#phantoms fate and fortune | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonlight-prose · 1 month

Text

THE GRAVE OF LUST

a/n: this is a very random idea i had of logan not necessarily being able to go at it as he used to. which like yes i love the thought of getting my back snapped by a more energetic logan. this version of him has my heart in ways i'll never be able to explain. it's short but enjoy! divider by the lovely @saradika-graphics.

summary: when his body doesn't work as it used to and the weary bones that poison his soul begin to ache, you take the lead in a dance you know well.

OR giving old man logan sloppy head that he'll think about in the grave and after.

word count: 2k

pairing: old man!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, weary old man logan, domestic vibes, oral (m receiving), spit kink, cumplay, dirty talk, he may be older but he's filthier, unedited + not betad but we live and die by the fucking pen.

He doesn't touch you quickly anymore. His hands don't shove clothes off your curves and grasp your flesh with a growl of impatience. No, he no longer holds the stamina of a younger him who could spend hours between your thighs. His bones are weary, old phantom wounds ache where they shouldn't, and he feels himself step closer to his grave with each day that passes.

His hands move at a steady pace, tugging the fabric of your nightgown up inch by inch. Sleep lingers at the edge of his mind. The knowledge that he'll have to get up early with the sun still hidden from the sky. Yet you'll be here asleep—dreaming of his calloused palms on your soft skin. How he burned himself into your ribs with a kiss.

"C'mere," he mumbled, eyes narrowed and lips parted with a deep withered breath. "Let me touch you."

Denial would be a false tale on your tongue. Depriving yourself of him wasn't an option anymore. When times like this were found few and far between and his touch became a lingering memory in the back of your mind.

You couldn't remember the last time you tasted him. The last time he sunk into your wet heat with a solid groan—the muscles of his back screaming as he held his body above yours.

Age was cruel to a man who used to be so virile. He could recall the hours he took to worship your body—mold you beneath the warmth of his palms. But doing that more often wasn't something he was capable of. He still longed for you. The sounds you made, the way your face twisted in pleasure as you came on his cock, fingers, face. He craved it some nights. He felt it eat him alive.

Tonight was no different.

"How?" you breathed, eyes wide and pleading.

You were so fucking sweet he didn't even have to convince you of this. So ready to let him bring you to that peak of bliss. He could smell the heady scent of your pussy—the way it called to him with shouts of need. And if he was a younger man...he'd have you pinned beneath him. He'd hammer his hips into yours until bruises formed beneath the skin—down into the very muscles of your legs.

His graying hair and weathered face did nothing to stop the lust that poured into your face. Your eyes still drooped, mouth open and chest heaving. And Logan was a fortunate fucking man that you were still here.

So unlike his younger self, he let you take the lead.

"Can I touch you?" you asked so nicely. He groaned at the sound of it, jutting his chin down in a nod as you grasped the button of his jeans.

Any other night you'd let him take you. Give into his languid touches until you came wherever he wanted you to come. This was a rarity the longer you spent bound together by the strings of fate.

Logan fucking loved it. He ached for it on days spent away from you—time he'd never get back. But when he'd find his way home and curl his body around yours, he found that sleep was a better option. You'd heartily agree. If it wasn't for the pounding ache between your thighs each time you caught his eye. Each chance you got to see the thick arms and sun kissed skin that lay beneath his white button downs.

"Been dreamin' about this." His voice echoed with a rasp you'd grown to love. One that screamed exhaustion, yet licked a line of heat up your spine. "Such pretty fuckin' lips."

His thumb dug into the curve of your bottom lip, pulling at it until your mouth popped open. Allowing his finger to press against your tongue—saliva building at the thought of getting him in your mouth. Of him using your throat to get himself off.

You didn't even care if you finished. You just wanted to feel him.

"You're my good girl right?" A moan spilled past your spread lips, eyes fluttering when his pants slipped down and cock came free. "Yeah you are."

"Logan," you sighed. He dragged your spit across your cheek; thumb and forefinger gripped your chin to tilt your head close enough to kiss him. Only to hold you there.

"Keep 'em open baby."

The feel of his length throbbing so close to your chest—precum dotting the tip—drove you mad. You wanted him closer. Wanted to feel the bruising ache at the back of your throat as he pushed too far. Your fingers wrapped around him gently, causing him to hiss at your cold touch. The reminder to take it slow, savor him, rang in your ears. Yet the way he looked at you with a feral hunger you felt in your heart shoved those thoughts to the side.

Within his life there's only been a handful of moments he wished he could go back to. Nearly all of them were with you on nights such as this. When the moon hung low in the sky and dawn felt eons away. If he was lucky he wouldn't have to wake up tomorrow, he'd get to wake up naked by your side and bury himself in your pretty cunt.

Logan was rarely lucky.

His spit landed on your tongue, splattering against the corner of your mouth. He led your mouth down with a firm grip until you hovered directly over his cock. The dark red at the tip made you clench around nothing—the ache spreading to the base of your stomach. Screaming for you to take it. Put your mouth on him and make him finish down your throat.

"There we go," he murmured, watching his spit and yours fall from your mouth—landing directly on his twitching cock. "Pretty ain't it."

"Yeah," you gasped, nails digging into the v of his hips. "Can I taste you? Please."

The deep echo of his laugh shot through your body like a bullet. You could feel it burrow deep within, spreading across each nerve ending and vein. Being so close to what you wanted felt like torture, but with Logan you knew it would be worth it in the end. He never left you wanting.

"'Course honey." His hand cupped the back of your neck, leading you with a soft touch. "It's yours."

Yours. Yours. Yours.

With a moan, you wrapped your lips around the head of him—tongue sliding through the slit. A ragged groan tore from his chest, his eyes boring a hole into the side of your face. The knowledge that he was so far gone for you left a pleasant thrill of warmth to grow in your stomach. This strong, capable man would bend at his knees simply to see you smile.

He was your devotee and you'd become his goddess.

"Fuckin' perfect." His words were a spit of need, fingers digging down into your skin with each flick of your tongue.

You merely held him there. In your mouth with spit coating the hand wrapped around the base of him. His taste flooded your mouth, each drop a nectar you would never have enough of. And he let you have your fill. He lay still on the bed, his breaths coupled with moans as you took your time.

Slipping him a bit deeper, you felt his thighs shift beneath you—a shuddered sigh echoing the small bedroom. You'd barely begun and yet he felt the high of dizziness begin to pull at his mind. Effectively killing whatever sleep called out to him.

"Take a little more for me." He sounded gone. Your lips spread into a smile, bobbing your head and swallowing a bit more with each small thrust. "Fuck yeah. Just like that."

He pushed at the back of your throat, your jaw strained under the width of him. Tears spilled from the corner of your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. And he caught them with his thumb, mixing the salt with what spit of his still remained along your skin. Tilting your head slightly, you felt him slip down your throat—your nose finding the graying curls at his base.

The loud growl that ripped through his body was all the reward you needed. He was on the fucking edge. Barely hanging on by the skin of his teeth. And he knew you could tell. His thighs jolted—stomach tensing—and when your hand slipped down to tug at his balls, thumb finding the spot between, he lost it.

Snarling your name, he thrust his hips up into your mouth and felt you choke on him. Your throat constricted perfectly with each cant of his hips down into you. He gave you the opportunity to push him off—get some air down your lungs. You let him keep going—eyes fixed on the way his face screwed up in pleasure. His teeth bared and throat extended.

Another push of your thumb sent him flying over the edge with a shout. The salty tang of him filled your mouth, spilling down your throat with rope after rope of cum. And you swallowed it all despite the searing burn that spread along your esophagus. You took every fucking drop of him and allowed some to remain on your tongue.

To prove that you could take whatever he wanted to give.

"I fuckin' love you," he breathed, cupping your jaw and grinning when you stuck out your tongue—a pool of his spend dripping down your chin.

His fingers scooped it out of your mouth before you could swallow. "Up." He slapped your ass, moving you up and into his lap. "Your turn."

"I’m okay."

The glare he gave you burned its way to your lungs. "Good girls get rewarded." His fingers dipped down beneath your nightgown—pleased to find you bare—and spread his cum along the lips of your pussy. "Don't you want your reward bub?"

"Yes," you whimpered, gripping at his hair. "I do."

"Then take it."

Refusing was no longer an option when the bliss you'd been searching for finally flared to life in your body. His fingers plunged into you, curling and seeking the spot he always found with ease. And with a sharp gasp—your hand yanking at his hair—he knew he'd found it. He smiled at the sight of you. Head back and eyes shut as you fucked yourself on his hand.

"Tell me," he said. Gripping your chin, his lips met yours in a messy kiss of teeth and tongues. He could taste himself in your mouth. His chest rumbled with a soft sigh.

"I love you." The base of his hand ground into your clit, fingers pounding up quicker—faster. And your words pitched high with each thrust.

"I know you do." He kissed your throat, the heat of your body rubbing against his made his cock twitch in interest again. "Love you too baby."

"Fuck!" The coil in your stomach began to unravel rapidly, your body shattering into pieces you'd never find again. And he clutched you tightly to his chest. He watched in rapture at the sight of you shaking, hips bucking against his hand in quick thrusts. "Logan."

Pride bloomed in his chest. "You're perfect."

You collapsed onto his bare chest, spent and exhausted. The final tendrils of pleasure began to ebb out of your body, suddenly replaced by the comfort of him there. You pressed your lips to the center of his chest, teeth dragging along the scarred skin. And he basked in your attention—his hand trailing down your spine to knead the flesh of your ass.

"We should do that more often," you teased, lips finding his in a soft kiss.

He huffed, his eyes falling shut. "I'm too old for that."

"Believe it or not, but you're sexier older."

"Yeah?" He stirred against your stomach. "You like me old and gray?"

"Absolutely."

He smirked, pushing you up his body with slow movements. "Prove it."

#I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHERE THIS CAME FROM #i wrote it so fast and pretty sure i blacked out #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett x you #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n #my writing

2K notes · View notes

gatitties · 8 months

Text

Dear friend

─Dio x fem!reader (Platonic) [Phantom Blood]

─Summary: You find yourself tied to the infamous Dio Brando, creating a strange relationship despite being complete opposites.

─Warnings: occ and a little angst i think¿, Dio is soft in this one

I was a little delulu while watching jojo's and listening to sad music late at night led me to write this 😔🤌🏻

Dio Brando's life was not good in general, condemned to live in misery since he was born, with the only source of love and hope dying little by little, his mother was the only thing that kept him sane during his childhood, once his mother's life vanished in just a breath, he thought he would never feel what he used to call humanity again. His father could not be considered human, after all he had monstrous and condemnable actions, being only scum deserving of the most painful death.

He thought that he would be condemned in a spiral of darkness and filth, that his only goal in life would be to wait for his father's death and take over the fortune of the Joestar family once they adopted him, then another ray of light broke his dark shell, where his heart bled with pain, where the most sensitive part of the human being was hidden, even from him, who thought that nothing could give him back that lost humanity.

Dio was making some money as usual, betting a couple of coins to win more in that filthy bar, the carefree conversations and fights were a dull noise to him at this point, but the explosions, the burning smell and the screaming of someone in the kitchen wasn't something that happened often, that was the first time he saw you.

You ran out of the kitchen with teary eyes, coughing from the smoke you had inhaled, some parts of your clothes were burned, your cheeks were red from the heat and the embarrassment of being scolded by your boss while everyone watched, although you recovered soon when you were sent to do anything other than cook, it definitely wasn't your strong point.

Neither was waiting tables since you tripped over your own feet several times, your balance betrayed you at the worst moments and your hands seemed to be made of butter, but you remained firm with your optimistic attitude, that, and you needed the money, you were not going to leave this job nor would you allow such a quick dismissal.

Dio thought you were stupid to say the least, clumsy, distracted, inept… but for some reason he couldn't take his eyes off your figure when you were juggling to leave the beers on the table next to him, he couldn't figure out if you were purposely ignoring the lustful gazes of some depraved people or were you really that ignorant of your surroundings, he found it endearing in a way.

"Hey you, pay attention to the damn game!"

He grimaced, fed up with the man, he made his final move, winning and enraging the guy he was playing against, he threw the coins across the table, but before Dio could grab them his face was smashed into the plate of hot food making a thud that stopped the sound throughout the bar for a second.

It happened before he could react, he was planning to hit that old geezer to break his nose, but someone had gotten ahead of him, before he realized it, a burnt frying pan hit the bastard's face, causing blood to drip from his mouth, some teeth shooting out from its place.

"Don't waste food, you stuck-up idiot!"

Your expression changed to a frown, although everyone ignored your outburst, it wasn't the first time you hit someone for doing something that bothered you, but coming from a family with limited resources made you appreciate every little thing, you were a brave fool, you could mess with the most dangerous person on the entire face of the earth just for standing up for your values and ideals, and that, that's what caught Dio Brando's attention.

He didn't really look for interactions with you, you only caused him a slight curiosity, but there were many people just as stupid as you, living a miserable life, accepting their fate without aspiring to much more, but destiny seemed to want to intertwine your paths, that, or he just began to notice your presence more once he noticed you.

Of course, you also began to notice him more, it's not every day you find people with such striking appearance in the suburbs you used to frequent, especially people your age, and especially those who move through the darkness like you.

You accepted all kinds of assignments, even if they were dangerous, you always had luck on your side and a handful of sharp or blunt objects, aim was the only thing that probably stands out about your physical abilities along with stealth, you had learned to move like a rat, dark alleys, damp sewers… you knew every nook and cranny of this city by heart.

And that was how your first real interaction happened, you were both hired to do some smuggling for a good amount of money, you had worked in pairs before, but meeting the person you were strangely seeing everywhere lately was strange, you weren't going to turn down the job anyway, money is money.

What started with some ups and downs in your relationship was how curt Dio was, his harsh comments and lack of empathy made you frown, you scolded him occasionally for being so impolite and rude, not only to you but to other people who didn't deserved it. It was a tug of war between the two, complete opposites attracting each other.

When the relationship began to heat up, or rather when the remains of goodness that remained in a broken child made a little hole in his bleeding heart, it was when you took care of a drunken Dio, you found him raving, beating to death some poor devils who had decided to mess with him that night, you would have suffered the same fate if you hadn't been lucky enough that before he hit you he tripped on a rock, hitting his head. You took it from there and helped him without asking for anything in return, which caused him to distance himself for a few weeks after coming back looking different.

"What's wrong with you? Huh?"

You pointed accusingly at the blonde, who slapped your finger away from his face, letting out some complaints.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh don't try to play that with me, the time working with you was enough to be able to see through you, ah, I know, did you find a partner!?"

His eyebrow twitched at your new explosion of emotions, grabbing your head to keep your body still as you started to surround him asking a bunch of questions about his supposed partner.

"No."

"Aww" you deflated at his harsh response, recovering immediately "Anyway, seriously, there's something weird about you, I can see it in your eyes."

You moved a little closer to his face once he released you, looking directly into his captivating crimson eyes, although in truth you were just looking at your reflection on his gaze, sticking out your tongue as if you were posing for a photo, he looked in disbelief, you were too stupid and he didn't understand why, why after leaving those suburbs did he return? Why did he keep visiting you if he no longer needed you for anything? Why did he come back after moving to a better life? His mind couldn't understand it, but his heart won this battle and he let the only good feelings guide him towards your clumsy person.

"Whatever makes you sleep better."

He found himself enjoying your presence, your voice, your silly thoughts, your insignificant emotions more than usual, he found another source of light that illuminated the cracks in his shattered heart, minimally healing his inner child, and in turn, he repudiated every inch of your being, so kind and pure for someone like him, were you ignoring his evil nature or were you really that naive to not notice all the red flags around him? He didn't know it, but he would prefer that it stay like this for a while longer, all of his plans were moving forward and you weren't part of them.

You silently observe the sunset, the warm colors gradually disappearing as you lean against the half-broken cement wall, this building used to be your meeting point for the assignments you had together. You look back at Dio, who is unusually thoughtful, you also immerse yourself in your own thoughts, you were conscious, conscious of everything that Dio was and will be, you only needed some information that he let escape between the lines and his behavior of greatness to know that your friend was someone evil, someone who wouldn't think for a second about ending someone's life if they were a threat, you knew it and yet… Was it selfish to want to maintain this friendship? Even knowing that he wasn't someone to admire? Someone who repudiated half the world? That didn't agree with most of your values? Well, you were human, and selfishness is one of the facets that characterizes humanity, you never asked for much in your life, you wanted to grant yourself this whim despite everything.

"I don't know what will happen from now on, but thank you for all these years, I never thought I could have this kind of connection with someone."

Your neck almost broke from the speed at which you moved it to look at Dio, who was facing away from you, there was no way he had said that, expressing so many emotions and feelings like never before, were you dreaming? Was this some kind of alternate reality? Your eyes began to water because of his words, yes, you were a sentimental softie.

"That's so nice Dio, you should say that more often, instead of 'shut up bitch' or 'you suck'!"

You jumped on his back like a baby koala, sniffling on his shoulder while he froze for a second, trying to shake off your crying form, you seemed as fragile as a twig at that moment but you clung to him like a damn leech. He took you off of him after a couple of minutes, unexpectedly his arms surrounded your figure, seeing you buried in a mass of muscles for the first time, you were going to make a stupid comment, but for once you decided to shut your big mouth, passing your arms through his back.

No one dared to say anything, well, the look he gave you after he separated from you was a silent threat so that you wouldn't say anything about this moment of weakness he had, after all Dio has no weaknesses, he is superior to everyone.

Certainly, everything changed from that day, the relationship cooled because he disappeared from your life, you understood that the change in lifestyle was what caused it and if in a certain part it was true, you wanted to check that he was doing it right, it wasn't the case when you discovered that he was trying to kill Mr. Joestar, who welcomed him with open arms.

Your heart squeezed at the information, you knew that your friend was not a saint, you knew that he was a horrible person with others, but you remained selfish in your decision not to see him as human scum, to continue loving him like any other person. Your thoughts didn't last long though, at least not with the new version of him.

You were scared when you found him in your room one night, in the darkest corner, staring as if you were a prey, you could see his agitated breath coming out like smoke from a chimney, his eyes were still the same, but they scared you.

"Has the cat eaten your tongue? It's me, Dio! I don't think you've forgotten about me, I haven't, dear friend."

"You're not- you're not my friend…"

Your words came out shaky, the lump in your throat growing the closer the blonde got, this had to be a bad dream, you had heard that your friend had died after trying to kill Jonathan Joestar, although his body was not found among the rubble of the mansion, this couldn't be true.

"No? Maybe you're just confused, I'm still me, I've discovered a new way of living! I don't need that bullshit humanity, a longer lasting, stronger way of life! I am my best version."

You grabbed the lamp on your nightstand, making him smile at your fear, he knew you used to throw random things when you were angry or scared.

"You are not Dio! You are not the Dio that I know… your look is no longer the same, even when it was mischievous and evil before, it contained that shine of hope."

"Hope? That's pathetic, but you're lucky, I'm giving you the opportunity to live with dignity as a superior being! Just for being you, my only friend."

A hand covered your mouth, knowing that you would scream when he was next to you in the blink of an eye, he laughed at your reaction, resting his chin on the curve between your shoulder and neck, he grimaced as he felt you licking his hand, at least you were still stupidly brave to do that.

"Well? Will you agree to reign over all those filthy humans? You can live forever, without worries like money, no more shitty jobs."

You closed your eyes tightly in a last attempt to wake up if this was a dream, accepting that it wasn't, you moved away from his body, almost falling off the bed, you turned your body slightly to face him directly, oh that certain look of yours, it made him smile.

"I'm sorry, but the Dio I know is dead, and I refuse to accept a deal from a stranger."

He began to laugh lightly without taking his eyes off you, in another blink his imposing figure caught you, feeling again the mass of muscles imprisoning you between chest and biceps, your face pressed to his heart made you listen to the calm rhythm of it.

"I didn't expect anything less from someone as stupid and clumsy as you, I honestly knew that you were going to reject eternal youth, it's a real shame… but coming here was more of a whim."

His grip loosened a little, he rested his head on top of yours, closing his eyes for a few seconds, taking in as much of your scent as he could and it was gone as quickly as it came, you were barely able to react as the heat around you disappeared in a fraction of second, you looked with doubt at the open window, noticing how he was watching you from somewhere, you frowned, still with your lamp in your hand you threw it out the window, closed it as quickly as you could, you got under the sheets as if you were going to scare away the monsters of the night, closing your eyes although with a small smile when you heard the moan of Dio, who had been hit by your impeccable shot.

If you weren't his dear friend, you would have been three meters underground for a long time.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #jjba part 1 #phantom blood #dio brando #DIO #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #platonic reader #platonic jjba #dio x reader #dio x platonic reader #sfw #phantom blood x reader

112 notes · View notes

bts-trans · 1 year

Text

230912 Weverse Translations

RM's Post ❇️

안녕하세요. 20대의 마지막 생일이네요. 생일이라는 게 제 직업적 특성 때문인지는 모르겠지만 늘 약간의 쑥스러움을 동반하네요. 스스로 별 것 아닌 날이라고 생각하지만.. 많은 분들이 진심으로 축하해주셔서 참 행복하고 복됩니다. 사랑은 누군가에게 이름이 생기는 것이란 생각을 종종 해요. 김남준이 '김남준'이 되기까지. 그저 하고많은 365일 중의 한 날이겠지만 스물아홉의 나 자신에게도 생일이 그저 스치는 날이 되지 않은 것은 모두 여러분 덕이에요. 최대한 솔직할 수 있는 사람이고 싶지만, 팬과 가수라는 무형과 유형 사이의 존재들은 과연 무엇을 넘어 무엇까지 될 수 있는 걸까요. 사랑이라는 친절한 유령 아래 모든 것이 용인될 수 있을까요? 드러냄이 약점이 되고, 솔직함이 상처가 되는 경험을 지금도 퍽 겪고 있지만 아직 잘 모르겠어요. 전에 갈수록 말하는 것이 어려워져서 슬프다는 말을 했었죠. 그 사실은 여전히 여전한 것 같아요. 그래도 저 많이 담담해졌어요. 평생 한 번 받아볼까 하는 진심들을 장대비처럼 받아보는 바람에, 염세와 허무를 멋지다고 여겨왔던 제가 기질적으로 낙천적인 사람이란 것도 깨달았어요. 이거 기적 아닌가요. 저 요즘은 '와이 낫'을 달고 살아요. 주변에나마 제가 받은 사랑으로 풀이된 낙천성들을 나누며 살고 있어요. 그리고 언젠가 나올 제 다음 곡들에도 꾹꾹 담고 있고요. 그래요. 한낱 제가 음악보다 더 아름다운 방식으로 솔직할 수 있을까요? 다 아는 사실이지만 가끔은 그것만으론 부족한 것 같아요. 그래서 제가 방탄소년단이 되었나 싶기도 합니다. 다양한 방식으로 해갈하고 싶어서. 프로그램이건, 인터뷰건, 춤이건, 뭐가 됐건.. 이 얼마나 복받은 생인가요. 그리고 이것들이 항상 제가 어디에 와있는지, 두 눈으로 똑바로 보고 사고하고 싶게 해요. 우연이 겹치면 필연이랬죠. 우연은 우연을 가장한 운명이라고도 하고. 제가 지금 당신께 이 편지를 드리는 것도 그런 거 같아요. 저는 어떤 버전의 저였어도 이 편지를 2023년 9월에 쓰고 있었을 것만 같은 기분. 매번 제 생일의 편지는 제가 지금 도달한 곳의, 각기 다른 사랑의 언어랍니다. 여러분 덕에 저 정말 잘 살고 있고요. 잘 살고 싶어요. 그냥 매번 제 최신 최선의 버전으로 사랑한다고 전하고 싶었어요. 한 분 한 분 다 안아드릴 수는 없겠지만 마음은 그 이상이랍니다. 제가 어떤 모습이어도 사랑해달라고는 하지 않을게요. 다만 받은 만큼 저도 한 번 애써보려고요. 20대의 마지막 생일도 이렇게 무탈히 지나갑니다. 어떤 하늘 아래 있어도 부디 건강하고 오래 행복합시다. 시간이 조금 지나고 또 만나요. 당신의 생일도 미리, 혹은 조금 늦었지만 진심으로 축하해요 ! 고맙습니다. -남준 https://weverse.io/bts/artist/3-132454914

Hello.

This is the last birthday of my twenties. I don't know whether it's because of the peculiarities of the profession I'm in, but birthdays are always accompanied by a slight feeling of embarrassment. For me, it’s just a day like any other but.. because so many people wish me so sincerely, I feel quite happy and fortunate.

I often think about how love is just a process of being named. Like Kim Namjoon becoming ‘Kim Namjoon’. Although this is only one day out of a numerous 365 days, my birthday doesn’t just pass by without notice, even for my 29-year-old self. This is all thanks to you.

I want to be someone who is as honest as possible, but in this relationship between fan and artist, existing somewhere between the tangible and intangible, just what can we go beyond and what can we become? Is everything acceptable under the generous phantom label of ‘love’? I continue to have so many experiences where disclosure becomes weakness and honesty leads to hurt, but I still don’t really know.

I’ve said in the past that as time goes on, it becomes harder to say things and that makes me sad. I think that continues to be true. But I do think I’m a lot more level-headed now. The sincere feelings I once used to worry I would never receive now pour onto me like heavy rain. As a result, I realised that I, who used to think that it was cool to be a pessimist and think that nothing matters, am actually quite an optimist by nature. Isn’t this a miracle? These days, I live by the words ‘why not’. This optimism can be explained as a product of the love I receive from the people around me, and I am spreading it around. I am also putting it into the songs that will come out some day.

Right, could there be a more beautiful way for me to be honest than through music? Everyone already knows this, but sometimes I feel like music alone is not enough. I wonder if that’s the reason why I became part of BTS. To want to quench that thirst through multiple different means. Whether it’s through programs, interviews, dances or whatever it may be.. what a blessed life this is. And these things always make me want to look clearly at where I've come and think deeply about the place I'm in.

They say if coincidences overlap, it must be inevitable. Coincidences are also fate in disguise. I think this letter I’m writing to you right now feels like that - like it would have been written in September of 2023, no matter what version of myself I might have been then. The birthday letters that I write each year are all places that I have arrived at in that moment, and are each a different language of love. Thanks to all of you, I’m living a really good life. I want to live a good life. All I have wanted each time is to just tell you I love you as the latest best version of myself. It's probably impossible for me to hug each and every one of you, but the feelings I have go beyond that. I won't ask you to love me in all of my different forms. However, since you do give me your love, I promise to do my best.

And so the last birthday of my twenties also smoothly sails by. No matter what skies you’re under, let’s please try to be healthy and be happy for a long time. Let’s meet again soon, after some time has passed.

I sincerely wish you a happy birthday as well, though it may be a bit late, or perhaps slightly in advance. Thank you.

-Namjoon

Trans cr; Aditi, Annie & Faith @ bts-trans © TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

Jungkook's Comment 💬 on RM's Post ❇️

JK: 형 아프지 마이소 비행기 뜨기 전에 생일 축하드려요 ㅎㅎ https://weverse.io/bts/artist/3-132454914

JK: Hyung, take care and wishing you a happy birthday before the flight takes off hehe

Trans cr; Annie

J-Hope's Comment 💬 on RM's Post ❇️

JH: 남주니 생일 추카해 😢🫡 사랑해❤️‍🔥 https://weverse.io/bts/artist/3-132454914?anchor=3-239635731

JH: Namjoonie happy birthday 😢🫡 I love you ❤️‍🔥

Trans cr; Faith

J-Hope's Comment 💬 on Jungkook's Post ❇️

JK: (See 230831 Weverse Translations) JH: 우리 정구기떠꾸기 늦었지만 생일 추카해😭😢🫡 너무 바빠서 이제서야 남긴다 라뷰❤️‍🔥 https://weverse.io/bts/artist/4-130921967?anchor=0-253660617

JH: Our Jungkookie-ddeogukie I'm late but happy birthday😭😢🫡 I was super busy so I'm wishing you just now. Love you❤️‍🔥

Trans cr; Eisha

#230912 #rm #namjoon #don't mind me just sitting here sobbing over his beautiful words 😭#joonie best boy #happybdayRM #happyRMday #jungkook #jhope #hoseok #hobi #weverse #post #comment #bts #bangtan

236 notes · View notes

odyssean-flower · 5 months

Text

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 12 - Summer: Photos

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: The date has ended successfully, but it also brought about an unexpected turn of events

Warnings: None except for the fact that this story is 50% written based on vibes Note: This chapter isn't beta'd so sorry in advance for any typos or rough edges Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette enjoying some tea

Previous | Next

“My dear Iudex, are my eyes deceiving me, or is that a smile on your face?”

Neuvillette raised his gaze from the documents spread out before him. Furina was standing on the other side of his desk. Of course, he had heard her enter his office before she even spoke, but he was so used to her unannounced intrusions these days that he treated it as a part of his daily routine now. I only hope that she makes this quick. I have a rather heavy agenda today, and I would like to return home before dark.

Furina leaned over his desk, her heterochromatic eyes eagerly scanning the desk for some sort of incriminating evidence to grab onto. Of course, she found none. Neuvillette wasn’t so foolish that he would make such a careless mistake.

“Hmph, I didn’t know that paperwork could inspire such a joyous expression on one’s face. What a contrast you make with the Gestionnaires outside your door! You really must get out more.”

“My dear Iudex, are my eyes deceiving me, or is that a smile on your face?”

“Hmph, I didn’t know that paperwork could inspire such a joyous expression on one’s face. What a contrast you make with the Gestionnaires outside your door! You really must get out more.”

“Indeed, I have, thanks to your urging. I believe you’ve already read the note I left you.”

“Ah, yes, that sorry excuse for a note,” Furina sniffed. “‘Will be away for a day due to personal reasons.’ No mention of where you’re going or who you’ll be with.”

“I see no reason why I should have included either of those things. I followed all the necessary protocol for requesting leave, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Oh, I am. I’m overjoyed to hear that you’ve been picking up new hobbies lately. It must be the influence of your new wife. If only you’d allow me to meet this remarkable woman so I can thank her.”

“New hobbies? Whatever do you mean?” Neuvillette ignored that last part.

“Why, your new hobby of photography, of course!” Furina propped her head on her hands, affecting an air of nonchalance, but her eyes gleamed like a cat that had a tantalizing mouse set in its sights. It was a look that Neuvillette was all too familiar with. “I’ve heard whispers that you’ve sent off a large number of photos to be developed, and that you’ve gone on a recent shopping spree for photo albums. Your day-off seems to have been very fulfilling.”

“It was, indeed,” Neuvillette nodded. His face gave nothing away. This was also not a surprise and was in fact well within his expectations. He had felt the gaze of Furina’s spies more frequently as of late, but it was not a difficulty for him to evade them. The one who developed the photos for him was a trusted agent of the Marechausee Phantom, and the envelope which contained the finished products (which he had fortunately received well before Furina’s intrusion into his office) hadn’t been tampered with.

“Oh, I know it was. A boat ride on the sea, huh? How romantic! I didn’t know you had it in you, Neuvillette. All those romance novels I’ve supplied you with seem to have paid off. Oh, if only there had been someone there that day to take a commemorative photo of such an astonishing sight, the Iudex taking a human out on a date!”

Neuvillette went very still. “Get to the point,” he said, his voice cold.

Furina’s grin widened. The cat was getting ready to pounce. “It just so happens that a subordinate of mine was out at sea on the very same day that you were out and saw that astonishing sight for himself,” she took out a photo from her pocket and slapped it onto his desk. It was a clear picture of him helping his wife off the boat after they returned to the docks at the Court of Fontaine.

Neuvillette’s blood ran cold. How could this have happened?

“Not the most fashionable, is she?” Furina peered at the photo. “I don’t recognize her, so she must not come from a very important family, either. But putting that aside, what a charming couple the two of you make! Honestly, Neuvillette, I do wonder how--”

"Leave my office. Now.” Neuvillette’s palms slammed against his desk as he rose to his full height, causing Furina to back up a few steps despite herself. He felt an absurd urge to cover the photo with his hands, to protect the image of you from the scrutinizing gaze of an outsider. “You've seen her face now. Be satisfied with that and resign yourself to the fact that you will never meet her.”

A startled expression appeared on Furina’s face before it was quickly replaced with a smug smile.

“My, my, Neuvillette,” she purred before plopping herself down on the couch next to his desk and crossing her legs. “I would reconsider, if I were you.”

"Have I not told you to leave—”

“Now that I know what your wife looks like, it’ll take very little effort on my part to find out who she is soon enough. My network of informants is extensive, as I know you’re aware. But I’m a magnanimous god, so I shall give you a week to think it over. If you won’t allow me to meet your wife by that time, then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands and find her myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare. I had expected better of you.”

“Oh, don’t give me that!” Furina suddenly stood up and marched over to his desk. “You’re the one who won’t agree to a simple meeting! I’d expect you to be more grateful, considering how I’m the one who pushed you to get married! If it weren’t for me, you would never have even thought of approaching this woman, who you clearly care for a great deal, and you’d probably spend the next five hundred years continuing to mope about on your own, never knowing what you could have had!”

There was a long, tense silence after her rant. “Are you finished here?” Neuvillette said, struggling to suppress the violent tempest of emotions swirling inside his heart.

“I suppose I am,” Furina stood up. “By the way, Neuvillette, you should be thankful that it was a subordinate of mine who took this photo and gave it directly to me, and not someone from those third-rate tabloids you despise so much. I’d love to see you ignore that scandal away.”

Neuvillette said nothing, simply glaring at her. His hands were curled into fists at his sides.

“See you in a week, my dear Iudex. Do pass on my regards to your wife.”

After saying that, Furina spun around and strode towards the door. It was only after the door closed behind her firmly that Neuvillette leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh.

Torrential rain beat against the large window behind him. He wanted to walk into it, to wade into the sea.

I was too negligent, he cursed himself in his head. I should have been more careful.

Throughout his long career, he had become adept at evading reporters and paparazzi. And yet, somehow, this happened.

Anger and fear gripped his heart. He didn’t care what the papers said about him. But the thought of you becoming fodder for them was intolerable.

The sight of your tear-filled eyes had been like daggers to his heart. He never wanted to see them again.

He took a sip of water (imported from the frozen rivers of Snezhnaya) to cool his head and gazed at the painting hanging near his desk. By a fortunate twist of fate, you hadn’t signed it. However, its usual calming efficacy was diminished today.

Neuvillette had wanted to look at the photos again during his break, but now he was too on edge to even think of opening his desk drawer and taking the envelope out. It felt like just the act of it would be exposing its contents to danger, even though he knew that was irrational.

He could sense the clouds covering the sun outside the window behind him. There would be a downpour on this fine evening, and he silently apologized to the people of Fontaine, and especially to a certain young lady who was doubtless in the garden right about now.

The sooner I finish my work, the sooner I can return home, he thought, in a vain attempt to calm himself. And give the photos to her. I know she has been waiting for them eagerly. I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed…

Unconsciously, his feet began tapping against the floor.

This can still be salvaged, he told himself. Nothing has happened yet. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her peace.

Switching back into work mode, Neuvillette sat up once more—and let out a pained grunt. His hair had gotten caught in the cracks of his chair.

“Where is this rain coming from? It was clear just a few minutes ago,” you grumbled as you stared up at the lead-colored sky. It had been a beautiful day like it had been for weeks, but for some reason, the clouds decided to unleash their water just as you had finished taking the daily sunflower measurements.

I bet Neuvillette is enjoying this, you thought as you went to stand under the eaves. It hasn’t rained in quite a while.

“Madame, it’s raining,” Marie opened the porch door. “You didn’t get wet, did you?”

“Just a little bit, but it’s nothing too bad. Marie, could you fetch me my umbrella?”

“You’re still planning to garden in this weather, Madame?”

“I just want to take one last look. I’ll be done soon.”

After Marie gave you your umbrella, you marched back out to the plot of sunflowers again.

The sunflowers were coming along nicely. They now reached the height of your hip and formed small, tightly closed buds. There were no yellow petals peeking through yet, but you were confident that they would appear in the coming weeks.

You brushed your fingers against the leaves. They were the size of your palm now. You could see little bug bites dotting them. Perhaps you should ask Marie if there were any pesticides on hand.

It was the evening hours now, though the sun had been in the sky until a few moments ago. Neuvillette should be back by now. Maybe he had a lot of work today? You couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment. You had been looking forward to showing him the buds.

It had been a week since the date. Neuvillette had sent the photos out to be developed, and you would be getting them today. You were a bit excited to see them. I don’t think I’ve ever taken so many pictures in my life.

After you finished taking the last measurements, you returned to the house and went up to your room. Your eyes automatically went to the plump azure flower tucked into a vase on your desk. It brought a vibrant splash of color to your elegant but sparse room, and you liked looking at it. It gave you a sense of pleasure. You wondered where Neuvillette put his flower.

I wonder if it would deflate like a balloon if I stuck a pin into the middle, you thought as you sniffed the flower’s cool fragrance. That would make it easier to press, wouldn’t it?

Perhaps it was because you talked about pressing flowers on the date, but it had been on your mind lately. Your fingers itched for your old flower press, sitting in your closet back home. The lily would look striking against a white page. If only you picked some of those wildflowers you had seen on Erinnyes and in Merusea Village... they could serve as accompaniment to the lily, which would obviously be the centerpiece, and a strand of blue leaves from the Weeping Willow could be the finishing touch, forming a wreath that framed everything neatly. It would be a beautiful memento of one of the most magical days in your life.

We picnicked together and took pictures of each other; he showed me all sorts of sights…he even held me in his arms…and I cried in front of him… Gah…

You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands. The memories of what you said and done still mortified you a week later. It had been even worse when you got home and was left alone in your bedroom. How you got to sleep that night, you didn’t know.

You would rather take a dive into the sea than cry in front of people, especially someone like Neuvillette. But on the other hand, if you had to cry, you would rather it be in front of him. Not your parents, not even your sister, but him. You weren’t sure why.

Neuvillette hadn’t said anything comforting or encouraging, and his hug was honestly a bit stiff and awkward, like he wasn’t used to doing such things. And yet, you felt as though the weight on your shoulders had been lightened just a bit. It wasn’t until then that you realized how you were barely holding yourself up by sheer force of will, like a sunflower with shallow roots and a too-heavy head, on the verge of falling over without a support.

Neuvillette never brought up that moment again, for which you were grateful. Although, even now you still couldn’t really look at him without a tingling sensation in your heart. He, on the other hand, seemed unchanged. Well, of course he would be. It would be problematic if he did start treating me differently, you told yourself.

You knew very well that you were not the type of person who people like Neuvillette would think of as a romantic partner, much less a wife. But still, after what you had observed of him and what you heard from the Melusines, you thought that it’d be nice if he did have someone like that. After the divorce, Furina would no doubt start pestering him even harder to find a spouse. It would be smart for him to start finding someone soon. He would probably have to wait a bit before remarrying, though.

Neuvillette should definitely find someone who’s more of a romantic than me, you laughed at yourself.

Unfortunately, you were out of your depth when it came to matters of matchmaking. But still, maybe you could keep an eye out for a potential partner. What was Neuvillette’s type, anyways? That would make for an interesting topic to investigate.

You decided to put this thought aside for now. Neuvillette told you that he wanted to take you to a restaurant next time. You had no idea where he would take you. His taste in food was so peculiar, after all. But you were sure that it would be a high-class, excellent restaurant, wherever it was. You would have to get some suitable clothes for the occasion. I want to make a better effort next time.

Neuvillette had given you a quite frankly exorbitant amount of spending money. Maybe it was finally time to use it.

Perhaps it’s a bit pointless…but I still want to do it.

You sat in your window seat, daydreaming about how your second “date” with Neuvillette would go as you gazed at the setting sun, now peeking out of the clouds after the sudden spell of rain had passed.

Neuvillette finally returned home by the time the sky was dark. You had already eaten dinner without him and was reading in the parlor when you heard the front door open.

“Neuvillette,” you called out to him as you went into the foyer. “You came home so late. Did something happen?”

As you approached him, you noticed how tired and tense he looked. But the fatigue in his face seemed to vanish as he fixed his eyes on you, replaced by something that was almost like relief.

“Madame,” he greeted you. “My apologies for worrying you. I had a rather busy day. I hope you’ve already eaten dinner?”

“I have. But have you eaten? If not, I can warm up the leftovers for you, or I can ask Marie to cook something fresh if that’s what you prefer.”

“I’ve already eaten, but thank you for the consideration. Have you gone out today?”

“No,” you shook your head, and Neuvillette visibly relaxed. You definitely didn’t imagine that.

But before any suspicions could form, he spoke again.

“Madame, I have a surprise for you,” he took a pause there. It took you a moment to realize that he was doing it for dramatic effect. So even he has that side to him...how cute, you thought, trying to hide your smile. “I received the developed photos today.”

He took out an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to you. “They turned out quite well, I must say,” he added.

The envelope was thick and heavy. You must have taken more than a hundred photos.

You decided to look through them in the parlor. Neuvillette followed you, and the two of you sat side by side on the couch as you spread the photos out on the coffee table. He was right, they did turn out well. You had been a bit worried that they might come out blurry or at odd angles, but overall, they all looked pretty good, considering the fact that you hadn’t used a Kamera in a long time.

“You have a very good eye for photography, Madame,” Neuvillette remarked as he picked up a photo of the Weeping Willow. “Have you considered pursuing a career in that field?”

“Oh, not at all. My old drawing teacher was much better at it than me, enough to make a living out of it, and she taught me a few tricks.”

“‘Was’? Do you mean...” Neuvillette trailed off.

“Yes. It was a few years ago.”

“Ah...I see. I'm sorry to hear that.”

There was a brief, awkward silence. Neuvillette looked as though he wanted to say something more. You would rather not deal with that, so your eyes roamed around the scattered photos on the table until they landed on something silver. “Oh, my pictures of you!” you said, leaning forward to grab them. “See, what did I tell you, Neuvillette. There’s nothing more picturesque than beautiful scenery and a handsome man.”

Neuvillette leaned closer towards you to examine the photos for himself. His hair brushed against your shoulder, and you could feel the heat of his body against your arm. A thought suddenly struck you. If you turned your head right now, your lips would brush against his cheek in the same spot where you had kissed it before.

Inexplicably, your face turned warm at the thought. The back of your hand tingled.

Perhaps things didn’t quite remain the same after the date.

It truly had been a spur of the moment move. Your roiling emotions, aided by the instigation of the Melusines, had pushed you to do it.

Later that night, as you laid in bed, your mind replaying that scene over and over to an infuriating degree, you had rifled through all the emotions you had felt at that time. Embarrassment, disbelief, a strange sort of elation…

But the one emotion that had been missing no matter how hard you searched for it, was regret.

Overt acts of affection had never been your forte, but it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Well, cheek kisses don’t inherently mean anything significant, you had told yourself. Friends do it with each other all the time. And Neuvillette is my friend. A very dear friend. So it’s perfectly fine. Case closed.

Indeed, Neuvillette didn’t seem to look at you or treat you any differently after the fact, so why should you? No doubt he was used to receiving such acts of intimacy—most likely even more intimate—from people who were far more glamorous than you. A brief brush of lips against his cheek probably meant nothing to him.

As for the hand kiss, well, that was something that gentlemen like him did. It also didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.

The thought that these kisses were all meaningless did sting a little bit, but considering the circumstances, you had no right to complain.

“I must confess that I do not see what makes these pictures any better than the ones you took of the scenery,” Neuvillette’s voice interrupted your thoughts. His eyes were fixed on the photo, so thankfully he didn’t notice your reddened cheeks. “Or of the Melusines, for that matter.”

“Well, even if you don’t appreciate them, I do. I’ll treat them like a family treasure.”

“A family treasure? That’s a bit excessive, is it not?”

“I don’t think so. These are pretty rare items, aren’t they?”

Since Neuvillette didn’t appear in public much, there were not many pictures of him outside of the rare interview and official events. Hmm, I wonder how much they’ll sell for? Not that I would ever do that, of course. …Well, maybe if I’m in dire financial straits. I’ll ask for Neuvillette’s permission beforehand if it ever comes to that.

You went through the remaining photos. Each one sparked a memory. The Weeping Willow, the sea, Merusea Village underwater—you really had been to all those places. With Neuvillette, no less. The entirety of that day was only known to the two of you.

The days after your date had been so mundane and normal that you were half-convinced that it had all been a strange dream. Thoughts and memories were such mutable things, after all. Someone like you on a date with the Chief Justice? Not even in your wildest delusions would something like that ever happen. But these pictures were proof that it did.

You knew that you would probably think back on that day for the rest of your life, holding it close to your chest like a treasured gemstone and taking it out whenever times got tough. A sparkling memory of your youth that you would smile back fondly upon in your autumn years, a lone glimmering star in the dark that would inspire you move forward…

Wait, why am I getting so sappy and sentimental? Just because of a date? Ugh, come on now.

You glanced at Neuvillette, who was currently enjoying a glass of water (imported from Inazuma). You doubted that he felt the same way as you about the date. It was probably just like a drop of water in a vast ocean to him.

That thought pricked at you, but you chose to ignore it.

You sifted through the pictures until you came across a certain snapshot. Just as you were about to flip it over, a gloved finger pressed down against the photo, stopping you.

“This one is my favorite,” Neuvillette said. Once again, his face was right next to yours, but you couldn’t read his expression.

“Because you were the one who took it?”

“No,” he said, then turned his head towards you. “Because it’s of you.”

“Neuvillette…” you said after a short silence. You fidgeted with your reddened fingertips. “I don’t understand how you can say things like that with such a straight face.”

“Is it truly so strange?” Neuvillette looked perplexed. “I was simply saying my true feelings. And it is not as though you have refrained from such comments either.”

“You do have a point,” you conceded, although that still didn’t mean it didn’t catch you off guard. You turned your attention back to the photo of you. To be honest, it didn’t turn out half bad. Sure, you looked incredibly stiff and awkward and your hair was a mess and you had no idea what you were thinking when you matched that sweater with that skirt, but…it could have turned out worse.

“May I keep this photo?” Neuvillette asked.

“Of course, but what will you do with it? Surely you aren’t going to put it on your office desk or anything, right?”

“No, of course not. I would put it in a drawer, so I may take it out and look at it whenever I like.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Is it so wrong for a husband to want to look at a picture of his wife every once in a while? Many of the Palais staff also keep pictures of their loved ones on their desks. Why shouldn’t I?” Neuvillette paused for a little bit before adding, “And it would be one way for me to see your face more often, considering how I don’t get many chances of that during the day.”

“Hmm…very well, then,” you didn’t quite get why he would want to see more of your face, but if it made him happy, then you supposed there was nothing to complain about. Neuvillette is actually quite good at this kind of thing, you thought to yourself. Just imagine what he would be like when he gets married to someone he loves.

Now you really felt bad about your (hypothetical) future plans about selling Neuvillette’s photos. I’m an insensitive boor compared to him.

You reached the last of the photos. It was the one of you and Neuvillette standing in front of the sunset.

“You made two copies for the both of us,” you said as you looked at them. “How thoughtful.”

As you gazed at the pictures, you couldn’t help but feel a complex mixture of emotions. There was a surrealness to this photo that the others lacked. If this were a novel, this would be the point where you would wake up and return to reality after discovering something out of place in your life. No matter how you looked at it, you and Neuvillette were mismatched. Two people who were only brought together because of a weird quirk of fate.

But on the other hand…it was a beautiful photo. You had been somewhat worried that the two of you wouldn’t be centered in the frame, but it turned out well. The sunset made for a lovely backdrop. Even though both of you were looking very stiff, and neither of you were smiling.

You remembered that moment clearly. In those few minutes, you felt as light as a feather, like there was nothing tying you to the ground.

Would you ever feel that way again?

“I’m also very fond of this one,” Neuvillette said next to you. When you turned your head, you saw that he was not looking at the photos, but at you. It was then that you realized you were smiling. For some reason, you turned your head away.

“I just realized something,” you said, to cover up the awkward moment. “I’ve taken so many pictures, but I’ve got nowhere to put them all.”

“Ah, about that,” there was an excitement, subdued but present, in his voice. He sounded the same as he did when he introduced you to some new exotic variety of water. “I have a surprise for you. Please, come with me to my study.”

A surprise from Neuvillette? You had an inkling as to what it could be, but that didn’t stop you from putting all the photos back in the envelope and following him upstairs to his study, a domain you had yet to step into. It was a smaller version of his office at the Palais Mermonia, with its large desk, soft rugs, and tall bookshelves that lined the walls. There was also a fireplace here and a cozy-looking couch.

As Neuvillette went to take something out of a cabinet, you covertly examined the shelves. They were mainly filled with books on law, human psychology, history (most of which you’ve already read, having borrowed them from the library), and other similarly serious topics. Oddly enough, you even spotted a few romance novels. They were the fluffy, self-indulgent kind that your mother and sister liked to read. Should I pretend I never saw them?

“Madame, here it is,” Neuvillette said, and you walked over to the desk, where there was a large, leather-bound album with metal corners.

“Oh, Neuvillette, you shouldn’t have!” you exclaimed, flipping through the album. There should be just enough space to put all the pictures from your date in it. You looked up to thank him, but was met with the sight of Neuvillette taking out yet another album from the cabinet. This one was wider, with a ribbon tied into a neat bow on the spine. Perhaps Neuvillette bought a second album, just in case the first one wouldn’t fit all your pictures?

But, as though to dash all reasonable explanations, Neuvillette took out another album from the cabinet, then another. It seemed never-ending, this deluge of albums. After a while, it became sort of funny, like a comedy sketch. You watched, open-mouthed, as the desk became covered with albums of all shapes and sizes.

Finally, after the tenth one, the deluge stopped. Neuvillette looked at you expectantly. “Well, Madame, which one do you prefer?”

“Wait a minute, let me get this right,” you said, backing up a step and surveying the desk. “You bought all these albums just for me to choose one?”

“Yes, I did,” Neuvillette said, nodding as though this was a perfectly normal thing to do. Was this how the minds of the wealthy worked? It was beyond your comprehension. “I was unsure which one would be most to your liking, so I decided to buy them all.”

“Oh, Neuvillette, you really shouldn’t have…” you said. “This is too excessive. Why didn’t you ask me to come with you when you went shopping? And you know I’d like anything you picked out for me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise…” Neuvillette said. He looked a bit deflated, and you felt bad.

“Can you return them?”

“It would be highly inconvenient for the shopkeeper if I did so,” Neuvillette said, then added in an abashed tone, “And I was told that all sales are final.”

“How unfortunate,” you looked down at the desk again. Was it possible for anyone to fill up all these albums in their lifetime? Maybe if they had a lifespan as long as Neuvillette’s. “Maybe they could make an exception for the Iudex?”

“I would rather not use my position in such a manner.”

“Well then, how about we give them away?”

“Give them away…” Neuvillette considered your words. “I-I suppose that could work… it is a reasonable idea. Yes, quite reasonable indeed.”

Neuvillette…if only you could see the look on your face right now. He looked like a kicked puppy. However, you decided to hold your tongue.

“Hmm, on second thought, it would be quite rude of me to give away presents from my generous husband,” you said. “I’ll keep them all. Thank you, Neuvillette.”

You patted his hand. He looked down at your hand on top of his, his eyes unreadable. He lightly brushed his fingers against your own.

“You need not force yourself to accept them if you do not want them,” he said quietly.

“But I do want them. They’re from you, after all. We’ll just have to take plenty more photos to get your money’s worth.”

“‘We?’”

“Yes, ‘we.’ Did you expect me to fill up these albums all on my own?”

“Certainly, it would be more efficient if we worked together,” Neuvillette nodded to himself. “Very well, then, Madame. I will assist you in this endeavour.”

With that settled, you decided to put the date photos in the first brown leather album. It had a vintage look to it that you liked.

“It’s getting late, Madame. You should be going to bed soon,” Neuvillette informed you.

“What about you?” Neuvillette didn’t seem to be making any moves to retire for the night just yet.

“There are a few more matters that I need to take care of, but do not worry, it won’t take very long.”

“Okay then,” you nodded, stepping towards the door. But just as you were about to leave the study, you thought of something. “By the way, Neuvillette, when will we be going on that restaurant date? I know you’re quite busy these days, so I can wait as long it takes. Do you have a restaurant in mind? I’m perfectly happy to go with any one you choose. Oh, and I know I promised to attend a trial, but I’m not fond of the very loud and chaotic ones, so which of the upcoming ones would you recommend?”

“I’m afraid, Madame, that we have to put a hold on both of those arrangements. A few…unexpected matters have come up, so we will not be able to go anywhere together for a while.”

“Oh. I see. Well, I suppose it can’t be helped,” a sharp sense of disappointment pierced your heart. It seemed that you had been looking forward to it more than you expected.

“Madame, are you enjoying your life as it is right now?” Neuvillette asked you out of the blue.

“Huh? What brought this on all of a sudden?”

“Please answer my question.” There was an undercurrent of urgency in his voice.

“I…” you had to think about it for a moment. “I do. Of course I do. I never want for anything, and everyone has treated me with nothing but kindness. I can’t even begin to repay them all, really.”

“I see. Then, is this the sort of life you’d prefer to live?”

“What do you mean?”

“A quiet, peaceful life, where you are never bothered by anyone.”

“I…suppose so? I think most people would want that.”

“I see…” Neuvillette stared at his desk, seemingly deep in thought. Then, he looked up at you. “You should go to bed now. It is getting too late.”

“What…” but he was already ushering you towards the door before you could say anything more.

You observed him as he stood in the doorway. He was an unreadable cipher, but you sensed a resolve emanating from him, like he had made up his mind about something.

“Good night, Madame,” he said quietly.

“Good night, Neuvillette.”

You felt like you had to say something, but you weren’t sure what.

He saved you the effort by gently closing the study door on you. The sense of giddiness had all but completely dissipated. You felt like a deflated balloon.

Your unease wasn’t dispelled the next morning.

At the breakfast table, Neuvillette was reading the newspapers. This wasn’t unusual in itself. It was part of his morning routine. What was unusual was how intensely he was looking through them.

You looked at the headlines of the paper he was reading. There was nothing there that would warrant that deep furrow in his brow. At least, not to your knowledge. Perhaps there was some sort of secret investigation going on?

“Madame, would you like to read the paper?” Neuvillette’s voice broke through your thoughts. It was then that you realized that you had been leaning forward and squinting your eyes to read the newspaper print. “I’m nearly done with it.”

“Oh, no, I was just wondering if something happened, since you seem to be engrossed in them.”

“No,” Neuvillette took a pause before replying. “I was simply looking for something.”

“I see,” you said, then cut a piece of pancake and popped it into your mouth. After swallowing, you continued, “Is it work related?”

“I…would not say so,” Neuvillette said. It was strange for him to be so evasive, but maybe it was one of those things he wasn’t at liberty to tell you.

“By the way, Neuvillette, I’m going to start on the albums today. You’ve given me a great burden to carry, but I’m willing to take it on.”

You were teasing him a bit, but in truth, you were a bit excited. Your teacher had a whole shelf of albums that were filled with photos from her travels throughout Teyvat, and you had pleasant memories of flipping through them and asking her the stories behind each photo. Of course, you wouldn’t be able to replicate her on that scale, but the Court of Fontaine was as good a start as any. You had even thought up a sort of system as to which area you would cover each day and what you would photograph, which you explained to Neuvillette.

“You plan on going out into the city today, Madame?” Neuvillette asked after you finished speaking. He put down the papers and stared at you.

“Er, yes?” you answered hesitantly. He seemed strangely preoccupied with your answer. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“…No, not at all,” Neuvillette said after another pause. His lips were pressed together in a thin line. “Where do you plan to go?”

“Just the plaza…” you said, raising your eyebrows at how grave he sounded. “And maybe the Palais.”

“Do not go to the Palais,” Neuvillette spoke abruptly. His face was all seriousness. “Please, promise me that. If you have any business there, ask me. I will assist you with it.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “What do you mean, I can’t go to the Palais? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” he said quickly.

“Then why can’t I go there?”

“I cannot tell you, but I assure you that I only have your safety and happiness in mind when I am asking you to not to go anywhere near the Palais. Please, Madame, promise me this.”

You stared into his violet eyes, trying to gauge what he was thinking. There was a note of desperate urgency in his voice you had only heard once before, not to mention the weightiness of his words. “I promise,” you found yourself saying.

“Thank you, Madame,” Neuvillette was visibly relieved. His shoulders relaxed and he closed his eyes for a second before opening them again.

“Neuvillette, what’s going on?” you demanded. “You’re acting strange. Did something happen?”

“Do not worry. I will take care of everything,” he said, not answering your questions at all. He stood up, and you did the same, intending on getting to the bottom of this.

The two of you headed to the door. “You’re hiding something,” you said, glaring up at him. He met your gaze, then looked away. “It has something to do with me, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll take care of it. Please don’t worry,” he repeated, then attempted a smile. “Focus on your photography project. I cannot to wait to see the finished product. And…Madame, if you see any suspicious persons lingering around you, you must tell one of the Melusines right away.”

“Huh?” you gape at him, but he simply bid you goodbye and left the house. You watched him get into the carriage and set off.

For such a stoic man, he’s actually quite terrible at hiding his feelings at times, you thought.

Your outing at the plaza went mostly as planned. You were able to take many pictures of the fountain, the hulking Meka walking around, and the street performers. The patrolling Melusines, once you told them what you were doing, became quite enthusiastic and asked for you to take their pictures as well. It would have been a great day, if it weren’t for the gray skies and the heaviness of your heart.

Neuvillette’s behavior at home did nothing to quell it. Though he did his best to hide it, but he was obviously stressed and worn out. He would eagerly ask you about your day but seemed distracted by his thoughts as you talked, and rebuffed your questions, whether they were innocuous or direct, when you tried to probe him for answers. He came home later than usual and worked into the late nights in his study.

Over the next few days, you continued your urban outings, criss-crossing the city to take more pictures. You ate lunch outside and people-watched as you sat at your table. Often, a Melusine would join you. Being able to spend time in such a carefree, leisurely way would have been an unattainable dream to the past you, but you couldn’t enjoy it fully, not when you were always worried about Neuvillette at the back of your mind. He definitely seems more haggard these days. Is he eating well? I hope he isn’t just drinking water and passing that off as having lunch.

“Are you not hungry, Madame?” a sleepy-sounding voice broke through your reverie. It belonged to Menthe, who was sitting across from you. “You’re not eating your fish and chips.”

You looked down. The savory dish, deep-fried to a golden brown, was one of your favorite treats, but not something you ate often, and yet you found yourself with zero appetite.

“I suppose I’m not,” you sighed. “You can have it if you like.”

“Oh, really, Madame? Thank you!”

You watched as Menthe happily dug in. She had accompanied you to this café after you decided to take a lunch break.

I wonder if the Melusines are in on this too, you thought. It wasn’t unusual for Melusines to come up to you when you were walking around town, but you couldn’t help but notice that there seemed to be an awful lot of them at the places you went to. The places where you told Neuvillette you would be.

They were as cheerful and talkative as ever, but you also noticed how intently their bright gazes flitted around, even when they chatted with you, almost as though they were on the lookout for something.

You considered several possibilities and narrowed it down to two: One, there was a serial killer on the loose, or some other crazed criminal, who was after you. Two, your relationship had somehow been exposed to the paparazzi.

It was doubtful that Neuvillette would let you leave the house if there was a killer after you. And why would someone want to kill you, anyway? For marrying Neuvillette? What a lame reason for murder. Then again, some of his more extreme fans were known for their passion…

The second option seemed more likely. However, you had scoured all the tabloids for any articles on the matter, and while you did find some claiming that Neuvillette was involved with some woman or another, none of them were you (although you didn’t feel as relieved as you ought to have, for some reason). If you knew anything about these kinds of publications, it was that if they caught wind of something juicy, like the Chief Justice being in a secret relationship, they would waste no time in making that their headline, no matter how flimsy the evidence was.

Thinking back on it now, you and Neuvillette definitely hadn’t been as discreet as you could have been. The two of you had been in public together enough times that someone could get suspicious.

It would be easy to deny it though, you mused. In most of those cases, we were just talking or walking together. Just because a man and woman are together, it doesn’t mean they’re a married couple.

Whatever the case was, you wished Neuvillette would talk to you about it.

If it has something to do with me, then just tell me, you thought. You were now back home and staring up at the ceiling of your room. Why all the secrecy? It’s clearly stressing him out.

Sure, there was probably very little you could do to help, but…but…

Why are you acting so presumptuous? A small voice whispered in your mind. Didn’t Neuvillette say he would take care of everything? When will anyone ever offer to do that for you again?

Yeah, but… you argued back. I shouldn’t just sit back and do nothing! It’s unfair to him.

What does fairness mean in a relationship like this? What can you, a baron’s daughter, do for the Chief Justice of Fontaine that he can’t do for himself? If he doesn’t want you to know about something, it’s for your own good, just like last time. He clearly doesn’t expect you to do anything. What you can do to put him at ease is living your own life carefreely and supporting him at home.

But… you struggled to come up with an argument. Or maybe, you were unwilling to.

Your bed was nice and comfy, and your room was cozy. The sunlight streamed through the lace curtains of the window. If you wanted to, you could run a bath and soak in it for an hour, or read at your window seat, or ask Marie to make a snack for you. You could do anything you wanted.

You continued to lie on your bed until dinner time.

Neuvillette didn’t come home until very late at night. By that time, you were already in bed.

The next day was grayer than usual. It rained all day. As you were in no mood to undertake the challenge of photographing in the rain, you decided to stay home and brush up on your science. You had neglected your studies for far too long.

As you rifled through a notebook, you suddenly came upon a nearly blank page. It was titled “List of Neuvillette’s associates.”

You remembered writing those words all those months ago. It seemed like an eternity had passed since then. You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands again at the memories of your embarrassing behavior. It was a wonder that Neuvillette hadn’t changed his mind and married someone more well-adjusted after all that.

You glanced at the Lakelight Lily on your desk. It looked a little less plumper than before, but its refreshing scent was still there. You recalled Neuvillette’s words as he put in your hair.

He was always so considerate and thoughtful. What’s more, you could tell he genuinely meant it. He never failed to ask after your comfort and health. He even inquired about your family on a regular basis when he didn’t need to. He even accepted your awkward offer of friendship when he could have just ignored you.

You still had no idea what possessed him to ask you to marry him. He probably would have had an easier time if he had picked anyone else. No, not just anyone. Whoever he married should be just as kind and caring as him. Someone accomplished and beautiful. Someone who he could proudly show off in public as his spouse. Someone who could teach him the “joys of matrimony.”

But until he finds that mythical someone, he’s stuck with me.

Resolve formed in your heart.

Neuvillette came home late again that night, but this time, you stayed up. You listened to his footsteps as he went down the hallway to his study. After you heard the door close, you sat up in bed.

Okay, let’s do this, you cheered yourself on, then put on your robe and slipped out of your room.

You padded down the carpeted floor towards the study. You found yourself walking on your tiptoes for some reason.

The mahogany door seemed to you like an imposing barrier. It wasn’t too late to turn around and crawl back into bed. You were sorely tempted to.

But I’m here on a mission and I’m going to see it through no matter what, you told yourself firmly.

You raised your hand and knocked on the door. “Neuvillette,” you called out. “May I come in? I would like to speak with you.”

A scraping sound came from inside. “Madame?” Neuvillette said as he opened the door. “What are you doing up so late?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your jaw remained hanging open as you took in the sight before you.

Forearms. The words popped into your mind out of nowhere. Neck.

Neuvillette’s usual long blue robes were nowhere to be found. For that reason, he was only wearing a white dress shirt, and his hair was unbound. That wasn’t what made you speechless. You had seen him in that state plenty of times before. No, what stunned you was the fact that his sleeves were rolled up and that the first two buttons of his shirt were undone. Without his clothing obscuring them, you were able to feast your eyes on the sight of his sinewy arms and the smooth, unblemished skin at the juncture between his neck and collarbones.

He was usually so covered-up, even at home, that seeing so much of his skin exposed felt akin to seeing him naked. Oh no, don’t think about that, don’t think about that…

“Madame? Madame, is something the matter?” Neuvillette’s voice broke through your thoughts, which were heading in a rather dangerous direction. To your extreme embarrassment, you realized that your mouth was hanging open slightly. No wonder he looked so concerned. I feel like a giant pervert. No, I am one!

“Um, er…it’s nothing!” your voice came out in a higher octave. You took a step backwards. This is just wonderful.

“Are you sure? Your face looks a bit red,” Neuvillette stood up. “You shouldn’t be staying up so late, especially if you might be sick.”

“Oh, no, no, I assure you, I am definitely not sick, not at all,” you babbled, even as the words “forearms” and “neck” danced through your head. “I really just wanted to talk to you. It’s urgent.”

“If it’s urgent, then please come in,” Neuvillette gestured for you to enter his study. His shirt shifted slightly with the movement, exposing a sliver more of his chest. You wanted to cover your eyes.

You entered the study. Neuvillette sat back down in his chair and looked at you. You looked at him. Or rather, you looked at the air above him.

“Madame, what is this urgent matter you wish to discuss with me?” he asked. He looked terribly concerned, and you didn’t blame him. The way you were acting right now was definitely a cause for worry.

“I…um…want to…uh…you know…” you gestured with your hands. “I want to…brush your hair! Yes, brush your hair. I’ve noticed how…dishevelled it gets when you come home, so I would like to fix that. Yes, that’s it.”

“You…wish to brush my hair?” Neuvillette repeated, sounding confused.

You nodded vigorously. “And talk,” you added.

“I see,” he still looked confused, but he stood up and went to the door. “I shall go get my hairbrush, then.”

“Please do so,” you said, and watched him go to his room. Once he was gone, you buried your face in one of the pillows on the couch and screamed.

What was going on with you? Why were you getting so worked up over skin? It wasn’t as though you were some sheltered maiden who never saw shirtless men before. And Neuvillette wasn’t even shirtless! And just what would he look like without his shirt on, anyways?

“Stop it,” you told yourself. “Stop it right now. Think about something else.”

“Pardon me, Madame?” Neuvillette’s voice made you jolt upright. “Did you say something? And why are you lying on the couch?”

“It’s nothing,” you quickly got up and clasped your hands together, making yourself the picture of composure and self-possession, ignoring the voice in your head that told you it wasn’t too late to excuse yourself and run back to your room. “Please forget what you just saw. I am perfectly fine.”

You held out your hand for the hairbrush, and Neuvillette gave it to you after some hesitation. The hairbrush was silver, its back carved with a swirling design. It was heavy and cool in your hand. You tried to picture Neuvillette brushing his hair with it every morning, like a princess in a fairytale, and had to suppress a (most likely crazed-looking) smile.

He sat down in his chair, and you stood behind him. You slowly ran the brush through his silver locks, careful not to touch his horns. You did this in silence for a few moments. It had a strangely calming effect on you—you felt your heartbeat settling down, your mind becoming clearer. The fact that you couldn’t see his face was also helpful.

“Neuvillette,” you began. “I know that you’ve been hiding something from me. I would like you to reveal it to me.”

You heard him let out a sigh. He tried to turn his head, but you prevented him from doing so. “Madame, I have already explained to you that it is nothing for you to worry about. Please allow me to take care of it. It was caused by my own oversight in the first place.”

“I am allowing you to take care of it. But I would still like to know what it is.”

“It will only distress you, and I do not wish to do that.”

“I will be the judge of what distresses me. And besides, seeing you obviously so troubled by this matter already makes me feel wretched, so there is really nothing to lose here.”

“My apologies. I will work harder to mask my feelings as to not affect your mood.”

“Neuvillette, that’s not the point I’m making,” you groaned as you worked to loosen a particularly tough tangle in his hair. “Right now, not knowing what’s troubling you is causing me more distress than whatever this mysterious ‘something’ is.”

“I do not believe you would think the same way once you learned what it is.”

“How do you know that?” you asked. Realizing that you had raised your voice, you quickly softened it. “Let me put this another way. This is how I’m repaying you.”

“Repaying me?”

“Yes. For listening to me, for allowing me to cry into your arms on our date. Do you know, Neuvillette, that it’s been a long time since I was able to vent my feelings to someone like that? I’ve forgotten how nice it feels. It…really saved me. And I want to do the same thing for you. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do anything, but it’s easier to come up with a solution when you’re discussing things with someone else, isn’t it?”

Neuvillette didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. But you could tell that he was wavering. You picked up the ends of his long hair and brushed them. You needed to give him one last push.

“If you don’t inform me about matters that are related to me, then I see no reason why I should tell you anything more about myself.”

“Madame, what are you implying?” there was a note of what almost sounded like panic in Neuvillette’s voice.

“That’s right. If you do not tell me your secret, I shall not speak to you ever again for the remainder of our marriage. You will lose the privilege of conversing with me.”

You had expected him to let out a chuckle or something. You hadn’t meant it seriously. Well, maybe a little. You were feeling a bit frustrated.

What you didn’t expect was that he would wrench himself out of your grip and turn around to face you. His lips were pressed together tightly, but his eyes were wide. His gaze burned through you.

“I will tell you,” he said, voice almost too calm. “So please reconsider. It will pain me greatly if you go through with it.”

“I won’t,” you said, caught off guard.

He turned back around. After taking a pause, he told you about the photo Furina obtained, and the ultimatum she gave him. You listened to him intently as he talked, brushing the bottom half of his hair and occasionally untangling snarls.

After he finished speaking, you took a few minutes to digest what you’ve just heard.

“So, no one else except Lady Furina has that photo?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t believe that she would lie or go back on her promise?”

“In this matter, I do not believe she would.”

“I see,” you put down the brush, then moved yourself to meet Neuvillette’s eyes. “Then, I agree to the meeting. I think that’s the most reasonable thing to do here. In hindsight, we should have done it a long time ago. It would have saved us all this trouble.”

“You agree to it?” Neuvillette repeated, sounding stunned.

“Well, it was either this or let Lady Furina dig up my sordid past and do whatever she wants with that information, right? Besides, what’s so scary about a meeting? Plenty of people from all walks of life have made appointments with her, including my own great-grandparents. If they could do it, so can I. And I’ll have you there with me, so there’s really nothing to worry about.”

“But once she meets you face-to-face, you will become known to her. You will not be able to live the peaceful life that you desire.”

Oh, so that’s why he asked that question, you thought.

“Well, we don’t know that, do we? For all we know, once she meets with us, she would judge that we are a perfectly uninteresting couple and leave us alone for the rest of the year.”

“That is unlikely to happen,” Neuvillette murmured. “And what if she discovers our arrangement?”

“She won’t if we don’t do anything that would reveal it to her. You know the saying, ‘Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.’ As long as we don’t do anything that would make her want to go through the records in the license office, we should be fine.” A thought suddenly struck you. “She can’t…prevent us from divorcing, can she? Or force us to remarry?”

“There are no laws that grant her the powers to do those things. But, I expect that she could make life difficult for you, should she choose to do so.”

“Hmm…” you thought. “Well, I’ll just think about what to do when that time comes.”

“Madame,” Neuvillette rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t be so irresponsible about your own future. This is why I did not wish to tell you. I did not want you to push yourself needlessly for my sake.”

“Push myself needlessly? I see things differently. There’s no guarantee that things will go smoothly, but that’s just life, isn’t it? All I know is that if we don’t do anything, it will most likely turn out badly for us. So I would rather choose the other option.”

You sounded braver than you felt. In this cozy, quiet study with Neuvillette, where you were the only people who would ever know the words exchanged in this room, it was easy to feel self-assured and optimistic about the unknown. Perhaps this was also its own sort of danger.

But when you looked at Neuvillette’s worried face, you found it easier to feel brave.

“Neuvillette, do you remember the promise I made to you on that first night? I promised to make sure that your life is as inconvenienced as possible. This is how I’m trying to fulfill it. Will you allow me to do that?”

“You need not go that far. You have never inconvenienced me, not even now. In fact, you have been a reassurance. It was due to my folly that we got into this situation in the first place.”

“If it was your folly, then it was mine as well. I should have also been paying attention,” you let out a sigh. “Look, Neuvillette, we can go around in circles about this all night, but when you get down to it, it is for situations like these that you married me. You didn’t marry me because you liked me in that way. Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true. If I don’t do my part, then I’m just a freeloader living in your house, right?”

“I have never thought of you as a ‘freeloader’… I have always considered you as my wife,” Neuvillette said curtly, but then he smiled at you gently. “You’ve made some very good points. You are correct. It was irresponsible of me to hide it from you. I still have much to learn when it comes to how a husband ought to behave, it seems.”

A warm, tingling feeling spread through your body when you heard his words. He thought of you as his wife. Well, of course he did, since you were officially married and all. But hearing him call you “my wife” was an entirely different thing.

“That’s my job, as your wife. To discuss problems and come up with solutions with you. And from now on, please tell me whenever you’re feeling troubled over something. I’m inadequate in many things, but I’ve been told that I’m a good listener,” you said, fiddling with your fingers. You felt your mouth stretching into a wide smile for no reason and looked down to hide it.

“I will. My apologies for all the distress I’ve caused you. I will tell Furina tomorrow about our decision.”

You and Neuvillette held each other’s gazes for longer than was necessary. In the dim light of the study, his eyes looked darker, obscuring his slitted pupils. You felt weak-kneed all of a sudden. You realized that you had been running on adrenaline until now, but you didn’t feel sleepy. In fact, you were wide awake.

“Will you go to bed now?” he asked. His voice was lower, huskier than usual.

You shook your head. “Will you?”

“I still have some work to do.”

“Then I’ll stay up with you. Since I’m your wife and all.”

Neuvillette looked like he was about to argue, but you went over to one of the bookshelves and took out a history book, then went to curl up on the couch. “Feel free to disregard me,” you said, opening the book.

After a few seconds, you heard an exhale, then the resuming of a pen scratching against paper.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but when you woke up, you were in your bed with the comforter neatly pulled up to your chin. You were quite sure you had a dream, but didn’t recall its contents except for the instinctive knowledge that it was a good one.

You also had the vague memory of feeling something warm brushing against your forehead, but it was so brief and fleeting that it might have been part of the dream as well.

Previous | Next

Taglist:@just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox, @jqnehr, @favficdump, @thetwinkims, @cielclassy, @the-mxs-of-many, @mxyarylla, @lynettezz, @rosedpetal, @blue-sapphire-ink

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x female reader #genshin fluff #the winding path of fate #my works

100 notes · View notes

patemi-pk · 3 days

Text

I think this was excellent marketing

These, on the other hand, quite disputable

They're not bad per se, but IMHO the Phantom Blot should have been used differently. And this 1960s PB had consequences: the entire brazilian corpus about him conceives him this way. Fortunately in Italy that scoundrel (😝) of Martina sort of saved him from this fate.

#disney #comics #disney comics #fumetti #phantom blot

27 notes · View notes

dptarotproject · 1 year

Text

We're still working away behind the scenes, but as a reminder we have the info doc and interest survey up for anyone to check out!

INFO DOC | INTEREST SURVEY

💚 What is this project?

This is a collaborative project designed to show off all the incredible art and talented artists of the phandom. The ultimate goal is to build a complete tarot deck with unique and original artwork centred around everything Danny Phantom.

As always, we would love to hear back from the phandom, whether you’re interested in the final product, or if you’ll like to participate in the project.

All reblogs are appreciated to help spread the word! Phazer loves you for it 💚

#danny phantom #phandom #phantom's fate and fortune #phan art #dp fanart #tarot cards #tarot project #interest check #art collab #fandom collab #announcement

154 notes · View notes

theladyofbloodshed · 8 months

Text

Chapter 21

Feyre had swept into the red-brick house like a phantom wind. Her visit lasted no more than half an hour – and apparently she had arrived the night before, after Azriel and Cassian had raced off to find her. Her other family was deemed more important than her sisters. While they were cloistered away to hide the damage, they were unimportant. All the visit had done was upset Elain more because it had brought with it confirmation that they could never go home.

Nesta had managed to soothe her when Feyre and Cassian departed. Her head was still in Nesta’s lap, fingers running through the silken strands of dark hair. Elain had stopped crying. It had been replaced with a quiet grief that was worse.

Maybe one day Nesta could grieve for the life she had lost. Maybe she’d have a chance to stop and weep that she’d been tied to a faerie by fate without a choice in the matter.

Not today.

Faintly, she could make out the soft pad of feet through a house that she believed to be empty. Warily, Nesta opened the door a crack. Her heart already knew it wasn’t the shadowsinger – and she hated that she could know that without trying.

A male with a sheet of red, shining hair was walking along the corridor as if he had turned abruptly at the sound of the door. He paused, glancing back towards her.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’

The male – Lucien, he was called – froze.

‘Get out,’ Nesta said through clenched teeth.

He raised his palms in a peace offering that was unwanted. ‘I’ve been granted refuge here.’

‘I don’t care. You stay away. I don’t care what imaginary string you think is tying you to my sister. Forget about it.’

Nesta watched him go with a small amount of pride in her chest that he had so easily scuttled away. That was until dinner when she was pressured to attend. She had tried her best to coax Elain to join them – then when she knew Lucien Vanserra would be seated at the table, she promised to bring Elain’s dinner to her. If Nesta attended the dinner, she could keep eyes on Lucien rather than him skulking off to seek out Elain.

Wearing a long-sleeved, dark blue gown that clung to her curves, Nesta entered the dining room and blocked out the sudden hush and stares.

‘Where did that dress come from?’ Mor breezed towards her, hands pawing at the fine material. ‘I want one.’

Her own dress exposed much of her midriff, back, and chest. The almost-sheer red panels of the skirt flashed her legs. The female may as well have been bare.

‘I assume my mate dug it up somewhere,’ said Feyre.

‘He gets all the credit for clothes and he never tells me where he finds them. He still won’t tell me where he found Feyre’s dress for Starfall. Bastard.’

Nesta hated them all staring at her. Worse still was because this dress had not come from a long-forgotten chest of clothes. No, a male who had decided that he belonged to Nesta had been to a seamstress to have it made for her. If the attention was on her for too long, the others would realise that this was a new gown, designed perfectly for her body.

Mor examined the silver combs in her hair – another gift that had appeared when she refused to leave her rooms. ‘It’s a good thing we’re not the same size – or else I might be tempted to steal the dress.’

She kept her face blank, wishing this inspection would finish. ‘Fortunately for you, I don’t return the sentiment.’

Nesta claimed a seat as Azriel choked on his wine at the other end of the table.

The dinner was fine. Nothing she’d want to repeat in a hurry. Not with the odd, little creature beside her claiming they were the same. Not with Cassian and Morrigan drinking more and growing louder with each glass or sticking their tongues out like urchin children. Regardless of their lack of manners, Nesta followed the volley of conversation back and forth. Only Azriel did not offer anything to it when even the red-haired male contributed to the conversation - until he suggested teaching Feyre to fly. There was a terseness in his tone as Azriel explained that he had learnt later. Nesta felt his pain, felt it as acutely as if the wound had been inflicted upon her. Shadows wreathed his hands as though they were comforting him too.

‘I can show you how to engage your powers, girl,’ said Amren. Nesta did not want to admit that a fire simmered in her blood and constantly pushed at the edges in its desire to be unleashed. ‘Rhysand, when you go the Court of Nightmares, we will go with you.’

‘What?’ Feyre said with a gasp.

‘The Hewn City is a trove of objects of power. There may be opportunities for Nesta to practise. Let the girl get a feel for what something like the wall or the Cauldron might be like.’

‘No,’ rumbled Azriel.

‘Covertly,’ added Amren.

‘That is no place for Nesta,’ he said. The warning was clear enough, but Nesta hated how the eyes in the room flickered between him and her, at the way he’d leapt to protect her.

Feyre cleared her throat. ‘We might need your assistance during the meeting with the High Lords – to provide testimony to other courts and allies of what Hybern is capable of. What was done to you.’

‘No.’

‘You don’t mind fixing the wall or going to the Court of Nightmares, but speaking to people is where you draw your line?’

Nesta’s mouth tightened. She could not relive that night. Could not trot out her story for all to see when it caused her so much grief. ‘No.’

‘Feyre,’ warned Azriel. ‘She does not want to.’

Despite being startled by Azriel’s low, rough tone, Feyre turned back to Nesta. ‘People’s lives might depend on your account of it. The success of this meeting with the High Lords might depend upon it.’

Nesta couldn’t do it. She was back in her bedroom, the first sounds of an intrusion snapping her from the sheets in her sheer panic to get to Elain.

‘Don’t talk down to me. My answer is no.’

Feyre angled her head, nodding sympathetically. ‘I understand that what happened to you was horrible—'

‘You have no idea what it was or was not. None. And I am not going to grovel like one of those Children of the Blessed, begging High Fae who would have gladly killed me as a mortal to help us. I’m not going to tell them that story—my story.’

‘The High Lords might not believe our account, which makes you a valuable witness—’

Nesta shoved her chair back, chucking her napkin on her plate, gravy soaking through the fine linen. A witness. Not a victim. A damn witness.

‘Then it is not my problem if you’re unreliable. I’ll help you with the wall, but I am not going to whore my story around to everyone on your behalf.’

She shot to her feet, colour rising to her ordinarily pale face, and hissed, ‘And if you even dare suggest to Elain that she do such a thing, I will rip out your throat.’

***

All that night, Azriel had stayed awake in the House of Wind. Once the others had departed either to bedrooms in the house or elsewhere in Velaris, he took up his post beside the bedroom door like he had many weeks before. Azriel leant against the wall, shadows blanketing his outstretched legs.

He’d caught the soft murmur of Nesta’s voice as she spoke to Elain but there had been no responses from the sister. The bedroom had been silent for some time. Still, Azriel remained there. Nesta had banished him. Had refused to look at him during dinner, had opted to take the seat at the other end of the table than be anywhere near him. Azriel could not stay away. Knowing she was on the other side of the door soothed him. His mate was close by.

At the sound of her crossing the room, Azriel stilled. If she jerked open the door and found him there, she’d unleash hell.

Careful not to make a sound with his wings, Azriel stood. Shadows veiled him.

It was worse than Nesta opening the door to find him there.

Her crying seeped through to him. Unrestrained, broken tears from a female forced into a world she wanted no part of.

Azriel pressed his hand to the wooden door, wishing he could haul it open and hold his mate.

A day later, Rhys gave the summons that the sisters were to be moved to the town house with immediate effect – and kept far from Lucien Vanserra. Through the grapevine of Feyre then Mor then Cassian, Azriel had discovered that Elain had left the room of her own accord and Lucien had happened across her in the library. How the male could still draw breath after facing a fearsome, protective Nesta, he did not know.

Their belongings were packed quickly and bundled on the roof ready to be winnowed. Azriel knew better than to reach for Nesta to offer to fly her; she dared not even glance his way. That cool indifference was a mask he already wanted to rip away. Instead, Azriel cradled an unresponsive Elain in his arms on the roof. Realising that she would be in Cassian’s arms, Nesta looked as though she’d rather walk off of the roof.

‘Precious cargo,’ crooned Cassian. ‘I’ll carry you gently.’

One of Azriel’s shadows darted at Cassian, stinging him on the neck like a wasp.

Feyre nudged Nesta towards Rhys instead, but neither seemed thrilled at that prospect either. It left Cass with Lucien.

They landed first with Feyre winnowing not a second later. Elain’s hair snagged on the scales of his leathers as he gently put her down.

‘Would you like to see the garden again?’

Each day, Elain was fading more. At least she had talked to Lucien in the library, but it had been little more than half-riddles and questions from what he’d gathered. If Elain did not heal, it would leave a wound in Nesta that could never be forgotten. Azriel coaxed her around the garden, offering names for flowers or plants that his mother had taught him in lieu of conversation.

Once the others had arrived, he heard the stomp of Nesta’s feet – could recognise the gait. He rushed through the house, abandoning Elain to the flowers.

‘I need a toilet,’ she said, pressing her hand to her mouth.

‘What did you do?’

Azriel pulsed forwards, not caring who or what was in his path. Brother or high lady, he didn’t care.

‘I asked him the same thing,’ said Feyre, crossing her arms. ‘He said he went fast.’

Tempting, so tempting to blast Rhys with all seven of his siphons to see if he enjoyed going fast too. Cassian caught the flare of his temper and cut him off with a wing.

‘She’s terrified of heights, you bastard,’ Azriel snarled. ‘She will never fly again.’

The sounds of her vomiting splattering against the bowl pierced their stalemate.

Rhys was watching him closely, violet eyes flicking from his clenched fists to the bathroom door. Then the brass knob twisted. Nesta’s face was still greenish-pale but her eyes burned like molten ore. It was quicksilver set aflame with one target.

All of her attention was fixed on Rhys.

A burst of shadows tried to stop her, tried to cling to her arms and legs as she powered forwards, silver flames crawling over her body.

‘Nesta,’ Feye snapped, urgency ringing out.

Rhys braced himself, shields going up.

It would be his own damn fault if Nesta slayed him, but the alternative was Keir in command.

Azriel stepped in front of her path. He seized both of her hands, not caring for the sting of her flames, so cold they burnt.

‘Stop,’ he said, voice low enough that only she might hear.

She’d lose herself to magic. A beautiful, terrible magic that would consume her from the inside out to seek its vengeance.

‘Nesta,’ he murmured, thumbs rubbing the backs of her hands.

She blinked slowly. The burning, molten gaze became normal again and she slid her hands out of his grasp.

Lucien breathed, ‘What are you?’

‘I made it give something back,’ she said with terrifying quiet. ‘I wish to go to my room.’

‘Take the one on the left,’ Feyre said, eyeing her warily. ‘We need to go to the Hewn City in three hours.’

Nesta gave a single nod of acknowledgement then weakly trailed up the stairs – and it took all of Azriel’s strength to remain there rather than follow her.

***

All of it was useless. The black dress that Amren had stuffed her in, the haughty look she had perfected to skim the Hewn City's faces, the hope that her powers might prove useful in protecting the wall. It was all a useless waste of time.

Amren had walked her through the room of objects, many of them leaping off the shelf to either avoid her or to hurt her. She’d ended up with welts on her arm where a statue had come to life and clung to her before Nesta could produce a shield. Amren didn’t go easy. Said it was her own fault for slow reactions – as if she hadn’t only been taught how to do it the day earlier.

Failure was ringing in her ears even as they returned to Velaris. An argument spilt out between Morrigan and Rhysand then between the latter and Amren. Cassian had been closest to her and swept Nesta behind his wings anticipating an eruption. The mood had remained terse. Elain had appeared rambling about withered hands and crying girls. Lucien had the perfectly splendid idea of a healer seeing to Elain which Feyre whole-heartedly agreed with as if it hadn’t already happened. Madja had already been to see Elain multiple times and found nothing wrong with her.

Nesta had thrashed in the sheets, too hot to settle, to stressed to remain there. If they didn’t use her to whore her story out to the high lords then Feyre would plonk Elain on a chair in front of them all like a spectacle. The delicate girl who traded her sanity for immortality.

Wisps of clouds swirled across the night sky. Even Nesta could admit that the Night Court had a sky to be envious of, as if there were more stars here despite that being impossible. She settled herself in a chair in the lounge and cracked open a window.

‘Nesta.’

The voice was whisper-soft, so tender that she thought that she’d imagined it like a being had carried her name on the wind.

Nesta glanced at the doorway, finding it empty, then pulled her thin blanket tighter around her shoulders. Despite open windows, she was warm – yet couldn’t relinquish the safety of a thin sheet around her shoulders in the living room as she read by candlelight. She turned back to her book although her attention had struggled to stay with it. It had struggled to stay with anything recently. Sleep was not a regular occurrence and the evidence of that became more apparent through her irritable mood and pale complexion.

‘Nesta,’ the low, male voice repeated.

From the shadows, a figure stepped across the threshold. A mist had dusted Azriel’s hair, dampening it which was at odds to the dry, hot summer they were experiencing in Velaris. It seemed that Nesta was not the only one who struggled to sleep.

‘I don’t want you here,’ she said firmly, body coiling tight enough to strike from his presence.

Her words landed like a blade sinking into soft flesh. She’d seen him as the merciless spymaster in the Hewn City that night. That icy exterior hadn’t given anything away. Azriel had looked as though he cared for nothing except pain.

‘I know,’ replied Azriel, voice hoarse. Still, he stepped closer then revealed a book from his leathers. It was bound in pale blue cloth that reminded her of the sea. Carefully, Azriel opened it where the ribbon had held the page then set it before her.

He gave a slight incline of his head, encouraging her to read.

Once a mating bond has been accepted by the female, it is a force that can only be cleaved by death. In such incidences, the male feels the loss significantly and is never the same as a result. Many males have fallen to madness as a result. Although rare, females can overcome their grief and return to a relatively calm life.

‘Are you suggesting I kill you?’

Azriel’s lips quirked at the notion of violence. A scarred finger guided hers further down the text.

Prior to acceptance, the mating bond remains malleable. For some, it can be interpreted as a string tying two souls together and others have reported it as spun metal, unbending and unwilling. Due to the physical nature of it, spell-casters can feel bonds and sever them. It requires the blood from a dying male’s throat and the blood of a birthing female. In addition, the spell must be performed beneath a blood moon beside fresh running water.

Hope flowered in Nesta’s chest. There was a way to sever the tie to Azriel. It was possible… and he’d offered up that information to her freely.

The loss of a mate leaves irreparable damage.

Her eyes shot from the line to him. Her nostrils flared. ‘What sort of damage?’

‘It’s rarely felt by females.’

She straightened her spine, drawing herself taller. Nesta held Azriel’s stare until he relented and gave her the answers she needed.

‘Females can feel like they’ve lost something. Like part of them is missing.’

‘And males?’

He lifted a shoulder. ‘It’s unimportant.’

‘Azriel,’ she snapped, voice cracking through the silent lounge like a whip.

He didn’t balk from her anger – he never had. If Azriel had not been there to block her path earlier, Nesta would have unleashed that silver fire on his high lord for flying her too quickly.

‘Males can be driven to madness. They can remain possessive, be agitated if the female finds love again. They can believe themselves entitled to her.’

Nesta gave a choked laugh. ‘So, I am damned whatever I do.’

He dared to take a step forward. ‘No. I respect your choice. I’d rather cut out my heart than ever hurt you. And I have hurt you. I should have told you. You were mortal and I didn’t believe it could snap. One day, we’d forget each other. You’d grow old and it wouldn’t matter. Then you were brought into our world and I couldn’t tell you after everything had happened. I wanted you to live and this would hurt you again.’ He swallowed, the gulp audible. ‘You were starting to be happy. I couldn’t ruin it.’

It was the most they had talked in days. The temptation to reach out for him, to ease his pain, burnt in her gut.

‘A blood moon isn’t until three months from now. I’ve secured a spell-caster from the Continent who can perform the spell when it’s time.’

‘Is that where you’ve been every night?’

Azriel eased out a breath. He was still stood awkwardly in the room, afraid to come closer or get comfortable. ‘Yes and no. I’ve been trying to find a way into the mortal queens’ castle. This was a side project.’

‘Oh,’ she replied. ‘I thought you were avoiding me.’

‘You don’t want me near you.’

Had she said that? Nesta supposed it was true. She reviled the bond. Despised the notion of fate blindly shackling her to another.

But this was a male who’d left little pastries at her door, had visited a seamstress for new clothes, and returned to a ruined manor to retrieve the last traces of her life.

Nesta wish she could comb through what was real and what was encouraged by a bond. Would he have done any of these things if fate didn’t encourage it?

‘You would really sever the bond?’

A single shadow peered at them as if it had been sent forwards by the others to listen in and report back.

‘I made a promise that I’d protect you,’ he said. Regret flashed on his face. ‘I failed. I’ve researched and there’s no way to reverse what the Cauldron did to you. This is the only way I can conceive of to make things better.’

‘This is atonement?’ demanded Nesta.

‘This is what you want.’

The idea of wrenching something away that could never be replaced was not foreign to her. She had lost her mother, her home twice over. Even if Nesta was unscathed by it, the very thought of causing irreparable damage to Azriel then having to force him to be in her presence was too cruel.

She stood so she could look at him properly. ‘What do you want?’

Her chest felt as if it was caving in as she took in the forlorn expression upon his beautiful face. For her, Azriel would ruin the bond. Whether it was for atonement or a punishment to himself, did not matter. He would be damaged forever as a result.

She didn’t want that.

Azriel was the only one who had tried to make Velaris feel like a home.

She couldn’t hurt him. All of her own research into mating bonds spoke of their joy, their rarity. Accounts spoke of mates dying for the other, going to the edge of the world to save each other. For most, it was a happy match. Two souls destined for the other despite obstacles. They were meant to be a perfect balance. How could she take that from him?

A panicked sob ripped through her.

‘Take that book away. I don’t want to see it.’

His shadows curled over the book summoning it to him and out of sight.

Nesta’s hands trembled. ‘You’d just sever it like that? You wouldn’t fight? You will never be the same. How can you be willing to do this? You will be happy with this?’

Her head was spinning. The idea of losing that thread tying them together made her chest ache as keenly as if it had already been taken away. Her palm splayed across her ribs as if Nesta could feel the tether to him pulling tighter.

Azriel made to reach for her then thought better of it, the anguish plain to see.

‘You are my mate,’ he said quietly. ‘Your happiness is the most important to me. That’s what it means to have a mate, Nesta. I only want a good life for you.’

‘And I shouldn’t reciprocate that?’ Her voice sounded shrill. How odd that she’d stood on the battlefield then decided to change sides once she’d seen her opponent. ‘How do you think I will feel if I do this and it ruins you?’

Azriel’s lips pursed then he opened them then closed them. His brows bunched together before a warped laugh escaped him.

‘You wanted to sever the bond but now you’re angry with me for finding a way?’

She lifted her chin. ‘Yes.’

The corner of his mouth twitched. A lightness lifted his hazel eyes.

‘Don’t look at me like that. Don’t look so hopeful. I don’t know what I want. We’re running towards a war and I’ve barely caught my breath but all I know is that I feel better near you,’ she said in a hurry before the words could be locked away.

This time, Azriel did find his bravery and took a step closer so there were inches between them. His hair had dried, the ends curling slightly around the sharp planes of his face.

‘You have three moons to think about it, Nesta. Don’t consider me. This needs to be about you.’

How could Nesta not consider Azriel in this situation? It was surely his decision as much as hers. He had never asked to be her mate – nobody would want that. The repercussions would cause more pain to him than her.

‘What about the alternative?’

At his confusion, Nesta continued, ‘If it isn’t severed?’

‘If it’s left hanging and never accepted?’

‘No. The other one.’

His eyes snapped wide. A soft exhale was released.

‘I told you once that I’d hold you until only the poets remembered us,’ murmured Azriel. He dared to reach out a finger and run it down the length of her arm. ‘I will give you the life you deserve. Ours would be a love that the poets wished they had written.’

Nesta when Azriel finds a way to sever the bond:

#nezriel

69 notes · View notes