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scenteddelusion5 · 1 month

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Hello there! I do hope you are doing well! I was wondering if I could request a Hazbin Hotel imagine with Alastor x reader? Maybe the reader works at the Hotel and has for some time but is missing her life back with the living, so she heads to the kitchen to make some comfort food. Reader is from the South like Louisiana or Mississippi and makes Jambalaya. As she is cooking and dancing around the kitchen, Alastor is drawn in by the familiar smells and sit down and lots of fluff ensues? Maybe they get together at the end? Thank you so much and have a wonderful day/night! :)

One O'Clock Dinner

Alastor x homesick fem reader

Note: I decided to just have Y/n be from New Orleans as I'm not too familiar with United States' topography. Not my greatest work but still enjoyable!

Word count: 2174

Alastor definitely wasn't your ordinary demon. He was a ruthless overlord that concurred hell when he just arrived. His terrifying broadcasts were planted in almost everyone's memory, well except those that died when he had mysteriously disappeared. One of them was a certain demon from Louisiana.

Y/n had lived in New Orleans since she was a baby and never knew a different home until the day she died and was cast down to hell. She knew she wasn't the best person during her life but she wouldn't really consider herself so bad to be cast down to hell for eternity, a decade in purgatory maybe. Alas purgatory did not exist, so she was stuck there.

Until half a year after she arrived, she saw a news broadcast of Charlie Morningstar and her redemption program. Everyone had laughed at the princess but Y/n saw this as her chance. She made her way over and signed into the Happy Hotel.

Th Radio Demon knocked on the door only a few minutes after she had checked in.

"Alastor, darling, pleasure to be meeting you! Quite the pleasure!"

Y/n had heard whispers about him but nothing that went into detail, so she eavesdropping on Vaggie telling the story to Angel. The man seemed very dangerous. Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea after all.

"So we're is your hotel staff?"

Charlie had agreed to take Alastor's help and now he was going around the room seeing what everyone could do.

"What about you, dear?" He had seemingly teleported right in front of Y/n, startling her.

"I-" She stumbled over her words as the Radio Demon's big red eyes were right staring at her. "-I can cook, I guess."

"Wonderful! As for the rest, I suppose I can cash in a few favours." He proceeded to summon a cat, bat like demon who became the bartender and front desk personnel, and a small cyclops demon who would take care of all the cleaning.

As much as she started to enjoy being around these people, Y/n quickly became tired as she had never been able to rest easily after landing in hell.

Before she could leave, however, the wall was blown up. A zappelin floated high on the sky. The demon inside it challenged Alastor but was easily defeated by the overlord.

She stared at the left over rubble. "I'm going to bed." Y/n swiftly left and made her way upstairs to her room.

A week went by and everywhere she went, Y/n felled someone staring at her in the shadows. She wasn't sure who nor why they were interested in her. It was making her squeezy, so much so that every time someone tried to talk to her, she jumped.

"Sorry Angel, didn't see you there!"

"Nifty! Where did you come from?"

"Oh! Husk, right just Husk."

The worst time it happened she was walking up the stairs, looking over her shoulder to search for whomever was following her. Y/n walked right into someone and almost fell from the stairs. Luckily that person caught her.

"You ought to look where you're going darling!" The Radio Demon helped her up the rest of the staircase. "Can't have our staff get hurt, you would be difficult to replace!"

"I'm sure there are other demons in hell who can cook. Besides didn’t you cook the other day?" She asked.

"Well yes, but they wouldn't be half as interesting as you!" Alastor smiled.

When Alastor had first arrived he saw her sitting there. The demon didn't seem to recognize him, sitting in her own little world. He had to admit that the girl was attractive but that wasn't what irked him, no, there was something about her.

From that day on he started observing Y/n, trying to figure out what was so special about her. He had found out she just died half a year ago. He learned about her skills and hobby's, he also had to admit that her cooking was amazing. Maybe even better than his, maybe.

The only reason the Radio Demon had kept his cooking in higher regard was because hadn't tasted any of her southern Louisianan dishes.

Alastor was watching her form the other side of the room. Y/n looked around while walking up the stairs, when she slipped. He quickly moved through the shadows and caught the girl. Her wide eyes were looking up at him. The Radio Demon couldn't get enough of them. How he wished to steal those eyes... He swiftly said his goodbye and disappeared into his room.

Why did he do that? There was no reason to intervene, but he did like the feeling of holding them... Alastor started to scold himself. Perhaps he is just hungry? He hadn't eaten demon for quite some time.

That night he went out and hunted down his victim. The first floor was empty, everyone was asleep. Alastor brought his bag of 'groceries' to the kitchen. He grabbed the left-overs of that night's dinner and mixed in the fresh meat. The mixture of his favourite food and Y/n's cooking was heavenly.

Even when his hunger was satiated, Alastor couldn't stop thinking about her. Something was definitely wrong with him. He kept think about her, her stupid smile and her jokes. The Radio Demon hadn't actually held many conversations with the girl but he had stalked observed her enough to know what kind of person she is.

Alastor knew her and yet, he craved for more. To not only be around her but to make her smile, genuinely smile, and to understand her.

Another two weeks went by and the horrible feeling of being watched only got worse. Now the spectator was even following Y/n into her room. She became more and more reserved, didn't even introduce herself when sir Pentious joined the hotel. Y/n started crying herself to sleep at night, she wished she was still alive with her family. She missed them.

Unconsciously she made her way to the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge. She was craving the food from her home and by chance she had just the right ingredients. Y/n put on her apron.

The Radio Demon was pacing around the room. Y/n hadn't been her usual charming self for the past week. She was quiet and always looking around. It made his gut wrench, what could she be so hung up about that she was crying herself to sleep?

Alastor's curiosity had grown to an obsession and he knew it. He didn't just want her to be happy, he needed her to be happy. When she wasn't, he was restless.

As the Radio Demon was weighing his options, a familiar scent attacked his nostrils. It gave him a moment of peace. He made his way down the stairs, following the smell like he was in a trance.

Someone was singing in the kitchen. He opened the door to find Y/n cooking and swaying to her own tune. For the first time in two weeks, Y/n had a smile on her face.

"And what are you cooking up at one in the morning?" Alastor looked over her shoulder. "You should be getting your beaty sleep, darling."

"I was just really craving it," Y/n explained after she got over the scare of him standing there all of a sudden. "I wasn't able to sleep."

"What are you making?"

"Just some Jambalaya." She lifted up the lid to show him. "I'm also preparing beignet's."

Alastor looked at the dough, which were waiting for the oil to heat up. "Louisianan?"

"Yeah, I'm from New Orleans." She lifted up one of the beignets and dropped it in the pan. "Learned from the best chefs in the city." The dough slowly turned a darker brown.

"That's such a coincidence! I grew up in Orleans too!" He took another whiff of the Jambalaya. "Mind if I join you?"

"If you set the table."

"It's a deal, my dear!" Alastor joked, even getting a chuckle out of the girl. The sound shot straight to his heart. Oh, how he wished his microphone had recorded it.

When the Jambalaya and the beignets were ready, the two sat down and ate VERY late dinner, or rather early breakfast. It was a surprisingly domestic scene. The two went along well.

"Yeah, I grew up in the big city too. Back then it looked a lot different though. It was overrun by secret speakeasies those were the days." He mused over the past.

"I wouldn't be able to imagine for those being illegal! Hey, what did you do to get send to hell?" Y/n so daringly asked. "I heard you were pretty powerful ever since you first got here."

"Oh well," Alastor blushed like a high school girl telling someone about their embarrassing crush, "I was a serial killer. Ate up my victims and threw their leftovers in the bayou."

Y/n spat out her drink. "Wait!" She screamed while coughing. "You are THAT Alastor. They teach about you in history classes!"

"Do they now? I suppose I was quite the man."

"I wouldn't say that," Y/n mumbled, "But it is impressive how you climbed up the ranks here in hell. I almost feel safe sitting around you." She looked at Alastor's widening smile again. "Almost."

"Why wouldn't you feel safe my dear?" Alastor questioned. "The Hazbin Hotel had both me and the princess of hell protecting it."

"I might sound... Crazy, but I feel like someone has been watching me." She looked down, even though she didn't feel the eyes on her right now. "I haven't been doing too well because of it."

The reason she hadn't been her usual self was because he was freaking her out. It all clicked now for the Radio Demon.

"Well then I have to apologise." Alastor used his shadows to move right behind her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "You see, I have been keeping an eye on you. It was not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable."

"You have been stalking me?"

"No, no my dear. Just... Observing," the Alastor corrected her.

"Tomato tomato." Y/n looked up into his terrifying, red eyes. "And why has the infamous Radio Demon been stalking me?"

"Observing!"

"Just answer the question."

"..." He sighed, "I'm not too sure either. The only way I could describe it is you interest me."

"Well, next time you can just knock on my door. I prefer not to be watched during my cry sessions."

"Oh, but I loved hearing you sing when you thought no one was there."

The two started laughing, treating the stalkerish behaviours of Alastor as a joke.

"No but really, stop. It's creepy!"

"If the lady demands it."

The night went on long after the dinner was over. In a moment of confidence, Y/n implied that she was interested in seeing his radio tower and Alastor happily brought her there. She shuttered walking up the stairs into the little booth.

"Take a seat." Alastor pulled back the chair and when she sat down, scooted it up to the desk.

He started to explain what all the buttons and switches where for and how the antenna's send out radio waves or whatever. Y/n was only listening to half of it. The other half of her attention on Alastor's face. She had never realised how handsome the deer demon truly was. And his voice was incredibly soothing, at least for those who weren't scared of him.

His big eyes were beautiful and his wide smile was incredibly charming. Y/n's eyes drifted up to his head. His ears looked soft and fluffy, she wondered if she would ever get the chance to touch them. The antlers sticking out of his hair gave him a more manly appearance, contrasting the cute ears.

Y/n started leaning into him, getting incredibly close to his face.

"And these make sure tha-" Alastor immediately stopped talking when he turned his head and realised how close the two really were.

His nose was touching hers and he could feel her breath. Alastor's heart started pounding harder and harder, a slightly red blush decorated his face matching his attire and his eyes stared right into hers. He could only think about how beautiful she was.

Unconsciously he moved closer and closer and so did she. Until their lips touched. Y/n took this chance to deepen the kiss.

It lasted only a minute but to the two of them it felt like forever. They wished to keep going, however, they were unable to keep in their breath for that long.

As they pulled apart from one another, the realisation dawned on them. It was quiet.

They went back to their own room, neither of them dared to say a word. Perhaps it was just a fluke or perhaps this would grow out into more. Whatever Y/n was going to do about it could wait for tomorrow, it was 3 am after all and she was tired.

For the first time in weeks, Y/n fell asleep with a smile.

Masterlist/request guidelines

#hazbin hotel #reader insert #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel requests #x reader #reader requests #alastor the radio demon #alastor x you #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor

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bvidzsoo · 5 months

Text

Love Me Like A Rockstar (1)

Chapter 1: The death of peace of mind

Author: bvidzsoo

Warning: light cursing

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

Word count: 6,986

Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hii, first chapter is out, hope you all enjoy it! I hope the lyrics aren't confusing, I went ahead and tried out something new with this story, hopefully it's as enjoyable as I planned it out to be. Please do check the playlist as it'll be updated with each chapter and I also advise you listen to the song before or while reading the chapters, it'll have a different feel. Taglist is open, thank you for showing interest! Please leave feedback and enjoy now!

Taglist: @orshii @lovely-red2 @juicy-red @scarfac3 @sunaswifes-blog

⟨Series M.list ⟩

♫Playlist♫

『I made another mistake

Thought I could change, thought I could make it out』

The rustle of paper, the zipping of a pencil case, the drying scent of freshly used paint, and the oily feeling on your fingertips after using acrylics, the slight burn against your middle finger after having held your pencil tightly for hours were all things I was used to, familiar with. I bit my lower lip as my eyes were stuck to my A5 sketchbook, the paper thick, entranced by the black charcoal forming a way too familiar shape. The outline of the person was dark, shadows creeping around his body, faceless. I didn’t have it in me to put too much detail into his face, my mind kept wandering. I was feeling slightly lost. The weather was getting worse day by day, the sky dark, casting a gloomy feel over our heads. It didn’t help that I haven’t slept well for three days in a row, but perhaps that had something to do with the full moon—or so my mother has said while cooking dinner yesterday.

A sigh left my lips as my fingers itched to trace another line against the paper, to perfect the stray strand of light-colored hair falling against the man’s forehead. My shoulders were hunched over and I only now registered the soreness in my neck and lower back, having been sitting at this stool for almost two hours now. When I was drawing, or painting, time seemed to fly by in a wink, leaving me completely oblivious to everything happening around me. It was a means to calm my mind, to soothe my feelings, and a means to existing without wondering, dwelling, or feeling the dread of not being good enough—and perhaps the worst thought which quite often recurred in my scattered mind was that I didn’t know what I would do with myself once I was done with University. Opening an art club for all the art lovers was a small step in feeling a little accomplishment, however, that would be gone as soon as I was out and away from this place. Who would take over then? Were there students who were interested enough, loved art enough, to continue the little legacy I would leave behind? Those were pressing questions in the back of my mind sometimes, and I knew I was worrying about insignificant things, but they felt very crucial to me. If I could leave a little piece of me behind everywhere I went, nobody would be able to forget me, right?

“Bye, Y/N!” The sudden chirping of my name combined with the greeting finally snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked up, a small smile forming on my lips as I waved at the leaving students. They weren’t my students per se, I was only an Art major, but I did view them as my little apprentices. They were ambitious and determined to learn everything they could, eager to contribute as much as they could. I appreciated their effort and felt glad that people like them existed, it gave me hope in humankind. Not that I had much with everything going on in the world, but I could only appreciate and admire those who found a little kindness in their hearts to share with others.

I finally felt like I was done with my drawing as I sat back, rolling my shoulders back and cracking my neck as the last few students left the room, leaving me alone with the approaching girl with a grin on her face. I turned my head and watched her as she giddily approached me, gripping her sketchbook to her chest.

“Wanna see?” She asked with a chuckle and I nodded with a smile, eyes falling on my best friend’s drawing. I instantly recognized the features of the older woman and I chuckled as I took in the smaller version of my best friend, grinning up at her mother as she held a little flower up to her. She never stopped amazing me with her beautiful creations, and I couldn’t help but clap for her briefly.

“This is gorgeous, Seulgi, I’m in love.” I said as I reached my hand out and lightly traced the leaves of the willow tree in the drawing, making my best friend grin happily. She had her hair down today, her black curls falling around her shoulders. Her hair has gotten long, but she didn’t want to cut it, said she liked it more like this. It did suit her and gave her a younger look; her colorful outfits complementing her personality and overall looks well.

“What did you draw?” She asked and I glanced over at my own drawing, sucking my lower lip between my teeth. I really shouldn’t have drawn him again, but doing so brought me comfort. It always did. Despite the heartbreak he left in his wake, Yunho was a person whom I have deeply loved and found shelter in once—my drawings of him only reflected that. I have anticipated Seulgi’s reaction as I took my sketchbook off from the drafting board, turning it around and letting her eyes rake over it as she sighed, giving me a slightly disappointed look as she placed one hand on her hip. I looked away and quickly closed my sketchbook, getting off the stool. My hips and back protested in pain as I stretched my arms overhead, letting out a groan when my stiff muscles strained and vertebras finally popped.

“I thought we agreed you would stop drawing Yunho…” Seulgi trailed off as she watched me start packing away my things into my dark green backpack. Oh, well, she certainly wasn’t wrong, but I got carried away today—I haven’t even realized I was drawing Yunho until I was done with the outline of his body.

“Uh, yeah,” I muttered slightly embarrassed as Seulgi shook her head and closed her own sketchbook, balancing on one leg as she unzipped her backpack and placed it against her thigh, “But we talked about the feeling of comfort today and a place or person whom makes you feel safe and—I got carried away, sorry.”

Seulgi gave me a sympathetic look as she had forced her sketchbook inside her backpack and lowered her leg, swinging her bag around her shoulders, “And you couldn’t have drawn you—mother? Or teddy bear from third grade?”

Her offhanded question made me chuckle as I looked at her amused, my backpack hanging off my shoulders as I only wore one strap.

“Mom would flip if I drew her and made even the smallest mistake. I’d rather avoid getting scolded about making her eyebrow darker than it actually is.” Seulgi and I shared a look before we both started giggling as I recalled the one and only time I drew my mother, swearing to never do it again as she found every single little detail wrong about her features, pointed them out to me, and then proceeded to ignore me for the next three days. Thinking back on it, it is a quite hilarious memory, but back in that moment she made me feel like I wasn’t good enough, talented enough, making me doubt my skills for a very long time. Until I met Seulgi and she started freaking out about my art, calling me phenomenal.

“Yeah, perhaps drawing your mom wouldn’t be the smartest, but seriously, Y/N, how long has it been?” Seulgi seemed to think for a second as we started for the door, “Five years? You certainly should be over Yunho by now.”

Hearing his name left a sour taste in my mouth even if it shouldn’t have. Despite the passing of years he somehow still made me feel bitter about everything that’s happened between us. I hate that feeling, but I couldn’t get rid of it and it was frustrating.

“I am over him.” I muttered as we left the art studio and I locked the door, making Seulgi hum next to me sounding not too convinced. I sighed and rolled my eyes as I pocketed the key, then we started walking down the empty hallway, headed for the exit.

“Do you have any plans tonight?” Seulgi decided to change the subject as she bounced on the balls of her feet, a huge grin appearing on her lips. I raised my eyebrows at her sudden excitement and thought for a second before I shook my head no. We turned the corner to the left, having arrived in the musical studies department. The hallway was littered with doors on both sides, which were studios for the music majors, private little rooms where they could record and write whatever songs they wanted.

“Cool,” Seulgi grinned and suddenly gripped my hand, her lips falling into a pout, eyes slightly widening. Oh, I knew what was coming next, yet her honey like tone still made me cringe, “Come with me to the Outlaw? Please?”

My eyebrows furrowed hearing the mentioned place. It was famous amongst our university’s students. It was a run down and cheap pub where degenerates gathered to have fun almost every night, drinking their night away, wasting their money and braincells on unimportant things.

“Why would I go there?”

“Because I’m asking?” Seulgi raised an eyebrow, “And because the Noir Zenith are playing tonight and I really want to go—”

“What is a Noir Zenith?” I asked confused, making Seulgi’s eyes widen to the point of bulging out. She looked funny as she let go of my hand and gasped as if I had sworn out her mother or someone she really cared about.

“It’s the coolest band from our university! Are you telling me you haven’t heard of them?” She asked outraged making me laugh, “I’m speechless.”

“Well, you know I don’t waste my time by drinking my sorrows away in a shitty pub surrounded by even shittier people who try to chase fame with scratchy and awful voices. Is the band made up by some music major students?”

“They do not have scratchy and awful voices, Y/N!” Seulgi looked outraged by this point, making me raise my eyebrows in surprise, “God, they are one of the best bands to ever exist—”

“Yeah, right,” I rolled my eyes as we entered the main hall of our university, “Go on and disregard all of the previous phenomenal bands to ever exist, nice one, Seulgi—wait, is this about Wooyoung? Didn’t you say he’s part of a band as well?”

At the mention of said boy all anger and incredulity disappeared from Seulgi’s face and she shrunk back, hiding her face behind her hair, “Yeah, he’s actually a vocalist of the band. Noir Zenith.”

“Oh,” Was all I could say as I watched her push her hair behind her ears, face almost as red as a tomato. I tried not to laugh at my best friend, her crush on the boy painfully obvious, “And I assume you want to go watch them perform tonight?”

Seulgi nodded wordlessly as she pushed open the double doors for us, “At Outlaw?”

She nodded again and I hummed, raking my brain for any plans I had made for tonight, but I found none. I had zero excuses to refuse Seulgi for so I glanced at her as we ascended the few stairs, licking my lips as I dwelled on the idea of being seen at such place. I mean, it couldn’t be that bad, right? After all, it was just a band singing from our university and I would be out of there the second they were done. That sounded pretty reasonable and alright to me, so I hummed, and smiled at Seulgi.

“What time?” Her eyes widened as she whipped her head towards me as we were headed to the bus station.

“Oh, my God!” She shrieked and flung herself at me, almost throwing us off balance, “You’re the best, I love you! Seven, you should be ready at six thirty, and I’ll pick you up and we’ll drive there together—oh, my God, I’m so excited! Wooyoung said they’ll be performing their newest song and he said it’s so fire! Mingi wrote the lyrics, and Wooyoung helped with the chorus, he actually showed me a snippet—do not tell Mingi that—and it was so good, oh, my God—I’m rambling, sorry, but you said yes and I just—”

Seulgi cut herself off with a shriek as she let go of me, leaving me partially deaf as her shrill voice rang through my right ear, making me wince. Of course, I wouldn’t tell Mingi, whoever that was.

“Alright, I’ll be done by six thirty.” I muttered as Seulgi skipped ahead, sitting on the bench by the bus stop, grinning from ear to ear as she took her phone out of her pocket, starting to type furiously. She was probably texting Wooyoung, but I couldn’t be too sure, they had periods when they would talk all day and night, and then periods when they would go radio silent for a week or so. Their relationship was interesting but Seulgi never talked too much about it, having once muttered that if she thought about Wooyoung for too long she’d fall for him—or something like that, I couldn’t be sure, Seulgi says a lot of things which she only half-heartedly means.

『Promises break, need to hear you say

"You're gonna keep it now"』

The pub was exactly like in the stories of others, and an exact replica of what I had in my mind. Which was bad, so being right here only made it worse as I allowed my eyes to travel to the ceiling, noticing all the uncovered pipes traveling above our heads. The lights were dim and there was almost like a light fog in the air, thankfully there weren’t any foul smells, like cigarettes or something else. The room was spacious, which was the only alright thing I could find about this place, as the walls were made of burgundy brick, a few falling out here and there. The dark wood floor seemed to be rotten in some places and I could only hiss as the front of my boots caught in an uneven plank, sending me slightly forward. Seulgi threw me an amused look before continuing her trot towards—I didn’t know where, but I decided to follow her blindly as I really wasn’t vibing with this place. Posters hung from the brick wall here and there and some graffiti covered it where the bar was. Chairs and tables were littered around the room, all looking quite old in age as I noticed one chair missing a leg, chuckling at the idea of someone toppling over once sitting on it. Seulgi gasped quite loudly and stopped walking for a second, making me crash into her back and throw her an unamused look as she swiftly turned around, lips pressed together and hands cupping her cheeks.

“Do I look alright, Y/N?” She blurted out, eyebrows furrowing, “Or am I too much? Do you think—did I totally miss the vibes with this outfit? I look ridiculous right now, don’t I—”

“No, Seulgi, you don’t.” I decided to cut off my best friend’s panicked rambling, placing my hands on her shoulders. I allowed my eyes to take in her outfit again and I smirked at her as we made eye contact. She was wearing black nylon bomber pants paired with fishnets which were peeking out above the waistband of her pants, her white crop top stopping at the middle of her torso. A black bomber jacket was thrown around her shoulders, matching her pants, and her white boots reached just underneath her knees. She had straightened her long hair and I helped her by making a smokey eye for her, accentuating the depth of her beautiful eyes, sharpening her stare. She looked absolutely gorgeous and I needed her to stop second guessing her outfit, “You look fucking hot and anyone in their right mind would want to devour you right now.”

“You included?” Seulgi flirted cheekily and I pretended to gag as I pushed her playfully away by her arms, making Seulgi laugh as she pushed her hair behind her shoulders, “Alright, I believe you.”

“Very well.” I grinned and allowed her to grip my elbow as the crowd was slightly denser here as we made our way towards the front of the room, headed to where the small stage was. I could see a drum set up on the dark stage, and suddenly I was veered to the left, almost getting whiplash by the force Seulgi pulled me after herself. I took in the people around me and decided that I definitely wasn’t part of this crowd, and it was showing. One, I was painfully sober and they weren’t; two, I certainly missed the point of this being a pub dominated by rock lovers, and my outfit had nothing to do with it. Against my better judgement, I have decided to wear a tight black skirt which barely reached the middle of my thighs, paired with high heel boots which reached my knees. A white tank top peeked through the burgundy long sleeved blouse I wore over it, having discarded my leather jacket in Seulgi’s car out of fear of losing it. All in all, the outfit was awesome, it’s just that it didn’t really match with the place in question I was at. I was slowly starting to regret coming here as we finally stopped walking and Seulgi’s hand, which brought comfort, disappeared from my elbow. I suddenly became aware that we have stopped by a table, and my best friend’s arms were around a guy’s shoulder as the two hugged each other—rather tightly, might I add. I allowed my eyes to fall on the guy and realized, only because Seulgi had shown me countless pictures of him, that it was Wooyoung. The only reason we were here, her crush. I tried to hide my snickering as they pulled away from each other and I have noticed Seulgi’s flushed cheeks, which was probably wise as Seulgi’s eyes were instantly on me, holding a warning in them.

“This is Y/N, my best friend.” She said sweetly as she lightly pushed Wooyoung towards me, “Y/N, this is Wooyoung the—vocalist and guitarist of Noir Zenith.”

“Cool name.” I muttered half-heartedly as Wooyoung extended his hand to shake, I was only speaking because I had to say something if I didn’t want to come off rude. A huge smile broke onto Wooyoung’s face at the praise of his band’s name and he eagerly shook my hand, making me force a smile onto my face when he held my hand for an unnecessary long time. The guy was just around my height and seemed to be buzzing with energy as he tapped his foot against the ground, sneaking glances towards Seulgi before finally facing her. His jawline was sharp and nose high as I took in his profile, his pretty eyes focused on my best friend. His hair was longer at the back and had two colors, black and blonde, it certainly didn’t look bad on him. He seemed to be the only one, besides myself, not dressed fitting for the place, and suddenly I didn’t feel as singled out as I had been moments prior, thankful for the light grey extremely baggy jeans littered with glitter he was wearing and for the grey and black faded out loose shirt hiding his frame. The front was slightly tucked in and a maroon belt held his pants to his hips, matching the color of his sneakers. The guy wore a few earrings and I just heard Seulgi complimenting them, making me chuckle. I knew she wanted to talk to him, so I didn’t bother them and instead looked around again, feeling slightly awkward, before I rested my gaze on the other two sitting at the table.

One guy was looking down at his phone, completely immersed by it as his long fingers were typing quickly, his wavy black hair falling into his eyes. He wore a very intricate white shirt, the material seemed to part at his shoulders and only covered his upper arm, cuffed and puffed out at his wrists, leaving the rest of his arms bare. A black corset like looking fabric was wrapped around his torso, stopping right below his chest and everything was neatly tucked inside black dress pants, an expensive silver chain hanging under the neckline of his shirt. The outfit was something I would’ve never thought of putting together, yet, it looked fabulous on the man and for a few seconds I found myself gawking at him. But I quickly caught myself and looked away awkwardly, hoping that nobody noticed my staring, instead, I found myself looking at the third guy, taking him in. His demeanor screamed confidence as he wore a smirk on his cherry red plush lips, jawline visibly sharp as his head was turned to the side, his nose tall and long. His tan skin glistened underneath the shitty lights of the pub, yet you were able to spot a few covered up blemishes around his jaw. His neck was heavily decorated with silver chains of various dimensions, a shinning silver pick dangling lower on his exposed chest as his black tank top was low cut and form fitting. The guy had a big midnight blue jacket over his frame and it had an interesting design, his jeans ripped at the knee and black like his tank top. Silver chain like bracelets wrapped around his wrists and I found my eyes drawn to his hands as he was pushing his glass from one hand to the other, fingers littered with smaller and bigger rings, the one with a red gem catching my eye. His nails seemed to have dirt scribbled over them, that is, until I looked harder and realized it was chapped black nail polish. I couldn’t deny how nice this guy looked and as I looked back up at his face, I found him looking back at me. My heart somersaulted but I played it off—hopefully my face really didn’t show any emotion—as I steeled my gaze and allowed blankness to settle over my features. His black hair was shorter and fell over his eyes, covering his forehead. The guy’s eyes were sharp and his gaze intimidating as his face remained unexpressive, features cold as he seized me up, suddenly the smirk back on his face. My eyes narrowed as the guy continued watching me smugly, and I just noticed the little something which looked like a smudge of something on his right cheekbone. Did he smudge dirt on it? Was he even aware that it was there? The possibility of him not knowing his perfect face was tainted brought a smirk on my lips and an eyebrow of the guy’s flew up, his gaze almost challenging as our stare down was abruptly stopped by a chair scraping backwards. My gaze went back to the very handsome man and I was surprised by the friendly gaze sent my way.

His features were soft yet sharp at the same time, his eyes big and warm as his lips were plump and looked soft. His skin was tan too and the highlighter reflected off his cheekbones, giving him an ethereal feel. There was a small piercing in his nose and I was slightly alarmed as he suddenly walked around the table, approaching my side. My body tensed and I glanced towards Seulgi, who was deep in conversation with Wooyoung. I assume these three must be friends since they were sitting at the same table.

“I’m Seonghwa, Wooyoung’s friend.” The guy finally spoke up, his voice was definitely softer than I expected it to be, and I reluctantly shook his extended hand.

“My name is Y/N.” I answered politely and retracted my hand from his as fast as I could. Seonghwa continued smiling as he looked towards Seulgi and his own friend, “Oh, uhm, I’m Seulgi’s best friend.”

“I figured,” He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. The aura this outfit gave him certainly didn’t match his current attitude, “Wooyoung mentioned Seulgi coming by and bringing her friend, it’s nice meeting you.”

“Oh, you too.” I offered him a lopsided grin and clasped my hands together in front of myself, Seonghwa’s demeanor not as off putting as most guy’s—or like the other guy’s who just stood up from the table and started approaching us. I watched him, eyes falling on him involuntarily as there was something about him which demanded attention as he came awfully close to Seonghwa and I, towering over the both of us. Seonghwa was a tall guy too, but this third guy’s height seemed to loom even over him, but I didn’t let that affect me in any way as I looked up at him with a bored expression.

“Found another little fan of ours?” I gulped at the hear of his voice, which somehow matched his face, it was deep and slightly raspy, however, the tone he used rubbed me the wrong way. My eyes narrowed at him and before Seonghwa could answer him, I fired an answer his way.

“A fan of yours?” I chuckled drily, “You certainly can’t be as self-centered as to think every female around a mile radius would instantly throw themselves at you, no?”

A beat of silence followed before Seonghwa started snickering, hiding his mouth by his hand as the other guy’s eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t look pleased by my question and he leaned down to be at the same height as me, gaze boring into mine. When his face was blank, his eyes seemed to get sharper and it somehow made my heartbeat pick up, but I ignored it. It was just the adrenaline, the annoyance, probably which threatened to seep through my bloodstream sooner than later.

“And who are you again?” The guy’s voice was quieter, dropped lower as he tried to belittle me with his stupid question, but I just rolled my eyes and crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“Don’t think I introduced myself to you before,” I snapped and the guy clicked his tongue, “Who are you, first of all?”

“You don’t know who I am?” His eyebrows suddenly furrowed as confusion washed over his face and for a second—but just that one little second—I thought the guy looked cute as his features softened.

“No, I don’t.” Him lowering himself allowed me to see whatever that was on his cheekbone better, and I could make out that it was some sort of logo, however, I have never seen it before, “And you have some dirt on your face.”

I pointed at my own cheekbone and Seonghwa’s sudden loud laughter alerted Seulgi and Wooyoung as they finally seemed to realize there were others around them, especially me, as Seulgi quickly stepped close and gripped my shoulder.

“That’s not dirt!” The man exclaimed and for someone with such a deep voice, his tone went incredibly high, “That’s my signature, bro.”

“Okay, bro, you’re self-centered, like I said—” Before I could really go off on this guy Seulgi gasped and laughed loudly, awkwardly, as I threw her a small glare.

“Aren’t you two hitting it off right the bat?!” She tried to diffuse the tension as Wooyoung chuckled, amused by the situation as Seonghwa was grinning too, “Y/N, this is Song Mingi, the bass player, singer, producer, lyricist, founder of Noir Zenith—be nice.”

The last part was only whispered to me and my eyebrows furrowed as I looked back at this guy, Mingi, who stood back up straight and threw a glare my way as I scoffed, shrugging my shoulders, “What a waste of talent on such personality.”

Seulgi’s eyes widened to saucers as Wooyoung inhaled loudly before breaking out into an ear-piercing laughter, making me wince, while Seonghwa had to cover his mouth again as he threw his head back and laughed.

“Y/N—that’s—” Seulgi stammered but I hushed her and smirked up at Mingi as he seemed lost for words for a second before his eyes hardened and he pulled his shoulders back, jaw clenching.

“What are you doing here if you don’t even fucking care about our band?” He hissed and for a second the viciousness in his tone took me off guard, but I didn’t let it show as I wrapped my arm around Seulgi’s shoulder and pulled her into my side. She looked mortified and tried speaking again, but I beat her to it—to my pleasure.

“My lovely friend, Seulgi, dragged me here because her and Wooyoung are friends, happy?” I felt Seulgi slightly relax in my grip, but she still subtly poked my side harshly, making me bite my lower lip to keep the groan of pain inside. Wooyoung had stopped laughing, thankfully, and was looking very amused as he punched Mingi’s arm weakly.

“I think you got a little bit humbled, dude.” He whispered loudly—probably on purpose—and Seonghwa giggled again as he quickly adjusted the front pieces of his hair.

“Why would anyone who doesn’t even listen to us come here?” Mingi muttered more to himself as he turned around and sauntered off towards the bar, throwing a glare every so often my way, making me giggle as I found it amusing. Poor dude, couldn’t handle a little humbling, but he definitely needs it.

“Y/N is a little bit—of a bitch—ow!” Seulgi hissed as she rubbed the spot on her arm where I had punched her, “You didn’t let me finish! She’s a bitch, but she’s my bestie and she doesn’t mean harm. I’m sure you guys will charm her by the end of the night.”

Charm me my ass. Maybe Seonghwa and Wooyoung, Mingi not—for sure. Not now or ever. Not that there will be another time and another chance for him to do so.

『It wasn't hard to realize love's the death of peace of mind

You're in the walls that I made with crosses and frames hanging upside down』

The music coming through the speakers shook the little pub as I sat at the table the three boys have claimed as theirs earlier. Seulgi was by my side, but she was standing up, and she was jumping to the beat, somehow knowing the lyrics to the band’s newest song. I had a feeling Wooyoung had shown her already everything, but she did ask me not to tell Mingi—to whom now I could associate a face—and I had no desire to speak to him ever again, so she really had nothing to worry about. I couldn’t help but admit that they were good—not that I would ever say that out loud, especially not to Mingi—as the rock music blasted from the stage, purple and white lights illuminating the boys. Mingi stood in the center as he gripped his microphone, face scrunched up and the veins on his neck straining as his raspy voice involuntarily covered my skin in goosebumps.

『For granted, in vain, I took everything I ever cared about』

My fingers were tapping the rhythm of song, chin placed on my palm as I rested my hand on the table, watching each boy with curiosity. They all seemed to have different personalities and styles, yet up on the stage, they blended together and they worked well. Their voices complimented each other, where’s Mingi’s was raspy and low and harsh, Seonghwa’s seemed to be lighter and raspier, but then Wooyoung would jump in and his was powerful and high, and yet it still felt like a soft caress of a whisper at times. Their outfits, despite being so different, also made them look exquisite and gave the band a special and unique touch. As I glanced around I noticed how taken everyone seemed by their music, hanging onto every note they played as Seonghwa played the drums at the left side of the stage and Wooyoung the guitar to Mingi’s right.

『I miss the way you say my name

The way you bend, the way you break』

Mingi was gripping his microphone as his eyes were closed and nose scrunched up, eyebrows furrowing as the words slipped through his lips smoothly, his raspy voice soft and tender, like a steady but soft caress of your cheek, the light flutter of your eyelashes as if he was right by your side, whispering the words to you, trying to seduce you.

『Your makeup running down your face

The way you fuck, the way you taste』

Suddenly his eyes flew open and he looked out onto the crowd, locking his gaze with mine. I was about to grab the glass of water and take a sip, but I froze as a smirk slipped onto his lips, mixing in with his voice and very obviously making him sound smug. My jaw clenched just as the people, especially the girls in the front row, started cheering loudly, enjoying Noir Zenith’s performance. I tried to convince myself that I was just imagining things, but I could’ve sworn Mingi’s gaze remained on me and only me, singing the words from deep withing his chest, all kinds of emotions and feelings plastered over his face as he took his microphone out of its stand and started walking around the stage, crouching down and pointing at the girls close to the stage.

『When the curtains call the time, will we both go home alive?

It wasn't hard to realize love's the death of peace of mind

When the curtains call the time, will we both be satisfied?

It wasn't hard to realize love's the death of peace of mind』

They played two more songs after their newest, the crowd going wild as they sang along and I could feel all those unslept nights catching up as my eyes threatened to shut closed at any given time. Seulgi noticed and grew concerned, but I reassured her that I was only tired and would head soon home if she didn’t mind. She insisted I wait at least until the boys finish their performance in order to not be seen rude as I have, probably, already offended them. Not that I would mind, even though Mingi is the only one who actually deserves it.

Once they got off the stage everyone was swarming around them, congratulating them and offering them drinks, and I watched as Seonghwa kindly turned down all of them, meanwhile Mingi carelessly accepted almost all as Wooyoung was pushing his way through the crowd, eager to get back to the table. His cheeks were flushed by the time he reached us and Seulgi sprung onto her feet and went to hug Wooyoung but suddenly paused, looking awkwardly at her feet, until Wooyoung went and pulled her into his embrace instead. Seulgi’s face lit up and she started animatedly talking, but I couldn’t hear as the crowd was loud. Seonghwa seemed to be nowhere as Mingi managed to make his way through the crowd and now was grinning smugly at me, one eyebrow crooked as I rolled my eyes, still not impressed at all by him. He said nothing as he sat down next to me and took a sip of his drink, eyes falling on me. I could see him staring at me from the corner of my eyes, but I ignored him, and instead reached for Seulgi’s jacket to get her car keys so that I could fetch my jacket before leaving. As I felt around her pocket I became aware of two people towering over me as they had stopped behind my chair. I turned my head around and raised my eyebrows at the two girls as they were giggling, waiting for Mingi to notice them. And when he did, that irritating smirk was back on his lips and he greeted the girls with a wide smile, biting his lower lip as they started praising him.

“Mingi you are so cool!” The brunette exclaimed, grinning at him, “I swear to God, this new outfit concept is so hot on you.”

If I could, I would’ve died from the second-hand embarrassment these two girls were giving me, but instead, I decided to stay just a for a little bit longer and see what nonsense they manage to sputter so that I can use it against Mingi later.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you singing so passionately like tonight, Mingi, the new song is so good I’m already obsessed with it.” The blonde chimed in fast, throwing a slight glare towards the brunette. I guess the friendship between them flies out the window the second they step closer to a relatively attractive male—not that Mingi is attractive or good looking.

“Ah, you two…you always know how to flatter me.” I possibly have thrown up a little bit in my mouth because of Mingi’s sultry voice and narrowed eyes—he partially looked like he was about to pass out and partially like he would inhale one of the girls, if not both.

“You so deserve it, Mingi!” The blonde quickly exclaimed and placed a hand on his bicep, “Who is your new song about?”

My breathing faltered for a second as Mingi glanced my way, but then I threw him a glare and rolled my eyes, realizing this was our first time meeting. Why did I even think for a little second that the song could’ve been about me? That sounded crazy, and now I felt crazy as I shook my head and downed the glass of water I have abandoned like half an hour ago.

“Someone who won’t leave your mind and makes you want to crawl up the wall, thoughts filled with them, desiring them like no one else before.” Mingi’s voice dropped a few octaves and I couldn’t help but look over as I smirked, abruptly standing up.

“Oh, girls, not to disappoint but he’s said that to like—three other girls before you two, and I don’t think that’s entirely what the song is about. Or maybe Seonghwa was talking about another song…” In fact, I have lied. Mingi hasn’t talked to anyone since he sat down to the table, but the lie was worth it, because the girls expressions dropped slightly, “You know men are usually more desperate to get laid than women, I suppose it makes them say all kinds of things, doesn’t it, Mingi?”

Mingi’s jaw clenched as the two girls looked unsure as they looked back at him, and he chose to laugh it off as if I have said the funniest joke on Earth, leaning slightly forward as he looked up at me, “I suppose someone wasn’t really paying attention tonight to our performance.”

“Right,” I hummed and stepped around my chair, “I prefer listening to real bands and good music, not to some wannabes wailing to a crowd of drunken and high as fuck university students—have a lovely night!”

I only caught the irritated huff of air Mingi let out as I headed towards the bar, where Seulgi and Wooyoung were talking to some people I didn’t know. I didn’t want to disturb them for long, but I had to tell Seulgi I was leaving and would get my jacket before going home.

『You come and go in waves

Leaving me in your wake』

By the time I have gotten home it was very late and despite my body feeling tired, my brain was relentlessly swirling with thoughts and replaying tonight’s happenings, so after fifteen minutes of laying in bed and staring up at the dark ceiling I realized sleep wouldn’t come easy neither tonight. I sat up and turned on the lamp on my bedside table and grabbed my smaller and thicker sketchbook, flipping it open to an empty page. I sighed as I grabbed a pencil and pressed it against the paper softly, letting my wrist curve whichever way it wanted as I started doodling, humming to myself a melody which sounded slightly foreign yet somehow familiar. I knew I have heard it before, probably recently, but I couldn’t figure out just which song it was.

『You come and go in waves

Swallowing everything』

It didn’t take me long to have the outline of something, which was starting to look an awful lot like eyes staring back at me, and I continued tracing lines and shading in the spots where depth needed to be added. I licked my lips and narrowed my eyes as I pressed the pencil harder against the paper, tightening the frail lines and finalizing the quick drawing of the eyes. I extended my arm and stared at the eyes, which almost felt like they were glaring at me by how sharp its stare was, and my eyebrows furrowed as I realized the eyes looked nothing like Yunho’s. I couldn’t remember the last time when I drew anyone else that wasn’t Yunho and for some reason that scared me as my eyes bore into my drawing, my humming coming to an abrupt stop when I realized who’s song it was. Noir Zenith. And the drawing, the sharp and glaring eyes, were of Song Mingi’s. I gasped and without a second thought started scrawling at the drawing, heart racing and mind an awfully lot quiet. What was I thinking singing his song and drawing his eyes? But there it was, the answer, I wasn’t thinking. And I was sleep deprived. I needed to sleep, like right now. I threw my sketchbook to the floor and jumped back underneath my blanket, pulling it over my head as I screwed my eyes shut. Sleep, I must.

『Are you satisfied?

Love's the death of peace of mind

Mine

Mine』

❱❱ Next chapter

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flowerflowerflo · 28 days

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౨ৎ ⋆｡˚girly girl's guide to journalling 🩰 ๋࣭ ⭑

˚₊‧꒰ა benefits of journalling ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

• helps to regulate emotions

• understand yourself better

• a fun pass time! ♡

• analyse you, your habits, thoughts, etc

• de-stresses, relieves & relaxes

• productive & away from social media

• gives you control over something

• a way for you to get everything out, big or small, good or bad ♡

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ chapter 1: beginnings

ok! so journalling is mentioned a lot in the girlblogger, wonyoungism, self growth, loa etc etc side of tumblr but when i actually took that advice started it was really really daunting and i procrastinated it for aaaages. so this is here to help you start a fun girly hobby that will help you out on your journey 🩷🎀

♡ the most important thing when beginning ur girl journal is figuring out its purpose. is it to plan, is it to document, is it for healing, is it for personal development, is it for manifestation, is it to glow up, is it for creativity, is it just to have fun? it makes it a lot easier to think of ideas once you have a set purpose in mind, but obviously it can be anything you want, any combination of these, or something other than these. i personally do a combination of emotional healing, personal development, manifestation, glow up, gratitude & just having fun, but its whatever u want bae. <3

♡ okay! first plan of action; get a notebook. obviously. lined or plain, black or white, big or small doesn't matter. anything you feel most comfortable and most drawn to. ♡

♡ second, establish a range of pens, pencils, colours, etc. you're going to be using so you can keep consistent (if thats your thing) and make it all pretty! you can tailor this to you in any way; said range doesn't have to be big, you can literally just use the same biro and 2 colours, pencils, all the colours, one colour, or none if you want; its all yours! ♡

♡ lastly, i'd suggest to gather a bunch of stickers and materials and fun cute things ur gonna add in the pages of your journal, as it makes it pop off the page and look more visually appealing and layed and feel more interesting overall. i use stickers, coloured paper, ribbons, receipts, doodles, print outs, logos, labels, gems, sticky notes, and things i find from my daily life too. you don't have to do that much or any at all if you don't want to, but i highly recommend it! just for ur personal enjoyment ♡

one thing i'd suggest is trying not to keep a strict schedule on it, like "i have to journal every day etc" because i did this and it demotivated me sooo much. don't do that! just do it when you feel you want to! it's supposed to be fun, not a chore!

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ chapter 2: setup

♡ okay so! once you've got all the basics set up, i feel it should be pretty self explanatory from here onwards, but since this is a guide i'm not gonna leave u by yourself. this is optional, but if you're planning on making journalling a hobby or a regular habit, i'd say the first thing you wanna do is enhance & expand. find some plastic folders to attach or create paper pockets or little sections where you can put resources to stick in in ur journal so you have more space, customise, and so on. i feel this is very overlooked but its sooo fun and its really creative and and makes it so unique to you <3

♡ one thing i'd suggest too if you're doing this especially or just for any type of journal really is looking on pinterest for inspo!! this is for everything really. covers, layouts, page inspo, page ideas, customisation, journal prompts, shadow work, titles, doodles etc. i keep a board of these on my pinterest & it really helps <3

♡ one of the first things i did when i set up my journal a few months ago was do one page just an index of pages to make so i had a basic structure to go off of. this went from basic journal pages you see everywhere like about me pages n all that to the most obscure shit you could possibly imagine. this is helpful because it gives you a frame to work off of when you're at a loss for what to do in ur journal. i already have a post on this so i really recommend that if ur looking for ideas cus there's LOADS <3

another thing on pinterest; don't force urself to stick to a specific theme you've found or try and avoid doing or writing certain things in ur journal cus you wanna stick to a specific aesthetic! again, it's supposed to be fun, not a chore, and it's supposed to be completely unique to you, like a physical version of your inner world. its perfectly fine to take inspo, just remember its yours. you are your own person & you don't have to show it to anyone, it doesn't have to make sense to them, just have fun 🩷

🧸𓂃 ࣪˖ chapter 3: resources

links ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

@prissygrlsorority's beauty binder

journalling index by yours truly <3

shadow work prompts for literally everything

@prettygirlmjmjmj's personal journalling prompts

@honeytonedhottie's diary guide

inspo ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

lots of love! <3

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kettlequills · 10 months

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fic: breaking skin

hi tiffany enjoyers, have a tiny little tiff-centric piece. tw self harm/cutting, canon typical violence, canon typical fatphobia, implied/referenced sex, nica!chucky, c.3.5k. on a03 here.

'“It’s better when you make it look like an accident,” she says, and doesn’t think about bubble-baths and burnt flesh water-swollen, the stink that chased them out the creaking door Tiffany’d meant to fix and now never will – much.'

Tiffany takes Jennifer’s body and undresses in the mirror. She wanders hands over an arching neck, soft hips, curving calves, cellulite, stretch-marks and moisturiser-smooth skin. Her sensitive nerves ache in different places when she digs her new-sharp nails in for a pinch. She stares at it until she convinces herself she recognises the birthmark on her arm and her face creasing with pleasure, a frown, a smile, doesn’t look wrong anymore.

They looked the same in that movie; Jennifer stepped into Tiffany like she is just a dress, makeup, and a fake tattoo, and made it look natural. Familiar, easy as breathing.

Tiffany pokes the face – her face – in the mirror and wonders how she did it.

---

The early days, she keeps Jennifer’s loose black waves. Wears her like a dress, practises the way she moves, watches her movies until she dreams the lines her voice echoes always half-a-beat out of time. Goes through the whole closet and pitches the fine clothes everywhere, gets the bank to change her pin to something she can remember, forgets it anyway. Avoids watching the Chucky movie. Keeps her electronics on the other side of the house as her bath. Locks the door when she goes to sleep. Screens every gift and card the twins get.

Throws herself into the kids. Glen, Glenda, the shadow of the father they don’t know.

It’s supposed to be better. Even when she wakes with good dreams, nightmares and past lives lurk on her tongue like poison. The press wants to know everything, crawl up inside her life like beetles. Jennifer’s agent gets angry when Tiffany says the wrong thing and brings them flocking like vultures. She fucks up interviews and tanks readings.

She says, offer only. They scoff. She leaves with burning cheeks and kills a man on the way out, quick, lethal, efficient.

---

She ruins Jennifer’s body. Takes out her knife in the bathroom and kisses the dimpled thighs and warm, breathing stomach, traces patterns and dagger-lines until her spirit feels rinsed clean and her soul has settled into the animal meat and bone. Licks it up after and tucks her file back between her breasts.

She dyes her hair religiously. Jennifer’s pitch-black is stubborn, cropping up like weeds in her perfect gold curls. She used to go ginger-brown when the dye was fading out, knew it was time to bend her head over the sink and wrap her hair in sweet-smelling dye when crimson fades in the sun-shimmers like bruises on peach skins. Now darkness spills from the crown of her head like nightfall, and Tiffany pushes it back with blistering bleach that burns her scalp.

She leaves herself a lipstick-kiss on the mirror.

---

“Jen,” says Joey, eyes melting with a look she can’t bear. He strokes down her shoulders, all the new scars like silver slashes of moonlight. She asks him to bite her until she bleeds. He is too gentle, like he doesn’t really want to hurt her, like he doesn’t dream of killing her, not like Chucky used to.

She scrapes her nails down his chest and tips him down into her expensive bed, fucks him until he can’t keep his eyes open. They don’t complain about this for long; she’s come back hungry, violent, texts random numbers plugged in the phone she inherited and sees what comes of it. Holds knives to the throats of stars and lets them think her teasing with their mortality is just a new kink. A new fantasy she has to breathe, a new mask she has to play, something that only those who have a part-time affair with the truth seem to grasp. She thinks maybe she loves them all, herself least.

In the morning, he texts her the fancy number of a discreet therapist, exclusively for the glossy clientele of Hollywood, and she screens his calls.

She’s not crazy. Her soul’s just itching against the skin.

She eats and eats, curled up on the tile floor of a kitchen that feels too big for a trailer-girl, like it’s gonna swallow up and not taste her on the way down. She puts on weight, remembers effortless, sexy Jennifer swaying with herself and her unknowing audience with a chocolate bar in the prop room, prods the extra layer of fat. Remembers Chucky saying, “Y’know, I always figured you’d let yourself go.”

“It’s normal for women my age,” says Tiffany aloud, and then forgets her birthday when the kids ask.

---

In the days she drinks and eats to pass the time, and at night Jennifer teaches her how to gamble. Tries to, anyway, Jennifer bluffs like lies fall out easy as air, sees the cracks in Tiffany’s face like she’s reading her mind. It’s the only time the little doll seems alive, when she’s raking in the chips, dealing the cards with an easy snap despite small hands that don’t bend right. Tiffany gets drunk, Jennifer eats her now-tiny bodyweight in chocolate winnings, and they both smoke until the gritty clouds billow out the cracked window like hands reaching for salvation. Bloated and sleepy, mind-spinning into a little oblivion and thoroughly beaten at poker, Tiffany slumps into the birdcage until the bars jab her ribs.

“You’re not good at this,” Jennifer observes, and Tiffany rolls her eyes.

“Shut up,” she says, “It’s easier for you. You’re plastic now.”

She googles engines and shows Jennifer how to replace carburettors, how to check the water at the pump hasn’t been contaminated, recites the bylaws of trespass and how to bend them for a night’s berth, how to make a four-course meal in a shitty microwave and a gas-stove off melamine plates.

Jennifer’s wrong-coloured eyes glaze over, numb. Tiffany thinks there’s maybe more specks of brown in the artificial green than there used to be, and wonders if Jennifer or her is responsible. If it’s some infection of them both, if there’s some trace of Jennifer’s soul not quite scrubbed out of her body. Maybe that fragment is what howls emptiness when she fights the screaming doll into her lap and curls her own arms around her into a cage of flesh. Maybe that’s just Tiffany, drowned, folded up and shoved inside a body that has stretched but not quite healed around her soul. She never feels more like a dead thing than when she holds Jennifer close and the sundered edges inside of the body she wears start to bleed like it can feel what it’s missing.

Jennifer’s too good an actress to have to tell Tiffany she thinks she’s trash. She does it in the way she explains the words she uses that she knows Tiffany doesn’t understand, clever, sophisticated language, educated – erudite.

So Tiffany whispers sharply into the trembling doll’s ear how to dispose of bodies, how to axe them into small parts and melt the bones in acid, to scramble a trail so no one can find a trace. Muses aloud how none of Jennifer’s friends know her as well as Jennifer thought.

“It’s better when you make it look like an accident,” she says, and doesn’t think about bubble-baths and burnt flesh water-swollen, the stink that chased them out the creaking door Tiffany’d meant to fix and now never will – much.

–--

The kids are gone to start the glittering lives Jennifer's wealth gives them and she's all alone. Not for long - Chucky is there to snap her up with the inevitability of creeping death itself. She goes back, of course she does. He wants her, admires her. She cleans up his little messes, brews trouble at Harrogate for a quick girl who seems to see through her immediately but is helpless to stop her. She makes his plans fall into place. He needs her and she loves him.

Yet she’s in the bathroom of the hotel room where they met, and the cracked green tiles have sucked her into memory. She’s retraced her steps like the past thirty years have meant nothing, another woman’s body slaughtered in their lovenest.

Her file is sharp as a needle, surgical, she sits in the bathtub, so it’ll be easier to wash away. Before, when she’d get done, Chucky’d lick up the blood from her thighs and spread her open, groan at the taste of her, iron and salt on his tongue. Tiffany would feel alive, heart bounding in her ribs, body pulsing and singing, the pleasure and the pain and his devotion slinging her into bliss.

But the cuts aren’t anchoring her like they should; the tears still bubble like toxic waste but won’t come out, air hurts like bleach on her raw cheeks. Blood dribbles up and pulses down her legs like licking tongues but there’s no delight, no release.

Chucky’s back and she’s home, in his arms inside Nica, touching Tiffany and seeing her for exactly what she’s always been, the living-dead lover-killer. Skin on skin, bodies inside bodies, fucking her until she can’t breathe with a young woman’s vigour, like when they were new and in love for the very first time. That first kiss felt so good, but the emptiness is back like the roots of her hair. She doesn’t know why she wants to cry, tells herself, she wants relief , to let the pain wash into her and wring her out.

“Tiff,” Chucky bellows from the sofa, “Tiff, where’s my fucking beers? I’m thirsty out here!”

“Shaddup, Chucky!” she shrieks, “ Choke!”

“Fuck off, Tiff!” His boots drum on the carpet, coming towards the bathroom; pure adrenaline shorts down Tiffany’s spine like a livewire and she grabs the file, holding it in front of herself. The cuts on her legs sting against the fabric of her pretty designer dress. The bathtub is slippery with drops of her blood.

He shoulders into the bathroom, Nica’s pretty face twisted up in a scowl, lips drawn right up to the gums in a fervid, fiery anger that makes the vein on her forehead throb.

“Fuck’s got into you, huh?” he demands, “Haven’t fed you enough or somethin’?”

His eyes track down her body; he notices the blood. His face shifts funnily, some cross between indigestion and horror. “Aw, shit,” he says, and sits down heavily on the toilet.

Tiffany’s heart thuds hard in her ears. She stares at him, eyes wild and face hot, dizziness wet and red between her toes.

“Goddamn it, Tiff,” says Chucky, quieter now. The anger in his voice is soft venom rather than cackling fire, all the easier to swallow. His blue eyes glitter like cracked windows, distorted mirrors for maimed souls. “Where’d you put the first aid kit?”

She points, under the sink, only a few steps away. Watches him like a tiger, striped red, waiting for him to turn his back.

“Fetch it here, huh?” he asks, heart-shaped face grimacing sickly inside his golden lion’s mane, “Let’s clean you up.”

She brings him the first aid kit and perches on the side of the bath, hiking her skirt up and spreading her legs. She thinks about the fact he can see her silky underwear and fantasises suddenly about him touching her, smearing his hands through the blood to ease her panties to one side. Heat follows the path of the cooling, sticky blood back up her thighs. She thinks of him sitting down in front of her by the bathtub and using his teeth while she fists her hands in his wavy, knotty hair. She pulses, she wants, she hopes.

“Do you like it, sweetface?” she asks him through lowered lashes. Coquettish, she kicks her heels against the bathtub.

“You’re always pretty, Tiff,” he mumbles back, preoccupied with popping the kit and tearing open the alcohol wipes. He spits each word like they’re sickness itself, an undercurrent in the tremble of his knuckles that makes her ache.

“Awh,” says Tiffany, cradling her chin on her hands, heart warm and full and wanting, “Baby.”

He’s gentle when he starts wiping the blood up and cleaning the cuts, but his smile is a sharp slash when she laughs breathily at the sting and squirms in pleasure. He smooths each plaster on carefully, making sure the sticky edge won’t adhere to broken skin. Circles his jagged, bitten-broken nails into the tender skin under her knee like he’s thinking of digging them in, a rough little pinch just to make her yelp. She bites her lip, hoods her eyes, lifts her feet into his lap.

His nails chase over her skin like the blunt edges of razors. He remembers himself, twists, grabs a wipe. Starts cleaning her, dropping the blotchy red-flowered wipes into the bloody bath. There’s blood between her toes from when she stood, when she thought he might be coming to hurt her. Nica has such soft skin, softer than Chucky’s had ever been when he was alive. His delicate hands feel warm and renewing against her body, and it has never felt more hers than when he touches her, when he’s just like this.

“Any more?” he murmurs, glancing over her body to check like he can see under her dress, and her heart melts at the look on that pretty, stolen face. She thinks maybe she can tell herself it’s obsession, teetering halfway between love and rage, maybe even concern.

She shakes her head, now trying not to cry. If she starts blubbering all the week’s saved up tears, she won’t stop for hours, and she doesn’t want to ruin this moment. She wants to freeze it in ice, tear off its wings and press it into her heart, swallow it whole so it can never run away.

“Feel better, Tiff?” he asks her when he’s finished, and she nods.

Recklessly, she hugs him, ignores how he goes stiff like he doesn’t expect her love. Her arms around his shoulders curl around him, a cage, a tether, a bond, trying to force them even closer, killer soul to soul, her body to Nica’s chest. When she presses her face into his neck, whispering waxy-lipstick kisses against the underside of his jaw, he smells like cheap cigarettes and hotel alcohol, the impermanence of their young graveyard days. Immortal and grinning, Chucky stains the messy slip-knots of Nica’s hair with ash and old, matted blood, then drowns the reek of it under cologne Tiffany buys in high-class scents like malted-wood and honeybee-slaughter.

“Are you still thirsty?” she asks, contritely, “I can get you some beer, or some water? Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you some dinner?”

“Aw, nah,” he says, his storming eyes shifting away, “I’m alright. … You should probably get some iron, though, huh?”

“Later,” she pouts, snuggling into him.

Tentatively, he slides his hands round her waist. She wiggles her hips, hopefully, but he doesn’t get the message and squeeze her ass, lift her onto his lap and play with her like she wants. Chucky’s been a little slow with her since he came back, sometimes, but he’s getting better at figuring it out, acting natural. He doesn’t always know when to pull her close, but at least he doesn’t remember when to push her away, lets her lead their bodies and souls making one on the heart-shaped bed inside Tiffany’s chest. She licks a stripe up his neck. Wants to eat his shiver whole.

“Shall we go to bed, sweetface?” she asks him, a little nervously, eager to impress, and Chucky hesitates. His beautiful, fractured eyes flicker to the door, like he’s measuring how long it would take him to get there. When he breathes, the muscles in his arms tense up.

Tiffany slides her hands down under his thighs, lifts. She is smart enough to heft with her legs, not her back, and Chucky’s feet swing thoughtlessly as she picks him up. He yelps and clutches onto her, his tight grip on her shoulder setting her skin aflame.

“Hey, Tiff, what the fuck?” he complains. “Whaddaya think I am, a sack of carrots?”

She rolls her eyes, ignoring his bitching as she carries him to the bed. Sometimes, she wonders why she puts up with all this, maybe Nica would be more polite. (Of course she would be, she thinks, sorry at once, Nica is an angel. Their angel, her angel, deserves anything Tiffany can give her, except freedom.)

“What the hell do you eat to make you so strong?” he huffs, scrambling up onto his arms. When she flutters around him pointedly, he shuffles back on the bed to give her space to sit down next to him.

Pleased, Tiffany blushes a little at his question. She likes that he thinks of her as strong, likes to be called that much more than fat, even if she knows Chucky only says it like a bad thing when he’s being a dick. She likes even more that when they’re sat next to each other, they’re close enough to touch.

“ Sweetface.”

“What?” Daringly, he slaps her bicep, light enough not to hurt, but enough that her body jiggles in response.

Tiffany giggles. He gives her a smile, rakish and darling like a dying man’s last slice of sunset, and she wants to kiss it so badly she hurts.

“What is this, huh? Where’re you hiding the sixpack?”

He pokes her belly’s ticklish spots, and Tiffany squeals, slapping at Nica’s scarred-up hands.

“ Stop,” she whines, still laughing, and is a little surprised when he holds his hands up and obeys, snorting.

Something about it, the control, maybe, or the way he doesn’t push it, just ignites her, and she has to have him. In one move, Tiffany rolls over him, wraps her arms around his waist and drags him down over her body until he’s half-lying on her, their breasts pressing together and their faces so close their breath mingles. A tingling runs through her teeth like lightning, like electricity in the water, with none of the pain.

His eyes dart down, checking where his legs lie, then with nonchalant possessiveness he shifts his shoulders and nudges Tiffany’s thigh wider. Delighted at his breath-stealing hands on her body, she lets him rearrange her so his leg won’t press against her cuts. When he goes to sit up, her arms lock around his neck. She needs to keep him close.

“Ah, ah, sweetface,” Tiffany whispers hotly, her nails digging into his nape, “Where are you going?”

“C’mon, hey, Tiff.” He tries a fleeting smile, playing for time, but it dies under the light of her intense stare.

He licks his lips, desperate, and she shudders under him, squeezes her legs around his hips. The lines of cuts on her legs burn, but it’s nothing to the burning inside her. He touches her encircling arm like he’s thinking of pushing it off and leaving her alone on the bed. But even as he glares down at her, she knows she sees want blooming in his dilating pupils.

There’s something molten in those eyes, compassion, hate, fear, lust, a hard and poisonous cocktail that makes her more dizzy than any blood-loss, makes her hungry for the flashes of tiredness, tenderness, ambrosia itself, between the cracks. His eye twitches; it’s his tell. He’s bluffing, like he’s afraid to gamble and lose. Or maybe he’s just afraid of her, hates her; Chucky has a part-time heart these days, one Tiffany just won’t resist.

“Don’t go, do it,” she breathes. Lets her neck fall lax, lets her eyes lid, lets herself uncurl beneath him like an offering on the altar. Hopes he’ll bite her. Hopes he’ll make it hurt. Hopes he’ll take the gamble, fall into the addiction, go back to craving her as badly as she craves him, in any body with Nica’s leonine snarl as he poses above her like a hunter with their kill. In this stolen body heavy and real on hers, in a crime scene of sex-stained sheets, hotel-plasters and Tiffany’s pretty white dress. “Do it to me, now.”

Anything that’s worked once is worth a try.

“Fucking – God,” he hisses, like he doesn't know what to say, eyes following the undulation of her body to her chest. She arches to give him a better view, her heart fluttering, begging, pleading.

His gaze lands on the cold glint of bloody steel just visible in the valley of her breasts where she hasn’t bothered to tuck it away properly, and his lips flatten, his desire flickers. His hands tighten, scarred knuckles straining white; she wants to kiss the tension away and bite it in anew.

“No sharps in bed today, huh?” Tiffany purrs, eager to show him she’s noticed, she can be considerate, she can be sweet too. “I can work with that, honey.”

She grinds down into the bed, fans her nails over his back and digs in. Smirks and shudders her shoulders so her breasts bounce and the file slides out a little more. Her hips roll. He grits his teeth, plants his weight on one hand, grabs the nail file with the other. Each movement is jerky, zombielike, a plastic doll’s juddering in a leaping-smooth puppet.

“Okay. … Tiffany.”

He says her name like a curse, an invocation; it never sounds better out of his mouth than from these lips.

The file glitters in his hand like the moon. For one searing electric second, she thinks he might even stab her. She even sucks in a breath to tell him he can (what’s a little more blood and gore between lovers? Second and first thoughts are for losers), and she would never refuse him when he’s like this . But then he tosses it over his shoulder, and instead his hands tangle in her hair.

Her prepared breath comes out a needy whimper. His grip messes up the sprayed blonde and the black roots; she feels his breath swirl hot and still reeking of cigarette ash over her chin. He cups her jaw with a twisted darkness in his aching, hungry eyes, a look that makes her wonder if he thinks of choking her, if he wants to hurt her, if he wants to kiss her. She moans.

She is alive, her heart pounding against the bones of her wrist, reaching out to him through the prisons of their bodies. He sees through her, sees all of her, the mess of Tiffany crammed into a body not her own, sparking and bright where they meet, mangled and pristine, skin on skin.

“Kiss me?” she implores, and Nica does.

#tiffany valentine #nica pierce #charles lee ray #chucky #child's play #childs play #chucky series #inkwrites #tiffanica #niffany #tiffnica #chiffany #nica!chucky #my fic breaking skin

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wangxianficrecs · 1 year

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❤️A Burning Cold by MountainRose

❤️A Burning Cold

by MountainRose

G, 29k, wwx

Summary: Wei Wuxian never quite recovers from his brush with death as a child.

Mojo's comments: Oh, fucking hell. I was riveted from beginning to end. This was simply delicious and lyrically written. There wasn't a single bit I didn't love. I know nothing about Nirvana In Fire, but that didn't impact my enjoyment. (I think there were a few character cameos, but nothing more demanding than that.) In which wwx as a child is sick near to death by the time jfm finds him, and cultivates his core more to compensate for his physical frailty than anything else, which sends him down a different path than canon. (At one point, lan qiren watches 'as the world bends a little more under the tiny child's feet', because he is different and strangely powerful. In this world, wwx can be a warrior, when he's got the energy, but he's also a scholar and a strategist, and understands how to accept and appreciate help.

Excerpt: Madam Yu trains him sometimes, fierce and insistent. "Your body is full of qi, learning to put it to your sword should be easy. Try it, now." He is using that qi to breathe, he thinks, alarmed, but there is lots, and it would quite like to be everywhere all the time, so he nods. He flows into the sword form and draws the water in his mind's eye as though ink trails from the top of his wooden sword, gathering extra qi and giving it to the wood like you do to light a candle. The sword comes alive in his hand, no longer dragging behind his grip, but forging ahead and pulling him into the next and the next and the next-- He's left gasping and his core depleted, but he can't help but laugh in delight. Madam Yu grips him by the shoulders, eyes piercing and qi feeling out his. He gathers enough to steady his heart rate, but she can no doubt tell that he's at his limit. "Enough. Good. We will continue tomorrow." He nods, fuzzy headed. "I said enough, let it go now." He drops his grip on his core, letting it return to the depth of his belly, and all the strength goes out of his body. She sweeps him up into her arms and carries him away. He falls asleep before he knows where. The next day, he can hold the qi in his sword a little longer, and it sings to him 'I am here I am here'. He both lags behind the others his age and reaches far out ahead of them. His body feels like a paper shadow, but his core grows huge and wild.

canon-divergence, graphic depictions of violence, chronic illness, nirvana in fire fusion, character study, snow beetle poison, child wei wuxian, sick wei wuxian, hurt wei wuxian, recovery, found family, good madam yu, powerful wei wuxian, scholar wei wuxian, geniues wei wuxian, politics, growing up, @sharkbeneaththelotus

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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flowerslut · 2 years

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6 - Candles, Lanterns, Fairy Lights

Rating: General Audiences (K+) Words: 1,457 Summary: The Cullens were all on their best, most human behavior during the wedding. Not just for Bella and Edward, but because no one was going to mess this up for Alice. One-shot set during Breaking Dawn.

A/N: a surprise @flufftober prompt? from me????? hm, how weird?? except that it's @allicekitty13's birthday today! and boy are we sorely lacking fluff around these parts. you only get it from me like, once a year if you're lucky. (punches @volturialice who came up w/the idea + edited/proofread) Allice, we love you! Happy birthday! <3

Best Behavior

He trailed after her like a shadow, and he had to admit, despite all the noise and fuss over this (admittedly, ridiculous) event he was getting a moderate amount of amusement out of it.

(Alright, maybe there was a bit of enjoyment, too.)

Alice’s small measure of annoyance had evaporated the instant the first guest arrived—what it had been caused by, even Jasper couldn’t tell. She’d been irritated last week only by a flicker of a vision. Apparently, Alice had told him after some prodding, Emmett had momentarily considered forgoing a piece of his carefully tailored outfit (why, Jasper had no clue) because of some small annoyance.

Emmett had, of course, decided against that very quickly, sparing him from Alice’s direct wrath.

But even so, Alice had been annoyed for two entire days over it.

Now she pranced up the back stairs and into the house, the feathery hem of her dress trailing after her, leaving a slight shimmer flickering from the reflection of the lights above. The gems sewn in had been a small touch—Jasper wasn’t even sure the human’s eyes would be able to pick up on the tiny detail—but she’d worked meticulously on it well into the night before.

Same with all of their outfits.

And the decorations.

Sure, she’d used him and Emmett and Rosalie and Carlisle and Esme as pack mules. She’d put them all work and directed them with what to put where and exactly how she’d wanted everything arranged and for the love of all that is holy none of you are allowed under the tarp in the backyard between 5:01 and 5:04 and I mean it.

But despite their helping hands, the entire household (minus Edward, annoyingly) could barely be given even a morsel of credit for the event that was currently transpiring in the backyard of their Forks property.

Alice’s touch was everywhere and it was a sight to behold.

It was hardly the canopy of carefully woven flowers dangling overhead or the meticulously sandpapered, hand carved tables and chairs that held his attention (and that of all their guests). He was barely remembering—but he was remembering, knowing the promise that he and all of his family had made to Alice—to be as gracious a host as possible.

He smiled at the humans, exchanged pleasantries and small talk when needed, and even pretended to be unbothered when one of their older guests (Bella’s mother’s aunt or something) forced him into the chair beside her for five minutes, reaching over and patting his cheek before dismissing him from her disjointed conversation with a hand wave and a “you kids are too handsome, I can hardly stand to see it!”

He’d fled from the area then, trying not to make it obvious that he wasn’t breathing and was uncomfortable in so, so many ways, and ignored Emmett’s snicker as Jasper passed where he and Rosalie were making equally-agonizing small talk with some other unheard-of members of Bella’s (strangely large and notably aging) extended family.

He’d crack him real good over the back of the head later for that one.

Despite the beautifully constructed event his current focus was Alice’s unbridled pride and complete bliss at seeing her carefully designed vision coming to life in the most literal sense.

The atmosphere of the evening was overall intensely positive even with the suspicious and curious air of judgement wafting through, but even the excitement from their array of guests, it paled in comparison to how utterly happy Alice was as she skipped to and fro, ensuring that this wedding went exactly as planned.

“Bring me that bundle of utensils wrapped in twine.”

Alice didn’t point and she didn’t need to. Everything had been arranged so deliberately this morning. It was the only thing sitting on the counter beside him in the large kitchen.

Jasper handed it to her and she frowned, humming. “Actually,” she passed it back to him. “Not yet.”

He didn’t quirk an eyebrow. He didn’t even consider questioning why.

This may have been Edward and Bella’s wedding, but this was Alice’s day.

“We’ll cut the cake a few minutes after I’d planned,” thankfully, she didn’t seem bothered by the admission. Everything may have been planned down to the minute but of course Alice had planned wiggle room here and there. Everywhere, probably. “Edward is giving Bella her ‘present’ soon,” she lifted one hand to do half-hearted finger quotes, frowning at that. She did always hate not being able to see the wolves.

The one in attendance had been enough for her to work around, but the three additional Quileute boys lingering close by forced a tick of frustration to pulse from her before she batted it away and redirected her attention.

“What now?” He asked, knowing that she had the answer.

“Small talk,” she spoke as if the answer should have been obvious. She blessed him with an explanation anyways. “Our presence isn’t required right now—I made sure of it. But it’ll be fun.”

He snorted at that. “I’m sure.”

Her expression would’ve made anyone else think she was properly upset by that comment, but he could feel her emotions. Alice was pouting just to do it.

“Are you not having fun?”

He laughed outright then, stepping closer to her as he watched her lower lip jut out further. Underneath her whining he felt her amusement as she teased him. A familiar glint of mischief reflected in her eyes. His voice was an even monotone when he spoke. “Tons of fun.”

“Bella’s Aunt Katherine might need more company,” her lip jutted out further and she batted her eyes. He fought back another smile.

“Is that what her name was?”

“You could always fetch Charlie another beer.”

He crossed his arms over his chest as he approached her, not bothering to hide his grin now. “Ah, so you’re trying to get rid of me?”

Alice pretended to be offended by the insinuation. “I would never.” The dramatic tone in her voice almost exposed her teasing for what it was. “I’d go with you of course!”

“Of course,” he repeated, and then bent down to kiss her forehead. She, of course, had anticipated that and pressed up onto her toes to kiss him on the mouth. Then, her attention was diverted from the kiss. She backed up and he exhaled another laugh. “Where to?” He already knew what that interruption meant; a vision.

A wicked grin crept onto her face as she reached forward and grabbed his hand. “Bella’s friends are about to go admire the cake.” With her other hand she reached out and grabbed the bundle that held the pair of cake knives, pushing them into his opposite hand.

“And we have to go talk to them about it?”

The mischief was fully exposed to him now. Alice’s devious expression and barely contained smile told him all he needed to know.

Yes, they absolutely had to go see what Bella’s friends were saying. There was something in the twitch of her smile that told him that he’d likely enjoy what was about to happen, too.

She snuck one more kiss before they exited the kitchen to head back toward where the wedding was in full-swing, pulling him down swiftly by his arm to press her lips warmly against his.

The sensation of Alice’s emotions were a marvel. Her excitement and amusement and cheeky satisfaction rendered him unable to focus on anything but the enthusiasm radiating of off her like a sun.

It had been a while since she’d been this excited about planning a wedding. And Rosalie and Emmett’s last one had been six years ago. In his blissed-out state, as her lips moved against him, a fleeting thought flickered through his mind.

Alice backed away, breaking the kiss with a breathy laugh. “We don’t need to get married again.” Her love made him warm and mesmerized and just about ready to suggest anything to let Alice have another day like this where she could feel this way again. “I’m just having fun. After all,” she grabbed his hand again and started pulling him toward the backdoors. “We’re never going to have all this funny human company again. I’ve got to have fun with them now.”

He followed her closely, fighting back the stupid smile that was threatening to take over. “What fun are Bella’s friend’s going to be providing?”

“You’ll see.”

Even before they were in their sights, Jasper could hear them muttering about the elaborate cake, their comments full of awe and barely-contained judgement. Alice’s excitement radiated straight into his body from her hand and he knew, that like always, she was right.

This was going to be fun.

#flufftober2022 #day 6 #twilight saga #jalice #twilight fanfiction

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marinaiguess · 1 year

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just finished watching sonic prime so why not share my thoughts on it? before i start rambling, i suggest you go watch it on netflix, it definitely deserves a watch.

now

Technicalities first (if i can call them that). So, judging as a viewer and not as a sophisticated critic who has read cinemtaography books, I’d say the show’s direction overall is pretty good. It’s nothing special but it’s pleasing and keeps you interested. The direction, the angles, the camera changes regarding placement and focus are well coordinated with the writing and each emotion each scene tries to convey. So, really, nothing new (i wasnt expecting a sonic show to make groundbreaking ways of storytelling through cinematography), but I believe it is worth mentioning because it plays a huge role on how one views the show. And there were many moments where I realized that a certain angle made the scene look more tense for example.

Animation! I think we all liked the bouncy styled animation, contrasting the hugely popular disney/pixar styled animation (which is good, dont get me wrong, but the animation tecnhique used in prime fits sonic a lot more imo). Also, the facial expressions are part of what made the show so great and enjoyable and I love how much emphasis they put on them, literally perfect. The details in animation, like the animalistic behaviours of sonic and co. and how they were depicted (ears twitching for example) are all very important and im glad they were implemented. And, I know a lot of us are focused on the facial expressions but we shouldnt forget abt the background as well. There definitely was attention to detail, details that were everywhere and completed the overall image of the show.

Music! the music is good what do you expect me to say like, oh that major g in the pirate scene made the scene look more tense but if it was a minor f it would make it a bit more sad and thus more fitting- no. the music was good. not surprised and props to everyone who worked on the music but i just dont think theres anything to add LOL.

Voice acting! Voice directing-wise? Really REALLY good, i wasnt expecting great performances but i was proved wrong and im happy about that. Now, for the main cast seperately? Devon has done an EXCELLENT job with his lines. His sonic voice is a combination of Roger Craig Smith and Ben Schwartz i believe but it’s also unique and very fitting for sonic, despite me not liking it at first. Brian as Eggman is meh for me, very good voice acting skills but i didnt like it that much. Ashleigh as Tails fit surprisingly well and idk why. Kazumi for rouge was a really good one, bringing rouge back to her sa2/heroes era and not the overly sexy and seducing voice she has in the games (i know its abt voice direction as well but yeah). big is meh, i dont like it. knuckles is pretty good tbh. and now, shadow the hedgehog. yes. ian did an excellent job voicing shadow and i LOVE LOVE LOVE his voice in prime, makes he’d sound like that in the games as well. i’ll stop now or i’ll start fangirling.

Characters! I like the characters and sonic’s crew. the way the show’s written so far though has made me care about the post-apocalypse characters more than the other shatterverses. like, i like them all, yeah, but i care more about nine and knucks and rebel. maybe that was the point. also,HHHH WHY NOT BLAZE? why not silver? hoping to see them soon but PIRATE WORLD? there was a purple cat and a brown raccoon there but it wasnt blaze and marine. lost opportunity. (and rouge should have been the captain in the pirate one fr fr)

And finally, writing. I’ve seen a lot of opinions these days. Here’s mine. Good characterisation. Yes, it might surprise you but the characterisation is actually good. for every character. including sonic. maybe in a different post i could talk about every character but for now, i wanna talk abt sonic. bouncy, energetic, talkative, honest, lively, adhd coded, cheesy sometimes, reckless, extroverted who wants to work on his own from time to time. this is actually sonic. someone who loves his friends but doesnt listen to them cuz he has no patience. someone who conveys his emotions with actions and puts words aside. someone who likes to lay back once in a while, but not when the whole world is broken to pieces. someone who wants to save everyone, puts everyone above him and his needs. someone who cant stop talking, making witty remarks and jokes despite the given situation cuz he never gives up and is always hopeful and optimistic. frontiers gave us a different view of sonic’s character but it’s a very different situation as well. yet, if you carefully compare the two, you’d see how much things they have in common and how prime! sonic is very well written.

overall writing is okay. characterisation is very good, interactions between characters are very good but some could have been better(some moments were too short for my liking), easter eggs, there are many and are greatly appreciated, many details, the recap of the prev episodes was really funny and clever but I feel like we were deprived of some great opportunities. like, eggman nega with eggman instead of the chaos council. thats just an example. and im not too salty abt it cuz it’s mainly a kids show and it shows. im glad that its enjoyable for adults like me as well though.

thats all folks. no one asked for this but youre getting it anyway.

#sonic prime spoilers #sonic prime #sth #sonic the hedgehog #sonic prime review #shadow the hedgehog

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shadowslifeform · 1 year

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it just came to me that it’s almost valentine’s day, so have this short sonadow post.

sonic and shadow’s first valentine’s day together would be hectic. sonic would completely forget about it, only for his friends to remind him of it and ask him what he plans on doing for shadow, to which sonic replies with: “uh… wait, what?”

he then would freak out, calling himself a horrible boyfriend for completely letting valentine’s day slip his mind, to which amy has to step in to calm him down—and help him make chocolates for shadow.

shadow, on the other hand, would be getting dragged around everywhere by rouge, her excuse being, “since it’s valentine’s day, we need to find you something to get for sonic.”

she then would force him to dress up nicely, and then force him to buy one of those huge teddy bears for sonic along with a box of chocolates, only for shadow to announce that he had already made chocolates for sonic long ago.

she would then stare at him, eyebrows knitted as she says, “why didn’t you say that earlier?” to which shadow simply shrugs and replies with, “well, I did want to buy him more stuff to make it more special…”

both sonic and shadow would be freaking out, and even as they finally go to see each other, they’re both surprised to see that they got each other things. they then would stupidly laugh at it and smile, and then spend the rest of the day together watching a cheesy romance movie that sonic insisted was a “good movie that shadow would like.”

meanwhile both of their friends finally get to relax, satisfied that sonic and shadow ended up having an enjoyable day together.

#sonadow #shadonic #shadow the hedgehog #shadow x sonic #sonic the hedgehog #sonic x shadow #shadow the ultimate lifeform #gay #sonic fandom #fic ideas #sth #tumblr fyp #fanfic #valentine #valentine’s day

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gabrielandworms · 1 year

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It's Day 247 of the migraine that never ends, and any plans I had to clean or maybe (finally) finish the painting I have sketched out on my drawing table's surface are just not happening. I'm going to be lying in a pile of blankets playing one of the lower energy rpgs I have. I might even get some real writing done if I can trust my brain enough with any of my drafts.

But I realized I can probably trust my brain enough to rec some of my favorite rpgs for sick days like today. Something without a complex plot or a need to stay focused. Something with fun design and, if you're really lucky, big numbers.

Also some (one? two?) of these are on the 3ds. It's probably a good idea to look into them now since the shop is closing permanently towards the end of the month.

So here's my little list of suggestions. This definitely isn't just an attempt to get people playing things I like. It's also an attempt to get people to suggest their own preferences.

Dragon Ball Fusions (3DS): I know Fighterz is the crowning achievement of Dragon Ball games, but I don't like fighting games. Meanwhile this a fun little rpg where you can make your own OC and get other fighters to join you with one of the most enjoyable combat systems I've ever played. The fusion mechanic is also really goofy and a delight to mess around with.

Legend of Mana (PS1): Well, originally a PS1 game. I think the remaster is pretty much everywhere. It's always been my favorite Mana title, and I'm glad to see it getting attention now. Unlocking every quest is a pain that requires a guide, but the combat is very "no thoughts, head empty" and the game's backgrounds are some of the most beautiful I've ever seen. Also I haven't watched it yet, but there's an anime adaptation of one of the major arcs now. Story is a bit heavier than the others here though as it digs into "love can both nurture and destroy."

Fantasy Life (3DS): There's a second one coming, but if you don't want to wait the first one was a lot of fun. The class system in this game is a lot of fun, and I think it's the only game I've played that let me even run around trying to become a Master Cook. You can also have your friends jump into your game and run around together, but that might be restricted to local play now.

Pokemon: Heart Gold and Soul Silver (DS): Or any Pokemon title, really. Heart Gold is just my favorite, but I also thought the Sun/Moon titles were underrated. Pokemon's base line has never been complicated. It's just running around with little magical animal critters, and maybe if you're lucky you're playing one of the gens that lets you pet them. Or have them follow you around.

Magical Starsign (DS): Legend of Mana's younger sibling, and a great deal more linear. But it has a lot of the same visual charm paired with a setting both fantasy and sci-fi. Like Legend of Mana, it also gets a bit heavier with its story. Some of the subplots do not end on happy notes.

Okage: Shadow King (PS2): Maybe the least "head empty" of the bunch, but grinding is an option, and grinding is one of the most "head empty" things you can do in an rpg. I wanted to include it though because it's visually fun and has a wonderful little sense of humor. As a bonus, it's available for digital purchase on the sony store. A lot of these are old and only available in physical versions unless you put in the effort to find other, Totally Legal methods.

Sonic Chronicles: Dark Brotherhood (DS): Look, I'm going to be honest. I remember nothing about this game. I had the flu in college and fever-induced delirium wiped out my memory of the whole damn time. But apparently? I played this? And according the save file I completed it? Which means this has to fit the criteria of an rpg you don't have to think too hard about. Which it's a Sonic game, so I can't imagine the plot is complex.

Fable 3 (Xbox 360): I know it's the unfavorite Fable for people, but I had a lot of fun with it. It also looks like it's available digitally. This game doesn't demand much, and honestly it's pretty easy to sidestep the instance when it does try to make hefty demands. I don't know how accessible co-op is now, but this is a game made better when you're running around causing chaos with friends. It also let me marry a pink-haired cannibal, and how many games even have that option?

#rpgs #video games #dragon ball #sonic the hedgehog #pokemon #legend of mana #fantasy life #fable #okage #magical starsign

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yourstruly-sephie · 2 years

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

𝐀 𝐋 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 ‘ 𝐬 𝐃 𝐞 𝐧

𝟐𝟕𝟔 𝐀𝐂 | 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤

The chimes of the Great Sept of Baelor’s bells rang loudly. The sound could be heard throughout the Seven Kingdoms. The people of the Crownlands, more specifically in King’s Landing, rejoice in the streets holding a mass cup of liquid luck in one hand, while the other holds a bundle of tiny white flowers, known as baby’s breath. Everywhere that eyes can see, there was a plethora of these delicate flowers either lying on the grimy alleyways or decorating the homes of the common folk. It was a sign of good fortune and luck. A symbolism for innocence. A gift to a mother and her everlasting love for her children. All this to celebrate the birth of a new dragon, Prince Viserys.

Lords and ladies alike, also, joined the festivities of the wonderful news. Many of them paid their tribute either through grandiose gifts or prayed to the Old Gods and New for the baby’s health and quick recovery for their Queen. However, none of the lords’ gifts or actions could be as impressive as Lord Tywin’s generous gift for the infant prince. For months and months before the babe was expected to be delivered into the world, the Lord of the Rock had planned in advance for a tourney to be held in Viserys’ name. It was common knowledge that tourneys held by the Old Lion himself were to exceed expectations and would cost a shiny gold coin. In regards, the Hand of the King had put the other noble lords in his shadow once again.

The recognition did not lessen because King Aerys made it known he favored his Hand’s gift compared to all of the others he had received. He announced on the day of Prince Viserys’ birth how grateful and appreciative he was to Tywin, and offered his eagerness to attend the tourney with his other two children. After all, Aerys was beyond elated, riding on his high. He had waited years for another child. His sister-wife, Rhaella, had suffered various miscarriages and stillborns during the course of many years. At first he consoled her, but failure after failure, it drove him mad with suspicion. To the point of him confining Rhaella to Maegor’s Holdfast and ordering two septas to sleep in her bed every night. In addition, he had killed and tortured countless people he suspected to be involved with the murder of his offsprings. In the end of things, he got what he wanted. He was gifted with a healthy boy, and he will do anything to keep him alive.

For the Queen, she was happy but more relieved than anything. The labor was strenuous, all her strength gone once she pushed the tiny Prince out of her. When she held Viserys in her weak arms, she knew he was going to live. The infant shared the same colored hair as her eldest son. His eyes are a pale lilac color reminiscent of the purple gemstones she loves. And, he had the same smile as her sweet Nyrella. She held Viserys tightly, fearing he would be taken away from her like her two other children. Unfortunately, Rhaella and the newborn would not attend the tourney under Aerys’ command. The King deemed it dangerous for the both of them, also, to make sure Viserys does not die. It saddened the Queen immensely because she has been cooped up in the castle forever, not knowing what enjoyment was anymore. On the contrary, she hoped the best for her other children, wishing them a pleasurable time in the Westerlands.

Like most people, Nyrella and Rhaegar were ecstatic to welcome another sibling. Left and right, various lords and ladies congratulate the pair on a new addition to the Targaryen name. However, the two knew they would not grow up with Viserys as they have done with each other. Their visitation was limited, only being able to see the infant once until their arrival back from the tourney. There was another matter on the age difference. Nyrella and Rhaegar were years beyond seniority compared to their youngest sibling. They promised to be there for Viserys as much as they can offer, but it will take hard work and a whole lot of patience on their part. Nevertheless, the silver-haired siblings took this birth as luck from the Gods.

“Daydreaming again?” Jon had finished eating his apple. He threw the core directly at Nyrella’s side, grabbing the youngest's attention.

Nyrella flinched at the sudden interaction, turning her head to look down at what hit her. She curiously grabbed the core, and retracing her eyes back at the owner. “You know it’s not nice to throw things at people,” narrowing her gaze at Jon, but the latter only hunched his shoulders.

“Well, it was the only way to get your attention. You were spacing out,” Jon responded. He shifted his body to get comfortable on the rough exterior he sat on. He wished he brought a pillow to sit on.

“I was?” She did not believe what Jon had explained, until she glanced over at their other company for confirmation. Rhaegar and Arthur were too busy snacking on fruit tarts, only managing to return a subtle nod. Nyrella lets out a deep sigh, blaming the difficult and tiresome raining for her inattentiveness, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. I’m guessing your mind is already in Casterly Rock,” Jon jest, grabbing a tart from the platter and stuffing the sweet treat in his mouth.

Rolling her eyes, Nyrella threw the apple core back at Jon which made him furrow his eyebrows in displeasement. “I guess you can say that. I still have much to do before we leave tomorrow. I would not want to leave anything behind,” drawing doodles with her index finger over her kneecap.

“Make sure to pack for training as well,” Rhaegar added.

“Training? I thought we were taking a holiday?” Not very pleased to hear what Rhaegar had implored. She expected to take this time to relax and enjoy watching the entertainment in the tourney.

Rhaegar hummed, picking up his cup of wine. “Training does not rest especially for you or the tourney,” he took a swig of the red liquid, tasting the all too well bitterness.

“But how? It isn’t like there’s a secret place to train. If there was, we wouldn’t know,” Nyrella made a good point. There were going to be many people at the tourney, which meant a high likelihood of being uncovered by unwanted attention.

There was a pause. “I will look for a place,” Arthur spoke up. “I don’t mind. The King is letting the Kingsguard participate in the tourney, so I will have some time to look for a place to train,” he explained.

“Shouldn’t you use the time to practice for the tourney?” Nyrella instinctively questioned. This was going to be the first time she will ever see Arthur participate in a tourney. Jon had told her in passing that Arthur was complete in the jousting tournament along with Rhaegar and him.

Arthur smiled at the Princess’ worry, “I will have more than enough time for both. Besides, Rhaegar and Jon will help.” The last comment made two heads turn to look at Arthur bewildered, but the Dornish man did not bat an eye at them. Nyrella stifled a laugh, it amazed her that the Knight could be mischievous.

The four of them continued to take their much needed break from training. They ate snacks, drank Dornish wine, and had light conversation with one another. It was going to be a while until the next time they meet like this. The travel to Casterly Rock was not to be taken lightly with the mountainous ranges, rough terrain, and unpredictable weather. It was going to take them weeks on the road until they reached the desired location. There was a mixture of excitement and dread the four shared for tomorrow’s departure.

.・゜゜・♛・゜゜・.

Casterly Rock or The Rock, as it is regularly called, was a sight to behold. The ancestral stronghold of the Lannisters was like no other home in Westeros. Perched on top of the highest point of land, facing the Western coast and overlooking the city of Lannisport. The Seat demanded admiration from any onlookers. Even more so knowing the incredible wealth the castle was built on. A fruitful goldmine underneath, which the Lannister’s casually sat on and flaunted proudly.

Nyrella gawks at the view, her breath taken away from her. There were a couple more miles, until she and the rest of the entourage arrived at the gates of Casterly Rock. However, she did not mind the few miles, since she wanted to stay where she was a little longer, to take in the astronomical sight. She surveyed the view, head craned all the way back due to the considerable height of the stronghold. Mentally noting that the peak of the castle was well into the clouds. Also, noting how the location was the perfect to view a sunset. To be the mistress of such a castle, she sighs dreamily.

“A sight worth a sketch?” Ser Arthur vocalized with the same admiration and amazement that Nyrella felt. This was his first time visiting The Rock. From the lack of words from the Princess, he guessed that it was her first time visiting as well. He had heard how breathtaking The Rock was, but he did not prepare enough for his expectations to surpass his judgment.

“Absolutely, it would be a wasted opportunity if I don’t,” Nyrella managed to shake herself from the trance. She made it a habit to sketch all the places she had visited. A little reminder of the memories she made and a token for her to keep, knowing it might be the last time she would visit the place. She glanced at Arthur, he was just as starry eyed as her. “You should sketch with me, Ser Arthur,” she offered.

“I would love to, your Grace, but I’m not a gifted artist like you,” he glanced over with a smile.

Nyrella bit the inside of her cheek, she was contemplating the dilemma she was in. Whether she should tell him or not. Not knowing if the comment would deter Arthur or reveal her feelings for him.

“Is there something you would like to say?” Arthur asks, noticing the furrowed brows on Nyrella. The latter shoots her head up at the comment, and a rush of hot steam fan over her face, cheeks reddening.

He caught her, so she had to tell him now. Taking a deep breath, she tried to regain a bit more confidence, “I could teach you how to sketch.”

“Teach me?” Arthur raised a brow, it peaked his intrigue at what she was offering.

“Yes,” she confirms. “You teach me how to wield a sword, and to show my gratitude, I offer my services in return,” explaining herself. She stared at Arthur, noticing how the smile on his face grew bigger.

“It would be an honor,” he thanked. This time he stared back at Nyrella. He observed how the apples of her cheeks became fuller when she smiled or laughed. There was something about her smile that made him smile back.

Suddenly, there was a sudden thundering of hooves near them. “Ny! I’ll race you to the gate!” A voice shouted against the wind alongside the sound of loud galloping. The two snap their eyes at the person, noticing a white streak that passed by in a blur. No other than Rhaegar. The Prince was running up the pathway with his trusty steed without anything in his way.

Nyrella gripped the reins of her mare, Ladyfyre, using the heels of her feet to kick the side of the horse. Startled, the creature had moved forward at a steady pace. Tightening her grip once again, Ladyfyre understood the memo. The cream colored beauty galloped in a faster pace, moving ahead of the King’s entourage in a huge gap. Nyrella held her body close to her horse, cautiously riding the rhythm of the rapid motion. Her lavender irises spotted Rhaegar from a distance, it was only a matter of minutes until she caught him. But she, also, noticed that they were nearing the gates of the castle as well.

Pulling the reins back slightly made Ladyfyre cease the rapid pace she had accumulated. The rhythm became relaxed into a steady walk. Nyrella squeezed the ropes once again, stopping the mare all together. They were standing at a high point of The Rock, overseeing everything below them. She could see the party of horses, men, and nobles, they were far from where she stood. Scanning, she tried to find Arthur or Griff in the sea of people.

“Giving up so soon,” Rhaegar enunciated as he trotted closer to the pair. He rested his horse over the horizon on the point, seeing what Nyrella was seeing.

“And shouldn’t you be on your victory lap by now?” Nyrella sarcastically added as she rolled her eyes at Rhaegar’s comment. Her hands instinctively gripped the reins tightly when her mare moved slightly forward.

The handsome Prince chuckled hearing the sourness in her voice. As a sibling should, he took great pleasure at teasing her whenever he could. “I couldn’t leave you behind,” he responded, turning his steed towards his company.

“How chivalrous of you,” Once again, Nyrella rolled her eyes.

“We should move along, it won’t be long until they catch up,” Rhaegar stated as he glanced down at the steady moving entourage, their image getting bigger as they moved up the giant promontory.

The two turned their horses around with ease. Then simultaneously, they softly kicked the sides of their respected steed, which caused them to jolt forward into a couple quick steps. The siblings had resolved their little competition, there was no need for them to resume the high pace rhythm and feeling the wind whipped their hair back. Simply, they were satisfying with a light trot, a stable rocking motion not difficult to maintain. The silver-haired duo continued like this until they reached the gates of the imposing castle.

Once the royal offsprings reached the courtyard of The Rock, they were greeted by a slew of people with distinctive light, blonde hair and jewel-toned emeralds for eyes. The Lannister kin, the ones that mattered, had waited since the early morning for the arrival of the Royal Court. Dressed to the nines in their lavish textiles and dazzling jewelry to display their riches and influence. However, they still were overshadowed with the arrival of the two Dragons.

Nyrella and Rhaegar rode around the courtyard, their hands grip onto the leather straps, tightening to settle their horse calm. Two servants hastily walked towards the riders, they looped one hand to the noseband and settled the other on the side of the creature’s neck. Rhaegar effortlessly swings his left leg over, giving him the momentum to unsaddle from his horse. Both of his feet thumped against the stone floors, then turned to graciously thank the servant boy.

He made his way round Ladyfyre until he reached the far right,where the other servant boy was stationed. Without words, Rhaegar confirmed with a nod to Nyrella. Returning a nod back, Nyrella swung her left foot over the back of the horse. She held onto the saddle as her left foot extended towards the ground. Rhaegar laid his hands on her waist, helping her get off swiftly. Nyrella thanked Rhaegar before thanking the young servant.

Not a moment later, the sound of various hooves clamping down on the cobblestone was an earshot away. All eyes were on the banner men raising up the sigil of the blood-colored three-headed dragon breathing fire against an obsidian field. Then, seconds later, the two Kingsguard followed after, one of them being Ser Arthur. The Sword of the Morning marked his position a distance away from the silver-haired siblings. He did not have a choice in the matter since he was on-duty to protect the King until further notice, hence why he couldn’t follow the Prince and Princess earlier on. However, he did sneak a glance at the pair, watching with interest as he saw Nyrella whispering something in Rhaegar’s ear and grinning afterwards with delight. There were times when he wished to be on the receiving side of Nyrella’s whispers, and wondered what she could have said to make her smile with giddy feelings.

Then, noble lords followed after the Kingsguard. Many of them were invited by the King to attend the tourney, much to Tywin’s displeasure. One of them being Lord Jon, however Rhaegar invited the redhead first in secrecy. Griff rode on his steed, which was dark auburn in color similar to his own features. Arthur watched as Jon gladly settled his horse next to the other two Targaryen. They greeted the man with a warm embrace, and they hurriedly took conversation. He watched as Nyrella’s face contorted into a disgusted expression towards Jon. Fully knowing that whatever Jon had said was to spite the Princess. Arthur expected nothing less from the two. The rivalry between the two was more so comedic, always pulling him into a good laugh. Since, Jon knew Nyrella for years, he knew how to press her buttons, and Jon would tell Arthur all this information when it is just the two of them. Jon loved to recite memories about Nyrella, talking with a fondness. And he, Arthur, listened intently about the memories because it brought him perspective of the Princess’ motives and values. He admired her greatly.

Finally, the moment came. The grand wheelhouse holding a precious cargo, the King came into view. The giant piece of wood which was practically a lavish home on wheels stopped directly in the middle of the courtyard. Everyone’s breaths had ceased, diligently waiting for the supreme ruler of the land to reveal himself. Other than the Lannisters attending as the crowd, there were other vassal houses present at the backdrop. They were the most anxious for the King’s arrival since their motivation was to be in the good graces of royalty in return for certain advantages. Some lords even thought it would be a good opportunity to offer betrothals, yet that was an impossible task. However, all that aside, a member of a Kingsguard, strode to the door of the wheelhouse. He opened the door hastily before bowing down in respect. Then, a man with identical locks to the crowned prince emerged from the darkness. Aerys rose out showcasing his height, however, not quite as tall as Rhaegar due to his older age. The years of being King were not in his favor, aging the Targaryen significantly compared to his actual age.

Upon the sight of the King, everyone bowed in respect. The crowd of Lannisters and nobles crouched on the ground, their knees almost touching the warm pavement. Even the men on horses bowed their heads for their king. Aerys surveyed the people around him. A boiling feeling of deep satisfaction, bolstered the arrogance and sense of superiority he already had. He loved to belittle everyone in his presence, they were beneath him. Yet, he tried to cover his conceit for faces, but not as well as he thought. He strolled in front of Kevan Lannister, and signed the lord to rise. Lord Kevan was the man in charge until Tywin arrived later on the day, he was tasked to welcome the King and oversee the tourney’s preparation. The loyal Lord instructively rose which made everyone else rise.

“It is my honor to welcome you to Casterly Rock, your Grace,” Kevan recited dutifully.

Aerys scoffed, “I’m not interested in pleasantries, Kevan. Show me to my quarters.” The King did not want to spend another second standing in the courtyard surrounded by the likes of the people there.

Kevan understood. He too did not want to be in the presence of the King much longer. Signaling, the maester of The Rock came to the pair. The old man bowed in respect to the King, and offered his services to show the King his quarters. Aerys disgruntledly followed the maester into the castle. Not soon after the King’s presence was long gone.

Rhaegar grabbed a hold of Nyrella’s arm, looping it with his. The latter was taken aback at the gesture, but understood that they had their role to meet up with the current head of the Lannisters for the moment being. The two strolled elegantly towards the younger brother of the Old Lion. Nyrella noted that Lord Kevan had a kinder face compared to his brother.

“Lord Kevan, thank you for graciously welcoming us and providing Casterly Rock as our home for the time being,” Rhaegar praised. He did what his father could not do in return.

Kevan bowed to the siblings. “The Westerlands are yours, your Graces. I hope your journey went on smoothly,” he inquired.

“Yes, of course. My sister,” Rhaegar turned to Nyrella, “enjoyed the view very much.”

The lord turned to the younger Targeryen with a genuine smile, “I am glad you are enjoying your first visit to The Rock, your Grace.”

Nyrella returned a polite smile, “It’s very promising. I am looking forward to the incoming days.” There was so much she wanted to see and explore. She was glad she was to stay in Casterly Rock for a good while until she had to go back to her mundane life in King’s Landing.

“If you don’t mind, your Graces, but I would like to introduce you to some of my family members,” Kevan implored. He had received a raven the other day from Tywin for him to make acquaintances with the royal children.

“Not at all,” Rhaegar decided for himself and Nyrella. The lord directed his head to the right to search for the specific Lannisters. He raised his hand, motioning a signal for the intended individuals to come over.

Nyrella leaned her head slightly forward to peek at just who she was going to meet. Her lavender irises spotted an older woman with two younger children walking in their direction, all of them with the same golden hair as Kevan and Tywin. The trio of lions hastily made their way through the crowd, and settled themselves comfortably at Kevan’s right. Nyrella observed them with intrigue.

“Prince Rhaegar, Princess Nyrella. I would like to introduce my sister, Lady Genna,” Kevan gestures to the older woman.

“It is an honor, my Prince, my Princess,” Genna bowed deeply, showing off her full bosom. Rhaegar quickly looked away uncomfortably, but Nyrella watched with wide eyes. She could only wish to have such fullness. However Nyrella moved her focus to the older woman’s face. Genna had a plump face with golden ringlets that accentuated the roundness of her blush pink cheeks. Yet, she had a sharpness to her. Her clothing was perfectly tailored to her womanly figure, hugging each curve with precision.

“And these are Lord Tywin’s twins,” Kevan continued with the introduction. “Lady Cersei,” he gestured to the younger girl.

“Prince Rhaegar, Princess Nyrella,” she lifted both sides of her ruby gown as she curtsied down. Nyrella observed with envy at the younger girl. Cersei was extremely beautiful even for her young age. Her hair gleaned brighter than the sun itself, and the length was long and lush. Her face was sharper compared to her aunt. The shadow from the sun contorted the hollowness of her high cheekbones, showing a fierceness alike to her house’s sigil. She held her slender frame confidently just as a high born lady should. It took a lot for Nyrella to feel insecure, but standing in front of Cersei made her feel ugly.

“And the heir, Lord Jaime,” Kevan concluded as he laid his hand on his nephew’s shoulders with a proud smile. Jaime, unlike his sister, shone a bright smile showing off his pearly white teeth.

He turned to face the eldest Targaryen, “Prince Rhaegar,” he bowed down. Then he turned towards Nyrella. He gently grabbed her left hand, bringing it close to his face. Killing two birds with one stone, he bowed down while placing a chaste kiss over her knuckles. “Princess Nyrella, it’s a pleasure,” he breathed out as he leaned back up to meet her eyes. She retracted her hand back to her side, beyond flattered and wearing a huge smile on her rouge lips. Jaime and Nyrella failed to notice the questionable, confused, and slightly irritated glance from their respected sibling.

In Nyrella’s observation, Jaime was Cersei’s male counterpart and vice versa. He had the same features as his twin-sister, but with more masculine emphasis. His frame was leaned, but toned and broad, showing off the hard work he achieved through combat training. He was also very tall for his age, not quite as tall as Rhaegar at that age, but still taller than most. Jaime carried himself similarly to Cersei with great importance, but in terms of glory and honor.

“Prince Rhaegar, will you be competing in the joust? I heard my father remark at your riding abilities once,” Cersei questioned as she batted her long lashes at the Silver Prince. Rhaegar returned a smile to the Lannister girl.

“Yes, my Lady. I plan to train tomorrow with other nobles and knights. If you’d like, my sister would happily accompany you to watch the training,” Rhaegar offered graciously.

Cersei looked at Rhaegar with starry eyes, holding her hands together in front of her as if she was praying. “I would love too, your Grace,” Cersei responded dreamily. She turned to her aunt with a bright smile, confiding in excitement with the elder woman.

“Will you be joining the joust, my Lord?” Nyrella asked curiously to Jaime. The boy sadly smiled, shaking his head to the side.

“Unfortunately no, I am not allowed to participate,” Jaime answered dejectedly.

Kevan eavesdropped on the conversation. “Jaime is too young to compete, your Grace. He will have to wait a few more years, ” he explained to the Princess.

Nyrella signaled a nod that she understood. “You can come along with your sister and I to the training grounds tomorrow if you’d like. I can introduce you to the knights that will compete,” she offered to the young lord.

Jaime shot up with cheer, “like Ser Arthur?” His eyes dazzled as he uttered the knight’s name. Nyrella could see the admiration in his eyes, it was the same admiration that she had for Arthur.

Nyrella nodded her head, “Yes like Ser Arthur.” She turned her head back to glance at him. He had already dismounted from his steed, standing near the wheelhouse as he held a conversation with Griff. She wondered if Arthur knew the amount of recognition he has, but that did not matter because he would not change a single fragment of himself if he did. Nyrella knew this concretely, and it made her appreciate him even more.

.・゜゜・♛・゜゜・.

The clash of swords echoed through the desolate beach. Dark gray blades shrieked as they rubbed against each other, and the friction ignited a tiny spark that could only be seen through an eagle’s sight. This constant collision between the two opponents continued for a lengthy time, trying to one up each other from different angles. Lucky for them, the beach shrouded them from the people of Lannisport or any unwanted eyes, and the crashing waves deafened any sounds.

The two competing opponents, Rhaegar and Jon, were in a fierce battle with each other for what seemed like an eternity. The four, Rhaegar, Arthur, Jon and Nyrella, had journeyed down to a private beach owned by a friend of Arthur’s. The place was located a few miles from Lannisport, which was an ideal location for Nyrella to train secretly along with the boys. The group came later on the day, after the official training of all the competitors that were to compete in tomorrow’s joust.

However, even on the second day of arriving at Casterly Rock, Jon was already on his last nerve. His anger has not calmed down since settling in near the serene coastline. To ease the frustration slightly, he challenged both Arthur and Rhaegar. He fought Arthur first, the duel ending with Arthur winning. Now, it was Rhaegar’s turn, which seemed like an equal fight at first. However, in a turn of events, Rhaegar used Jon’s anger as a weak point against the redhead. Soon enough, Jon was on his knees while the tip of Rhaegar’s sword pointed at the former’s neck. As expected Jon was not happy losing both duels. He got up from the sand in a fit, and grabbed the handle of his sword tightly from the rushing water.

Nyrella sat by a nearby rock, watching intently what had unfolded in front of her eyes. Arthur, too, was watching leaning against the rock as his arms crossed disapprovingly at his friend’s behavior. No dared to question what got Griff so riled up at first, but it was getting to Nyrella and she couldn't take it anymore.

Sliding off from the rock, Nyrella used her hands to dust away the sand from her clothes. Then, she took a few steps forward as Jon tried to walk away, “You do not have to tell us what happened, but it does not give you the right to take your anger out on us and then decide to leave,” Nyrella remarked loudly enough for her words to catch Jon’s ear.

Stopping in his tracks, Jon turned around to glare at the silver-haired maiden. He retraced his steps, walking towards where Nyrella stood. Arthur shifted his stance, readying himself if anything bad were to happen, but Rhaegar laid a hand on his shoulders to assure the Dornish man that everything was under control. Yet, Arthur could not help but feel protective, he did not like when Jon was mad.

Jon halted a few feet from Nyrella, towering over her by more than a foot. However, Nyrella back down from her friend. “Then deal with it,” he told her off, his anger seeping through his words.

“That’s what I’m doing, Jon. I’m not your enemy here. I’m trying to put some sense into your head because your anger is clouding your judgment. But if you don’t want to listen, then you are free to leave,” Nyrella explained firmly, yet there was care in her words. She knew Jon had anger issues, and had a hard time regulating his feelings. She understood, but she also had to be the person to make sure he was accountable for his actions.

Jon said nothing, not even meeting her eyes. Nyrella took this as a sign to walk away, and give him the time to process whatever he needed to process. She walked back to where Rhaegar and Arthur watched the situation. She gave them a reassuring smile as she took her place next to Arthur.

“Are you alright?” The Dornish man asked in a hushed tone. He stared at her profile, noticing the weariness on her expression.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Yah. I’m used to Jon’s temper and outburst. I don’t take it personally because I know he does not mean it at all,” she breathed out as she glanced back at the redhead, standing alone.

“You’re a kind person, your Grace,” Arthur complimented. Nyrella turned her head away from the knight, hiding the slow blush that crept onto her cheeks.

“It’s nothing, really,” she mumbled her words. She fiddled with her fingers to distract her from the bubbling feeling.

Suddenly, the crunch of sand alerted the three, bringing their heads up to the sound. Their eyes feel on their favorite redhead walking solemnly towards their direction with his head hung low. He stayed that way until he stopped a good distance from the trio. His head slowly rose up to meet three different pairs of purple eyes.

He took a deep breath before speaking. “I’m sorry, I acted like an arse. I take full responsibility for my actions,” he exhaled with one breath.

Silence followed after. It made Jon anxious, looking at each one of his friend’s faces, not knowing what they were thinking at the moment. He knew he messed up, and he was going to make it up no matter the cost.

Rhaegar broke the silence by patting Jon on the shoulder. “All is forgiven,” Rhaegar smiled widely. Arthur followed with a nod, agreeing to Rhaegar’s statement.

All was left to Nyrella. The three men looked with anticipation, mostly Jon. The Princess noticed the eyes on her, “What is it?”

“Am I forgiven?” Jon questioned with hope in his eyes.

Nyrella rolled her eyes, waving off her friend. “Of course you are, just don’t act like an arse again or else you will regret it,” she breathed out. This brought a massive grin to Jon’s face. Which only resulted in Nyrella rolling her eyes.

“Are you going to tell us what happened?” Rhaegar spoke up, curious as to Jon’s explanation.

The redhead scratched the back of his neck, groaning at the thought provoking reason why he got so riled up. “I hate Lannisters,” he simply put it, “Especially that one girl with the nasty look on her face.” There was resentment in his tone as he spat out the reason for the bad taste in his mouth.

“Never would have imagined that to be the reason, but it explains a lot,” Rhaegar stroked his chin before chuckling to himself. The reason was definitely the usual Griff reason.

The girl with the nasty look on her face, Nyrella thought for a second as to who he was referring to. Then, it hit her. The girl was no one other than Cersei.

Just as promised from the previous day, the Lannister twins accompanied Nyrella to the training grounds for the knight, nobles, and all the men that were to compete at the joust. The whole time, Cersei asked and asked various questions about Rhaegar. The topic was not Nyrella’s favorite, but she answered the girl to the best of her knowledge. And when the girl finally saw Rhaegar, she wasted no time trying to talk to the Prince of Dragonstone. Nyrella paid no mind to whatever Cersei was up to because at the time, she introduced Jaime to Ser Arthur for the first time. It warmed the Princess’ heart witnessing the exchange between Jaime and Arthur about knighthood. The way Jaime’s eyes lit up as the Dayne talked was inspiring and adorable. She had a splendid time with the twins. Unfortunately Jon did not agree with the sentiment.

“On top of everything, I have to go against Gerion Lannister for tomorrow’s joust. If I hear another snarky remark from that bastard, he’s asking for it,” Griff gritted his teeth with irritation.

“He’s not all bad,” Nyrella offered, “he’s funny. At least you aren’t going against his older brother, Ser Tygett.” Jon gave her a disappointing look.

“We have a Lannister sympathizer in our midst. You’re only saying that because Gerion asked for your favour,” Jon pretended to throw up in disgust.

Rhaegar snapped his head towards Nyrella. This was the first time he was hearing this news. “He did?” The overprotectiveness was showing in the way he employed his words. Rhaegar did not mind Lannisters, but he certainly was not going to let any man near his sister.

“I turned him down,” Nyrella cleared up, not liking the attention she was getting. Gerion was not the only man that asked for her favour. Plenty of lords came to her during her free-time to ask, they practically hunted her whereabouts and chose the perfect timing to elude Rhaegar. Many more would have asked but Ser Barristan had scared them away.

“Which means you have not given your favour to anyone, your Grace?,” Arthur had pieced together. He was quite surprised that she had not, expecting for her to give the honor to her brother.

She was going to respond, but was interrupted by Jon. “That’s perfect!” he exclaimed, answering for Nyrella. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders which only earned him a scowl from the silver maiden.

“Why is it perfect?” Nyrella questioned as she crossed her arms, thrown off by Jon’s excited attitude.

“Well, all three of us honorable men should have a friendly race to win your favour then,” Griff proposed. Nyrella thought about it. She did have a particular person to give her favour to, but she thought against it. The idea was not half as bad to let fate decide for her. Plus, it would save her from being called out for picking favorites.

“Alright, we shall have a race,” Nyrella confirmed. Jon rejoiced happily as he did a weird tiny dance. Rhaegar hoped she said yes, he did not mind the competition between his friends. The Prince was not the slightest worried his friend would get Nyrella’s favour because he was overly confident he would win the race by a landslide. Arthur, on the other hand, was down for the friendly match as well. Receiving a favour from a Princess was a sign of luck, not minding the extra luck for tomorrow’s event.

The three men lined up around half a mile away from where Nyrella stood. They pushed and pulled each other behind them, trying their best to get the upper hand on the race. The sand underneath their feet was dampened by the rising tide. An obstacle they will need to take into account, or else they will fall behind due to poor judgment. However the sun was not beating down on them. The sun was starting to set, coloring the sky with oranges, pinks, and reds. Their conditions were rather nice but it also meant they could not use dirty tricks to win the race. The boys only had their speed, endurance, and agility to rely on during the duration of sprinting to the finish line.

Nyrella ripped a piece of fabric from her linen tunic. Whoever was the first to reach her, must grab the cloth to be crowned the winner of the race. She positioned herself in the middle of the beach, digging her bare feet into a dry patch of warm golden sand. Her arms extended above her head, readying herself to start the race. On the other hand, the boys got ready as well, leaning their upper body forward with their dominant foot settled at the forefront. They looked at one another, giving each other one last acknowledgment. The race was a friendly one, but it did not cancel out the tension that continued to build up as the time counted down.

Nyrella was nervous too. Even though she was not in the race. She had no clue who would win. Smacking her lips together, she let out a deep exhale. “Take your mark!” She yelled. The boys leaned closer, digging in the wet sand. “Get set!” She continued. The racers tensed their muscles, their hearts thumping out of their chest. “GO!” Nyrella screamed at the top of her lungs as her arms went down.

Arthur, Jon, and Rhaegar used their back foot to propel them forward as their front foot planted their first step. They all took off in a blur. At first they all ran together at the same speed, neither one was first or last. However, a minute into the race, there was a distinct gap between them. Rhaegar was in the lead due to his strong start. Then he was followed by Jon. Lastly, Arthur was falling in third place.

Nyrella was on the edge, watching all three racers trying to one up each other. It did not surprise her that Rhaegar was leading the race since he often runs in the morning before breaking his fast. But, in a turn of events, Jon gained his momentum and equaled Rhaegar’s lead. The two were head to head for first. They rapidly moved their arms and pushed their legs faster. Both leads were glancing at one another with a teasing grin as either of them attempted to move slightly ahead. Nyrella knew that if Rhaegar or Jon continued their pace, one of them would be first or second. She looked over at Arthur, who was still in third. He did not make an attempt to fasten his pace since the beginning of the race, he stayed constant.

The figures of Jon and Rhaegar came closer and closer. There was less than a minute until they reached the finish line. Nyrella felt the beat of her heart race at the tension. The suspense was exhilarating yet anxiety-filled. Outstretching her arm, she held out the strip of fabric. Nyrella decided to close her eyes shut for the remainder of the race, opting to not know who the winner was until she felt the fabric in her palms was taken from her grasp. In darkness, she counted down.

Three. The crunch of the wet sand crunched louder. The splash of the cool water ripples through her ears.

Two. She could feel the vibration of their thundering steps, and the deep intake of breaths in between.

One. Nyrella heard the noise of yelling and shouting an arms length away. Unconsciously she gripped onto the piece of cloth tighter. Her eyes squeezed further as it was. She prepared herself. Those last seconds killed her. There was nothing.

Then suddenly, whoosh! She felt a passing breeze fly past her. The fabric was ripped from her hands, feeling the tingling burn of the textile against her sweaty palms. She let out a yelp, at the sudden fright. However the gush of air continued to pass her as the remainder racers finished after the winner. Nyrella stood in her position for a second longer until it was clear there were no more racers. Retracting her hand back next to her body, she snapped her eyes open. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the brightness of her surroundings. Turning her body around, she saw three figures hunched down, heavy breathing.

She tried to see who had the fabric, but to no avail they were hiding it from her line of sight. “Rhaegar, who won?” She asked her brother, who had his arms outstretched behind his head taking in deep exhales.

“I did, your Grace,” a hoarse voice responded. Nyrella pivoted around, her eyes widened. Arthur held the torn textile in his dominant hand, displaying it for her. He saw the dumbfound expression on her face, which made him chuckle into a toothy grin.

“How did you-” Nyrella wondered, not processing how Arthur managed to win the race.

“He was holding back the entire time until the very end,” Jon took the liberty to explain the situation. The poor redhead sat on the damp sad with a dejected expression. “I really thought I was going to win,” he added as he laid down on his back, covering her face with his face.

“I underestimated you, Arthur,” Rhaegar smiled at his Dornish friend, “a win very well deserved.” Unlike Jon, Rhaegar was happy his friend won in the end. He had hoped Arthur would win for his sister’s sake, but in some way it did hurt his ego a smidge to lose.

Nyrella laid her hands in front of her, very amused at the outcome. It brought a smile to her face. “Meet me by the royal tents tomorrow, Ser Arthur. I will be ready then to give you my token,” she gingerly uttered.

Arthur smiled brightly as he bowed his head to the fair-haired maiden. “Until then, Princess.”

.・゜゜・♛・゜゜・.

Today marked the first day of Viserys’ nameday celebration. As a gift from the higher beings, the Gods casted good weather for the joys and wonders today will bring. The brilliance of the sun settled high above the sky after rising so early in the morning. There were little to no clouds, offering sunny temperatures until dust arrived later the day. The western coast blew a subtle wind, just enough to keep the attendants of the tourney to stay cool from the beating rays of the sun. The winds also brought a pleasing scent of fresh salty seas throughout Casterly Rock and Lannisport, covering the stench of the poorer parts of the city.

In alignment with the weather, Lannisport was filled with brilliant colors due to the amount of decorations that hung in every corner of the city’s wealthiest parts. The once gold and scarlet streets were temporarily transformed into the Targaryen colors of blood and obsidian. It was the first in many centuries the colors black and red were seen in the city since the conquest of Aegon and his sister-wives. However, this time around the natives of Lannisport were more welcoming to the current Targaryens, especially their Prince and Princess. They only hope the baby Prince could turn out the same as his two older siblings because the probability of greatness was slim and there was yet a Targaryen offspring by Aerys and Rhaella to be cursed with insanity.

Nyrella wiped her sweaty palms over her gown, a dirty habit of her’s, and one that Alora would scowl her profoundly for. However, the Princess could breathe a little easier since her handmaiden was back in King's Landing. She wanted Alora to come along with her, however, the Dornish woman chose to stay in the Capital to care for the Queen and the Prince at her own will. Nyrella was grateful for her maiden, and promised to bring back a souvenir for her gratefulness.

The thought of the people back home calmed her nerves a bit, but did not stop her from fidgeting relentlessly. She wiped another round of sweat on her gown, undoubtedly leaving a stain onto the expensive fabric. The gown throughout was colored lavender, an exact shade of Nyrella’s eyes. The color brought out added vibrancy to her Valyrian eyes, making them stand out against her silver hair and pale complexion. The gown reached to the ground, but ended slightly a few centimeters, so the tulle textile would not snag on the rough terrain. The width of the skirt was a decent size for her to move around freely without much resistance. The bodice was fitted to accentuate her tiny waist in order to give the illusion of high society’s desired shape for a woman. The bodice, also, was designed with a v-neck plunge line with two thick straps on either side. Lastly, the entirety of the gown had violet embellishments with intricate detailing. The embellishments were concentrated more towards the bodice and the skirt’s edge.

“Your Grace, your brother is here,” a Lannister guard announced as he came inside the royal tent. Nyrella turned to the man, nodding in understanding and mumbled a thank you. The guard went back to his post outside the entrance of the tent.

Nyrella looked at herself in the mirror one last time, adjusting anything that was misplaced. Once she was satisfied with her overall appearance, she grabbed a thick black ribbon that laid next to the mirror. Then, she headed out of the huge scarlet tent to meet up with her brother outside. The nerves kicked in again because she knew that he was not alone.

Outside was brighter than she thought, blinking a few times to adjust her pupils to the surrounding light. But when her vision came clear, a smile grew on her face seeing the people she cared for the most waiting a few feet away from her. Her hands gripped both sides of her gown, holding the light textile off the ground to prevent from getting the gown dirty.

“Ah, there she is! The moon, herself!” Jon yelled out acknowledging Nyrella’s presence first. Rhaegar and Arthur turned around to greet the missing piece of their group, however the latter remained still when he saw Nyrella making her way over.

“The moon? Really Jon?” Rhaegar questioned with a raised brow. From the face the silver Prince was making, he did not approve of the compliment. The redhead only returned a shrug as his response. But Arthur had to disagree with Rhaegar on this one. He thought the name was befitting for Nyrella. Her hair was a true silver, not having any blonde undertones like Rhaegar. The color was very reminiscent of the moon in the midnight skies.

“Don’t be too harsh on him, Rhaegar. I quite like the name,” Nyrella countered as she joined the trio. “I have never been compared to the moon before,” the compliment flattered her immensely. Rhaegar rolled his eyes at his sister’s response, deciding against arguing with her. The Prince, then turned to face the Dornish man, he noticed how Arthur’s attention was towards his sister. The corner of Rhaegar’s lips extended upwards forming a smirk.

“Jon, a moment please,” Rhaegar implored to the redhead. Jon and Nyrella broke their own conversation to turn to look at him with their own raised brow. Rhaegar motioned his head to the left, to signal Jon to move.

“I’m probably going to get lectured for flirting with you,” Griff grunted to Nyrella, which made the latter laugh. Rhaegar had already started walking away, and Jon had to jog to keep up with the grouchy heir. With the departure of Jon and Rhaegar, it left Nyrella and Arthur together alone.

There was silence. The last time the two were alone was when they had to go to the Tower of the Hand, but after that there was no other instance for them to be left alone together. They were always accompanied by either Rhaegar or Jon, never the two of them. Which made things awkward between them because they relied heavily on the other two’s conversation to talk to one another.

“I have your token,” Nyrella muttered, breaking the silence. Her head was down, too shy to make eye contact with the knight. However if she did look up, she would find him looking at her with starry eyes. Not once did Arthur take his eyes off Nyrella. Arthur watched as Nyrella lifted her right hand up to reveal a black ribbon. “Here,” she added as she extended the ribbon in his direction.

Arthur gladly took the ribbon in his own hands. He observed the token carefully, noticing the details of the simple item. The black ribbon was a silky material that felt smooth to the touch that it might slip through the gaps between his fingers. In addition, both ends of the ribbon had a vibrant red embroidery of the three-headed dragon. “Did you do this yourself?” Arthur asked, looking back at her.

“When Rhaegar was old enough to compete in tourneys, I made this token. This is the only one I made and used, of course. I’m not talented in sewing unfortunately,” Nyrella told him as she looked at the ribbon in his hands. He noticed the fondness in her eyes as she recited the story behind the ribbon for him.

“Then, I will treasure this with my life. I promise to honor you on the field, your Grace,” Arthur declared. Nyrella tilted her head upwards until she matched Arthur’s gaze. Their purple eyes meeting once again in what felt like forever. Nyrella beamed at Arthur’s words.

“Nyrella,” she corrected. Arthur looked at her confused. “You do not have to keep calling me, your Grace. I am simply, Nyrella,” she explained.

Nyrella, Arthur repeated mentally. He returned the gesture, “Then I am simple, Arthur, to you, Nyrella.”

The fair maiden was dumbfounded and flushed. Arthur had said her name before using her title with it, however, it was different when he said her name without the accompanying “princess” at the forefront. “I will take your word, Arthur,” she responded to his earlier statement. There was more she wanted to tell him, but thinking about her words made her blush furiously and too direct.

”Before coming here, I had the chance to peek at the prize,” she pushed a strand of silver hair behind her ear. Arthur listened carefully to her soft voice. He gave her a nod, gesturing to her that he paid attention.

Nyrella continued after clearing her throat, “they are my favorite flowers.” Her voice became smaller at the last part. Only a fool would be foolish enough not to understand the random change of topics .Arthur knew what she was hinting at, and it highly amused him.

“And what are your favorite flowers?” Arthur played along with her game, a teasing grinning forming on the corners of his bow-shaped lips.

“They are-“

“NYRELLA!” A person yelled out, interrupting the Princess’ sentence. The sudden unfamiliar vocalization of her name made Nyrella jump from shock. While Arthur instinctively placed his hands on Dawn. Meanwhile, the loud announcement caught the attention of passersby as well as Rhaegar and Jon. Everyone snapped their focus to the individual who disturbed their peace.

The moment when her lavender eyes made contact with aquamarine eyes, it felt as if the world stopped moving. Those blue eyes stared right back at her with the same emotion. Those familiar blue eyes. Ones she did not expect to see today. “Lukas…” her voice was meek and breathy, uttering the man’s name.

Her hands quickly grabbed the side of her gown frantically, scrunching the delicate fabric in a fist hold. Without a hesitation, Nyrella started her long yet eager run towards the familiar person. She felt the adrenaline rush through her body as she closed the distance with every step she stood. The wind whipped her gentle waves past her shoulders, flowing like a river’s current. The whiplash of the cool air kissed her cheeks rouge adding onto her natural flush. “Lukas!” the second time around her voice grew into an excited yell. A bubbling smile reached her heart-shaped lips as she neared her dearest friend.

The man with the beautiful blue eyes that glistened brighter than the surface of the sea, shone the gummiest smile with pearly-whites as he watched Nyrella run towards him. He positioned himself ready, opening his strong arms and crouching his knees down to her level. However, no matter how much he prepared to brace, he did not anticipate the overwhelming impact. When Nyrella reached him, she jumped into his arms. Her arms clinger tightly around Lukas’ neck, instinctively pulling him close to her body. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, taking a deep in-take of his fresh driftwood scent. On the other hand, Lukas’ had to take a step backwards to keep them both from falling from the hard impact. He firmly wrapped his arms around her waist, tightening the embrace.

“Nyrella, I’ve missed you so much,” he chuckled as he twirled her around. The latter let out a laugh, tickled by the vibration of his husky voice.

“Oh Lukas,” was all she could form into words. Yet, it was enough for Lukas to understand it was her way of saying she missed him too. His smile never left his lips as he continued to hold her securely. The pair did not care about the attention they had gathered from the people around them. Some looks were judgmental, others were awed, and lastly the trio looked on with puzzled expressions for their own unique reason.

“Are you seeing what I am seeing?” Jon questioned with a quizzical brow. Rhaegar and Jon joined Arthur’s company soon after Nyrella ran into Lukas’ arms. All three gentlemen watched with confused looks at the couple spinning around with happiness radiating from them. They stood shocked for a few minutes until Jon decided to break the silence with a question.

“I thought he wasn’t attending the tourney,” Rhaegar scratched his head. “I guess the more the merrier,” he concluded with a wave of his hand.

Jon directed his head at his silver-haired friend with bewilderment in his eyes, “Attending the tourney? I thought he wasn’t on the continent for goodness sake! And you’re fine with him manhandling your sister, while you reprimand me for a harmless compliment!”It was an understatement to say Jon was fuming with hot air.

Rhaegar smirked innocently, “There’s a distinct difference between you and him. But to answer your question, Maryn arrived from Esso a few moons ago.”

Even with the snippet of the conversation, Arthur was just as confused. In the dark about who this ”Lukas” was. Up until today, he never heard a slick of his name from any of his friends or Nyrella. “Who is he?” Arthur found himself questioning a little too loud.

Rhaegar and Jon turned to the Dornish man with a raised brow, but the revelation hit them quickly. The redhead wrapped an arm around his dark-haired friend as they looked over the distance to the pair. “If you could not tell, that boy is just another Lannister,” Jon answered with distaste in his tongue.

“Don’t stain his own judgment,” Rhaegar argued, “let him decide his own opinions.” The Prince gave Arthur an encouraging smile that was opposite of Jon’s bitter expression.

The red-haired lord rolled his eyes, “Fine.” He brought his right hand near his mouth, curving the palm slightly. “Don’t keep the fun to yourselves love birds!” Jon shouted at the top of his lungs. Rhaegar was not expecting his friend to make a fool out of himself, pinching the bridge of his nose and turning slightly to hide the cringe on his face.

Simultaneously, Nyrella and Lukas turned their heads towards the trio. Jon was waving at them with a plastered grin. Nyrella grimaced in humiliation, her body language perfectly mirroring her brother’s. “Seems like Jon hasn’t changed since the last time I saw him,” Lukas commented as he returned the gesture back at the redhead.

“You have,” she mumbled to herself, not realizing Lukas heard her. He lowered his head down back to her. He captured her glaze, giving her a small smile.

“In a bad way or in a good way,” the sweet smile turned into a teasing smirk. Nyrella rolled her eyes, pushing the taller boy lightly away from her.

She pushed a strand back behind her ears, “That’s enough. I already get teased enough by Jon and Rhaegar.” Lukas chuckled to himself getting the hint. He bowed down, offering his hand to the Princess. Nyrella rolled her eyes once agains, but took his hand. Lukas gingerly took the opportunity to loop their arms together, leading the way towards the intimidating trio of men.

Arthur observed Nyrella. She was always happy when he saw her, but she looked happier than before. Her body faced towards the boy with blue eyes, and her line of sight was on him most of the time. However, Arthur could see the reason as to why she could not leave her eyes off him. The boy with the blue eyes was easy on the eyes, almost out of the world handsome. The Dornish man assumed the boy was around the same age as Nyrella, but his height could compete with his and his friends. Taking into account what Jon said earlier, the boy had the alluring features as a Lannister. He was gifted with a voluminous head of golden locks, styled neatly to the right and the front strands swooped into a curve in front of his forehead. His features were strong and conventionally bold. The knight could see bits of the young Jaime in Lukas. For all he knows, they could be brothers due to the similarities the two share. However, one thing that threw Arthur off was the boy’s eyes, he did not see any Lannister without the trademark emerald eyes.

Soon enough, the pair were in the company of the trio. Lukas acknowledged the gentlemen with a firm nod. “Prince Rhaegar,” he tilted his head down. “Lord Jon,” he turned to the redhead with a nod. Then he looked straight onto the last person. He shone a closed-lipped smile, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ser Arthur. Nyrella has told me much about you and of course, your name is legendary.”

Noticing there was no proper introduction, Nyrella stepped in quickly before Arthur had the opportunity to respond back. “Arthur,” she spoke, grabbing his undivided attention, “I want to introduce you to my good friend, Lord Lukas of House Maryn.” The blue-eyed boy bowed down as Nyrella introduced him.

“Are you to join the joust Lord Lukas?” Arthur questioned curiously. Unlike himself, Jon, and Rhaegar, the boy did not wear a single piece of armor. Instead he wore a fine suit mixed with bronze, golds, and blacks in expensive textiles.

“Unfortunately Ser, I am not gifted in the art of combat unlike all you fine knights. I will be participating in the stalls, watching and cheering,” the blonde confessed honestly. Lukas was insecure of his lack of knowledge in the masculine sport or any type of combat, however, the insecurity does not bother him as much as before. He had other hobbies to showcase his talent instead.

Suddenly the trumpets blew through the air, the loudness altered the people in the tourney. It was the signal to all knights and attendees that the jousting tournaments were about to begin shortly. “I guess that’s our que,” Jon commented, “But I’m quite sad you couldn’t join the joust, Lukas. I would have beaten you on the first tilt,” he grinned maliciously.

Lukas chuckled, taking the joking lightly, “I am sure you would. Even Nyrella could win against if she wanted.” Jon’s comment earned him a scowling expression from both Targaryen siblings. Rhaegar took a further step by flicking the redhead's ear for the rancid remark, not pleased with his behavior.

“Well gentlemen, I should be going as well,” Lukas titled his head at everyone. However he stopped his gaze on a certain silver-haired beauty, “Will you be joining me Nyrella?”

“Yes, I will,” she responded, “you can go ahead. I will join you shortly.” Lukas’ lips turned upwards, tilting his head to her before turning around towards the jousting stalls. Nyrella watched him walk a distance away before directing towards her three friends that are scheduled to compete in a matter of time.

“He’s-” Jon started but Nyrella held her finger up in a warning.

“Don’t ruin the moment Jon,” she told him off. She sighed deeply looking at each of them with a certain fondness, “Good luck to you all. I will pray to the Mother for your safety.” Her voice was filled with directness, and slight worry. Jousting was her favorite sport in a tourney, but there were many knights that have lost their lives by the point of the lance. She knew her friends were capable riders, but the future was not set in stone or certain.

“Thank you, Ny. We will do our best,” Rhaegar replied as he leaned in to kiss the temple of her head. Nyrella closed her eyes briefly, smiling at the sweet gesture from her brother.

“I would do the same, but I want to keep my head,” Jon joked by putting his hands up in the air. But it was still not enough to save him from Rhaegar’s deadly stare. Jon could feel the skin behind his neck stand up at the cold stare the Prince gave him.

“And you Arthur? How do you feel?” Nyrella asked with large sparkling eyes. She ignored the other two’s bickering completely. Arthur was usually more quiet than the other two, so she wanted to hear from him.

The Dornish man sighed into a small smile, “You never told me your favorite flowers,” he told her. Nyrella opened her mouth in realization that their earlier conversation was interrupted so suddenly.

“Right,” she blushed, fiddling with her fingers. “I guess you will have to find that out yourself,” she answered, tilting her head up to meet his deep violet eyes. She loved how they gleamed beautifully in the sunlight, she imagined that’s how stars shine during the daytime.

Her response was enough persuasion for him to win the jousting tournament. An image paints his mind with him riding towards her with his steed, and dedicating his victory with a crown of flowers. He saw the brilliant smile spread on her curved lips and the rouge on her round cheeks. Arthur knew, knew at that moment he had to win. For her.

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