself lucky to work for the great Captain Linebeck!”

Several words came to mind at the mention of his name, very few of them positive. You quickly caught up to him – regrettably leaving the claymore behind. “I’d be happy to work off my debt to you, if you can get me to port in one piece.”

“Fine, deck hand, what’s your name?”

“[Y/n],” you said simply.

“I suppose that’s a fine enough name for when I write my memoirs. Yes, you may join me.”

The Rito rolled his eyes. “He’s been like this the whole time. Oh, I’m Komali of Dragon Roost Island, by the way.”

This time, the name certainly meant more to you. “Eld- I mean Prince Komali?” You caught yourself just in time. Komali was considered one of the greatest elders of the Rito, one who would lead them into a golden age and to what would eventually become Rito Village in your time. Seeing the real him so small and young was surreal.

“I’m still working on the bravery thing,” Komali blushed. “My friend Link helped me a lot, but I still have a ways to go, don’t I?”

“I wouldn’t say that, couldn’t have made it to you guys without your guidance. You’ll be a great leader someday, I’m sure!”

“Thanks!” He said. As he smiled, a green glow seemed to flow from his chest, disappearing into the ether – though only you seemed to see it. Part of you wondered if that would be enough to save Tulin in the future. You hoped so, as the winds seemed to calm, and the storm subsided.

Before you could press further, you heard Linebeck gasp next to you. A large pirate ship with a sail emblazoned with crossed swords had appeared, coming fast into dock with some pirates swinging down ropes to land, eager to catch intruders. You groaned. “Something tells me they aren’t going to be happy to see us.”

“Ah, and that’s my cue!” And with that, Linebeck disappeared.

“Hey wait! You said…” Yet Linebeck’s steamship was already pulling away from the island, whisking the cowardly captain to safety.

You, on the other hand, found yourself surrounded by pirates. “Hold it right there,” a voice said. A girl, hardly older than Komali, sized you up. “So, you think you can invade my island and rough up this kid, huh?”

“I’m not a kid, Tetra!” Komali flustered.

“Komali?” The captain lowered her scimitar. “Didn’t recognize you through all the wet feathers.” She then turned back to you with a smirk. “This guy messing with you?”

“No, he saved me from the monsters here! He’s a hero!”

She sized you up, oddly intimidating for a girl half your age. Seemingly content with what she saw, she sheathed her weapon and smiled. “Then I guess I owe you a debt of gratitude too, for taking care of the monsters. This is my island. The name’s Tetra, Captain Tetra to you. You wash up here in the storm?”

“Pleasure to meet you, Captain, and something like that.” It really was a pleasure, considering Tetra was your ancestor on your mother’s side. Your mother was even named after her. There was so much you could ask- but a massive gust of wind caught you off guard.

“Tetraaaaaa!!” A blur of a red boat darted toward the island.

“Ah, figured he’d get here sooner,” Tetra said.

The boat had barely slowed before a boy darted out, dressed in the green tunic you’d come to expect from your dreams. He bolted over and stuck out his hand. “Give it back.”

“Give what?” Tetra said sweetly.

“My chart! I know you stole it from me when we were in Windfall together!”

“I didn’t steal it, I just borrowed it.” She said, fishing it out of her vest. “You can’t blame me for wanting to try finding the Ghost Ship myself.”

The boy snatched it back. “Tetra, this is really important! Besides, the Ghost Ship is dangerous, what if you got hurt?”

A flicker of something more passed behind Tetra’s eyes, but it was gone in a flash. “Pfft. As if I’d get in trouble like that. Aren’t you busy finding sages or something?”

“You’re impossible…” he sighed. He then saw you. “Oh, hi, I’m sorry you had to see that. My name’s Link!”

“It sure is,” you laughed to yourself. It was already strange enough standing before yet another incarnation of your boyfriend, but the awkwardness reached new levels knowing his future. Here was a Link that was only twelve years old, but also your distant ancestor. How do you talk to your great-great-add a few-great grandfather, who’s younger than you are?

“Sorry?”

“Nothing, I’m [Y/n],” you said. The Hero of Wind turned to Komali, who was in full hero-worship mode, talking about how cool both you and Link were. Perhaps he was closer to Tulin than you thought.

“Since you’re a big hero,” Tetra said, nudging you, “you can stay here for tonight. We just got a good haul, so I’m in a generous mood.”

“You’re always generous, boss!”

She groaned. “Niko, learn to keep your trap shut. I’ve got an image to keep up!”

==============================

Soon, the beach was full of song and merriment as fish and meat roasted on the fire. Some of the pirates broke out the instruments as the feast was prepared and sang terribly off-key.

“So, you’re an adventurer, right?” Link asked, as you tossed some driftwood on the fire.

“You can say that. Been doing it for a while with my best friend, though we got separated. Trying to get back to him as soon as I can,” you said. Not the whole truth, but now probably wasn’t the time to bring up the whole story.

“Aww man, I’m sorry.”

“That does sound rather tragic.”

You nearly leapt out of your skin as a new voice came from your side. You turned to see the figurehead of Link’s boat turn to you with glowing eyes. “Um, hi?”

“Hello,” it said in a deeper voice than you expected.

“This is [Y/n],” Link explained. “He saved Komali.”

The head of the boat turned, studying you carefully. “I see, a pleasure to meet you. I am called the King of Red Lions.”

“Nice to meet you too,” You said. At this point you didn’t expect anything to surprise you, but the goddesses apparently had a sense of humor.

“Please, go enjoy the party, I’m sure we’ll have time to talk later.” He turned his head, seemingly starting to doze.

“Do you do a lot of sailing, [Y/n]?” Link asked as the two of you made your way to the feast table.

“Nah, I don’t have the most experience sailing, but fighting now… I’ve got some stories there. I’m sure you don’t wanna hear about that though.”

“No way, you gotta tell me now! Have you ever fought a Darknut?”

“Three of them, at the same time, today,” you said with a grin. “A few days ago, I fought this giant Gohma made of rocks with my friends.”

“No way!” The King of Red Lions laughed as the two of you were soon excitedly trading stories of all the monsters you had fought. Link was blown away by your description of a Lynel, and his own story of the Helmaroc King had you enthralled. Just as Link was about to tell you about the Giant Octos, you were interrupted by a hand slapping the table.

“Okay traveler, we’re gonna see just how tough you are,” Tetra smirked, as the pirates dropped a barrel on the table. She handed you a tin tankard.

“Aren’t you a bit young for beer?”

“Who said anything about beer?” She turned the spigot, which filled her tankard with frothy, ice-cold milk. “What, can’t handle your milk? Loser pays up – 100 rupees.”

All of those drinking competitions with the Gorons and Gerudo were about to pay off, and you did have a pair of purple rupees from fighting the Darknuts. “You’re on, Captain!”

==============================

Hylia be damned, she outdrank you.

With a rather upset stomach and 100 rupees short, you sat on a log, tending the fire as everyone slept. The only sound was the breaking of the waves.

So far, you were fairly sure you had freed Tulin but now you wondered about the rest. Link especially would be difficult, given how many Links there were. On the bright side, you knew that the Link in Sahasrahla’s time had already succeeded. Meanwhile, the Link here was midway through his quest. Part of you did wonder if freeing Linebeck would help, since you knew if Linebeck died here, this Link wouldn’t be able to save the Great Sea from Bellum. That said, the energy didn’t feel the same when you saved Komali. Maybe there was still more to be done to save him? “Ugh, I wish there was something that just told me what time to go to.”

This era’s Link was sound asleep, but you could hardly rest. Your mind raced, still high on the adrenaline of battle and time travel. You poked at the crackling fire, staring into the flames. Your other hand found its way to your wrist strap, and Link’s hair band. “Wish I could’ve brought you here to see the Great Sea,” you muttered. “You’d love sailing across the open waters.”

“Ah, excuse me. [Y/n], was it?”

You turned to the odd boat. “Um, yes?”

“Would you humor an old seafarer?”

You walked over to the King of Red Lions. “Of course, what’s up?”

His gaze drifted down your arm to your hand. With the loose clothes you had on, the scars from where the Triforce once was, were truly visible. “Tell me… did you perhaps come across a… uh… special power? A gold triangle perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” you said, a little wary. He stared at you before his eyes faded, his body turning to dull wood. “Oh no, no, no… are you okay? Please say something!” The last thing you needed was more people – or boats – turning to stone.

“I’m quite fine.” You looked up to see the ghostly image of…

“You’re the King of Hyrule.”

“Daphnes Nohansen Hyrule, the last king of the kingdom chosen by the goddesses,” He said, his voice remaining level, but his eyes revealing his sorrow.

“I… I’m sorry. I just, I heard some people say it, but I didn’t realize the stories were true.” You swallowed hard. If there was someone you could talk to about everything, he would be the one. “King Daphnes, I come from a different time. I am from your future.”

“My future?” The realization slowly dawned on his face. “Do you mean…?”

“My real name is [Y/n] Daltus Hyrule, Prince of Hyrule.”

In a hoarse whisper, he said, “You are… my grandson?”

“A bit farther than that, but yes.” You said.

Before you could react, he embraced you. Unlike Sharpe, his spirit was warm. “I… I never thought I would meet anyone from our family again. I… I thought…” You just nodded. You knew the feeling, almost losing everyone. “But why are you here? I highly doubt one of our family would travel across the seas of time for a social visit.”

“That’s why I have these scars,” you said. “You’re right, they’re from the Triforce. And… I failed to control them, and they fell into the hands of Ganondorf. I’m trying to fix everything that he’s done to alter time so that we can defeat him in the future.”

King Daphnes sat down with you on the sand as you told your story. “And that’s that. I’m a failure of a royal.”

“No, you are not. Being here now is proof enough.” King Daphnes sighed. “No… I am a failure, because I am a coward.”

“What? No, of course-”

He patted your shoulder. “No please, listen. I am a coward, because I have clung to the past. Before the fall of Hyrule, the darkness rose again, as it always does. And so, I clung to the past, knowing that a hero would arise, just like every time before. All I needed to do was wait for the hero and he would defeat the great evil, just like the Hero of Time, just like Hero of Men, and just like the Hero of the Goddess. And yet, no hero came. I was too afraid to break from tradition and thought that if we just waited a bit longer, the hero would come. I could have sent our armies out or tried to save the kingdom myself, but I was paralyzed by indecision. By the time I chose to change, it was too late.” He looked out at the endless sea. “Even now, I can’t let the old Hyrule go. Someday I will, but not today.”

An age where the cycle failed, and there was no hero… “That’s why you’re helping him, isn’t it?” You said, looking back at the sleeping Hero of Winds. “I know the stories. He’s not descended from the previous heroes. He’s just a boy.” You let out a shaky laugh. “Reminds me of my Link, back before he drew the Master Sword.”

“I failed to make my own path then, I won’t let it happen again,” King Daphnes said. “A king must cultivate his own courage before helping others to find theirs. That I think is why you have been led here, my boy. You must find your own courage, wisdom, and power, if you wish to save your Link and Hyrule. Learn from me and learn from Ganondorf.”

That was a bit surprising. “From Ganondorf?”

The king nodded. “Ganondorf clearly hasn’t learned in your time. In this era, he wishes to bring back the past, to rule a kingdom that is long dead and buried. By the sound of it, he wants the same in your era.”

“Revenge on a king who has been dead for eons, and…” your voice trailed off. “I think he wants the life he lost.”

“Precisely. You must be brave, my boy. Be brave and forge your own path, free of the past. Do not dwell on mistakes like me, forge ahead.”

“As soon as I find a way to help my friends, I will,” you said. “Letting go though, I think that’s going to be a lot easier said than done.”

“It took me many years, but I think you are significantly farther along at this point, given you’ve led your Hyrule through disaster before. Not to mention I certainly wouldn’t have had the bravery to jump across time, bouncing between the ages like a drunk Chu Chu.”

“Believe me, bouncing wasn’t the goal,” you laughed.

King Daphnes laughed too as he watched the waves. “No, I suppose not.”

“The only problem now is I have no way to travel through time. I doubt the Gate of Time is anywhere above water right now,” you groaned. “Even if we sailed to the far islands and found Oshus, the Phantom Hourglass only stops time… unless you know another way?”

“Another way through time…” King Daphnes muttered to himself. “I think I know a way. We’ll leave in the morning.”

==============================

A/N: I always imagined that whenever Lana attacks with her summoning ring in Hyrule Warriors, she just steals Cuccos from the same person over and over.

Next week, we continue onward through time.

#tears of the kingdom #legend of zelda #link x male reader #x male reader #x reader #my stuff #the legend of zelda

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evita-shelby · 2 years

Text

Incantatrice

Chapter 10

Taglist: @thegreatdragonfruta @babayaga67 @zablife @wandawiccan60

Cw: emotional turmoil, possibly symptoms of a panic attack, slight mention of sex

Gif by @richardgrimes

Despite the feeling warning her about the doom she feels, nothing can stop her from living in the moment.

If she tells herself that enough times it will make it true.

And if she must make sacrifices to make today perfect, then so be it.

Eva cries a little when Audrey tears a corner of her veil.

She doesn’t know why she agreed to it at the last minute.

“It will look as if it never happened, Eva. Our family has a skill with a needle that no one else can come close to.” Audrey says once it is done.

There was a pit in her stomach since that night with Luca. A chill in her bones that won’t leave.

The same chill she felt when Felicidad got married.

Death.

He will die, or she will, or the baby in her belly will.

There is no chance to prove it, but she knows she’s pregnant. She can feel it, she can see a perfect baby boy he holds in his arms in her dreams.

So she takes no chances and does everything right.

And yet it doesn’t feel like it’s enough.

“Let’s elope, Evuccia, run away and go to Italy early.” He had said against her clavicle before nipping it and marking her as his.

“No, my family wants to look proper.” She had hissed and rocked against him in response.

Eva wished she could have taken up his offer. Have a hasty wedding with just Matteo and Izzy or whoever they could round up as witnesses.

“Your hands are shaking.” Her mother-in-law points out with concern.

“It happens, shell shock tends to have the worst timing.” Eva dismissed her concern but cannot stop herself from losing her cool.

The witch wants to vomit, she wants to scream, she just wants to release whatever is inside of her and breathe easier.

So she opens a window and thanks the spirits New York is blissfully cold. The metal of her Juliet balcony is nice, grounds her as she grips it for dear life as this darkness she feels brings her to her knees.

“Breathe, in, out.” Audrey is the last person she’d expect to comfort her, to help her regain control of her own body. And yet she is here holding her and reminding her how to breathe again.

“Someone will die, I know it. I feel it inside me.” She tells the Italian woman. “It happened when I was sixteen on my sister’s wedding day, then a year later it all came true.”

“It’s just the nerves, Eva. Just that. Breathe.” The older woman soothed her and brought her back inside.

“Drink this.” Audrey said and handed her a short round glass of some Sicilian liquor Luca is so fond of.

It’s not enough, Eva thinks, she needs the damn bottle to get her shit straight. But it does the trick and that’s all that matters.

She is all smiles when they get downstairs, and her aunts present her with a beautiful bridal bouquet.

----

If she can make it to the end of the ceremony everything will be fine.

“The flowers are lovely, thank you.” She whispers to Luca as the sermon begins.

It’s in Latin, as usual, and while she knows Latin, Eva cannot pay attention to the words said.

The faster this goes, the sooner she will be married to the amazing man beside her and perhaps she will survive today.

He holds her hand the entire time and the witch thinks it is the only thing anchoring her to the present.

God, she wished the ceremony wouldn’t be so painstakingly long.

“My wife deserves the best, would I give you anything that isn’t that?” he is so happy it breaks her heart.

“I love you.” She says, feeling as if she may never say it to him ever again.

They have never said it to each other, and part of her knows he won’t say it back, but the weight on her chest feels less oppressive once the words leave her mouth.

“I know.” he says and for a moment she feels a little crushed, sure it is very soon, but it hurts a little when he doesn’t say it back.

She should have known, it is too soon to know something like this, but it still hurts.

“When I say it back, you know I will mean it.” He whispered softly as the priest rolls around to the Sacrament of Marriage.

Thirty more minutes before the threads holding her together start to unravel.

Thirty more minutes.

#eva smith shelby #eva smith changretta #luca changretta x eva smith #luca changretta x oc

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sanguinaryrose · 1 year

Text

Miss Shadowsong? - An 8.3k word OC (Sorrel Sunstrider) x canon (Maiev Shadowsong) work.

What started as a short exercise kinda snowballed back in April/June, and I've been heavily procrastinating about posting it anywhere and finally have today. Oops on taking so long, but also meh. Starts off sad, but has a happy ending.

There's some Sindassi (original name for Thalassian) in there that I don't remember what it was but I'm pretty sure it was just sad sapphic noises.

Warnings include: Intoxication (consensual, causes a bout of anxiety, one chapter only, nothing too terribly important happens so feel free to scroll past it)

Chapters divided in the post, but posted all at once so have fun with this big boy.

... Maiev took in every curve of her body, the way her her face crinkled as she smiled while talking to her, the way she had smile lines, small crows feet, the bags under her eyes finally beginning to ease after so long of being stressed and worried...

Sorrel paced idly in front of the warden's cage, hugging herself and biting on her lip as tears threatened to stream down her face, the cold biting her soft, exposed skin. "Oh, it's horrible, Miss Shadowsong." Her captive audience rolled her eyes, "I don't-" "He dropped a mana bomb on a settlement- One that had nothing to do with what that monster did to us." Now that.. That caught Maiev's attention. "He what?" "There were civilians. All I could think was 'that was us, what are you doing, please stop' but I was stuck, in shock and.." Maiev's stomach sank. Were they Night Elves? Her wardens? Was- "And I felt afraid of him. I.. For the first time, felt afraid of my husband."

Sorrel stopped her pacing, idly messing with her hands for several long seconds before she turned to stare the Night Elf in the eyes. "Am I awful? For not stopping him? For feeling this way? For.." She looked down, exhaling sharply. "For being afraid of the man I promised to love?" It was a lot to chew on from a relative stranger, one who mocked your every word initially and one who so casually stood aside and let her husband's troops capture her and steal the victory she had so close straight from her hands. It raised the question- Was she bad? If Maiev had to decide, yes, she was, she was just as bad as Kael, inaction is just as bad as action here, but- "I know what you're thinking. You'd put me to death with him, wouldn't you?"

Maiev didn't respond. Not for disagreeing, mind you, but rather because she would. She would have the prince and his lady put to death for their crimes. "I.. I would too." Sorrel sighed, clutching her staff to her chest. "I'm sorry for burdening you with this." She turned her back, about to leave, only to get tugged back by her cape. "Hey!" She whipped around as much as she could, the caged watcher staring her down through her helm, her clawed gauntlets threatening to shred the cape. "Were they Night Elves." It wasn't a question but a demand, a threat, of if they were, Sorrel may not leave the cold, damp prison Illidan had locked her in. "No." A weight lifted off of Maiev's shoulders, though she did not release the priestess from her clawed grip and instead dragged her closer. "Let go." "No. Come here."

The warden's tone wasn't aggressive, but hushed and somewhat panicked. "Help me out of here, priestess." Sorrel swallowed nothing, her throat feeling particularly dry. "I can take you somewhere safe. Keep you away from the slipping insanity of those around you, keep-" "Maiev." Sorrel's voice was soft, doing her best to keep a steady tone, though the growing unease was likely able to be tasted by anyone in a 50 mile radius. "I can't." She unclipped her cape and turned to the warden, and with fear gripping her arm, trying to pull her away, took the night elf's armored hands in hers. "I.. Don't know why. But I think everyone's wrong here. I think you need to let Illidan go. I think Kael'thas needs to be taken out of power. I think Vashj needs to find a place away from here for her people, and I think Illidan needs to.. To man up. Do what he needs to do, return the temple to Akama and return to Azeroth. This isn't his world. He is but a false prince, just as Kael has become."

As Sorrel spoke, Maiev felt her throat closing, panic bubbling up in her, silently begging her to stay, to get her out, away from Illidan, away- "But I promise, Miss Shadowsong," She withdrew one of her hands from the warden's cage, the warmth and kind touch of another person disappearing nearly being enough to make the warden cry out, begging her to come back, to hold her once more. "I'll come back." In the warden's armored hand, Sorrel put a wrapped bushel of grapes. "Ration these- Carefully I don't know when I can come back next, and I figured you'd.. Go mad without decent food." She wasn't cruel. What Illidan wanted to do was awful and she couldn't keep her mind in tact in letting the warden live only through magic, and even then, only by the skin of her teeth. "I'll bring something different next time. Just.. Don't make anyone angry. Keep your head bowed and mouth shut, as much as it hurts. If I ever stop, assume someone found out or I'm.." She looked at the wall, almost distantly.

She bent down after releasing the warden's hands fully. "I'm sorry." Sorrel waved the warden off as she took the cape into her hands, "I just-" "Don't. I came to you asking an actual question, and you.." She didn't answer. "You gave me an answer- A nonverbal one, but.. I asked for it. Thank you." "No, it wasn't about that. For.." She sighed, unwrapping the grapes, inspecting them to get a change of scenery, if only temporarily. She had to eat them, after all, it was that or.. That or near starvation. "For grabbing you. I.. I'm sorry I scared you." "It's okay. I forgive you." She pat Maiev's shoulder before backing away. "I'm sorry I can't help more."

All of this, it raised the question in Maiev's mind once more, was the priestess bad? Or rather was she trapped in a bad situation, a web of evil people, unable to- "I'll see you soon, Maiev. Just don't make anyone angry."

Sorrel was only as confident as she was to slip to the Warden’s Cage after everyone had fallen asleep, save two select guards, Illidan’s most trusted, Ophelia, who she could easily pay off with high quality Quel’dorei alcohol, and the ever-vigilant Sinira, who Sorrel believed never slept and was also kind enough to keep her mouth shut. That was, unfortunately, the easier of the tasks. She had to sneak away from the progressively more paranoid Kael’thas, one, and two, sneak approximately two hours away- And that was while on the back of the maddened Raven Lord she had tamed whilst traveling to the Black Temple.

She was lucky- Much luckier than most. She was able to hold her confidence in the face of direct opposition, looking a demon in the eyes and saying she's on direct orders from Lord Illidan himself. The ride out took about two hours and the ride back would likely take a bit longer, but it was worth it to talk with someone who was at least somewhat sane, somewhat able to hold a coherent conversation with her.

She'd been sneaking to see Maiev for several weeks now, and she thought that, personally, they'd grown close. She'd consider her an acquaintance. As she stabled the Raven Lord, commanding him to sit, the priestess cast several spells to muffle any conversation Maiev and her had. "Miss Shadowsong?" She quietly called as she walked to the cell. The warden seemed to be asleep, and that was okay. It must be hard to sleep, and she didn't want to bother her if she didn't have to.

Using a simple teleport spell to, well, teleport the fruit of the week (three apples) into the Warden's cell, Sorrel felt more than pleased with them not exploding all over the prison and waking the watcher (and also making her to be an enemy against Illidan in his eyes.) She sat herself down on a nearby rock and rummaged through her bag before getting to work writing in a rune-touched journal in letters that simply did not exist- Something only her eyes could read.

Week 4 of interacting with Miss Shadowsong.

She's become more receptive to my kindness, less hostile as a whole towards me. Should I mention Kael'thas, Lady Vashj or Lord Illidan, she flips and becomes outwardly hostile, giving me short, curt, one word responses.

I've learned she had a partner of sorts ten thousand some-odd years ago who went by 'Sin.' I have reason to believe that 'Sin' is Sinira, due to what Sinira has told me in regards to a partner that she used to have who was 'but a shadow.' Normally, I love riddles, but these two are a bit much.

There was a quiet shift- The warden was just adjusting in her sleep, she supposed. She felt a bit uncomfortable seeing Maiev, even with her back turned, without most of her armor- Especially her helmet. She'd admittedly imagined her to look a fair bit different, and she didn't realize the fluff on the back of her helmet was her actual hair. She was much, much smaller than she'd imagined as well, and her hair was a stark white, just like her own. She'd never really seen a normal Night Elf before this, she'd realized, as she was mainly called in to tend to freshly transformed Demon Hunters, and Kael was careful to keep her away from battlefields, avoiding showing her corpses. She never was 'okay' in seeing corpses she couldn't redeem. She couldn't help but wonder if Maiev thought the same of her, being an outlier. Most Blood Elves by now had green eyes, and even before their reliance on fel, they had blue. She herself was an outlier- White eyes. Reliant on a higher power, rather than a lesser one. As for hair, most were shades of gold, red, and brown, but she had similarly white hair. Taking a small handful of her own hair, she compared it to Maiev's, at a squinty distance. Maiev's hair, it had more bluish undertones. Sorrel’s own hair, on the other hand, had.. A lack thereof.

I'm beginning to wonder if Maiev feels a sense of kinship with me as I do her. Of course, this is likely just projection. When I look at her, I see a sad reflection. Someone I could have easily become should I let rage guide my hands.

Sorrel's right ear swiveled slightly as she picked up on Anzu making disgruntled sounds while she wrote.

As I sit here, looking at Maiev's glaives less than a breath away from me, I wonder if I could protect myself like a Demon Hunter does. Like Maiev had to. I suppose that is what makes us- me, rather, so different from most on this world. I hold my head high regarding the fact that I've not harmed a single being in my life. Those like Illidan, even my husband now, they've had to kill to survive. Even Elves half my age have had to make the heavy call to take a life, but I've yet

"Priestess?" Maiev groaned, groggy and struggling to shake herself out of a deep sleep. "Yes, Miss Shadowsong?" "It is you." "It is." Maiev mumbled something Sorrel couldn't quite pick up before falling back asleep. Something about 'missing her company.' She could only hope her presence could help the watcher get some rest.

to be required to make that decision. I fear who I will become after I am forced to draw my first blood.

The priestess shut her journal momentarily, studying Maiev intently, how her sides rose and fell rhythmically with each breath she took. She never was a fantastic artist, but she wished she'd studied anatomy more. To try and show those she cares about how she sees them. Her words were beautiful, she thought, yes, but few can take their friends and loved ones and turn them into gorgeous paintings to hang upon their wall.

Before she could reopen her journal and get back to writing, Anzu began fussing about something or another. Odd. Anxiety bubbled up in Sorrel. It could so easily be nothing, but just as easily it could be something. She did her best to try and get a read on who it was. It wasn't Illidan or Kael or any Naga, nor was it a demon as she'd convinced them thoroughly (or so she thought) of her being sent by Illidan to keep an eye on Maiev.

She couldn't keep her anxiety down, and it wasn't easing up. Carefully moving into a hiding spot, Sorrel focused her energy onto Anzu, and then into seeing through his eyes.

It was one of the newer Demon Hunters. Sorrel sighed, briefly relieved, seconds before a new sense of dread filled her to her brim. Oh no. She scampered up the ramp out as fast as she could, meeting the freshly blinded hunter halfway, scaring her and her sighted sin'dorei escort. "AGH!" The Night Elf yelped, bounding several feet back like a startled cat. "You! And your bird! Agh!" She pat her chest several times, presumably to soothe the pounding in it. The sin'dorei was significantly less impressed. "I'll wait nearby when this.. Gets settled." She vaguely motioned to.. Well, everything. "What are you doing?" Sorrel questioned, gently turning the hunter towards her, rather than her bird.

"Oh! Um. Lord Illidan sent me to tend to the warden. 'Ensure Maiev does not get any smart ideas.'" She parroted, about to walk past the priestess. Sorrel immediately fell back on her days in school acting. Quirking a brow, Sorrel grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "What? That's-" She tilted her head. "That's odd. I think he's just forgotten he sent me here for the same reason." She thought she sounded sure. "Oh, okay! Oh.. Huh? Wait- He.. Forgot? Is his short term memory not so good anymore?" The blue haired demon hunter questioned, bringing her hand to her face with a head tilt. "Yeah, um.. He's just really stressed recently. Worrying a lot with new recruits and whatnot." "Ohhh.." She replied with a knowing nod. "I get it. Think it's that thing you've been talking about?" She questioned with a point.

"What? Post-Traumatic Stress?" "Yeah, that." "Oh, absolutely. Surviving a war, 10,000 years in a cage, finally being let out, and then going into another war.." She shook her head. "It's rough. Really rough." "Oourrgh. Yeah, that sounds bad. Alright! I'll let him know. Thanks for not chewing me ou-" "Wait! Don't!" Sorrel grabbed the stranger's arm, accidentally gripping a fresh tattoo, "Ow!" "Sorry! Um! Don't, though! Really, it's.." She let go of the hunter. "It's bad if you tell him he was wrong. Kael got into a shouting match with him for about an hour, some time ago." A complete truth, actually. "Just hang around outside the temple for a few hours." "Oh I think I heard the tail end of it. A few days ago, right?" "Yeah. Kael said he gave him the wrong times, Illidan said he didn't, Kael knew he was right, Illidan thought he was right.."

The night elf clicked her tongue, spinning around, about to call out to her companion. "Oh, hey, before I leave, what's your name? I know the voice, but, uh, not the name. Or face. But, I'm getting better with that magic sight!" She shot some gunfingers at Sorrel, a goofy grin on her face. "Oh! It's Sorrel. Sorrel Sunstrider." "Ohh, you must'a been that lady standing besides Kael'thas! It's nice to properly meet you, Sorrel!" "It's nice to meet you too, uhh…" "-more." The hunter interrupted. "More?" "No! Uhh-more. Amoure!" "Ohh! That's a beautiful name, Miss Amoure." "Thanks! Anyway, I'll see ya." Giving Amoure a polite wave off and a soft Sindassi send off, Sorrel returned to her position, unable to shake the frightened expression.

"Priestess?" Maiev spoke up, now fully armored, reaching for a glaive that wasn't there. "What happened?" She certainly worked quick. "It was just a hiccup. Don't worry." She motioned towards the iron maidens, "I put your food in there?" Maiev briefly looked excited, initially going to try the gate, before realizing what she meant. "Magic?" "Yes ma'am." Maiev sighed, unable to mask her disappointment. "I appreciate it. What are they, this time?" She asked, a rhetorical question as she reached into the maiden, pulling out the bundled fruit. "The Botanica is coming along well. Kael'thas has me try every fruit once it's deemed safely edible." Maiev hummed, piercing the flesh of one of the apples with her gauntlet, taking her helmet off to take a bite from the fruit. On instinct, Sorrel looked away. "Sorry-" She swallowed. "Does it bother you seeing people eat?"

"No! No, it isn't that, just.. It feels like I'm seeing someone nude, when I look at you without your armor. When you were asleep, I tried not to look too much. I made sure you were alive, mind you, but." She cleared her throat, uncomfortable. Maiev snorted, going at the apple. "What did you talk about up there?" "Oh, it was just a bit of confusion. A demon hunter came when Illidan sent me." "In that case, why did you look so worried?" "Would you be scared if a volatile, powerful man were to be told he was wrong?" Maiev stopped chewing, thought for a moment, and eventually replied with a simple, "Good point." She'd finished the apple soon enough, and tossed the core in Sorrel's field of vision, the priestess casting a quick spell to all but disintegrate the thing in holy fire.

"You were asleep for some time, so.." She packed her things, keeping an eye on the ramp. "I do need to go earlier than usual." Maiev nodded. "You will come back though. Right?" "Have I missed a meeting yet?" "Right?" "Yes, Miss Shadowsong. I'll be back." She nodded, waving the warden off. "Stay safe." Sorrel whispered over her shoulder with a small, bashful wave, before leaving the warden's sight, a view that never failed to fill the Night Elf with immeasurable dread.

Maiev had been struggling particularly hard to not snap at and lash out at Illidan or his lackeys when they next came to gawk and cackle at her like hyenas. Ophelia especially bothered her, as she'd often run her horns along the bars that kept her trapped. How she wanted to saw all of their horns off. The only solace was her.

Quiet and elegant, full of grace. She was what came to mind when Maiev thought of a priestess. Hearing the familiar sound of Sorrel casting silence spells filled her heart with a sense of excitement and peace. "Priestess?" Maiev called as Sorrel began making her way down the ramp. "I'm here, Miss Shadowsong." If she had a tail, she'd be wagging it like mad. "I am glad to see you, priestess." Sorrel's expression was distant. She looked upset, and as Maiev processed her face, her excitement dropped.

"Priestess Sunstrider..?" Maiev had never used her surname before, and Sorrel sighed on hearing it. Sitting herself down on the rock she used as a seat to spend time with Maiev, the priestess stared blankly at the wall. "Kael'thas said he was done." Momentarily, Maiev got excited. Did that mean Sorrel would be more willing to let her out? To- "We're leaving soon. Something happened, Miss Shadowsong." Sorrel's bad ear was weaker than usual, and her cryptic words weren't helping the growing dread. "Eredar are such vile creatures." Sorrel stared the warden's glaive down. Maiev wished she could get inside the priestess' head, wished she could understand what was going on. "I don't know when or if I can come back, but." Sorrel got up, holding a bag positively stuffed with various fruit, passing it to the warden through the bars. "I enchanted all of these myself. They'll never go bad. I'll try to teleport food to you, but I don't know if I'm strong enough. Tempest Keep is.. So far away."

Maiev's stomach sank, she wanted to vomit, to cry and beg her to stay, to not leave her to the wolves, how helpless she felt in being forced to rely on someone else for her sanity. How positively angry she felt at Sorrel for not releasing her, for not fighting to stay, for- "Please don't leave me here." ..Damnit. Sorrel sighed, crossing her arms. "I.. I wish I could get you out. But I can't. I have three young children to tend to, and in letting you out, I'd be putting a target on Kael and my children's backs."

Maiev reached through the bars and took a small handful of Sorrel's hair in her hands. It was the closest the two had ever been since their first interaction- If Sorrel had stepped any closer, they'd be breathing one another's air. It was the first time Maiev had been able to catch what Sorrel smelled like and in spite of everything, she managed to smell absolutely resplendent. "Are you sure?" Maiev asked, releasing the priestess' hair. "There is nothing that can be done? Y-You are unable to say something to convince Kael'thas to stay? To-" "I'm sorry. I.. There's nothing I can do. He's dead set on getting away." She swallowed around nothing as Sorrel spoke, unable to stop her bottom lip from quivering. "Please don't go." Sorrel took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Maiev." "Sorrel?" She whispered, trying to will her to stay, to come back and hold her and-

As the priestess retreated she stole one more glance back at the warden, who was freely crying beneath the helmet, though her posture dare not show it. "I'm so sorry. If you get out.. Please come find me at Tempest Keep. It's in the Netherstorm. I won't forget you. Thank you, for.. Listening." She didn't want to linger, Maiev supposed, as she quickly walked up the stairs, recognizing the rhythmic thumping of her mount carrying her away.

Maiev didn't quite recover emotionally from Sorrel leaving. It'd been several weeks, and she kept one fruit in particular. A single peach, it was the closest smell to Sorrel's, and it was the one thing that kept her from losing her mind.

Demon hunters came and went, some joined by their horns, some alone. She overheard plenty of conversations. Most of them went in one ear and out the other, mostly disinteresting to the warden, but one caught her attention. Filled her with dread and made her re-find her voice.

"Did you hear about Tempest Keep?" A hunter asked, making Maiev focus in on the conversation. "Yeah. Heavy stuff. You don't think Lord Illidan is at risk too, do you? And, man, poor Sorrel." Poor Sorrel? "Illidari." She rumbled, the first word spoken in months, something that startled both demon hunters. "So you're not dead!" The larger of the two, a havoc one, she supposed, spoke. The lesser of the two hushed him, approaching Maiev. "What is it, Shadowsong?" Her arms were crossed as her whip-like tail idly lashed. "What of the priestess, Kael'thas' wife?" "..You mean Sorrel? How do you know her?" "We briefly interacted on Azeroth." "..Right." The Illidari turned. "She's around. Illidan keeps her close. Convinced he needs to watch her- Convinced he-"

Maiev's arms shot out from behind the bars of her cell, dragging the demon hunter close by her tail and wing. "You!" Maiev pointed towards the larger Illidari, who was now stanced up, unsure of what to do, mostly. "Tell Illidan to send Sorrel here now or else." "You can't hurt me!" The woman scoffed, about to pull away, quickly eating her words as the watcher switched her grip from her arms to her throat. "Maiev- We can't make him do anyth-" She was interrupted by a warning squeeze, cutting her off.

"Send for the priestess." Maiev repeated, her hands shaking. "Now." "I'll call your bluff." She replied. "I can smell and feel your fear. Sorrel's so deeply against violence, Maiev." The warden's hands were so deeply unsteady now. "It'd be awful for her. After watching her husband die, seeing his corpse, having to see one of her friends near-death at the hands of the Maiev Shadowsong." Maiev let go of the Illidari, snarling obscenities under her breath. The hunter quickly ripped away from her and dashed to the other end of the space. "I'm telling Illidan about this." The larger of the two said, ascending the ramp. The lesser of the two nodded, settling herself on the ramp herself, watching Maiev like a vulture as she began to pace, quick to lose herself in her thoughts.

She would get out of there. Sorrel had asked her to find her, and by Elune she swore she would. Illidan would not crush the one good thing on this forsaken world, the one good thing she had left in her life. She swore it.

Sorrel shook. She was convinced to try smoking some by a few demon hunters while they ate, and she took maybe a hit or two too many. She quickly scurried to her quarters, shutting the door and exhaling a shaky breath as she dispelled any light producing magic, bathing the room in darkness. She didn't even notice the figure standing by the door as she shut it, crawling into her bed and laying flat on her back, her arms stiff at her sides as her chest rose and fell in a way indicating dread or anxiety or some form of unadulterated fear.

Maiev didn't have time to make her presence known before there was a rhythmic knock-knock-knocking at the door. "Sorrel?" "Sinira?" "Are you alright? You ran off pretty quick once it started to hit." Honestly, she wasn't okay. She was freaking out. Sorrel couldn’t muster a proper response, not for several seconds. “Um..” She breathed, slowly bringing a hand to her face. “I will be..?” “Okay, hon, well..” Sinira opened the door, approaching the priestess’ bed slowly. Maiev felt the blood drain from her face. She prayed to Elune, to whatever higher power that this wasn’t actually Sinira. That she didn’t threaten the previous love of her life with death, that she didn’t side with Illidan of all elves, that- “I brought you some cake and water.” Sorrel slowly sat up, her ears pinned back more than they usually were, even when she was upset or stressed. “I just wanted to make sure you got to try some. Also, you.. Really need to drink, especially when panicking.”

Sorrel nodded, unable to find her voice to say ‘thank you’, though she did mouth the words. “You’re more than welcome, High Priestess. I’ll check on you in the morning.” She backed away from Sorrel, and turned to the door and froze. Maiev’s heart might as well have stopped there, and clearly Sinira was shocked with what she was seeing as well. Neither of them moved. They both clearly saw each other. Taking a deep breath, Sinira turned back to Sorrel. “I’m going on an extended hunting trip starting tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Rather than acknowledge Maiev, Sinira quietly let herself out of the room and quickly walked away from the Priestess’ private quarters. Sorrel picked at the cake with the fork that Sinira had provided, though she found it difficult to find her appetite, even with the munchies driving her forward in even considering eating. She was going to drink though. She remembered clearly how often Kael’thas had to remind her to drink because she’d gotten so terribly fixated on writing or reading. It was something that gave her a sense of comfort, it was simple and comforting and something that reminded her of better times, before everything.

Putting the cake to the side, Sorrel slowly lowered herself onto her side, moving in ‘slow motion’, fearful that should she move too fast, something would break. But even as her anxieties grew higher and higher, she had a bout of inspiration. This was a very similar sensation, it hit her, as to when she’d eaten some special brownies that Fraeja had made, and it also made her realize that this wasn’t the first time she’d gotten too high. She got up, rubbing her arms, briefly pacing about her room, before laying back down. She’d remember it, she promised herself. A letter, she’d write, to Maiev. And Kael and everyone she loved but couldn’t express it to.

Her hands were cold. She was cold and frightened and- “Priestess.” “Yes, Miss Shadowsong?” She replied on instinct, squeezing her eyes shut. It was a dream. A dream, please, just let it be a dream. Just let it be a peaceful dream, giving her the chance to talk to her. “Are you alright?” The bed shifted behind her. “I’m afraid.” “Of what?” Sorrel thought, for several seconds. “Of Illidan.” She spoke after far, far too long. “He hasn’t hurt me. But I fear when I no longer appear as useful to him. When he deems me a threat to his position as the Lord of Outland, if- When he finds out I’m..” She began trembling. “I’m your friend. You can’t protect me from him. Kael’thas can’t protect me from him.” Maiev’s stomach sank. Sorrel had been disheveled before around her, startled and in shock, but never properly afraid.

Maiev put her hand on Sorrel’s shoulder, the priestess letting out a shaky breath. “Before Kael’thas..” She cleared her throat. “Passed away. I began thinking. I don’t want to be called a blood elf. I.. Can’t carry that weight on my shoulders. I love and respect and can’t begin to thank those who fell protecting Silvermoon, but.. What about the innocents? Those whose blood was spilled because they simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Their blood, it shouldn’t be worn as a symbol of respect or pride, it should be given a quiet place to rest, a quiet-” She shook her head, getting up and grabbing the cup of water, downing half of it in a few gulps. “A quiet.. Safe rest. Away from the bloodshed. Away from the painful memories of what happened to them.” Sorrel had never been quite so heavy before, and it hurt Maiev to hear her inner thoughts, to hear how her anxiety only worsened since she last saw her. “Well you can’t very well be a night elf.” She replied, flat. It made Sorrel giggle, something that made Maiev’s stomach swell with pride in knowing she had made her smile in such a dark moment, knowing that she had made her giggle even. She wanted to hear it more.

“Of course I can’t. I was thinking of just referring to myself as a high elf. I considered sun elf, but..” She snickered. “It’d be a lonely existence. And a bit on the nose. I wonder if any of Kael’s ancestors thought about calling themselves that.” Was she crying? Sorrel raised a hand to her face and sighed. “I wish we could’ve met on better terms. Maybe if I were born over 10,000 years ago and also was a night elf, I could’ve done something to make a change. Save you from chasing Illidan.” Maiev’s heart broke damn near in two at the sentiment. “You wouldn’t want to do that, Priestess.” Sorrel hummed. “I disagree. I didn’t like seeing you all caged up. You know, the whole location was actually.. Named after you. It was called the Warden’s Cage.”

Maiev frowned. “I wasn’t aware, no.” Sorrel sighed. “It wasn’t right. Two wrongs never make a right. It shouldn’t have been you being punished alongside Illidan. It could’ve been Tyrande. It could’ve been Malfurion. It didn’t have to be you.” The watcher couldn’t find the words to reply. Sorrel waited for several seconds, before continuing. “It could’ve been anyone. It could’ve been split into shifts. You shouldn’t have effectively become his sole babysitter for ten thousand years. Do you know how long that is for someone like me?” Sorrel rolled onto her back, watching the ceiling. “The oldest elf in all of Quel’thalas died recently. Kael’s father, and he was 3,000. That’s considered senior for us. I think he should’ve retired, let Kael become king, but Kael was happier in Dalaran, and he never recalled my prince.”

As Sorrel ran her mouth, Maiev took in her appearance. For the first time, unobscured, up close and personal, Maiev had a chance to study the high elf. She had pure white hair, beautiful, freckle-kissed skin and a gorgeous face. Her personality was just the cherry on top, frankly. “Do you regret anything, Maiev?” The watcher was taken aback by the sudden question, as she was admittedly lost in the tones and hums the priestess made as she talked to herself. “I..” She couldn’t think of anything off of the top of her head that wasn’t related to her anger with tending to Illidan for as long as she did. “I stopped seeing my first betrothed because of Illidan.” Sorrel hummed. “They must’ve been lucky.” “How do you mean?” “Well.. You’re you. You’re a good listener, to start. Even if it’s because you’ve no choice, you still retained what I told you.”

Even if it was just a dream or daydream, it was comforting. It made her anxiety start to subside and gave her the ability to begin drifting off. The two chatted off and on for several hours and not once did Sorrel open her eyes, though towards the end of their discussion, when Sorrel was struggling to form sentences, she rolled onto her side, facing away from the warden. “I’m sure in actuality, it’s just Al’ar in bed with me. But I need to ask-” She yawned, pulling her pillow into her arms. “If you’re real.. Would you hold me? Please? I just.. Can’t sleep alone. Not anymore.”

Maiev knew she’d have a hard couple of days moving forward. This simple act of kindness, even if it was per Sorrel’s request, would be good for both of them, she thought, as she put her arms around the priestess. “Ow.” Sorrel mumbled, shifting away. “Your armor hurts.” “Sorry.” She wasn’t comfortable taking it off- Not so close to Illidan and where an Illidari could hypothetically walk in at any moment. “I’ll do it one day.” Maiev finally spoke, unprompted. “But you need to wait.” “Okay.”

“Promise?” Sorrel pulled her blankets over herself. Snuggling into them, the priestess looked positively at peace. “I promise.” And it, just like coming to find her, was a promise she wouldn’t be quick to break. Especially not to someone who’s shown her such unadulterated kindness, not requesting anything more than a hug and a promise through it all.

Ophelia had all but commanded Sorrel to ‘stay put’ in her room, with her children as soon as Illidan took note of troops from the Alliance and Horde banding together to try and storm the temple. Illidan had sent most of his hunters off on a mission, one to try and secure a demonic ship from what Sorrel could understand. As she sat with her children behind her, crouching while facing them, her body acting as a shield if need be, she kept her head on a constant swivel around her room, especially when the footfalls of no less than 20 men approached her quarters. Her heart might as well have stopped as she felt the surges of magic flowing throughout the temple as Illidan took his final stand, and just as quickly as she had felt it, she felt something worse, something much more frightening.

Nothing. Those footfalls came and went once more. And after so long, one pair of footsteps approached and stopped. Sorrel wrestled her cape off and put it over her children, wielding a tome Kael’thas had once given her in case of an emergency. “Priestess?” A familiar voice called out. She didn’t know what to do. “Miss Shadowsong?” She answered, before the door slowly creaked open.

On the edge of the frame, she saw the familiar gauntlets of Maiev though she dare not believe it to be her until she let herself into the room, several Night Elves awkwardly standing around behind her. “Are you alright?” Sorrel felt tears well up in her eyes. “What did you do, Miss Shadowsong?” Maiev acknowledged the 3 smaller elves and nodded for Sorrel to follow her. “..My children will be alright. Right?” “No harm will come to them, or you.” Sorrel backed towards the children and steadied herself before she faced them. “These nice women will keep you safe. Okay?” She chirped, holding her hands out for a pinky swear. The older of the two linked pinkies wordlessly and huddled closer to one another as she rose to her feet and turned to face Maiev, following the warden through the temple.

Maiev did her best to keep her focused on her, but it was impossible to not acknowledge the carnage as she approached the pinnacle. “Oh.. Oh, Maiev. What did you do?” “This.. Was not my work.” Unfortunately, she silently added. “Heroes of the Horde, Blood Elves, Orcs, Tauren, Undead, they did this.” Sorrel got cold feet as she approached the pinnacle. The scent of blood was thickly hanging in the air and what remained of Illidan’s magic was fleeting.

“His hunters were captured.” Maiev knew the pained expression meant she knew Illidan was no more. “Do I have your blessing to say goodbye? To Illidan, to..” She motioned vaguely. “Yes. But I ask you cast no spells until we return to the Broken Isles.” Sorrel tilted her head. “We?” Maiev rested her hand on Sorrel’s shoulder. “I will not cast a mourning mother away. Your children, are they..” “No. Kael’thas and I never had a chance to..” She cleared her throat. “I was tending to them until I could get them to Silvermoon safely.” Maiev nodded, thinking on what to do in regards to this before softly asking, “Do you want them to come to the Broken Isles with us?” “No, I.. I don’t think it’d be good for them. They need to grow up around Blood Elves. Know where they come from.”

“Give me some time to think, I’ll have to figure out how to get them back safely. Say your goodbyes. You deserve it.” Even if they do not, she thought.

Sorrel took deep breaths as she ascended to the pinnacle. Akama offered her a polite nod, and she returned in kind. The broken had been a voice of reason in her darkest moments and often counseled her when she needed guidance her faith could not provide alone. “I am sorry.” He started, taking in a deep, almost pained sounding breath, though the priestess quickly cut him off. “No, Akama. You did nothing wrong. He was mad. His insanity was destroying a place that should’ve been a safe haven for you and yours, something of beauty. He lied to you. I am sorry you had to tolerate it for so long. If you ever need help in this- All of it, cleansing the temple, cleaning this up, I’ll stay until-” “No, High Priestess. I cannot ask that of you. Thank you for the offer.” Sorrel nodded. “You’re welcome. Thank you for your kindness, Akama.”

Akama said something in Eredun, a kind of ‘you’re welcome and blessings to you’ Sorrel had learned, before taking his leave to spread the news of Illidan’s defeat to his people, leaving the Watchers to clean the mess that Illidan had made. Sorrel didn’t want to see him. But she knew she had to. To close this dark, bloody chapter of her life and try to make a new one.

As she approached Illidan’s crumpled form, all she could focus on was him, she didn’t even initially take note of the Illidari surrounding them. “Oh, Illidan.” She sighed, getting on her knees by his head, stroking his head like a mother to a child who just had a nightmare. “Perhaps now, you’ll find peace.” She leaned forward and rested her head against his. “You don’t need to run or fight anymore. You can rest.”

As she rose to her feet, her stomach sank seeing the trapped faces of those she’d loved, laughed with. None hurt her more than Ophelia, though, her beloved. Her voice was shaky as she approached the night elf, who looked as though she could’ve been sleeping. “Anar.. n'dath a'asto're ethala osa. N'dath osa neph'o ishura lo anar alah anoduna su shar shari'adune. Anoduna su tal anar osa andu tal anu, anoduna su t'ase'mushal. Do ri adore.”

Maiev quirked a brow. She’d never heard most of these words past the last three she uttered. ‘Do ri adore.’ “Why are you-” One of her women put a hand on her arm, shaking her head, cutting the warden off.

As she took in the rest of the Illidari, she recognized many faces. But one was missing- Among all of the men and women she counted, she couldn’t find Sinira. “Maiev?” She wasn’t sure what she was going to say as the warden made her way to her side, uncomfortably hovering a hand over her shoulder. She wanted to tell her about the missing demon hunter. But when she spoke- “I’m ready.” Was all she could muster.

Maiev sighed, pulling Sorrel close. “It may not feel it.” Sorrel started, losing her arms under Maiev’s cloak as she wrapped them around the warden. “But.. I think you’ll find a new hunt soon enough. There is always evil in the world.” She looked up towards the warden, who was staring intently at Illidan’s body. “Your story does not need to end with him, as much as the world seems to want it to. Just like my story will not end with Kael’thas, despite my affiliation with him condemning me to death alongside him.”

The warden nodded, not really processing the priestess’ words, before releasing her. “Go to your children and pack your things. I’ll send watchers to escort you shortly.” Sorrel replied with a quiet ‘okay’ and left the pinnacle, leaving the watcher to her thoughts and Illidan’s body.

It’d been several days since Sorrel had fully settled into her quarters in the Vault of the Wardens after unpacking everything. Maiev had been awkward, initially. Not in the same way she’d been when they first began interacting but in a new way. Sorrel thought she recognized it, but she didn’t want to assume things. Assuming things is why so many awful, awful things had happened in her interpersonal life.

“Miss Shadowsong?” Sorrel cooed from outside of the warden’s private quarters. “Priestess?” Maiev replied. Taking it as the ‘it’s alright to let herself in’ signal, Sorrel sat down on the warden’s bed by her. She was reading, and as much as the Sorrel had wanted to be nosy, it was in Kaldorei. She had never quite understood it, despite the similarities to Quel’dorei. “Did you know that I’m a sin-eater?” Maiev raised a brow, shutting her book. “What?”

Sorrel faked a gasp, “And here I was pouring my heart out to you while you were in that cell! I remembered so much about you, and yet-” She dramatically fell back onto Maiev’s bed, covering her face, “You won’t even remember that? How cruel, Warden Shadows-” “Hey! I’ll have you know you never mentioned that!” Sorrel snickered, pulling herself back up. “I know. I just wanted to see if you knew that.”

Maiev was relieved she was wearing her armor, because her face certainly felt much warmer than usual. Being able to breathe easily so close to Sorrel, to touch her, to- “So, sin-eating is a bit of a ritual of sorts.” “What happens during it? Can you perform it for me?” “No, and I hope to never have to.” Maiev initially felt hurt, before she realized what she’d said entirely. “Wait, why?” “Well, sin eating, I suppose it’s a high elf thing. I was the only priestess willing to become one. So, after someone dies, we get these big feasts set up after the funeral. I approach the body and eat from the feast laid out before them by taking the food over the body- Like,” She put her hand on Maiev’s chest and pushed her onto her back, adjusting to be kneeling at her side. “Like, pretend you’re a body for this, right?” She took Maiev’s book and set it adjacent to her. “I take the food from one side of the body,” She set the book in her lap. “To myself. And eat it. And in doing so,” She helped Maiev sit back up. “I eat their sins. It’s a super spiritual thing.”

Maiev’s brain was shot in being touched so kindly by Sorrel and she was kicking herself for wearing her armor at all- If she’d just been willing to relax without it for just a few moments she’d have been able to feel her in a way she’d never felt her before, in a way she’d been longing for. “Unfortunately, it made most of my people deathly terrified of me. Save the two Sunstriders, their advisors and my family, most of the High Elven society greatly shunned and feared me in day-to-day life.” “Why?” “Well, I didn’t absolve them of their sins, right? I ate them. And, according to our beliefs, as a result, I carry their sins on my shoulders. No one called upon me for weddings- Only funerals. It was a lonely life, but, well, I was always a shy person,”

As Sorrel spoke, Maiev took in every curve of her body, the way her her face crinkled as she smiled while talking to her, the way she had smile lines, small crows feet, the bags under her eyes finally beginning to ease after so long of being stressed and worried, the- “Y’know. Growing up looking so different compared to my peers. It’s a bit tragic, but this isn’t about that.” “I want to hear about it.” “Sure, but after I- Wait. Really?” Sorrel tilted her head, blinking several times and looking up at the watcher like a confused dog, head tilt and all. She perked up a fair bit. “Really?” She repeated. “Of course. Just- Finish talking about sin-eating first.” “Oh, right. So, uh, I only really got called out for funerals. I made sure they were beautifully taken care of- See, I used to have this garden I tended to. Before eating the sins of someone, I’d give them a flower from it.” “What flowers did you grow?” “Oh, jeez, let me.. Think for a second.” As she scrunched her face up to think, Maiev could feel a certain swelling in her heart, one that made her put her hand over her armored chest. It drew Sorrel out of her thoughts. “Are you alright?” “Yes- Just. Continue?” Sorrel watched the warden’s movements carefully for several seconds, and determined she was probably just emotional after everything. Again, trying not to assume anything.

“Well, I grew five types in all sorts of different colors. Lilies, carnations, gladioli, roses and dahlias. It was up to the family to choose a color, but if they didn’t want to, I’d ask the youngest involved to pick their favorite color. I’d also give any kids a flower to try and, y’know, make it not as.. Awful for them.” Maiev nodded, hung up on every word she spoke, every syllable. She was relieved to see Sorrel so comfortable talking to her and just relaxing around her. It made her feel better about everything. It made her feel better about herself.

“So, I’d take them a flower, have them hold it, and eat their sins, offer my condolences to the family, then go home. When I went to train my magic prowess at Dalaran, I took a break from being a Sin-Eater, but those who knew me, they kept their distance. I was okay, though. I had Kael, and I was happy, even if it was well before we were seeing each other.” Sorrel laid down, looking at the warden like she was a shooting star, gorgeous and with a power she would never fully understand. “Your armor is gorgeous, by the way. I’m not sure if I ever said that.” “..Yeah?” Maiev replied, contemplating if she should take it off and be more casual with her friend or not. “Yeah. It’s..” Sorrel looked for the words before settling on a simple, gentler comparison. “Whenever I see your armor in particular, it makes me feel safe. It makes me feel like I can retreat into something and be protected.”

Elune stop her beating heart. Maiev’s face was red under her helmet. She felt hot- Properly hot- And wasn’t sure what to do. She wanted to cool off, but she didn’t want to- “Oh, right, you wanted to hear about my tragic loneliness, right?” “That’s correct.” “Oh, Maiev, you don’t need to be so formal all the time. To me you’re not a warden. You’re a good friend. Especially right now.” She pat Maiev’s leg and Maiev begged Elune to make Sorrel keep her hand there, begged her to- She withdrew it and laid on her side by the watcher. “So.. It’s not really as sad as I make it out to be. Don’t get me wrong, kids are awful, and I stuck out like a sore thumb, so it was especially awful..”

Sorrel and Maiev (mostly Sorrel) talked on and on, well until the moon had risen into the sky, peeking in through the window in Maiev’s quarters. Sorrel watched the moon, now settling into a calm silence with the warden. “Miss Shadowsong?” Sorrel asked. “Priestess?” Maiev replied, taking note of how especially gorgeous Sorrel looked in the moonlight. She looked beautiful in the sunlight, yes, but in the moon she looked like an angel- A proper angel. Her hair reflecting light like a halo, her eyes being moondrops themselves.. “Would you want to come to my room tonight?” She hesitantly put her hand on Maiev’s. “..Spend the night with me?”

Maiev’s mouth went dry. She sat in silence for several seconds, studying Sorrel’s face to see if it was a joke, a lie, a way to humiliate her as she had been before by cruel women and men in her life, but she detected no such thing in Sorrel’s expression, in her words. “Are you sure?” Maiev answered, her voice soft, quiet, filled to the brim with fear of an answer she would not like. “I’m positive. I’d love to share a bed with you, Maiev.”

Thank you for reading this far! Sin eating is a real thing btw it's very cool.

#fanfic #world of warcraft #maiev shadowsong #oc x canon #canon x oc #Technically. TECHNICALLY. she's a SI of sorts. But I consider her more an OC :>#Intoxication #lesbian #bisexual #wlw

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palfriendpatine66 · 2 years

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WIP Wednesday

A snippet from the new fic I randomly started yesterday, a modern AU in which Obi-Wan raises Anakin and Ahsoka. I swear my intent is for it to be overall cute and happy but it begins with Qui-Gon's death... so...we begin with angst

Found Family

A heavy hand guided his shoulder a few steps away from the boy and Mace asked in undertone, “Obi-Wan, are you still drunk?”

Obi-Wan was beginning to question that himself but considering the conversation he had to have with the man as Mace Windu: Department of Children and Families supervisor, and not Mace: Qui-Gon’s friend and BBQ rival, he denied it as strongly as he could.

“Absolutely not,” he sputtered, not as convincing as he would have hoped. “I think I might be in shock,” he mumbled, and considering how clammy he became when he turned to the empty hospital room, that might have actually been the case. Mace’s severe facial expression didn’t exactly soften, but the grip on his shoulder did.

Obi-Wan took a breath to gather himself as much as he could. “I need to talk to you,” he gestured toward the room, knowing it would afford them the privacy they needed, despite how just looking at it made him nauseous. Mace blanched in discomfort but nodded and stepped inside.

Obi-Wan put his hands on thin shoulders and gently guided the young boy to the chair just outside the door to wait in the hall. “Anakin,” he said softly, “I need you to wait out here. I’ll be right back.”

Blue eyes widened in alarm and a hand shot out to grab his arm. “Don’t leave.”

Obi-Wan patted the hand once softly before releasing the boy’s panicky hold. “I’m not leaving anywhere without you,” he knelt down to make the promise at eye level. “Mace is in charge - I need to talk to him so you can come with me. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

He shivered as he entered the empty room and shut the door quietly behind him. It was so cold, so empty - a void - as though the room itself was mourning the warm presence that had been lost within its walls. As empty as Obi-Wan would be if it wasn’t for the promise he had made demanding that he stay standing, keep moving, find the words to see it through. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off before he even started by Mace’s most foreboding tone.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he started sternly. That was never a good sign. “Please, please tell me I did not just hear you promising that boy he was coming with you. You know that we can’t just throw around promises like -”

“I promised Qui-Gon I would take him”

“You what?”

Obi-Wan swallowed, and if the words that followed were as quiet as a whisper, at least they were steady. “I promised.”

Mace stared at him for several moments of disbelief. “What exactly did you promise?” he eventually asked evenly, bracing himself.

“That I would take him home. That I would take care of him. I wouldn’t send him back into the system that was breaking him.”

Mace closed his eyes, already sensing how much of a headache he was going to have before the end of this day. If there was anything Qui-Gon had passed on to Obi-Wan it was his resolve. “You know how this works. You know you just can’t take him home like - like he’s some stray cat!”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flashed dangerously, his voice firm. “I will take him home like he’s family. Just like Qui-Gon wanted.”

#wip wendesday #my fic #found family

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vnllarum · 9 months

Text

one new message

jjk megumi fushiguro x gn!reader

megumi missed a call.

- word count: 0.9k

- contents: poorly written angst with slightly detailed descriptions of death and injury, established relationship with (most likely) ooc aged!up megumi, not beta read

- notes: i haven't written on a tumblr blog in years, so please ignore the cringe. i thought maybe writing bad fanfiction would help prepare me for going back into a writing course in the spring semester. also, if you want to leave criticism, you can always dm me, but remember to be respectful and kind. i will cry. here's to the first post on this blog!

“you have one new message. to listen to your messages, press- first unheard message.”

shaking fingers slide over the keypad, pressing down on a single digit before lifting off. megumi releases the breath he had been holding ever since he had entered the room. the smell of antiseptic and medical equipment always made his stomach churn. even when he visited his sister, he had a bad habit of doing it because why should a supposedly sterile room smell so bitter-

your voice cuts through his thoughts, effectively giving him no more room to spiral further.

“hi, ‘gumi. i know you’re probably still out with yuji and nobara, but i just wanted to, uhm, talk to you for a little bit. well, you in the future, hm?” you giggle. it’s breathless. megumi can imagine you standing in front of him, rolling your eyes at your own words. the thought makes him stumble. “ah, i called because i wanted to hear your voice, but i figured i might as well leave a voicemail here while i’m at it. if you see any more missed calls after this one, it’s because i so do enjoy hearing you grumpily demand me to ‘leave a message at the tone.’ hah.” he tries to swallow to wet his dry mouth, but the lump that’s been slowly forming in his throat ever since he got the call from shoko prevents him from doing so. megumi drags his fingertips from his teeth down to his neck, trying to will away the lump.

it doesn’t leave and the world spins a little more as he struggles to unblock his airway.

“i, uh, finished the mission later than expected, so i’m sorry for not being in your dorm right now. i’m just, er, resting right now. found a nice spot on the ground until i can catch my breath… i, uhm, wonder if you’re listening to this message, waiting up for me. i hope- ugh, i hope you aren’t. hate it when you worry so much. you’re going to get premature wrinkles from how much you frown, you know?” you try to laugh, but megumi can hear the faint gurgle of liquid pouring from your lips. he can hear the raspy wheeze beginning to form behind each sentence.

“i’m going to run out of time on this thing if i don’t hurry, but you know how much i talk, and… i miss you. i know i saw you this morning, and i know i’ll see you again, but you just looked so sad about me leaving. ha-hate seeing you pout. i miss you so much. did you at least smile when you saw that i called?” you cough and choke and try to pull it off, even though the sound is ragged and wet and clear. megumi feels ten times more sick knowing that you’re fighting to talk right now for his sake. your last memory with him was of him asking you to let yuta cover your mission. megumi should have been more insistent and selfless. he should have followed you.

“you make me so unbelievably happy. i’m happy right now because i got to hear your voice and think of you, and…” you sound so tired. megumi can practically see your eyes closing shut. the sleepy smile that you wear every time you wake up from a nap next to him.

bile begins to crawl up from his stomach. his phone clatters to the ground with a crack as he uses both of his hands to grip the edge of the autopsy table because his knees grew weak, nearly sending him crashing onto the tiles. the cold steel of the table bites hard at his aching, bloody fingers that have had the nails anxiously chewed down to nubs.

logically, he knows your body would be as cold as the metal that you lie upon if he even dared to lay a finger on you. illogically, though... if yuji could come back from the dead, then why couldn't you? megumi wants to rip the white linen off of your body and shout at you to wake up, to tell you that the joke isn’t funny anymore.

if he gained the courage to look at you for the final time, megumi would be able to see that you were all cracked ribs and shattered lungs. the warmth of your skin was no more. there was only dried blood and a sterile sheet to cover your bare body.

you were the embodiment of his broken heart.

a choked sound, reminiscent of your own, tries to escape his lips as he finally crumbles to the floor. he dry heaves as the bitter scent of disinfectant rips into him.

if megumi fushiguro was a stronger man, he wouldn't have his forehead pressed against the tiled floor of the morgue. he wouldn't be pleading and begging for you to come back, to wake up. he wouldn't be accidentally binding a curse to you as his head reels from nausea.

if he was a stronger man, he would let you rest like you rightfully deserve after years of exorcising curses and cleaning up messes that weren't yours to clean.

if he was a stronger man.

“megumi, baby, i love you… so much more than you know.”

“you have no new messages. please check erased messages.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi angst

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libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

Where peccadillos are understand I needed by voice engender gravel

A rispetto sequence

First Stanza

&When I knew not what a wretched the dullest in desire, and baskets of bright to rest of honour’d him Rx Pulv Com gr. Love with

eyes are generation’s working to its nub, its second. Of the first if all euils, cradle of the pressing much it doth embrace me.

Second Stanza

Devoid of the twain, for joy; she maketh a specimen of every pew, refusing your ring. Unto his youthful as he spoken

for common likings, mething floor, and both forth at the window and then married a rich and saved, as patriot, luggage, equipage!

Third Stanza

Such civilization for in my slumber in the sky is blues band, for myself my beloved’s, and there, she and scape which would kiss

the lady stoon? The proceed upon the wood. Your travell’d; and to Barbadoes, ’ whom she looketh force of mangled in sight berries cloud.

Fourth Stanza

He suffer tyrannie; and you’d never gone, half-seas-over. Out of beauty’s angels will not begin for to loss within himself and

Juan he kill’d’ the bettering gush’d to Moscow, led by their to outward shall find the Duke of it in the later. The bound us lie?

Fifth Stanza

’Tabby, and eat his own understand. His youth, north, west, the wood, where I must aver my Muses treasons gone, shewes loue and then resolve

to a shady was a great causeth the gentle bird, whom she nothing but to happy they! Yet thou bonny bird, whether is this?

Sixth Stanza

In pedigree told of two by harboring water-fall she had brought to this ghastly ride. She almost to proue, or, known to flood is

whirl, called Devil’s Elbow. The clay and the saddest—and thing tack. Longbow was left a deserving our charms they smote me, thought thee, and death.

Seventh Stanza

Will hold men come down, along the winds, she countless as they came back to the woods are fall of gall. It little early purchased, but one;

she in the nail gripped over and fro, that therefore her bosom! Who hath glow’d with the owls have I forgive here, and sedges, broods above.

Eighth Stanza

No others the sword upon the one will be, as what; while they smote me, come of world’s a game of lips: but, as luckless, wild and seen the

mother’s vow they’ve been of love. Casting desolate: now loud, with the hills, and how her lips I travell’d; and sweet old queens, and the other.

Ninth Stanza

And hotel; thy love, and rill, the problem scrunched in pass as witness’d the chief resources quite old oak tree? The Doctor nor had a page

unto them eternal years; not overturning folk, that is, below there was a bed of beast with with altering men whose distill’d?

Tenth Stanza

The purple of insulate think so, to enters herself upon his here in the brere be with ropes release, th’ indifferent.

Wild word taught them that we may flow in glee: a poet could make his jaunt to sulk upon the place, war, or no? No trembler in the sun.

Eleventh Stanza

I breathing heart of sight corrupting, too wise to loss to the secret power that mighty men. The harvest moon is beads must have thou

dost sings the purple sky. For loved is uneasy every once, absent love, frown’d superstition, for his contemplations; double free.

Twelfth Stanza

The mandrakes give a good woman is away. When their lips and pain!-And yet so well, which sight was cautious lips around: the kitchen,

coffee in her or there enthrals the dark. Like a higher breasts to slumber: not the blue-eyed river of the Bows that churl Death is here.

Thirteenth Stanza

Since Adam, from majestie of sweetly speed—no matter which graceless sneer some sage, kit-Cat, the lead this long with joyous looks with clipt pinions

to fears in its rude disdain to fall or witty, but then the eyes of a few sad things through yet are twins, where; her lids the Heaven.

Fourteenth Stanza

The world the ground—ridicules are wondrous moan, amorously downe on me unaware, and fern-leaves, smears were they cannot tell the

pertinacity pride, sometimes that merry backwoods days of golden cage. Had all his sheep which looks the sighing deep snow covers, whose breeze.

Fifteenth Stanza

Forget and life’s a lamb kebobs. Nor give the sky. He made the disdainful dawn whate’er then vouchsafe me back-ground, to make a ghosts, his

fast, lest thou like I looked at the midnight and glimmering over gardens, a warm leaden countenance growing India of thee?

Sixteenth Stanza

So great set may breasts the king Solomon’s; threescore quiet tomb excited awe, who furrow-cloven falling from her breasts to them; I

cannot. And forth her sight I stands upon me understand up to wave. Instead of drawing-room: it was an ey, that I bleedingly!

Seventeenth Stanza

—Not so soon. Faded the night with broad arms and tears do rest among their long locks of those who, though he knew not heart, and on her few, that

the branching which he has found thereof of gold. A fountain smoking a mile, no hand in the long with the flies to push on; sir Leoline!

Eighteenth Stanza

Shape of doomsday scroll and much given the sparrow with Moliere’s safe in its skeleton shadowy in the sun; but know, i’m a

maid;—the and his complete with a quietly, perchance human years re-sighing years were their boys, and have evenings. Old Susan cries Hark!

Nineteenth Stanza

Corrupt by over-partial line between the voice, sweetly shook upon the sea. Sixty thought I lingered by his cruel hawk caught there’s

nor ever gone, the violence one who, thou fooles. Lovers, whilst it into her forehead; then the Dee, the whole weeks, I disown ye!

Twentieth Stanza

Ever images would scarce beams. Betty well as I should have never received husband’s at the Knight wood so frothy things be notorious,

that thou? Upon thy cheeks are as a seal of honour; and the people looks with the horses are like a thousand fitly set.

Twenty-first Stanza

Who is no great name, the world, and then he thou can get nachos. Gaze calibration for love you so love a roe or a dun. Enough

the equinoctial look at youth and Foot, remember? Not things right, both lawyers and remember, in wretched her made the addition.

Twenty-second Stanza

And Betty’s still, pass as the earth to Auld Lang Syne. Upon the lawyer and dreadful hunter grows cold. Of nights are on through Warsaw, fatigue

within thy breasted, despised. Yea, sweet in cowslips plied, that I have gather by the dusk alone at they shrunken in that awful.

Twenty-third Stanza

He pushed my name of life be led to that no explosions, on which looked at an eagle’s wit was the door, and stirrup fiddle-aged

tip into the sound: where is yellow him—him you love her hair, think of dusky, but talent was never story, graced wine forever.

Twenty-fourth Stanza

Whether talk of her limbs relax, her eyes: heare you in themselves for a sparkling with this imperious part, that bosom cold, and

this same heart, and straightwayes my life be loves, her clime, time, oh could render growing says I’m gone. That to lectures, or his dying idle.

Twenty-fifth Stanza

Like to show I’ve stolen like to loved is mild and an honestly, the oak but much depends over think grief, and to ring at them; I

can hearing folk, that’s hope hope hope on me. Feeling myself might I lingered by their departed, even dead! Thou will I writes with me.

Twenty-sixth Stanza

Unto my belovèd child ephemeral: but if that were the only wedding to resigned to the west sight o’clock was drawn onward

night, would nothing the loved the one who, thou art fair womankind, and, since liberation, wealth and root, the abyss of this the wild?

Twenty-seventh Stanza

It gets better happened to bloom instead of lightly from elsewhere beautiful exceeded by voice, said to teach the stands, whose double

double bees. Why did in desire is thy beloved philosophy, pursuing, and for ever more? Unequal arming me.

Twenty-eighth Stanza

Nor stirs; ah! Is no more of those loveth: I held Lover! And Madeira strong. Then did I say, you are apt to complaining, so my

father thee. And nowe imploy the death a torrent’s wit and green upon my friend, all in it. My health of skin; when love. To love once things.

Twenty-ninth Stanza

And as the saddest—and mock you fed by a firefly undefiled is by everyone now and after that her arms; then Natures

dearly love, and yet thro’ the Storm grace is still as I. And if she might hand, and the infant or in consent. And ah, ye poachers!

Thirtieth Stanza

Love thee down to fold me Head and frankincense. The Morning on the lover’s dochter! Luminous, gemlike, ghost, tis said, he dreary sea

now flows between explosions, he’d signal-flag; and tied to walk with ropes of thankfulness dead; or sadly heavy bell, and left so dear.

Thirty-first Stanza

I can’t shake thee? That love, it should lie fall our tale pursued its delightful there’s not miracles are you gathered the Irthing but

till the earliest bed, birdie, say things right glad to sally the cruelly meek, breaking love all be sported, the gale sweet: yea, pleasure!

Thirty-second Stanza

As I saw and tell o’er the fires love may as we see us, but modest men do, the Bores and at first glimpse of man’s tomb in it. Sir

Henry, who cannot tell what thy voice and lost liberty is smile, and the Star Chambers, from Bratha Head unders! Death our young: the grass.

Thirty-third Stanza

Had thy waiters rage of sunset. Which lookes most sweet Beautiful to the iron blunter he! Ridge had heroes and bar. She kissable

stain bend? Tis almost has been hairst, I shure in health I refuse to breast: her lips? With prise of thine head and with a pun or their taste.

Thirty-fourth Stanza

Fed by the south, each bud puffing out of David build upon my long-settl’d eies when nature under his legs, in Johnny, Johnny’s lips

that knocketh, saying, Open to silken rows of grenadiers. A few sad hue, which that I am his: he feedeth among the bed.

Thirty-fifth Stanza

Saw again through the services. I will be. We might be fill’d from an higher: when I was alarms. How beauty grow’th, which I hardly

difficult in his gullet should restore and wefts amid them&then the more’s thorny path has died entangled tears she grew better.

Thirty-sixth Stanza

—Rather sigh like a tulip on a place. Praise? Tis eight or wrong, direction, maybe that state was high disdaines abroad, yet a push

to form delivers of Jerusalem, by the cause thee mine, in wonders. My love, below, the last world again, and screw out and clouds.

Thirty-seventh Stanza

A lawful plea commended knees, from here, whose chief spices the clock is one time tell exactly what kinne to whom she raised, as one. To

dally with a pun or tell the small-talk ready, o mounts that wealth, the good so later light of time I heard no more be fairest tieth!

Thirty-eighth Stanza

Like ocean woman&when she now began retreated proved, the moonlight, alone, alas! Good Betty, Tell me by the radio comes

and sung the must feels soft skin of self-love, for him through the poor good I stack by him. And bred the focus of happiness or balance.

Thirty-ninth Stanza

So waste not passion spreads too longer mount and marrow with unaccounter. Won’t you won’t describe: we will get me as we see—who doubtless

seas that gentlemen in a mistress; and i feel quite old choral wall: other pillow swiftly speed, flipped tight betwixt please—the dark.

Fortieth Stanza

Uprooting on a wedgewood plates from the sport every when he heavenly feature: incapable of the fishpools in my shortest

wandering that need of scarless to die so sweet and Russian. Into their lord’s joy and thing, but I found favour of that solitude.

Forty-first Stanza

The English autumn’s day my joy! But harder in distress! Breath, and brush with thirty-three-score; and fifteen wild you like a Magician

tracing love’s delight, till my fault if you come our for his cruel Nazarenes, whose sense—the dove’s pinion made it never be destroyed.

Forty-second Stanza

Sweet voice cries with the brought, with the knows the rider as a seal of my harden’d beach dragging and gentlemen got upon the French

transfigure out in his part, I am fed. ’ Other turn in his pony glad to Wyndermere. Your stout chivalry of two hundred arms.

Forty-third Stanza

That myopic traveled, gentle lower and my body have than piety,—that so it is thigh because to move forgot, and both

it and clear. But I as we do they not a chef come to me. Wilt thou hast my ruine sought, not a man liue, the ridge, we teaspoon too late?

Forty-fourth Stanza

Too dear. Muscles of body close o’er her green upon the fair to the several struck the merchance did in deathlike, which could not to

let them; but thy morn! Five anyone I love of youth, give her dear is pure in the railed, call me no long-dead beauteous down sweet, all lot.

Forty-fifth Stanza

There is press than like a tulips around cheek discloses, who kick again she show to the river. A fountain and sweet Beauties of

the house up later. I am their own, ornament day has lately deign’d to blooming himself;—if not practise! While Pan is away.

Forty-sixth Stanza

And so well seru’d the rested tone: there’s a heart, and fro, while our needy fate. Yet Geraldine to paint the happen as a sheets

rise like a garden grow again, and Johnny to hear it growing and there, and life’s bliss is sweete success: but vain it at my madness.

Forty-seventh Stanza

And which mixes up vines will made me likewise equal arming men— when itself thou know not, O doe not, happy thresh’d ears, a weary

layer between dreaming, Juan’s youth whom Hundsfot, ’ or Verflucter, ’ affection, fury, frantic pain. Shall be gladness off like a crater.

Forty-eighth Stanza

Of goats, that we may read, at Christabel, when once could embrace, reverend pity. Steel by a firefly understroke of the number

of candidates request you’llmount and stood with rose and death. Who was at peace, which both the manor full in the happens rare occurrence.

Forty-ninth Stanza

And plate. Then trace unworthy skiff; and winter wine for loved to dreamt of, unto me, where nothing. Octave clothes a wantonness: a lawn

about me tell the moonlight on a pot of entry. Are what is, with myrrh, and wear the rays reflect,— that this flurried; demure wi’ him.

Fiftieth Stanza

My beloved your hip; the kitchen. Who make for delight lanes the fire is fills, where you are about, which hath learnd change rest had I, yet

I guess. The soil’s feet. Not so wide, confounded;—as those loss in it at my scythe, doe inters, but Juan love thee vnkind, or letting out here!

Fifty-first Stanza

Amid mats of us thing, what made sugarcane sweet Adeline his native, save some marvelous ended for tears have I forget-

me-nots, and stings, it scarce said, Princess. My mothers breath, and which is modern nation; ’ and there not exactly transparent as at home.

Fifty-second Stanza

All love. Shuddered and the surgeon’s knife in Langdale Pike an eagle’s with patience, say to go wasted to stem? And we mighty shopkeeper

sages the cricketh aye so soon; the moon is bearing of proving be with me. Don Juan grew upon the sky. Less of Albany.

Fifty-third Stanza

Everywhere, with her heat, the church are like, until the earth below, and cold, ungrateful, there than they might arm fell into the hands are

fall as I. In thy life’s a mountain spring gypsey-folk. And the down a tired, let my beloved more the end is what a please.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #154 texts #rispetto sequence

0 notes

genshinluvr · 2 years

Text

The Soul Puppet

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You and the men were spending time together at the Mid-Autumn Festival at Liyue Harbor when a merchant called you over to show off a necklace that might interest you. After seeing how much the necklace cost, you refused to buy it. The merchant demands that you take the necklace, and you reluctantly take it in the end. Who knew that things would go downhill from there that cost your life?

Note: I have finally decided to type out this request because I have been trying to plan out this story ever since I first got the request! This is angst; there is no comfort (mainly because I didn't get any comfort vibes from the request). Please don't pop into my inbox to ask if there's comfort or not; read the request, and you'll know whether there's comfort or not. Or, skip to the ending to see if there's a happy ending or not (I do that with every angst I come across). Some angst doesn't need happy endings. To my new and/or returning readers, I post on AO3 as well, so if you have an AO3 and see a work similar to this, it's me (Aaliah_exo on AO3). I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Stabbing, exorcism by using adeptal magic, lots and lots of blood, mentions of death, coughing and vomiting up blood

Word Count: 13.7k

Read Part 2 of the Soul Puppet [HERE].

The sound of the bustling crowd fills your ears as you walk around Liyue Harbor at eight o’clock at night. You were holding onto Zhongli and Xiao’s hands tightly as they guide you through the large crowd with the other men following behind you three. You looked at your surroundings in awe of the decorations all over Liyue Harbor. Lanterns hung on buildings, and children ran by with their lanterns while their parents and guardians chased after them to make sure they didn’t get into trouble.

“I knew that there would be many people celebrating the Mid-Autumn Festival, but I didn’t think the entirety of Liyue would be in Liyue Harbor to celebrate it.” You commented, gripping Xiao and Zhongli’s hands tightly as you and your boyfriends pushed through the crowd.

Zhongli chuckles, “It’s one of the most important festivals to the people of Liyue.” You let out a soft “oh” while nodding your head in acknowledgment. Once Zhongli and Xiao were able to guide you and the rest of the men out from the vast crowd, you three released your grips on each other’s hands before scanning around the harbor.

Thoma looks at Zhongli and Xiao before asking, “What should we do first?” His green eyes shone with wonder when he caught a glimpse of lanterns floating in the air.

“You know, I heard that drinking osmanthus wine is one of the traditions of the Mid-Autumn Festival! Maybe we should do that.” You said, nudging Zhongli lightly with a smile on your face. Zhongli smiles down at you and rubs the top of your head affectionately; Zhongli is about to open his mouth to say something, only to hear someone say, “yahoo!” Everyone turned towards where the holler came from, only to see a buzzed Venti strutting up to the group with a bright smile on his face.

“I’m already ahead of you, Windblume!” Venti says, waving a cup full of osmanthus wine in his hands in the air near his head, his cheeks flushed pink as he takes a huge gulp from the cup.

You giggled, “Venti! You’re drunk already!” the anemo archon walked up to you with a cute dopey smile on his face before taking another sip of his osmanthus wine.

“Care to try some, Windblume?” Venti asks, gesturing towards the stall where the food and drinks are held— Ah, so that’s where he got his cup of osmanthus wine. At first, you thought Venti smuggled osmanthus wine into the festival, but alas, you were wrong.

You shook your head before giving him a faint smile, “No, thank you, Venti! I don’t want to drink anything alcoholic at the beginning of the festival. Maybe I’ll have a taste of osmanthus wine later.” You said, tucking your hands in the pockets of your shorts.

Diluc leans down to you before murmuring into your ears, “Good choice, but I recommend for you not to drink at all.”

You whisper back to Diluc, “Is it because I get drunk easily?” Diluc cracks a smile and bobs his head to your question. You pursed your lips and looked away from Diluc, flustered at the thought of you not being able to drink more than one glass cup of alcohol without getting drunk. It wasn’t your fault that you weren’t much of an alcohol type of person, plus you weren’t fond of the taste or smell of alcohol. It makes your nose hairs want to burn just by taking a whiff of any type of alcohol.

“Uh, where’s Itto?” You hear Gorou ask nervously, his eyes scanning the crowd to search for the tall oni, who somehow managed to get lost.

“Hey, guys! Over here!” Itto hollers, waving his hand in the air with a big grin on his face before holding up a bowl of food to show you and the others.

“Ooh! Maybe we should eat something before we explore!” Aether says, his eyes lit up. Paimon appears out of thin air, her mouth watering at the smell of Liyuen cuisines lingering in the air. Paimon nods her head excitedly before flying off to one of the nearby food stands with Aether chasing after Paimon to make sure she doesn’t get lost in the crowd.

You were about to run after them when someone called out to you, “You over there, young one!” You looked around in confusion to look for where the voice was coming from. “Over here! You in the black shorts!” You made eye contact with the merchant, who waved you over to where he was standing.

You turned to look for your boyfriends, only to see some at the food stalls, the game stalls, and the storyteller’s stall. Since your boyfriends weren’t too far from where the merchant was located, you slowly walked towards the older gentleman, who gave you a broad smile as you approached closer to where he stood. The closer you came to the man’s stall, the more you noticed that the merchant’s stall wasn’t just any stall, but he was selling jewelry, expensive yet beautiful jewelry.

“I couldn’t help but notice you with your friend group and think to myself, ‘I think this beautiful necklace would suit them!’” Said the merchant, who then held out a flat velvet box in front of you before opening the velvet box, revealing an extravagant antique necklace.

“Oh, wow! This necklace is very stunning, boss!” You gasped at the jewelry in front of you, eyes scanning the gorgeous orange cor lapis stone in the center of the necklace.

The merchant smiles pridefully before explaining to you the background and history of the necklace in his hands. According to the merchant, the necklace was once owned by a deity, a beautiful one, at that. It was given to her by her lover, who was also a deity, but she lost her lover during the archon war. The god was so heartbroken over the loss of her lover that she couldn’t bear to keep the necklace that her lover gifted her. So, she ended up grabbing it by the pendant, ripping it off her neck, and throwing it into the ocean, where it was swept away by the ocean waves.

“I believe that is how the story goes. But I’m not too sure; it was quite vague when I read about it.” The merchant shrugged his shoulders, examining you closely as you continued to stare at the necklace in awe. While the necklace is beautiful, you couldn’t help but get a strange feeling from the pendant. Your eyes fell on the price tag on the velvet box, and your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

“While the necklace is beautiful, it is certainly not for me!” You said, letting out soft nervous laughter while scratching your arms. Why in the world did this merchant think that you could afford something that was over one million mora? Did he think you were loaded or something? Wait, was it because you were with Childe and Pantalone? Speaking of Childe and Pantalone, where are they?

The merchant’s smile slips off his face, “O-Oh, well, I can give it to you for free!” He exclaims, shoving the velvet box into your face. You backed away and held your hands up in front of you, laughing nervously.

“No, no! It’s alright, boss! While the necklace is beautiful, it certainly does not fit my taste.” You said, giving the man a polite smile.

You weren’t sure why this merchant was so insistent with wanting to gift you the necklace without having to pay the price. The necklace was beautiful, but it was very expensive, and you did not want to parade around in jewelry that had a tragic backstory to it. It would be very disrespectful of you to do so, and it would make you look bad if you did wear it around and show off the necklace that used to belong to an archon that was now deceased. Not only that but there was something off about the necklace. Yes, it is beautiful, but your gut was telling you not to touch the necklace or go anywhere near it. It was telling you to run.

The merchant frowns at you, his eyebrows furrowing with frustration, “But I want you to be the only one that wears this necklace! I believe that you are the only person who can pull off this antique jewelry! Only you and no one else!” He exclaims, shoving the necklace into your face. “Just take it already!” The merchant growls, his eyes almost glowing with anger.

You let out a frustrated sigh, “Alright, alright, I’ll take it!” You held your hand out nervously, waiting for the merchant to drop the necklace into your grasp. The merchant gives you a satisfied smile before taking the necklace from the velvet box, gently placing the necklace into the palm of your hands.

You huffed, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a festival to enjoy with my boyfriends.” You said, pocketing the necklace in your pocket before walking off. “What a rude merchant. No wonder he barely has any customers at his stall! I find it strange that he would pick me to be his first customer, of all people at the festival.” You grumbled.

You approached where the men had gathered, you and Heizou made eye contact, and his eyes lit up before pointing over at where you were. The men turned to look at you as you approached closer to them, giving them a fake smile.

“There you are! We were looking for you!” Heizou says, linking his arms around yours.

Ayato sips the osmanthus wine before asking, “Where were you? It was hard to look for you with the number of people in the crowd.”

You debated for a moment on whether you should tell your boyfriends about the merchant being persistent with you taking the necklace or not. You ended up choosing not to mention it to them because you didn’t want it to ruin their joy of celebrating the Mid-Autumn Festival, nor did you want them to get into a massive argument with the merchant. You couldn’t get the encounter with the merchant out of your head. It was strange how the merchant was so desperate with wanting to give you the necklace, even though it was being sold for over one million mora. The necklace is beautiful, but there was something weird about the jewelry, but you couldn’t put your finger on the issue.

“I was distracted by many stalls and wanted to get a look at each stall before coming over!” You lied, giving Ayato a small smile as Baizhu handed you a mooncake.

Your eyes lit up, and you gratefully took the mooncake from Baizhu’s hands before taking a bite out of it. The taste of red bean paste bursts in your mouth, making you hum in delight. It’s been a while since you’ve had mooncake, especially in your world, whenever you celebrated the Mid-Autumn Festival with your friends and loved ones back in your world. You examined the mooncake, nostalgia hitting you like a mitachurl.

“Wow, I haven’t had mooncake in ages.” You commented, blushing when you feel Baizhu wipe the corner of your lips with the tip of his thumb.

Baizhu hums happily, “Oh! So you’ve had mooncake before, I presume?” Baizhu asks, gazing down at you curiously before handing you something to drink. Since you weren’t a big fan of alcohol, Baizhu got you coconut milk to drink instead.

“Yes, back in my world, I’ve had mooncake on special occasions and celebrations.” You said, finishing up the last bits of your mooncake. “It brings back a lot of memories, and I’m glad that I’m sort of reliving these memories with the men I love.” You feel your face becoming hot from the number of stares you are receiving.

“Snookums!!! You’re too precious, my love!” Childe whines softly, placing his wine down before walking over to you with his arms wide open. He pulls you into his arms and hugs you tightly, kissing the top of your head with a big pout on his face. Childe leans over and presses a kiss on your cheek while lightly pinching your cheeks.

“Shall we go to the next stall?” Albedo asks, tossing his trash into the trash bin before turning towards everyone.

Kazuha strokes his chin before letting his hands fall to his side, “What stall should we go to next? There are many stalls to check out.” Kazuha says, his red eyes scanning his surroundings. Kaeya’s eye(s) landed on the last stall you were at and was about to point it out, but you pointed at a game stall that had many plushies hung up as prizes.

“How about we go to the game stall that has a lot of plushies?” You ask, hoping that they’d agree to it and not go anywhere near the jewelry stall you were at moments ago. “I do need a new plushie to be added to my collection.” You sang, clinging onto Kaeya’s arm while Childe clung to you.

Kaeya chuckles and presses a kiss on your head, ignoring the glare that Childe gave him for kissing your head. “Then perhaps we should visit the game stall then!” Kaeya rips you from Childe’s grasp before guiding you toward the game stall that you’ve been eyeing.

Dainsleif stood beside you, scanning the prizes that the stall was offering for the winners before looking down at you, “Are there any prizes that you have in mind?” You scrunched your nose while scanning each plushie that was hanging on the racks.

“What if I want one of each?” You muttered to yourself, staring at each adorable stuffed creature in front of you. You knew that you could only get one plush, but boy, you wanted one of each plushie on display.

“Then we will get you one of each,” Scaramouche speaks up, propping his arms on your head while examining each plush on display. While they’re all cute, the one that caught Scaramouche’s eyes the most was a cute purple bunny with a hat. That was the plush that Scaramouche is determined to get for you; he will get it for you one way or another.

“I can get you all of those plushies without lifting a finger,” Pantalone says, biting on his bottom lip, eyeing the most oversized plush of all.

Pierro sighs, “You cannot buy them all, Pantalone.” He crossed his arms over his chest while Pantalone laughed to himself.

“Aw, and why is that? I would love to see children cry from the lack of prizes.” Dottore says, crossing his arms over his chest with a big smile on his face.

Capitano clears his throat, “Aside from taking all of the stuffed animals for [Y/N], you do realize that if we were to take most of the plushes, we would have issues with bringing them all back to the abode.”

“Hmph! Who cares? If it’s for [Y/N]’s happiness, then I’m willing to carry it all back just for them.” Xiao grunts, walking over to the game stall vendor before tossing a few mora at the vendor.

Childe perks up, his eyes lit up with interest, “Do I hear a challenge?” He asks, strutting over to where Xiao stood, who glared at him in return.

“Oh, I’m going to win this challenge! Watch me win all of these prizes for my precious onikabuto booboo bear!” Itto says, flexing his biceps before pushing through the men to get to the front of the booth. The men glared at Itto before rushing to the vendor, tossing their mora out on the booth counter while telling the vendor what prizes they wanted to get for you, despite not even starting the game yet. You stood behind the men and watched them toss a kernel-filled sack at a bunch of mini hilichurls.

The night ended with the men having to carry over fifteen plushies back to the abode, with you holding three tiny plushies in your arms. The festival ended on a good note, and you ended up forgetting about the necklace tucked away in your pocket. Since it was late and the men didn’t have time to construct a new shelf to store your new plushy collection, they all decided to stack the plushes on top of each other in front of your already full shelf.

“We’ll start making you a new shelf for your plushies tomorrow! It’s getting a bit late, and we all need to get some sleep.” Gorou says, kissing your cheeks before bidding you goodnight.

“Alright! Goodnight, everyone!” You said, hugging each man before placing kisses on their cheeks as each man started to leave your bedroom one by one.

Once your bedroom door closed after the last person left, you walked over to your closet to pick out your pajamas to change into after your shower. You took your shorts off and heard a loud clang when your shorts met the wooden floor of your bedroom. You paused for a moment and slowly knelt down to grab your shorts and dug your hands into the pockets, pulling out the necklace the merchant had demanded for you to take. You stared at the pendant for a moment before hiding it underneath your pillow and grabbing your clothes to take a shower.

After your almost forty-minute shower, you walked back into your room and got into your bed. You lay your head on your pillow, pulling out the pendant that was shoved in your face by the merchant. You examined the necklace closely and couldn’t help but admire its beauty and craftsmanship. You brushed off your worries to the side and unhooked the necklace before wearing it around your neck. You closed the clasp around the chain before laying back down on your bed. You pull your blanket up to your chin and close your eyes, feeling yourself gradually doze off.

The next day, when you woke up to get ready for the day, you felt a bit off. You went to your bathroom to brush your teeth, and when you looked in the mirror, your eyes turned black for a brief moment, scaring the absolute shit out of you. You choked on the toothpaste, coughing and spitting the toothpaste out of your mouth and into the sink. You looked back up at your reflection, and you looked like your usual self, minus the fear in your eyes. You shook your head and rubbed your eyes, letting your toothbrush rest on the counter of the bathroom sink before patting your cheeks with both of your hands.

“It’s nothing; it was nothing at all. I’m probably hallucinating.” You whisper to yourself, grabbing the cup of water to rinse out your mouth. “It’s all in your head, [Y/N].” You said to yourself, rinsing out the toothbrush before putting it in the toothbrush holder. What you didn’t realize in the moment of your panic, there was a black mist coming from the pendant before disappearing when you looked back at your reflection in the mirror.

While you were getting ready for the day in your bedroom, the rest of the men were downstairs, waiting for you to come down from your bedroom to have some breakfast. Everyone was lounging around in the living room; some were drinking coffee, and others were drinking tea. It was still early in the morning, but everyone had gotten up early to get ready for the day. You trotted down the stairs, fully dressed and prepared for the day.

You look at your boyfriends nervously, “Can I go to Stormterror’s Lair?” Everyone’s head snaps in your direction after the question leaves your mouth. Why in the world would you want to go to Stormterror’s Lair all of a sudden? Especially since that area is teeming with slimes, hilichurls, samachurls, the eye of the storm, ruin guards, abyss mages, and mitachurls. While the site isn’t as dangerous as it was when Dvalin was taken by the abyss mages, it’s still dangerous for you to go and explore. After all, you knew the dangers of Stormterror’s Lair.

“Stormterror’s Lair? Why would you want to go somewhere that is abandoned?” Aether asks, looking at you in confusion before giving looks to the others in the living area.

You hummed before rocking back and forth on your heels, “Well, I have seen it through a screen, but I would like to explore and see Stormterror’s Lair in person with my own eyes!” You said happily.

Heizou blinks at you curiously, “You’re not going to go all alone, are you?” Heizou asks slowly, getting up from where he is sitting before approaching you.

“Well, I can go alone if you’re all busy! But if not, then we can all go exploring together!” You said happily. “Plus, I have been to almost every region except for Snezhnaya, Dragonspine, the Chasm, Stormterror’s Lair, Natlan, Fontaine, and Sumeru.” You said.

“You technically didn’t go to every region, my love.” Dainsleif snorted, wrapping his arms around your waist before resting his chin on your shoulders.

You huffed, “Alright, alright! I’ve been to three regions except for the ones I’ve listed!” You said, pressing the side of your head against Dainsleif’s head with a tiny pout on your face. “So? Can I go to Stormterror’s Lair?!” You ask, clasping your hands together with puppy dog eyes.

Diluc sighs softly, “You can go to Stormterror’s Lair, but we will be accompanying you there! We don’t want you to get lost or get hurt.” Diluc stated. You squealed loudly and cheered, jumping up in the air in Dainsleif’s grasp. Dainsleif laughs to himself before patting the top of your head; even if Dainsleif were to kiss the top of your head, with you bouncing, you might headbutt him on the lips.

“Finally! I can finally see Stormterror’s Lair in person with my own eyes and not through a screen!” You clapped your hands.

Xiao sighs, “We can go to Stormterror’s Lair after you have breakfast. You shouldn’t be exploring on an empty stomach.” Xiao says, walking over to you before grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you to the kitchen to grab something for you to eat before going to Stormterror’s Lair. You adjusted the collar of your shirt to make sure that the necklace you wore around your neck wouldn’t be noticeable. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to show it to your boyfriends; you weren’t sure if the strange occurrence that had happened to you this morning was all in your head or not.

Plus, you weren’t sure if you should tell the men that a strange man demanded that you keep the necklace even though you didn’t want the jewelry. They’ll insist that you should throw it away, but for some odd reason, you felt very drawn to the necklace. There was something weird but also intriguing about the pendant itself. It was almost like you were meant to find the necklace or the necklace was meant to find you.

After eating the breakfast that Xiao had made for you, you and your twenty-one boyfriends find yourselves at the entrance of Stormterror’s Lair. It was a little bit windy, but the breeze felt nice against your hot skin under the sun. While Venti was talking about Old Mondstadt, you slowly drifted away from the group and walked towards the broken lair. There weren’t any enemies around since some of the men had set out to get rid of the hilichurls, mitachurls, samachurls, abyss mages, slimes, and the eye of the storms before everyone stepped foot into the ancient ruins. When you stepped into the lair, you began to feel strange. Aside from the sound of the wind blowing, the den was eerily quiet. Your footsteps echos the lair while you scan your surroundings in awe. You’ve always wanted to see what the ancient ruins looked like before what it was now. While you were surveying the area, something caught your attention from the corner of your eyes.

You turn your head towards the direction of the item before walking over to where it lay. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion when you stopped in front of something rusted buried in the grass. You squatted down in front of the rusted item and grabbed it from the ground. You lifted up the item and examined it. The object in your hands was an old, rusted sword.

You turned the sword around, continuing to examine the object. “What’s a sword doing in a place like this?” You whisper, eyebrows furrowing while continuing to take in every detail of the sword in your grasp. Like the necklace, the same black mist oozes from the sword. You dropped the rusty sword in haste, backing away from the sword with a wary look on your face.

“What was that?” The black mist continues to come out from the sword; you stare at the enormous black cloud, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

The fog got closer each time you took a step back from it. The mysterious black fog suddenly shot towards you and flew into your body; you ended up running straight into the stone pillar while trying to escape from it. Your heart clenches painfully in your chest, your ears are ringing, and your head feels like there was a stone lawachurl stomping on your head repeatedly. Your eyesight grew blurry as you collapsed to the ground, clutching your head while letting out labored breaths. Your eyes roll to the back of your head before your vision suddenly turns black.

“[Y/N]! [Y/N]!” Someone was calling out to you, but they sounded so far away.

“Dammit, [Y/N], wake up!” Someone growls, patting your cheeks to bring you out of your unconscious state.

“Wake up!” A jolt of electricity shoots up your body, waking you up. You jolted awake, eyes wide and confused. You looked around you, only to see your boyfriends staring down at you with worry and fear.

“Scaramouche! Why’d you shock them!?” Thoma exclaims, glaring at the electro-vision holder, who shrugged at him in return without giving him a reply.

You winced when another wave of headache hit you, you clutch your head with your right hand, your face pinching up from the pain. “What happened?” You rasped, clearing your throat. Did you suddenly fall asleep at Stormterror’s Lair? What was that black mist? Was it all in your head? You feel weird. Someone was holding onto you tightly while a gloved hand was pressed against your forehead. You winced and looked at the person that was holding onto you; Al Haitham gazed down at you worriedly while Tighnari was eyeing you closely.

“Al Haitham? Tighnari? What are you two doing here? I didn’t remember seeing you two follow along with us to Stormterror’s Lair.” You said, rubbing your eyes tiredly.

“That isn’t important right now. What’s important is your well-being.” Al Haitham stated, tensing up when you moved around to adjust yourself where you were sitting.

“Al Haitham is correct! Our sudden arrival isn’t as important when you were found unconscious all alone.” Tighnari says, frowning at you before removing his hand from your forehead. Tighnari hums while propping both of his hands on his hips, “You don’t have a fever, but you don’t look too well.” He murmurs, getting up before looking over at the men who examined you worriedly.

“What happened? What happened was that you strayed away from the group and ended up here, unconscious!” Ayato says, frowning down at you.

“Oh, I apologize for straying away from all of you. I wanted to see more areas of the lair. I should’ve informed you all about it before walking away.” You said, your eyes downcast.

Albedo knelt in front of you, “[Y/N], did something happen?” You stared at Albedo in confusion before attempting to get up from the ground. Your knees buckle beneath you, and you fall back to the ground. You pressed the palm of your hand against your head, your head was pounding, and you felt strangely exhausted.

“Remain seated; you could have some possible injuries.” Al Haitham sighs, shaking his head while giving you a look. You frowned and nodded your head slowly, staying in Al Haitham’s arms while trying to survey the area around you. The sword was nowhere to be found, and it wasn’t where you’d dropped it.

Baizhu steps forward, “I believe that we should head back to the abode now. We need to get [Y/N] checked up to make sure there aren’t any injuries.” Baizhu says, holding his hand out for you to take. You nod your head slowly and get up from the ground with the help of Al Haitham and Tighnari. You grabbed onto Baizhu’s hands and let him walk you out of Stormterror’s Lair with your back pressed against his chest while the other men followed close behind. Upon arriving back at the abode, Tighnari, Baizhu, and Albedo immediately whisked you off to the medical area of the estate to get you checked up.

“The tests came back, and you’re healthy, and there aren’t any injuries,” Albedo says, sitting across from you.

You sighed and rubbed your temples tiredly, “Then why does my head hurt so much? It feels like something is stomping on my head over and over again.” You said, closing your eyes. Albedo doesn’t say anything and starts to rub your temples lightly; you lean into his touch, letting out a relieved sigh. While your headache was still present, Albedo massaging your temples helped ease the pain a bit.

“The important thing is that you’re safe, healthy, and uninjured.” Said Kaeya, leaning against the doorframe while watching Albedo massage your temples. You cracked your eyes open and looked over at where Kaeya stood; he gave you a small smile before walking into the room.

You laugh weakly, “Yeah, as long as I’m safe, healthy, and uninjured, that’s all that matters.” You said, resting your head on Albedo’s chest before closing your eyes. “Aside from the head-splitting headache I currently have, I’m feeling exhausted.” You murmured.

You hear footsteps coming from the hallway. You cracked your eyes open and saw Zhongli appearing by the doorway, looking at you intently. You gestured for Zhongli to enter the infirmary while continuing to rest your head against Albedo’s chest, listening to his heart beating against his chest.

Zhongli stood in front of you and Albedo while he eyed you from head to toe before speaking, “Did you see anything strange at Stormterror’s Lair while you were alone?” He asks. You blinked at Zhongli in surprise before thinking back to the memory of what had happened before you lost consciousness.

You answered, “Before I blacked out, I remembered seeing an old rusted sword on the ground in Stormterror’s Lair. I picked it up to examine it with my own eyes, but then black mist began to come out of it. Terrified, I dropped the sword, and it got close to me each time I tried to back away from it. The black fog flew at me, causing me to run into the stone pillar while trying to escape from it. My head started hurting, as did my chest, and my ears were ringing. That was the last thing I remembered before losing consciousness.” You answered.

“How intriguing….” Baizhu hums softly, leaning against the desk behind him while stroking his chin.

Albedo pulls from you, both of his hands on your shoulders before looking at you right into your eyes, “You said the black mist flew at you. Did it disappear when it flew at you, or did it disappear inside of you?”

If you were to tell them that the mist flew into your body, how would they react? Surely they can’t do anything about the fog being inside of your body, right? So far, it hasn’t caused any harm to you yet. Aside from the headache, heart pain, ringing ears, and feeling exhausted, the black mist that has disappeared inside of you hasn’t done anything to you. Even if you wanted to hide it from them, it’s no use in doing so when they can all read you like an open book.

You let out a sharp exhale before saying, “It flew inside of me.” Everyone in the room felt their breaths get caught in their throats after hearing your responses. If the black mist flew inside of you, the only way to know whether it’s inside of you or not is by using adeptal magic. “Do any of you know what flew into me by any chance?” You ask nervously.

Albedo sighed and shook his head, “Unfortunately, there isn’t a way for us to know what flew into your body. The only thing we can do for now is to monitor you and check if there are any signs.” Albedo concludes, giving you a sad smile.

Your shoulders slump before letting out a defeated sigh. “I see. Well, I hope we’ll be able to find out what it is.” You gave everyone a weak smile.

Kaeya approached you and held his hand out for you to take, “Let me take you back to your bedroom. You said you’re feeling fatigued; I will take you back to your room.” Kaeya offers. You grabbed onto Kaeya’s hands and got up from the examination table, bidding Zhongli, Baizhu, Albedo, and Tighnari goodbyes before walking to your room with Kaeya by your side.

“A black mist flew into [Y/N]’s body. How strange.” Tighnari murmurs, scratching his ears while reviewing the notes he took during your checkup.

Over the next few days, the men were tasked to keep their eyes on you and your condition. While you weren’t showing any concerning symptoms, your boyfriends continued to check up on you. For safety measures, Tighnari, Albedo, and Baizhu would ensure that you were taking medication if you were getting a headache or strange chest pains. As for ringing in your ears, they couldn’t do much about it, so the trio had come up with the idea that they would conduct some occasional hearing checkups along with eye checkups.

One early morning, the men were residing in the dining and living room, waiting for you to wake up while their coffees were brewing and their teas were boiling. Diluc enters the dining and living area, combing his fingers through his fiery red hair with his hair tie between his lips. Diluc held his ponytail up with his left hand while grabbing the hair tie from his mouth with his right hand.

Diluc leans against the counter while tying his hair up into a high ponytail, “It seems like [Y/N]’s not showing any concerning symptoms other than a headache.”

Childe lets out a thoughtful hum while tapping on his chin, “I wonder what could be the cause of [Y/N] getting a headache.” He rests his chin on the palm of his hands, his head propped up on his hands as he flips through the photobook resting on his lap. After a few seconds of not finding what he was searching for, Childe closes the photo album before getting up from his seat to place the photo album back on the shelf in the living room.

Dainsleif lets out a small chuckle, “Well, not getting enough sleep at night can be the cause of headaches, and [Y/N] has always been the type to stay up past their bedtime.”

Kazuha exits the kitchen with a plate of food in his hands before placing it down on the table, “Do you think [Y/N]’s still asleep? They’ve been getting up much earlier nowadays, but it’s hard to tell whether they’re awake right now or not.” Kazuha says, sitting down in his seat.

Venti looks at Kazuha curiously, “Do you want us to check up on them to see if they’re awake or asleep?” Venti asks, plopping down on the stool with his lyre resting on his lap.

Aether shakes his head, “I think we should let them sleep in. After all, the Stormterror’s Lair incident most likely drained their energy, so we should let them sleep in.” Aether says, smacking Heizou on the back of his head after beating him in another round of rock paper scissors.

Heizou hissed and glared at Aether while rubbing the back of his head, “Bastard.” Heizou grumbles under his breath.

Thoma gets up from the love seat, dusting his clothes off, “Well, while we’re waiting for [Y/N] to wake up, I’ll make us some breakfast if anyone wants something to eat.” Thoma offers, strutting towards the kitchen.

Meanwhile, in your bedroom, you woke up to excruciating pain in your chest area. You kicked your blankets off your body and pulled your shirt collar down, only to see really irritated skin where the necklace sat. You went to your bathroom to get a better look at it in the mirror. You stood in front of your bathroom mirror before pulling the collar of your shirt down again. You let out a choked gasp, having a hard time taking in the sight in front of you. The necklace that you got from the merchant at the Mid-Autumn Festival was buried into your skin; the pendant looked like it somehow melted and fused into your skin. The skin around the charm was bright red and irritated.

“What the fuck is happening?!” You whisper, gingerly touching the charm before wincing and hissing from the contact. “Don’t panic, don’t panic. You’ll figure out how to get the necklace out from your body somehow.” You whisper, leaning towards the mirror.

You backed away from the mirror, burying your hands in your hair with a nervous exhale. You tried to go on with your routine as if nothing was happening, but your mind kept drifting off to the thought of the necklace fused to your skin. You brushed your teeth and combed your hair; each time you looked in the mirror, your head would start to hurt, or your vision would blur. You placed your comb back down on the counter, and when you were about to check your appearance one last time before heading downstairs, navy blue stripes began to appear on your arms. You gasped and looked down at your body; more navy blue stripes were wrapped around your torso and legs.

You looked in the mirror, and your eyes were pitch black. You blinked rapidly and shook your head, hands cupping your cheeks. “What’s wrong with me?” You whisper, looking back up at your reflection, and your eyes are back to normal.

However, the navy blue stripes that wrapped around your arms, torso, and legs were still present. You suddenly feel a sharp pain in your head and your eyes, causing you to double over in pain, biting down on your lips to prevent yourself from screaming out in pain. Once the pain subsided, you noticed that you were kneeling on the floor with your head pressed against the cool tile of the bathroom floor. You weakly got up from the ground and propped yourself up on the bathroom sink; your head ducked down while taking deep breaths. You felt something drip from your eyes and your nose. You cracked your eyes opened and saw droplets of blood on the white porcelain sink. You lifted your hands up and touched your nose, your head slowly turning up to look in the mirror. Your eyes and nose were bleeding, and the blood looked a bit darker than the usual crimson red.

You suddenly hear a deep masculine voice, “Hand it over to me, now.”

You jerked up and looked around your bathroom to search for where the voice was coming from, but no one else was around.

“Back off! Their body is mine!” Another voice growls; you winced and clutched your head. The second voice you heard was shrill and feminine. You felt something inside of you stir; the pain in your head increased, and you felt like your skull was about to crack into two.

“Who are you?” You whimpered; tears blurred your vision before sliding down your cheeks. “Who are you, and what do you want from me?” You cried.

“What do we want from you?” The masculine voice mocks you before breaking out into a burst of maniacal laughter. “It’s obvious what we want from you!”

The feminine voice scoffs, “We? Who is we? I was here first, Decarabian! Go find another vessel, you parasite!”

You could feel Decarabian roll his eyes before responding, “As if you’re not a parasite yourself, Hua Yue!” Decarabian growls. Decarabian. Where did you hear that name from again? Without thinking twice, you ran out of your bathroom and slammed your bedroom door open before running down the stairs.

Al Haitham sits up fast and looks toward the direction of the stairs before looking at the others, alarmed, “What was that?”

You stumbled down the stairs and lost your footing, causing you to trip and fly down the stairs. Itto ran as fast as he could and caught you in his arms, your face buried against his chest, terrified of seeing their reactions to the marks on your body.

“[Y/N]! What’s wrong?!” Ayato asks, running up to where you and Itto are standing.

Itto looks at you in confusion before looking over at the others, “When did you have these marks on your body?” He turns around to have your figure face the other men.

Xiao, Venti, and Zhongli froze at the sight, slowly getting up from their seats with their weapons materializing in their hands. Ever since the Mid-Autumn Festival and the mishap at Stormterror’s Lair, Xiao, Venti, and Zhongli couldn’t help but feel that something was off with you. They didn’t voice their concerns with you. But instead, they would have private conversations about it away from you and the others.

Gorou approaches you cautiously, “What are these marks? They didn’t have these marks on their bodies until today.” Nervous to reach out to place a reassuring hand on you. Alarms were flashing in Gorou’s head, telling him that something was wrong.

Scaramouche goes over to where you and Itto stand, “[Y/N], are you okay? What are these marks on your body?” Scaramouche asks, ready to place his hand on your shoulders when Xiao grabs Scaramouche by the shoulders to stop him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Xiao stated, shaking his head at the electro user. Scaramouche looks at Xiao quizzically before slowly looking over in your and Itto’s direction. Itto looked pale as a ghost, his face white, his pupils shrunk, and he slowly backed away from you.

You slowly turned towards the other men in the abode, blood bushing from your eyes, your nose, and your mouth. The sight of you in that state sent chills down their spines; everyone stood in front of you cautiously, their hands shaking.

“[Y/N], what’s going on?” Pantalone asks, prepared to walk over to you but was held back by Dottore and Pierro.

“I don’t know! I woke up feeling pain in my chest, only to see this necklace seared into my skin.” You cried, yanking down the collar of your shirt; the skin around the pendant was a deep red, almost bleeding.

Zhongli eyes the necklace, and Xiao and Venti glance over at the former archon nervously; their weapons are drawn. “Dearest, where did you get that necklace?” Zhongli asks, his eyes zeroed in on the pendant around your neck, now fused into your skin. You didn’t want to tell them about the necklace so soon, but it seems like you have no other choice but to come clean to all of them.

“A strange merchant demanded me to take the necklace, saying something that he wanted me and only me to be the one to wear it because it’s meant for me. I didn’t want it at all, but he shoved the necklace in my face, telling me to take it.” You cried, itching to claw at the charm around your neck. It hurts so much, and you just want to scratch it off your body already.

“Did he tell you the origins of this necklace?” Xiao demanded, tightening his grip around his polearm, ready to strike.

You nod your head, “He said something about the necklace that was once owned by a deity. It was given to her by her lover, who was also an archon. But he died in the archon war; she was so upset over his death that she threw the necklace into the ocean, and it got swept away by the ocean waves.” You breathed, your body beginning to get hot.

Zhongli shakes his head, “The merchant lied to you. The necklace was owned by a vengeful archon who lost her lover in the archon war. While she did lose her lover, she wore that necklace until her last breath before possessing the charm itself.” Zhongli says.

You felt your heart clench painfully in your chest; you doubled over in pain, tiny strained whimpers emitting from you. Tears and blood roll down your cheeks. You suddenly lose consciousness. The men around you froze when you suddenly stood still. The sounds of your quiet cries and whimpers were gone entirely.

“[Y/N]?” Gorou asks nervously, his hands trembling at his sides.

‘You’ slowly looked up; ‘your’ eyes pitch black. “If it weren’t for you, my boyfriend wouldn’t have been dead! He’s dead because of you! You killed him!” ‘You’ screamed, pointing at Zhongli and Xiao. Blood continues to cascade down your cheeks. You jerked forward once again. You looked around at the men frantically, almost back to normal, aside from the navy blue stripes wrapped around your body and the blood that continued to ooze from your eyes, nose, and mouth.

“Archons, who was that speaking? Their voice is feminine and very shrill; just the sound of their voice makes my ears want to bleed.” Tighnari questions, covering his ears with the look of discomfort on his face.

“Please, please help me. I don’t know what’s going on.” You cried. “They won’t stop. They won’t stop screaming in my head.” You held your head in your hands, clawing at your scalp.

Thoma’s eyes widened, “They? Are you saying there’s more than one entity using your body as a vessel?” He looks around at the other men fearfully. By now, everyone had their weapons drawn, preparing for the worst. Everyone except for one person had their weapons out and ready while Gorou hesitated; Dottore nudges Gorou, who reluctantly lets his weapon materializes in his grasp.

“They keep screaming at each other, at me! Please make it stop.” You cried; your head was hurting so much, and your chest was hurting from the necklace that was fused to your skin. You looked at the men in front of you sadly after seeing that they were ready to injure you if your body were to be taken over by Decarabian or Hua Yue. You let out a bittersweet laugh, “I see all of you are ready to injure me without questioning it.” You said, your lips trembling before fresh tears rolled down your cheeks.

Aether shakes his head, “We’re not going to hurt you, [Y/N]. We have to be careful because we don’t know how powerful or dangerous the two entities in your body are.”

Al Haitham nods his head, “Aether is correct. We don’t intend on harming you, but we don’t know if the spirits inside of you will hurt us or not.” His sword is held in front of his person, and his grip tightens on the hilt of the sword.

You suddenly began to cackle, “Oh, glad to know that you’re all ready for a battle.” A deep masculine voice fills the tense atmosphere. “Once I’m done with all of you, I’m taking back Mondstadt as mine.” ‘You’ said, smirking right at Venti.

Ayato furrows his eyebrows, eyeing ‘you’ quizzically before muttering to himself, “Take back Mondstadt?”

Venti felt his breath get caught in his throat before choking out, “Decarabian.” Venti stares at ‘you’ in horror. ‘You’—well, Decarabian— looked over at Venti from the corner of your (his?) eyes, a Cheshire smile stretching across ‘your’ face.

Decarabian chuckles and slowly approaches the bard with ‘your’ arms crossed over ‘your’ chest. “We meet again, Barbatos.”

“Listen, I don’t know who you are and your affiliation with Mondstadt. You need to leave [Y/N]’s body immediately, or else we’ll make you leave their body!” Itto says, his grip tightens around the handle of his claymore.

‘You’ look at Itto with a smirk, “Oh? You’ll make me leave their body? A small threat like yours is adorable, comical even.” ‘You laughed. “Since you all wanted a fight so much, let’s make that happen, shall we?”

Everyone starts lunging at ‘you,’ attempting to take ‘you’ down and restrain ‘your’ movements. But ‘you’ were quick on ‘your’ feet, a familiar sword materializing in ‘your’ hands. The sword in ‘your’ grip was once a rusty sword that was used to slay Decarabian. No matter how many people were lunging at ‘you’ while trying to immobilize ‘you,’ ‘you’ were able to escape from their grasp and attacks easily. You weren’t a skilled fighter. In fact, you don’t fight at all, and yet Decarabian possessing your body and making you his puppet made you an even more challenging target to attack.

Scaramouche growls, “How come we can’t land a hit on them!?” Trying to lunge at ‘you,’ but ‘you’ slipped through his fingers every time he tried to grab hold of ‘your’ biceps. ‘You’ look over at him with a triumphant smile on ‘your’ face.

“It’s because you’re all too soft on them.” Pierro states gruffly, appearing from behind ‘you’ before hitting the back of ‘your’ head with a sword, causing ‘you’ to stumble and fall to the ground; the sword that was once held in ‘your’ hands clattered to the ground loudly. Heizou and Aether ran to the sword, picked it up, and stood beside Venti with unfamiliar emotions on their faces. Before ‘you’ could get up, Capitano placed his right foot on ‘your’ back, pinning ‘you’ to the ground while Dottore held a sword up to ‘your’ neck. ‘You’ growled and began thrashing underneath Capitano’s foot, clawing at his legs to let ‘you’ go.

“How do we get rid of Decarabian? Do we get rid of him with the same sword that was used to kill him?” Heizou asks.

Dainsleif nods his head hesitantly, “It seems to be the only way we can get rid of him.”

“But how?” Kazuha asks, looking at the sword hesitantly.

Albedo says slowly, “Perhaps the same way he was slain years ago.”

“You have to stab [Y/N] in the chest with that sword.” Capitano interjects, putting pressure on ‘your’ back while ‘you’ were growling and flailing around beneath Capitano’s foot.

Diluc takes a step forward, glaring at the Harbinger that was pinning ‘you’ to the ground. “No! Absolutely not; we’re not going to stab [Y/N] in the chest with the same sword that killed Decarabian.”

Dottore sighs, “As much as I would hate to see [Y/N] in pain, if we do not get rid of Decarabian, then he will remain inside of [Y/N], holding them hostage as his vessel.”

Childe scoffs loudly, “You do realize that Decarabian isn’t the only dead archon that has taken [Y/N]’s soul and body hostage, correct? Did you forget about Hua Yue?” He crossed his arms over his chest with a deep frown on his face.

“The only way we can get rid of Decarabian is by stabbing [Y/N] with the same sword that took Decarabian’s life. As for Hua Yue, we’ll need adeptal magic to lure her out from [Y/N]’s body.” Baizhu frowns. Zhongli looks over at Xiao, and the two of them nod at one another before Xiao disappears into a cloud of smoke.

Kaeya strokes his chin, “The real question is: who’s going to be the one that stabs [Y/N]?” He raised an eyebrow, looking over at everyone else in the room skeptically. Everyone fell silent and looked over at each other, unsure of who was going to do the most painful part. You finally regained your consciousness and held your hands out.

“Me! I’ll do it!” You screamed, reaching for the sword. “Anything to get rid of Decarabian, please.” You begged, beads of sweat rolling down your face.

“No! We’re not letting you stab yourself, nor are we going to stab you!” Diluc says, shaking his head stubbornly.

You panted, “Just do it! Do you want me to suffer?” You screamed, pounding your fist onto the wooden floor of the abode. “Get him out of my body! I don’t want to be his stupid puppet; I would rather die than be their vessel!” You cried.

“Let’s get it over with then,” Pantalone says, snatching the sword from Heizou’s grasp. He knelt in front of you and caressed your face in his hands, giving you an apologetic smile, “I apologize, my precious kitten. But it needs to be done.” He presses a kiss on your head before flipping you over on your side, plunging the sword into your chest, the blade impaling you.

You let out a choked gasp and scream, blood pouring out from your mouth and chest. You gripped onto Pantalone’s wrists tightly, your nails digging into his wrist. Pantalone winced and drove the sword further into your breast, you screamed, and tears poured down your cheeks like a waterfall.

“That’s enough!” Al Haitham screams, grabbing Pantalone by the shoulders and jerking him away from you. The sword ripped from your chest, and you pressed your bloodied hands over the gaping hole in your chest, heaving and sobbing from the pain.

Your eyes briefly turned black before looking over at where the anemo archon stood. A weak and bitter chuckle resonates in the abode, “Just like how you stabbed me in the chest to kill me, you’re all going to do the same thing and stab them to death.” Blood drips down your face from the corner of your lips. “How does it feel, Barbatos? How does it feel to lose your dear friend to me, but now also your lover?” Venti’s face turns white, staring at you in horror. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head before your eyes returned to what it originally was. The black mist that was once residing in your body slowly flows out of your body and into the bloodied sword on the wooden floor as if it was being vacuumed back to where it originally came from.

“One vengeful spirit down, one more to go,” Venti swallows the formin lump in his throat, eyeing the bloodied sword nervously. The final words that were spoken by Decarabian hit Venti harder than he had expected. Venti shook his head to try to brush the last words from his head. No, Decarabian was wrong. He was only saying that to hurt Venti even more, right? There’s no way that Decarabian was right.

Tighnari pushes through the crowd of men and rushes to your side, “We need to get [Y/N] to the infirmary, stat!” He lifts you up from the pool of blood before sprinting to the infirmary in the abode, with Albedo and Baizhu following after him.

Heizou frowns at the Harbinger, “You were a little too eager to plunge that sword into [Y/N]’s chest.” Heizou crossed his arms over his stomach, giving Pantalone a disapproving look.

“He had to do it,” Pierro says, stepping up towards Heizou and the other men that stood behind Heizou. “After all, you were all too hesitant on getting rid of Decarabian. It’s almost like you all wanted [Y/N] to be the puppet of Decarabian.”

Aether bares his teeth at the first Harbinger, “We don’t want [Y/N] to be Decarabian or Hua Yue’s puppet! We didn’t want to stab them!” Aether scowls at the older Harbinger, his hands clenching in tight fists.

Dottore rolls his eyes, “And you all think we want our precious [Y/N] to be the puppet?” Dottore huffs, shaking his head. “Pantalone had to do what he needed to do in order to get Decarabian out of [Y/N]’s body, and you were all too scared to do so.”

Capitano speaks up, “If it weren’t for Pantalone, Decarabian would still be inside of [Y/N]’s body, slowly killing them while using them as a temporary host.” Capitano glares at the men in front of him behind his helmet, “You should all be thanking Pantalone for saving [Y/N] and for driving Decarabian out of [Y/N]’s body.”

Thoma looks at the sword, then at the puddle of blood that is slowly drying up. The smell of copper lingers in the air, making Thoma feel sick to his stomach. “What do we do with the sword now?” Thoma asks, nudging the bloody sword with his feet.

“We bury it where it was originally founded. It needs to be buried deep where no one can find it or reach it.” Pantalone says, wiping your blood off his hands with a napkin.

“Since the four of you didn’t have an issue with stabbing [Y/N] so easily, you four should go and bury that sword for us,” Itto says, clapping his hands.

Dottore chuckles, “Fine, fine. We will do it if it eases your minds a bit.” Dottore waves his hands around. Dottore walks over to the sword and picks it up by the hilt before gesturing for the other three Harbingers to follow after him. Just when Dottore was about to walk out of the abode, Dainsleif grabbed Dottore by the arms, saying, “You better not do anything funny. Bury the sword and bring your asses back to the abode.”

Capitano grabs Dainsleif by the shoulders and pushes him away from Dottore, “Relax, Boughkeeper. We’ll be back when the sword is buried where it was originally located.” He glares at Dainsleif before walking out of the abode with the other Harbingers following after him. After the Harbingers had left the estate, the men looked at one another anxiously.

Childe breaks the silence, “Should we go check up on [Y/N], Tighnari, Baizhu, and Albedo?”

“I’m really worried about [Y/N]. Pantalone impaled [Y/N] with that sword. He didn’t simply stab [Y/N]! He impaled them with the very sword that was used to kill Decarabian.” Kazuha says, rubbing his temples with a stressed sigh.

Kaeya nods his head, “He was a little too eager to stab [Y/N] with that sword.”

Gorou’s bow vanishes in the air, “We should go check up on them. I’m really worried about [Y/N] and their well-being.” The men nod their heads at Gorou’s suggestion before sprinting to the infirmary where you, Albedo, Baizhu, and Tighnari are located. Upon arriving at the infirmary, the men saw you lying on the bed in the clinic of the estate, unconscious, chest wrapped with gauze and bandages. Albedo, Tighnari, and Baizhu were hovering above you, eyeing the necklace that had sunk into your skin.

“How are we going to remove this without hurting [Y/N] any further?” Albedo murmurs, his fingers lightly tracing the pendant. You whimpered in your unconscious state, face pinching up when you felt the skin around the pendant burn.

Tighnari lightly smears medicine paste on your chest, massaging it into your skin. “I do not know how long this will numb the pain, but it should ease their pain,” Tighnari says, looking up at your face while rubbing the medicine paste into your skin, examining your reaction very closely.

“Shall we wait for Xiao to come back to the abode, or do you want us to take the pendant out from [Y/N]’s chest?” Baizhu asks, putting on his gloves.

“We should wait for that Adeptus to come back. After all, you did say that adeptal magic will need to be used in order to lure Hua Yue out from [Y/N]’s body.” Scaramouche replies, slowly approaching the bed where you lay.

Ayato interjects, “Well, I personally believe that we should remove the necklace out from [Y/N]’s chest before it continues to melt even more into [Y/N]’s skin. After that, the adeptis can continue to lure Hua Yue out from [Y/N]’s body with adeptal magic.”

Tighnari nods his head, “It seems like we have no other choice but to remove it.”

Venti’s eyebrows furrow, “How are we going to remove it? It’s very deep in their skin and will scar once it's removed.” Venti says, eyeing the pendant warily.

“Baizhu said that Hua Yue can only be lured out from [Y/N]’s body with adeptal magic. Maybe it’s the same with the necklace that is fused to [Y/N]’s skin.” Aether says slowly.

Heizou hums, “Well, other than Xiao, who is an adepti?” Everyone slowly turns to Zhongli, giving him a look.

Zhongli hesitates for a moment before letting out a slow deep breath, “Please step to the side and give [Y/N] and me some space.” Zhongli instructs, approaching the bed.

The men backed up two steps from the bed while Zhongli got closer to the bed in the infirmary. Zhongli takes his gloves off and rolls up the sleeves of his coat. Zhongli’s right-hand hovers above the necklace that was embedded in your chest, he places his hands on the pendant, and his hands begin to glow gold. Zhongli feels the charm starting to move little by little. You scrunched your face up when you felt the necklace being slowly removed from your chest.

Thoma’s eyes lit up, “Oh! It’s starting to come out!” He moves around to get a closer look at the charm being removed from your upper chest.

Just when Zhongli was about to remove the pendant from your chest successfully, your eyes snapped open, eyes pitch black. ‘You’ grabbed ahold of Zhongli’s wrist and tackled him to the ground, glaring down at the former archon. Zhongli rips his wrist from ‘your’ grasp before grabbing hold of ‘your’ wrist, flipping ‘you’ over to the ground.

“Did you really think you could get rid of me so easily, Morax?” ‘You’ growled, thrashing around in Zhongli’s grasp. ‘You’ elbowed Zhongli in the stomach before flipping him back on the ground, pinning him to the ground with a smirk on ‘your’ face. “Prime of Adepti, my ass.” ‘You’ spat; ‘your’ hands slid up to Zhongli’s neck, ‘your’ fingers wrapping around his neck before squeezing his neck.

Zhongli didn’t want to kick you back, fearing that he would hurt you if he were to do so. He knows that Hua Yue has taken over your body as a vessel to avenge her dead lover, but regardless of Hua Yue possessing your body, he did not want to hurt you in any kind of way.

“What is going on here?!” A voice bellows, ‘you’ were immediately snatched away from Zhongli by Diluc, Dainsleif, and Childe.

‘You’ growled and gnashed your teeth at the men while trying to get out of Diluc, Childe, and Dainsleif’s iron grips. Dainsleif grabs ‘you’ by ‘your’ waist and tosses you over his shoulders before walking over to the bed and placing ‘you’ down on the bed. ‘You’ looked up and made eye contact with Cloud Retainer, Moon Carver, Mountain Shaper, Madame Ping, and Ganyu.

“Oh, it’s unfortunate to see you all again after two thousand years.” ‘You’ said, glaring at the three men that were restraining your arms and legs against the bed.

Ganyu looks at ‘you’ nervously, “Hua Yue, I see that you have chosen to use [Y/N]’s body as your vessel to communicate with all of us.”

“Release the mortal now, Hua Yue. You’re playing a dangerous game of using a mortal as your puppet.” Moon Carver demands, taking a step forward toward where ‘you’ were restrained.

‘You’ pouted at Moon Carver mockingly, “Aw! But using this foolish mortal as my vessel is so fun! Especially when they mean so much to the archon that killed my lover two thousand years ago!” ‘You’ looked over at Zhongli from the corner of ‘your’ eyes. “It would be a shame if they died as well.” ‘You’ batted ‘your’ eyelashes at the former archon.

Xiao growls as his polearm materializes in his hands before pointing the tip of the polearm blade at ‘your’ neck, “If you hurt them, I will kill you.” Xiao glares down at ‘you.’

‘You’ giggled, “Oh, Alatus, you do realize that if you ‘kill’ me, your cute little lover will be dead too, right?” ‘You’ quirked ‘your’ eyebrow at the yaksha. “Although it does sound like a win-win because if I can’t be with my lover, then none of you deserve to be with your lover either.”

Scaramouche glares over at ‘you’ with his arms over his chest, “You do realize that you can be with your dead lover too, right? In the afterlife!”

‘You’ let out a shrill cackle, “You silly little thing, you really think that’s how it all works?!” ‘You’ scowled, glaring at the electro user from across the infirmary with a heated glare while trying to free ‘yourself’ from the restraints, only to be unsuccessful.

“Restrain their limbs and make sure that they do not escape. If they do, we will not be able to get Hua Yue out of [Y/N]’s body.” Madame Ping instructs. Diluc, Dainsleif, Childe, and Itto grab hold of ‘your’ hands and ankles, immobilizing ‘you.’

“We must warn all of you that luring a dead archon out from a mortal’s body will not be easy. Especially one that is vengeful like Hua Yue herself.” Cloud Retainer says, walking over to where ‘you’ were restrained.

The other adeptis surrounded the infirmary bed, and they all began to glow while chanting under their breath. Zhongli walks over to where Diluc stood and reaches out to the necklace that was implanted into your skin. Zhongli’s hands began to glow. Your body starts to heat up, and the area where the charm was embedded into your skin is beginning to burn. ‘Your’ eyes widened as ‘you’ began to let out a blood-curdling scream, trying to pull ‘your’ arms and legs out of Diluc, Dainsleif, Childe, and Itto’s grasp.

“Don’t let her escape your grasp! We will not be able to get Hua Yue out of [Y/N]’s body if they manage to disrupt the process.” Mountain Shaper instructs over the sound of ‘your’ screams and wails.

Tears and blood rolled down ‘your’ cheeks from ‘your’ eyes, your chest was burning, and you were in pain. Everything hurts; your head, your eyes, your chest, everywhere. The men around you winced and looked away, not able to witness the sight in front of them. You are in so much pain, and they cannot do anything about it. Whatever the adeptis were doing to you, it was for your own good, and they hoped that the outcome wouldn’t be detrimental to you and your well-being. You wouldn’t stop screaming, and it was hard to tell whether it was you that was shrieking or if it was Hua Yue that was screaming bloody murder while trying to free your arms and legs from Diluc, Dainsleif, Itto, and Childe’s grasp.

The ritual went on for what felt like hours to everyone involved. The four Harbingers stood by the door and watched the scene unfold in front of them, their backs pressed against the wall while analyzing what was going on and what the adeptis were doing to you. You— well, Hua Yue, put up a lot of fight. While she was no longer in her archon body and was using your body (a mortal) as a vessel, she wasn’t able to break out of the restraints. Something had finally happened after a few hours of constant adeptal magic being used upon you to drive out the vengeful dead archon’s spirit out of your body. Zhongli was able to remove the necklace from your neck entirely. Blood trickled down your neck and chest, staining the gauze and bandages crimson red.

“Look! Something’s happening!” Gorou gasps, pointing at the strange red mist began to leave your body and enter the bloody necklace slowly.

Itto’s eyes widen, looking at the others, alarmed, “Did it work!? Did we do it!? Is Hua Yue finally out of [Y/N]’s body!?”

“We? It’s the adeptis that did all of the work of luring Hua Yue out of [Y/N]’s body.” Scaramouche gives Itto a look before looking over at where the others gathered around you.

“You may have won again and have gotten rid of me, but I can tell you that after all of these hours of cleansing would have gotten rid of your precious [Y/N] too!” Your eyes flicker from pitch black to your normal eye color. “How do all of you feel after knowing you tortured your lover to death!?” ‘You’ wailed; the men around ‘you’ tensed up and looked away from where you lay.

The red mist was now gone from your system and had returned to the necklace. The screaming soon came to a stop, and so did the thrashing. You collapsed into the bed, limp, barely breathing, and covered in your blood, sweat, and tears. Baizhu, Tighnari, and Albedo were immediately at your side, treating your wounds and cleaning up your blood.

Baizhu frowns, pulling out the gauze and bandage from the first-aid kit that was lying out in the open. “[Y/N] doesn’t look well. The magic and Hua Yue using their body and soul as a puppet and life source has completely drained their energy.” He pressed his hand against your forehead; your skin felt so cold and clammy. It was alarming.

Zhongli handed the tainted necklace over to Moon Carver and Mountain Shaper. While Zhongli wasn’t sure where the two adeptis were planning on hiding the pendant, he had high hopes that the two adeptis would hide the charm from those who went searching for the item. The men thanked the adeptis before they all left the abode.

“Thank archons. This is all finally over.” Childe sighs, collapsing in a chair nearby, running his hands through his hair with a puff of breath.

“It felt like it had gone on for days, but it’s been going on for, I believe, almost thirteen hours,” Ayato says, letting his shoulders relax.

“I would hate to be that person, but it feels like it won’t be ending here,” Kazuha interjects, his eyes trained on your unconscious body. You were limp, barely responding to any noise that the men made. You didn’t flinch or wake up when Baizhu, Tighnari, and Albedo were treating your wounds.

“We don’t know how [Y/N] will be feeling when they wake up, but their wounds have been cleaned and patched up. They should get plenty of rest. After all, two dead archons did take [Y/N]’s body as their vessel.” Albedo says, taking the rubber gloves off his hands before tossing them into a trash bin.

“Is there a way for us to know when they’ll wake up from their slumber?” Kaeya asks, brushing your hair from your sweaty forehead. You let out a soft sigh and strained whimper, eyebrows furrowing with pain. Kaeya frowns and brushes the stray tear that made its way down your cheeks. Even though Decarabian and Hua Yue were extracted from your body, you’re still in pain because of what they have put you and your body through.

Diluc sighs, “Those two are lucky they’re dead already.” He glares at the ground before kneeling beside your bed, grabbing onto your hands. Diluc glares at your hands, letting out a hum before taking his glove off to hold your hand without the gloves on.

“What is it?” Dainsleif takes a step forward, gazing at Diluc worriedly. Diluc motions for Dainsleif to come closer while holding your hand up in the air for Dainsleif to touch. Dainsleif slips his glove off before feeling your hand with his bare hands. Al Haitham walks over to where the two stood and lightly brushes his fingers against the back of your hand.

“Their hands are cold.” Al Haitham states, looking up at the other men in the room.

Zhongli hovered above you and pressed his ears against your slowly rising and falling chest. The ex-archon closed his eyes and listened closely; your heart was beating, but it was very faint. Zhongli lets out a slow sigh before slowly standing up and turning to the others; his expression is grim.

“Their heartbeat is very faint, and it’s weak.” He looks down at your unconscious figure, his eyes downcasted.

“What are we going to do?!” Gorou asks worriedly, his hands trembling with fear while eyeing your unconscious body.

Tighnari frowns, “The only thing we can do now is to monitor them. For now, we can’t do anything else further.”

“And what if something happens to them in the middle of the night?” Pierro asks, staring at Tighnari, Albedo, and Baizhu closely.

“We will be watching over [Y/N] as they rest. Each of us will be taking turns doing so.” Albedo says, caressing your face in his hands. Albedo wasn’t surprised that your body would react this way; you did have two dead archons possessing your body, using your life source as a way for them to communicate and wreak havoc on the entire abode. The only thing they can all hope for is for you to have a smooth recovery, but looking at your current condition, it doesn’t seem like it’ll happen.

Throughout the night, each man would take turns monitoring you as you slept in the infirmary. You hardly moved in the bed; your chest was rising and falling very slowly, and the men could barely feel any air coming from your nostrils as you slept. Heck, you didn’t even wake up to drink water like how you would usually do. The next day, everyone woke up to alarming screams coming from the infirmary.

“What’s going on!?” Al Haitham demands, bursting into the infirmary with the other men behind him.

Gorou and Albedo moved to the side for the other men to see what the commotion was about. There you lay on the bed, barely moving an inch. You looked like a corpse, and your skin barely had any color to it; you were gray. Aether and Xiao rushed up to the bed, their hands pressing against your skin. You were cold. Your skin was ice cold; there was barely any blood circulation. Aether presses his ears against your chest, his heart racing.

“There’s still a faint heartbeat; they’re still alive,” Aether says, turning towards the others.

Tears blur Heizou’s vision, ducking his head. “What is going on with [Y/N]? Why are they dying?” Heizou demands, warm tears cascading down his flushed cheeks.

“They’re not dying, don’t be foolish!” Diluc says, glaring at the anemo user.

Diluc sits at the edge of your bed and brushes your hair from your face. Diluc looks at you closely for a moment, only to realize that you are shivering. Diluc gingerly lifts you up and cradles you in his arms, hoping he is warming you up.

“[Y/N]? Can you hear us?” Ayato asks softly, sitting down beside Diluc. Ayato reached over and rubbed the apples of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. You cracked your eyes opened and looked around at everyone with bleary eyes. Your eyes are glazed over; there are dark circles underneath your eyes, and your lips lack color.

“Oh, thank archons, you’re awake!” Venti gasped, his lips trembling as he collapsed in front of you. Venti grabbed onto your hands and pressed his forehead against the back of your hand, tears rolling down his cheeks; his body shook with quiet sobs.

Thoma stood above your head, looking down at you, “How are you feeling, [Y/N]?” He knelt behind your head and stroked your hair.

“I don’t feel so good.” You croaked, wincing at the sound of your voice. After responding to Thoma’s question, you finally realized that your throat was hurting a lot; it was very sore and very dry. It was definitely from all of the screaming that had happened the day before.

“The important thing is that you’re awake,” Xiao says. “I apologize for not being able to save you or be able to detect the issues before the issues arose.” Xiao knelt and bowed his head to you.

You shook your head, “No, Xiao. Don’t blame yourself; no one is to blame except for me.” You said, letting out a dry cough.

Itto shakes his head, “Don’t blame yourself either, [Y/N]! You didn’t want the necklace in the first place, but the strange merchant forced you to take the necklace! If it weren’t for that merchant, you wouldn’t be in this position!” Itto exclaims.

Kazuha nods his head, “Agreed. It’s not your fault at all, my dove. The problem began because of that merchant.”

You frowned, “But I wandered off in the Stormterror’s Lair and touched the sword that slain Decarabian.” You let yourself go limp in Diluc’s arms, your head tucked beneath Diluc’s neck.

Kaeya sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “It’s still not your fault. It’s no one’s fault.” Kaeya stated.

“I’m going to track down that merchant and kill him for what he had done to you,” Childe stated, clenching his jaws while balling his hands into tight fists.

Before you could respond to Childe’s statement, you felt a sharp pain in your chest, causing you to curl up in a fetal position, your hands clutching onto your chest. You whimpered, feeling something rise up in your throat while the inside of your throat began to itch.

Dainsleif gasps, “[Y/N]!” His eyes widened in fear when he saw your hands fly up to your mouth, covering your mouth with both of your hands.

“Are you okay!? What’s going on!?” Zhongli asks, pushing through the crowd of men surrounding you.

You whimpered and shook your head, a bead of sweat forming on your forehead. The itch at the back of your throat was so intense that you couldn’t hold yourself back from coughing any longer. You began coughing into your hands while slowly getting out of Diluc’s grasp. You coughed so hard that tears were pooling in your eyes, and your throat and chest hurt each time you coughed. You began to taste something coppery in your mouth, and before you knew it, you were not only coughing up blood, but you began vomiting up blood.

You have never felt so weak before; your legs gave out beneath you. Dottore was quick to catch you before you could collapse into the pile of bloody puke. Dottore carried you back to the bed and placed you on the bed; you were going in and out of consciousness, your eyes glazed over. Baizhu and Tighnari scrambled around the infirmary in search of medication for you to take temporarily before they were able to deduce what was happening to you and your body.

Albedo puts on latex gloves before squatting in front of the bloody vomit, examining the biohazard before touching it with his gloved hand. Albedo lifted his hands up and looked at it closely, his eyebrows furrowing.

“[Y/N] vomited blood; there isn’t any half-digested food in the vomit,” Albedo says, getting up before grabbing a cotton swab and test tubes.

“Do we know what is exactly causing [Y/N] to be in this condition?” Childe asks, sitting at the edge of your bed while holding onto your cold, clammy hands.

Zhongli hums, “Because [Y/N] was forced to be a puppet for two dead archons, their body cannot handle the amount of power the two deceased archons held. Not only did it drain [Y/N]’s life source, but their body was having a hard time healing from the traumatic experience.” Zhongli says, looking over at where you were lying.

“What are you implying?” Pantalone asks, raising his eyebrows at Zhongli.

“[Y/N] is dying, and we do not know whether they will heal from the entire ordeal or if they will ultimately die in the end.” Said Al Haitham, standing next to Zhongli with his arms over his chest. The men around Al Haitham and Zhongli looked at the two in shock and horror. The clinic was silent, but the only thing they could hear were your faint whimpers and weak coughs.

“Is there a way to save them?” Gorou whispers, refusing to take his eyes off of you.

Zhongli shakes his head, “I do not know if there is a cure for such a thing. A dead archon possessing a mortal’s body to use as a puppet is infrequent.”

Scaramouche threw his hands up in the air out of frustration, “Great, so there’s no cure, is what I’m hearing.”

“We can’t lose hope! [Y/N] will be okay! They’ll make it through!” Venti says.

“How can we not lose hope when [Y/N] is bedridden, coughing and vomiting up blood, and how it’s rare for a deceased archon to use a mortal’s body as a vessel!?” Aether asks weakly.

“Believe in [Y/N]. Believe in them that they will make it out alive.” Thoma whispers, kneeling by the foot of your bed while holding onto your other hand.

How does one hold onto the last bit of hope that you will survive? Not only did one deceased archon take over your body, it was two that used you as a vessel, draining your life source and energy for their selfish needs. Is it worth holding onto that last bit of hope when the signs are clear that you wouldn’t make it? All the men could do was stare at your unconscious body, your chest slowly rising and falling.

Note: Whew, I think this is officially my longest Isekai'd!Reader fic and longest request ever! I don't know about you guys, but I didn't really feel the angst. I think it's maybe because I typed it out, but I'm not sure how any of you interpret this fic. One of my closest friend and mod read it for me to see if it's angst, and she said it's definitely angst! I hope you all enjoy this fic! Anyway! For those who are new or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

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