#planning for chapter 3 was so tedious though!

[kquil]

ive got 11 days to go till the next DOB update - im so excited aaaaaaaa !!!!!!!!!

haha! i love that you're counting the days - i hope not to disappoint when the time comes (⸝⸝⸝╸w╺⸝⸝⸝) 

[wardenparker]

The King's Queen - chapter 8

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Prince Javier of the Balearic Islands has always known that one day he would have to follow in his father's footsteps to be the caring and steadfast king that his people deserve. What he did not know is that he would be stepping into the next phase of his life alongside a woman he has never met before - and amidst a rocky sea of unusual circumstances of every kind.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 7k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: arranged marriage, age gap, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, mentions of American politics, deceased parents* Unnecessarily sexy use of a mirror, lingerie, size kink, loss of virginity, praise/worship, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex Summary: The night is finally here, and taking the next step with Javi feels even more natural than you dreamed. Notes: Welcome back to the Balearic Islands and welcome to smut time! (Gif is representative of the vibe, not of reader's appearance.)

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

The first people to rise from the dinner table are you and Javi, which is as it should be. Everyone is finished with their meal when the king is, and you are more than happy to leave present company tonight. You take Javi’s arm with a smile and say your good nights, sparing a sly smile for Maisie and Gabriela as you go.

“That did not seem as painful as I was expecting.” Javi admits with a reassuring pat to your hand. “Your father was more restrained, I think.”

“I don’t think he expected me to ever tell him no,” you admit softly. “I wonder if he was bitching to my stepmother about me in the stables because he knew he couldn’t do it at dinner.”

“If he was, we can find out, if you wish.” He tells you with a smirk. “The stables have cameras.”

“I honestly don’t know if I want that kind of knowledge.” You admit with a shake of your head. “But please. Less talk of my father and more of us? We weren’t parted long this afternoon, but I’d like to hear about your day.”

“Not another word.” He promises, smiling at you. “Julius had me read over more agreements. Sometimes I feel like all I do is sign things. I need a stamp with my signature.”

“If you had that, then anyone could sign your name.” An idea which is alarming for several reasons. “I know it’s tedious, querido, but it is important.”

“I know.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Anyway. What did you and your ladies do this afternoon? Your first official as Princess?”

"We talked about you a little." It makes you smile as he seems so surprised by that fact. "I went over a few things with Flores and Sebastian went over my schedule for tomorrow with me after he came back from the stables. It was...fairly uneventful." All accept the conversation with Maisie and Gabriela in your closet, but of course you don't want to give away the surprise they helped you plan for him.

“That sounds lovely.” Javi tells you with a smile, nerves settling in his belly as you approach your bedroom suite. “Although tomorrow the wedding planning begins, sí?”

"Sí." The planning will begin in earnest, and there will be so much to do that it makes your head spin a bit. Or perhaps that's the nerves of anticipation for tonight. You cannot truly tell at the moment. "Would you still like me to have two dresses, mi amor?" He had said so in your first conversation about the wedding, and if it is something he truly dreams of then you will make sure it happens.

“Only if you wish.” He doesn’t want you to feel like you have to. “I just know that the traditional wedding dresses of queens are not…” he struggles to find the right words. “Party ready.”

"Maisie has already been showing me examples of designs so voluminous I would take up half the room." It does make you giggle, though, and you hug his arm. "I'll talk to the dressmaker. See what she thinks."

“Whatever you want.” He reminds you, “Catherine’s dress was gorgeous and simple lines.”

"I'm afraid I might have a more...active imagination than the Duchess of Cambridge did." The grin you aim in his direction is only slightly guilty, not mentioning that you also do not have a fussy British granny to satisfy with propriety. There is only him and you, but you won't say it like that.

“Diamond encrusted trains?” He jokes as he stops in front of your suite door. The footmen are absent and he smiles at the way Julius took his wants to heart. He knows everything inside will be perfect.

"I'm not aiming to be Marie Antoinette." Diamond encrusted trains sounds like the latest Kardashian wedding dress, and you smirk. "But I do like a classic, princess-y ballgown."

“Then that’s what you should have designed.” He smiles again, imagining your first dance in a beautiful wedding dress. “If your dress is your dream dress, just wear it all night. I want you to be happy.”

"I have an idea, and hopefully it will be workable." Not thinking of anything but being alone with him, you push open the door to your suite and gasp the moment you step inside. There are stunning bouquets of multi-colored daisies dotted with red roses on every surface. Crisp white candles of all different shapes and sizes are lit in just as many places if not more, and you could swear that an ice bucket and tray of something are sitting across the room on the coffee table in your sitting area. It's a movie-perfect moment of absolute romance if you ever saw one before and you nearly sob at the sight of it. "Javi...you...did you do all of this?"

“The staff set it all up.” He ducks his head in embarrassment, wondering if it didn’t count because he had not placed the items in your room himself. “I know that we talked about tonight and…” He takes your hand and presses it to his mouth. “You deserve romance. For it to be something you remember, hopefully very fondly.”

“It’s beautiful, mi amor.” As nervous as you have been, something about all of it slips from your shoulders in the face of this much love. In the care he has taken and the thoughtfulness of wanting to make the night a complete experience. “And not something I am ever going to forget; I can promise you that.”

"Good." The relief makes his answer whoosh out, shoulders sagging slightly and his grin one of complete pride. Despite being king, being the most powerful man in the islands, he wants your approval. Your happiness. Guiding you into the suite, the door closes behind you and he examines the room with approval. The staff had outdone themselves under Julius's guidance and he will have to thank the man. But for now, he turns towards you. "There is champagne and strawberries." He tells you with a small smirk. "Tonight is just for us, and there is no right or wrong here. Whatever you wish, nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of, Margarita." He wants you to know that he's not going to believe that you have to act a certain way or do certain things just because you are a Princess. You are a woman. One who deserves to have her every sexual desire fulfilled by the person you love. Him.

“It is for both of us, isn’t it?” Your arms slip around his waist to keep him close, feeling suddenly as though it is vitally important to be touching him at all times. Feeling as though if you let go, you may burst. “I…have a surprise for you also…though it is slightly less impressive and much less grand than all of this.”

“For me?” He’s surprised that you would do anything for him, his brows arching up. “Amor, you did not have to do anything for me.” He quickly assures you, hoping you are not panicking and making things up.

“It’s…small…” The smirk that forms on your face mostly has to do with how petite the lingerie Maisie gave you actually is. It barely covers anything at all. “But I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Anything from you I will love.” He promises, cupping your cheek gently.

“Then I think we should pour some champagne.” With the thought he put into this, it would be a shame not to sit along at the beautiful flowers and share a drink before moving forward with the night.

Delighted that you seem to like his surprise, Javi guides you over towards the champagne bucket. Pulling the bottle from the ice, he makes quick work of popping the cork and pouring two flutes. “To the beginning of our intimate journey.” He toasts.

“And the rest of our lives.” You tap your glass against his, the distinct tinkling assuring you that you’re drinking from crystal tonight.

Javi takes a sip, smiling at you and then he bends down to pick up a strawberry off the tray so he can hold it up to your lips for a bite. “Try the strawberry with this champagne.” He urges, noticing that Julius had outdone himself. There are plain strawberries and then some that are dipped in chocolate.

For all the decadent combinations you may have tried in your life, this is not one of them. It’s doubtlessly your imagination that makes the strawberry the sweetest you’ve ever tasted and the richest chocolate, too. It’s your imagination that makes the taste of the champagne around them transform, but even so you’re practically giggling with delight at the discovery of how perfect one makes the other — both enhanced tenfold when you have them together. “That’s amazing,” you hum, careful not to drip on yourself in any way whatsoever, and grinning like the lovestruck girl that you absolutely are.

The heated gaze that Javi gives you isn’t the calculated one the playboy prince might have given the object of his interest. It’s the look of a man completely in love with the woman in front of him. He hums, setting his own champagne flute down to cup your cheek. “Let me taste.” He murmurs, right before his lips descend on yours.

And all at once, there might as well not be anything else in the room — no furniture or flowers or paintings or treats — because nothing else in the entire world matters besides him. Javi licks into your mouth and you sigh for him, letting him explore you easily and remapping every inch of his mouth while your tongues dance and tangle together in earnest worship. He doesn’t move from kissing you. Content to spend the rest of his life right here with his lips on yours. Holding you close, he can feel you start to tremble in his arms.

It’s overpowering in the best way possible, and with your knees literally shaking and threatening to come out from under you, you grip his shoulders that much harder. There’s something thick and magical and true in the air between you tonight and it has you moaning softly into his kiss as you pull him closer.

Javi doesn’t want to breathe. Everything and everyone beyond the doors to this suite fade into obscurity and he tilts his head, deepening the kiss slightly.

Without being entirely sure how you got there, you can feel the wall at your back. The blanket over your senses that Javi has pushed everything else out of your awareness and you could not care less in this moment. All that matters is him — is now. The way he tilts his head and the way he grasps at your frame. The way you’ve already forgotten where you left your drinks. The way the candlelight makes both of you glow even though no eyes are open to see it.

“I love you.” He promises again as he manages to pull his mouth away from yours.

“I love you.” It can never be said enough, and his beautifully flushed cheeks and heavy eyelids make you grin unrepentantly. “More than I thought possible.”

“You will let me know if you want to stop.” It’s not a command, it’s not a question. It’s a fact in his mind. If you want to stop, you will say something. “Or if there is something you do not like.”

“And so will you.” Although you highly doubt either of you will stumble on that circumstance tonight, if he should decide his grief is still too strong, you want to make sure he knows you are willing to stop any time.

The thought of tonight had fueled him through the paperwork after your coronation ceremony. He picks up your hand and starts to kiss up your arm. "Never." He drops another kiss higher. "In." Kiss. "A." Kiss. "Million." Kiss. "Years." Kiss. "Amor." Kiss.

"Javi." Gently picking his chin up with two fingers, you press a kiss to his lips when his head is level with yours again. "Take me to bed, amor."

"I can do that." Javi isn't a virgin, but he's aware that your first time should be special. Sighing softly as he takes your hand and guides you towards the large bed that the two of you have been sharing. Now, it will be used for something more than cuddling and sleep. "Turn around, Margarita."

Doing as he asks, you shiver with your back to him. Giving him power over the situation would be scary if it was anyone else but with Javi there is only trust and anticipation. Whatever happens next, it starts with heated kisses and the feeling of his broad hands caressing your skin. "I'm going to untie your dress." Javi hums, his hand sliding over your shoulder and across your chest to where the tie is fastened. "Look across the room." He whispers in your ear. "The mirror."

"Shit Javi..." You would tell him that there is no need to seduce you. That you already want him enough to have no reservations about this. But the second you look up and find his eyes watching you in the mirror, you're mesmerized. Suddenly there are no protests, only a thick swallow of air and a soft nod of your head that tells him you will follow his instructions to the letter tonight.

"My beautiful Princess." He murmurs in your ear, smiling at the fascinated look in your eyes, the darkness in them. "I want you to see how I see you. See how wonderful you are."

"The only thing I see is you." And maybe it's cheesy, but it's true. Despite most of his body being behind you in the mirror, all you care about is watching him. His smile is shy, almost bashful as he starts to pull your dress loose. Untying it and sliding his hand underneath the material to push it off one shoulder.

Even though you went through quite a bit of gleeful planning to make sure he would have something beautiful to see under your dress, you're still nervous. Alright, you're borderline terrified. But despite that, you help his hand slide the dress away from your shoulders and force yourself to watch his reaction in the mirror – hoping that he at least likes what he sees.

“Margarita.” He breathes out your nickname in awe when the delicate, see through, pale pink lace of your lingerie is revealed. “You– you wrapped yourself up for me like a treasured gift.”

��Surprise,” you huff softly, feeling your cheeks burn at the wonder in his expression. The awe in his eyes is impossibly endearing.

“I am constantly surprised by how wonderful you are.” Now he lets the dress fall to the floor, groaning when he sees your full body in the mirror. “Te amo.”

“Te amo.” If he didn’t have you in precisely the position that he wanted in this moment, you would have whirred you around to kiss him instantly. As it is, his hands start to roam, making you gasp when he touches the most sensitive places on your skin and swallow the sighs of longing while you wait for him to touch more. “I’ve thought about this more than you might think.” He groans in your ear. “Since that first night. I had hoped this is where we would end up. Naturally.”

“And here we are.” His fingers glide down your arms to let his hands rest on your hips for a moment. “Just where we were meant to be.”

“Just where we were meant to be.” He drinks in the sight of the lingerie and he twitches in his pants. “Did you wear this on purpose or do you normally wear things like this?” He asks softly. He had always given you time to change before coming over to your room to sleep so he wasn’t aware.

“I’ve never worn anything like this before in my life,” you admit softly, feeling a little embarrassed about it but that’s overridden by how much he seems to like it. “This is just for you, amor.”

“You look beautiful.” He promises breathlessly. “But you look beautiful all the time.” His hands slowly slide over your skin, worshiping you with a gentle touch.

“You’re always so handsome…” Little touches leave you breathless tonight, the anticipation building right down to your bones. “I’ve always thought so. Since…since the first time I saw your photo.”

Javi is proud that you find him appealing. His hands continuously moving as he maps your body. Despite holding you every night, he had kept his hands in respectable places. Now, he can indulge. “You are like a goddess, an angel that tempts me and soothes me.”

Gently, almost afraid to spoil the moment, you turn carefully around in his arms and reach first for his tie. Slow, seductive, and incredibly romantic is a wonderful tempo for this night, but you want to have him on the same page as you.

Javi watches you as you start to pull his tie free. Giving you leave to do whatever you want with him. He’s yours and you are his. That is what the two of you have promised each other. “What do you want tonight, amor?”

"Just you." It's the truest answer to the easiest question he could possibly ask, and when you pull the silk tie from the collar of his shirt, you drape it carefully over your nightstand and turn back to him to take the cufflinks from his shirt before you unbutton it.

There is something poignantly intimate about being undressed. Certainly it has happened before, but this time strikes a chord inside him. The desire and love are equal in the depths of your eyes, and it makes him shudder in pleasure as your fingers graze his body had the buttons slip from their slot.

It is certainly more careful work to undress Javi, his suits always being carefully styled and meticulously tailored, but you don’t mind. It’s almost the opposite, actually. The privilege of being the one to be allowed to undress him practically makes you shiver with anticipation.

He can’t be passive. Now when you are looking like that and gazing at him like he’s Adonis. Reaching up, his hands slowly slide up your stomach, hovering just below your breasts, looking so mouthwatering in their lacy cups.

“You’re allowed to touch,” you remind him with a small laugh, wondering if he is as nervous as you are from the way he’s hovering but not quite crossing the line yet.

“That’s good, Margarita.” He hums softly. “I want to touch you, want to make you feel good.” His hands move up and cup you, groaning slightly.

As gentle as he is, that first little bit of truly intimate contact is divine as you peel his shirt away from his shoulders. He’ll have to take his hands off you to fully take it off, but you don’t want that yet. You want him to explore any way he wants…so you reach for his belt buckle with shaky hands instead.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He rasps out. “I feel lucky, undeserving of your love. Your touch.” He wants to make sure you know how much he is in awe of this moment.

“Undeserving?” No, you can’t agree with that. Instead you lean forward and press your lips to his as you slide his belt open. “Mi amor, you deserve the entire world.”

“I don’t know if that is true.” He huffs, cock hard and aching as your fingers move to the clasp of his suit pants. “You deserve a night you will never forget.”

“Then I already have everything I deserve.” Before you touch his zipper, though, you look up for one last moment of confirmation before completely undressing him. If he changes his mind at any point you will respect it, and that includes right now.

He nods quickly, knowing that he needs you to set the pace. This is your first time and he will let you have anything, do anything you want with him. “Go on, amor.”

It’s not as though you’ve never seen a man naked. And not as though you’ve never done things before. But Javi is different. He is important. He is the rest of your life. And you love him so much more than you thought would ever be possible. When you strip his pants away the pair of charcoal gray boxer briefs underneath leaves very little to the imagination, and your pussy clenches at the first glance of your hand over the front of his briefs when you pull his pants down.

“It helps.” He tells you with a small smirk. “The crown did not wish to have a camera on my pants when I was attending events.” He explains.

“So they have your pants taken out?” The realization that he has to be dressed specifically to hide how big his dick is, is a very interesting one indeed. One that has you sputtering slightly and makes your cheeks even hotter.

“Along with making sure that my penchant for not wearing underwear is kept to the family wing of the palace.” He isn’t joking, but it is amusing, remembering that conversation with his father.

“Javi.” You can’t help but laugh at that, the giggle built out of you with absolute disbelief. “You’re ridiculous, mi amor.”

“As long as you don’t believe I’m boring.” He hums, smirking at you and biting his lip when your fingers slip under the band of his boxers.

“Never.” The deep breath you take before peeling away his boxer briefs is really just for your own fortitude. Apparently, up to this point, you had only been with boys. Javi is…mouthwatering. And all over again you have no trouble believing anything you ever read about him as the playboy prince.

For his own part, Javi is nervous. Wondering what you might think of him. Hoping that he measures up to whatever expectations you have about him. He twitches slightly in the cooler air of the room, released from the confines of his briefs.

“You’re an absolute dream, mi amor,” you assure him, seeing the nerves written all over his face. Instead of going down to your knees, which is the first instinct you have, you stand up straight again and put both your arms around him, drawing him in close to be able to just hold each other for a moment and share a kiss. It’s clear you’re both anxious but eager and you let your hands map his torso and hips for a moment while you pour your reassurances into an increasingly deep kiss.

He had never known he would be so nervous when being with the woman he would marry. It’s almost as if he were a virgin himself, but the nerves melt away into the kiss and he starts slowly becoming bolder in his touch.

While the moans that he drags from your throat may have started out polite, they are definitely not anymore. They’re hungry and needy, coming from deep in your chest or even down around your belly where his cock is currently trapped between your bodies. No matter where the sound originates — it might be your toes for all you know — it shifts slightly when you start to step backward, knowing the side edge of your bed is only a few feet away.

“You wish to lay down?” He is more assertive right now, but he still checks in. Wanting to make sure you are ready to lay down.

“I think we’ll be less nervous,” you admit, even though the thought feels silly out loud. “We’re used to being in bed together.” That’s a good point. Javi guides you back to the bed and follow you as you lay down, kissing you as he kneels and crawls with you, his cock bobbing heavily between you.

Every piece of Javi’s clothing is discarded now, and you feel acutely aware of the lingerie that still hugs your finger. It’s far more than just the pinky ring left touching Javi’s finger, but it seems to be something he likes a whole lot so you’ll let him decide when it comes off.

“If I could paint, I would paint this moment.” Javi wonders, his lips against your throat and up your jaw. “Capturing it forever, mi amor.”

“This is only for you, mi amor.” One of his hands cradles your cheek and the other is slowly tracing your side, and you shift to urge it downward without rushing him. “There should be something that is just for us.”

“Oh, I did not mean that anyone would see it.” He huffs, smirking down at you in almost gentle lust. “It would be locked away where only I could view your beauty. Remember that I have a literal angel as a princess.”

“It wouldn’t be very angelic…” you hum, laying kisses along the hollow of his throat. “To let you paint me naked, mi amor.”

“I should take you to our museums.” He chuckles. “Plenty of nude angels frolicking.”

“Maybe we’ll find it inspiring?” You tease, sighing softly when his hand finds your thigh and his thumb grazes the soft skin so close to the silk and lace covering your core.

“I’m going to taste you, mi amor.” He hums as he rubs soft, enticing circles over your thigh before moving his thumb over a fraction of an inch to press against you through the lace. “I’ve imagined tasting you at least a thousand times since meeting you.”

“Javi.” His name is a bare, plaintive whisper, but that’s mostly because he’s taken your breath away about a dozen times already tonight. His sweet touches are growing bolder every moment and if you melt into the bed never to be heard from again, it will be worth every second. “Whatever you want, mi amor. I’m yours.”

“You are mine.” He groans. “Just like I am yours. And I take care of what is mine.” The little clasps of the lingerie make getting to your covered cunt easy, unhooking them to expose your folds to his hungry gaze. “Beautiful.”

It might have been fussy to get into, but Javi clearly has no problem peeling away the fabric covering those few last places on your body, and you swear that you might spontaneously combust just from the wash of hot breath over your sensitive skin. "Yours," you breathe out, watching every tiny movement. "Te amo."

“Te amo.” The sentiment, the promise, is whispered out right before his mouth descends on your most intimate places. The king gorging on his queen to be.

Instead of a shock or a jolt, you melt even further into the bed, moaning softly as your eyes flutter closed for one long moment before you pry them open again to watch everything. Javi’s mouth is bliss. Quick flicks where they feel best and long laps when that is exactly what you need. It has you twisting underneath him in no time, fingers tangling in the sheets and breath coming in needy pants.

You are so soft, so responsive to him. Giving him wordless praise as you move under his touch. Javi's touch stays soft, grip light as he lets you move your hips as you feel like you need to. Not anchoring you down, but allowing you both to drift along the bed.

Your fingers comb through his curls, not pulling or scratching but anchoring you to him in one more place. Since you’re always feeling like you could float away, an anchor seems like a good idea.

Javi has always been a giver, the love 'em and leave 'em playboy image had been crafted by the press, in their attempt to scrounge for whatever tidbits of information they could. All of his previous lovers had been bound by non-disclosure agreements, a necessity so there weren't interviews talking about the future king's prowess as a lover. If interviews had happened, they would have said that Javier was generous, slightly submissive and intimate every time he had touch one of them. Now, with you, he's even more so. Wanting his future queen to luxuriate in his arms, in his bed, to be pleased enough that you would never seek solace somewhere else.

Having had every intention of watching him as he indulges in you, his attention is too sweet. It comes in waves too strong to deny. The overwhelming pleasure has you closing your eyes and moaning softly so that it's just for his ears. It's extraordinarily indulgent and so intensely romantic that if your whole body wasn't on fire from pleasure you might be tearing up over how loving he is.

Javi hums into you, taking your sounds greedily and keeping them for himself. Memorizing how you sound, how you look this first time together.

The vibrations roll through you, every sound from his lips increasing the pleasure and caring you off on an absolute cloud. The coil in your core is starting to tighten too quickly and you know that as much as you want this to last forever, there will be so many more nights like it to come. And for that matter? This night has only begun.

Javi's fingers caress your skin, sliding over the slopes and planes, reveling in the divots and creases. Coming underneath his tongue and circling your entrance lightly.

Pants and whines come with your twisting body, back arching and eyes popping open to not only be as close to him as possible but to watch the exact moment that your body gives in to pleasure. The way his eyes have darkened with desire but never leave you gives you an extra shiver of arousal that rolls all the way through your body even as you cum.

This is moment where you are completely his. This moment. When your eyes burst open even wider than before and your entire body lurches up in pleasure as you start to come apart for him.

“Fuck, Javi!” When you can finally take a deep breath again, you comb your fingers through his hair and whimper into the candlelit night. “You’re incredible.”

He hums, deflecting the praise even as he preens. “You are incredible.” He insists. “So responsive.”

"And you're the one who gave me something to respond to." You won't let him wiggle out of accepting your praise, even if you're feeling too limp at the moment to wag a playful finger at him.

"Do you want more, my love?" He asks, softly, stroking your hip and hoping that the night will continue.

The fingers that were buried in his curls caress his cheek, and you nod eagerly. “I never want to stop,” you confess, already addicted to the way he touches you.

“Then we will never stop.” He promises, smiling indulgently. “All of our state affairs will be conducted right here in this bed.”

“That might be awkward for some of your advisors,” you laugh, loving the way he completely and totally indulges in both you and in this moment.

“Perhaps a screen between us and our visitors.” He teases, kissing up your body and smiling at the way you laugh. It’s gorgeous and completely encompassing him.

“That will solve everything.” A sage nod is bowled over by a moan as he kisses between your breasts and your head falls back on the pillows again.

“Beautiful, my beautiful queen.” He praises, tongue circling your nipple before he sucks it into his mouth.

A part of you wonders if this is how he always is with new lovers, or if he is being especially attentive and romantic because he knows what tonight is for you. The fact that he is the first and only man you'll ever be with in this way seems to make every feeling that much more heightened.

He works your tits until they are sore, aching with the attention he is lavishing on you. The small cry of pleasure you give is almost pained and it's beautiful in its pitch to his ears. Your thighs squeeze his torso and he chuckles as he kisses back up your body to your lips. "Are you ready, my love?" He asks softly, wanting to make sure you are wanting to take the next step now.

"Sí." You've been all but begging for him the entire time he's been between your legs, but at this point your mind is blank to absolutely anything else. "Please, amor. More. Por favor."

“I cannot deny you.” He promises, thankful that you do not want to stop. “Wish to give you the world, amor.” Reaching between you, his fingers wrap around his length and guide him to the position. “Now, I give you myself.”

It is a fitting tribute, considering how your world has narrowed down to only him, but the words to point it out are lost. With the slow, steady push forward, your mind fades to fuzz and your voice sticks in your throat for a moment before a deep moan cuts through the night air. Every small roll of his hips is ecstasy, filling you little by little, and you swear you’ve never felt anything as divine before in your entire life.

Javi takes his time, bracing himself over you. There's no fear of pain, no issue with the archaic bedding and taking of your virginity, but he still slowly rolls his hips forward. Wanting the feeling of taking him for the first time to be nothing but bliss for you as he kisses along your jaw.

You pant his name as he fills you, grateful not to feel any of the pinching or pain that you had heard warnings of from other girls as you grew up. The concept of virginity might be made up but there is still a very real physicality associated with it, and having an experienced partner makes all the difference. For you there is nothing but pleasure and the all-encompassing feeling of being surrounded by the man you want to give everything to.

“Beautiful.” He whispers the words into your skin. Finding the strength to hold back. With you, everything seems so smooth, organic. As if this was always meant to be, and in a way, it has. His hand slides behind your head and cradles it gently as he groans, buried completely in the warmth of your body and hopefully your heart.

"So good." With your face buried in his shoulder, you press kisses to his skin and roll your hips to adjust to the feeling of being so full.

“You are so perfect.” His tone is strained, holding back as he waits for you to be ready for more than just him inside you.

"You can move, mi amor." One more shift of your hips makes both of you moan, and you let your legs hitch up higher on his hips so he can sink that much deeper inside you. "Please move. God you feel amazing."

The kiss he gives you is tender, meant to soothe your restlessness as he draws his hips back. Groaning against your lips at how tight you feel, how right you feel. Javi isn't inexperienced, but he feels like he's never had sex before. At least not had an emotional or physical connection like this before.

There is nothing hurried tonight. No rushing. Nothing but bliss as the two of you start to move together. His hands wrap under you to hold you close, encourage your back to bend and arch into his body. Your arms come around him just as tight. Your breath comes in shallow pants. And it's perfect.

Every moan you give him is music, a note in his ear that makes him move. Worshiping you with his own body, giving you everything he has and it still isn't enough.

If there was a word more than perfect, you wish you knew what it was. You wish you could express just how extraordinary this moment feels. How right it all is. And how grateful you are that this is where life has brought the two of you. Instead, all you can see to conjure for words are gasps of his name and moaned praise with every drive of his hips.

Javi takes his time. There's no pace that he sets other than one to make sure that both of you feel everything. Languidly rocking his hips with murmured praises, and hushed gasps shared between you. Tears building up behind his eyes as he stares down at you in wonder.

“Want to— fuck, so good—try everything with you,” you manage to gasp out between moans, adoring the loving pace but wanting to experience as much as possible. Even during the first time.

"We will, amor." He promises, holding you close and giving a sharp thrust to change the tempo.

The way that has stars bursting behind your eyes is immediate and you cling to his shoulders that much more tightly with your fingernails biting into the soft flesh of his back as you moan.

You like that. Javi twitches inside you and gives you another thrust, hoping for the same reaction. Wanting you to enjoy every second you are in bed with him.

The different angle and sharper thrusts hits something different inside you. Like breath being pushed into you and out all at once. It makes your eyes burst open again before you squeeze them shut tight, trying to hold on to that sharp shot of pure pleasure.

"Is that what you like?" He murmurs in wonder. "You like it a bit faster? Harder?" He loves the way your entire body tightens under him and it's squeezing him tight. "Tell me what you need, amor."

You want to try everything, and you've told him that, but whatever he's doing now feels like a revelation. "How deep can you–" The thought is cut off with a moan. "If I – oh god – hold my legs?"

Javi leans back, pushing your leg up onto his shoulder and leans forward again. Pushing deep.

"Oh, fuck!" All at once your eyes roll back in your head and your mouth falls open. "Oh my god–so fucking good, baby."

He groans, eyes darkening with desire and love. "Want you to feel good. Want you to cum for me, amor."

Under normal circumstances you really would pride yourself on being more articulate, but every time Javi pushes his hips forward you temporarily forget how to even think, let alone speak. All you know for sure is that if he keeps doing what he's doing now, it will not take you long at all to fall apart for him again. "More," you moan out, fingernails biting half-moons in his shoulders. "You feel so good, amor."

“Give you ev-everything.” He moans, nodding as he rocks his hips and dips his head down to kiss you again. Needing the extra contact and it presses him deeper.

You gasp into his kiss, the change of angle and how deep he feels inside you making you feel like a firework about to explode. A shiver runs down your entire body that seems never to end and your core tightens with determination. When you cum for him this time it will hit you like a freight train and leave you wrecked.

His hips knock against the back of your thigh, pulling grunts out of him that he pours into you. Still holding you as tenderly as he can while he thrusts harshly.

“Javi—” The sound of his name is always sweet to your ears but right now it feels like it’s an absolute prayer. “I’m—I’m going to—oh god!”

Javi groans your name, loving that you are coming apart for him. Watching as your mouth drops open and your eyes go wide before they flutter closed.

This is your new definition of bliss. Head tossed back with Javi buried deep inside you while you fall apart at the seams, pussy clenching his cock so tightly that he loses his rhythm right along with you. Existing only with him in such a deeply intimate and personal moment is breathtaking.

His breath stutters, caught in his lung and he’s unable to think of anything but you. The grip you have on him and the way your body begs him to follow you into bliss has him giving in.

Truly you thought the feeling of fullness couldn’t be any more complete, and then he starts to cum. Painting the walls of your throbbing pussy with his seed and making you groan all over again while the two of you pant for breath and cling to each other in the collapsed heap of your bodies tangled in bedclothes. It’s the closest to whatever heaven is that you’ve ever felt in your life and you swear that if there really is such a thing as soulmates, this is what it feels like to be with yours.

Your skin is sweat slick and his own is equally damp. Making it warm and wet when he collapses against you and tucks his face into your neck. Kissing your pulse gently. "I love you." He whispers softly.

"Te amo." You turn your head to kiss him, basking in the glow of his affection and the adrenaline high that comes from sex in general. Sex with Javi is a whole other level.

"Te amo, my queen." He whispers, smiling against your lips and feeling like he is finally whole. This is what it's like. He hums in delight, hoping that this feeling never fades.

“My king.” It’s almost odd to acknowledge, having grown up your whole life in a country without a monarchy, but here he is. He is deeply loving, devoted, king, and he is your king. Loving him is as natural as breathing, especially in this moment of quiet between you.

Javi reluctantly moves, aware that you should not be pressed down by his weight for too long and he groans quietly as he pulls out of you. "Wait here, I will get something to clean you up."

“Don’t be gone long.” There’s nothing you want less than for him to leave you, but clean up is…rather important.

He smiles at you and nods before he hurries into the bathroom so he can get the cloth and slide back into your arms.

______

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My Masterlist!

[azucarmorena97]

Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.9)

Pt.8 || Pt.10

Your parents have worked hard to get to the top and have made sure to teach you everything you need to know to be successful in this business: from tough but lucrative financial decisions, down to the right ball gown for any given banquet. A promising and extravagant future awaits you- that is, if you agree to one teensy detail...

Son of Mr.Jeon Sr. and heir to June Company, Jeon Jungkook is an immature playboy with nothing to offer a woman but good looks and a crap ton of money, and he stands to inherit much MUCH more, so long as you both enter into the arranged marriage contract that was drawn up before the pair of you were even born.

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Series Warnings: There will be smut in the near future and I will label those chapters as such. As I say before most of my pieces- I do not endorse any themes, ideas, or behaviors in this series. This is all purely fiction/fantasy! Feel free to inbox me suggestions/ideas/what you'd like to see in this series and I'll see what I can do! Enjoy <3

Recap: For years, you've heard people say that your first time isn't as special as the movies make it seem. They say it's something to just get done and move on from so you can start having good sex- and maybe that's true for some people, but this? You like this.

- Lisa: Kookie, where are you? I miss you <3

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. You look over at the bathroom door, still closed, though you've heard a flush.

Without another thought, you dart out of the bed, quickly yanking on your clothes, making sure to leave absolutely no trace of yourself behind in that room.

You finally hear the bathroom door open though when you do, the hotel room door is already clicking shut behind you.

You sit in front of your computer, brows furrowed in concentration as your eyes dart from one tab to the next, typing furiously. Since you've been back home, you've been working non-stop, getting everything ready for your transition from your parents' business to Jeon Company. Beside the tedious tasks to be completed before going back to Seoul, you've made it a point not to think too much about your return.

"Don't you think you should at least respond to his messages?" B/f/n says one night on facetime. "I've been responding to mine and his mother's messages, he knows I'm fine, there's nothing to talk about." "Y/n, he walks around here like a lost puppy. He tries to hide it but it's so obvious." "Tell Lisa where her dog is then." "Y/n, maybe it was a misunderstanding." "Honestly, I don't really care anymore. I've made my peace with the idea that he might end up being my husband but he will never...never be mine," The sting is present but you ignore it. "There's no way you've made any sort of peace with...any of this. What you guys did was kind of a big deal." "It...was what it was. It was gonna happen anyway, and now I'm glad we didn't wait until the wedding night so we wouldn't kid ourselves into thinking it's some sacred act." "But it was." "I've uh, gotta go," You say, having received a notification of an incoming call on your apple watch. B/f/n sighs, "Alright...talk later." "Yeah." Without another word, you hang up the call.

It's not that you mean to be mean. You can feel yourself being short with your parents, with B/f/n, but you can't bring yourself to continue answering their questions. How are you? Why haven'y you called? Did something happen between you and Jungkook? What happened? It's humiliating enough to know he fucked you without any real plans to ever get rid of his ex-girlfriend- you don't need to be telling the whole world about it. The only reason you even told B/f/n about it was because she was the one who drove you to the airport. She could immediately tell something was off and you couldn't hold it in for any longer and began crying and carrying on. You've never been one for dramatics and tears...but this one stung. No, worse... This one might have finally broken your spirit.

"I could oversee the Australia branch on this one if you want. I'm much more familiar with the market over there -" You're trying to focus on the presentation being given by a member of the marketing department, though your mind keeps teetering back and forth between the information and your personal life. Suddenly, you see a txt message notification pop up at the corner of your laptop screen. Jungkook. Your heart skips a beat, though you quickly dismiss it and turn your attention back to the front of the room, but it doesn't stop- another message, another message, another- soon you have 5 messages from him. You bite your lip, feeling anxious to know what he's saying but not wanting to give in. "Uhm, you'll have to excuse me for just a moment," You say, shooting out of your chair and abruptly walking out of the room, leaving everyone staring at you from the other side of the big glass wall as you walk down the hall.

You take your phone out and unlock it, quickly opening up to his messages.

𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗬/𝗻 𝗜 𝗿𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗜𝗱𝗸 𝘆 𝘂𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗿𝘆 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗰𝗻 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸? 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗦𝗼𝗺𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗳 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻, 𝗜 𝗿𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸 𝘁𝗶 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗜𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗹 𝘆𝗼 𝗰𝗼𝗺 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗸𝗼𝗼𝗸: 𝗣𝗹𝘇 𝗬/𝗻

"What the fuck..." You mumble, furrowing your brows. Is he having a stroke or something? You slap your hand to your forehead and press the call button on his contact. You swore you wouldn't talk to him at all while you were back at home, yet here you are, calling him. It rings only twice and then you can hear rustling on the other side, along with loud music.

"J-Jungkook?" You say into the phone, suddenly unsure if he meant to answer it, as it takes him quite a few seconds to say anything. "Y/n? Y/n- can you hear me?" He says loudly into the phone, his tone surprised and desperate. "Yes...I can hear you."

"Y/n, why haven't you been answering me?" "Because...I needed some space." "Space? After what we did?" It isn't until now that you notice his speech is a bit slurred. "Yeah, I needed space...hey, are you drunk?" "Are you still gonna marry me?" "Answer the question, Y/n." "You first," You narrow your eyes at the wall as though he were standing right in front of you. "Alright, fine. I may have had a few beverages. But it's your fault." "Please, tell me how this is my fault?" "Because you left me. You used me and then left me." You let out a bitter laugh, "Right, I used you." "So are you gonna marry me or what?" He repeats.

"I'm hanging up." "The phone or the relationship?" "You're not even making sense, Jungkook," You know perfectly well what he means, but you don't want to have this conversation with him, knowing how absolutely inebriated he sounds. "You don't make sense," He sounds much like a child. "Good bye." You don't let him get in another word before you hang up the phone.

You don't immediately return to the meeting, deciding you need a moment to gather yourself. As angry as you are, hearing his voice was oddly comforting. You hate that.

It's the last day of your time back home and you've packed up a lot of your things that you'll be sending to Seoul. The departure is bitter... there is no more sweet left in you to give you hope for your arrival at your new home. You don't know how you're gonna do it... your mom tried to talk you into having a bridal shower but you managed to wiggle out of it, though not without compromise. "What time is the fitting on Wednesday?" You ask your mom. "1PM. I arranged for everyone to meet fifteen minutes early though," She says excitedly. By everyone, she means herself, Mrs.Jeon, and all of your bridesmaids...including Lisa. For two to three hours, you'd be forced to play nice with the person at the center of your current rage- well, one of the people at the center. You'd be marrying the other one after. Though you suppose two to three hours is better than an entire night for a bridal shower.

"Make sure you sleep on the plane, the Jeon's invited us to dinner when you get back." "Great." "Don't start, Y/n. After Friday afternoon, they'll be family. You need to start playing smart." "I'm not playing a game to begin with," You say wearily. "Now, I don't know what happened between you and Jungkook-" You prepare to argue with her and tell her to mind her business, but she cuts you off, "-BUT- you need to put it aside and make amends. You cannot start this marriage on a bad foot." "Alright..." You concede. Pointless in protesting when you're gonna go through with it anyway.

The plane ride is long, though you spend about two thirds of it sleeping and the last bit, writing a portion of a project proposal you'd be sending your dad on behalf of the marketing team. If you just keep your head down and your mind busy, maybe you'll be able to float through the next few days without a hitch.

When you land, it's only B/f/n and Namjoon who are there to receive you. Typical. Though you'd been quite dry with B/f/n since during your time away, she is like a breath of fresh air and a sight for sore eyes and you can't help the big smile that spreads across your face when you see her. Of course, never one to hold a grudge, she embraces you tightly. "Wow, three weeks away and you'd swear Y/n was coming back from war," Namjoon jokes. B/f/n doesn't let go of you, just lazily hits him on his arm and continues hugging you. "Listen to me; you are going to be strong this week, okay? Don't think about anyone but yourself. I'll be right next to you the entire step of the way." Her words bring tears to your eyes and all you can do is struggle to nod, as she is holding you quite tightly.

When you get back to the hotel room, you drop everything and leap into bed, your heart content to just lay there... "Don't get too comfortable. Dinner's in...an hour and a half," She reminds you. You groan, face down into the mattress. You lazily roll over and stare up at the ceiling, "Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll be reincarnated as a bed bug." "You are such a weirdo." "I'm serious...and all I'll have to do is live in people's mattresses and feast and poop...if I'm lucky, some weary traveler will transport me somewhere great, and that's how i'll live my life." "Just my luck, I'll end up being the traveler," She grumbles, causing you to laugh. "That's right, you'll never be rid of me."

You practically drag your feet behind your parents and B/f/n. No part of you wants even to exist in the same vicinity as Jungkook right now, let alone eat dinner with him and his family. "You better fix your face," Your mom says over he shoulder, and though you're not able to fully see it, you know she's saying it through gritted teeth. "Ah, welcome back!" You hear Mr.Jeon's voice come from the direction just ahead, though your parents are completely blocking your view. You immediately 'fix your face', as your mom so lovingly put it, and stepped out from behind your dad to give the most fake smile of your life- though once the entire table is in view, you realize it's only his parents. No Jungkook in sight...and for some reason, your heart falls just a little bit, though you're sure your face doesn't give you away. "H-Hello, how are you both?" You give a small bow. "Oh, we're good. How was your trip? Did you get a lot done?" Mrs.Jeon asks, her smile warm and inviting. "Yes, I did. Thanks for asking." You glance at the empty chair and it seems as though she notices because then she says, "You'll have to excuse Jungkook tonight. He's at the office preparing for a presentation for Wednesday." "Oh, yes of course," You reach for your glass of water and look at B/f/n, who gives you a small smile. At least it'll be a calm dinner...

Dinner was a breeze, the conversation flowing between your parents effortlessly; you mostly sat with your eyes on your plate, your spoon pushing around the little rice you had left. You couldn't help but let your mind wander to Jungkook...

"Earth. To. Y/n," B/f/n calls in a robotic voice, waving her hand in front of your face. "Mm?" "You okay?" She asks, putting her hair up in front of the bathroom mirror. "Oh, yeah. Sorry...I guess I spaced out." "Mhm...was it in Jungkook land again?" "What? Of course not," You try to lie but you know she ain't buying it. "Don't you think it's high time you guys talk? It's been weeks." "If I don't see that boy until the wedding day, I'll be perfectly fine." "Don't let the universe hear you," She warns, rubbing her face cream between her fingers. "Fuck the universe," You say arrogantly before turning around and leaving the bathroom.

The next morning, your alarm goes off at around 6:30, eliciting a groan from you. You grab the pillow next to you and smash it against your face, not wanting to face the day. "It's tiiiiiiiiiiime," B/f/n sings at the highest possible pitch, mimicking Mariah Carrey's 'All I Want For Christmas'. "Shut up," You whine. She's usually not a morning person but as soon as your mom told her she was in charge of getting your hair and makeup done for the fitting, she insisted that you set an early alarm. Apparently, getting ready at 11AM for your 1PM fitting wasn't enough time because, as she so lovingly put it, she's "not a miracle worker".

"I don't even get why you guys are making such a big deal out of this. It's just a fitting- why do we need hair and makeup?" "You are probably the most annoying bride I've ever worked on," She rolls her eyes, patting the beauty blender lightly on your skin. "I'm the only bride you've ever worked on." "And you're already souring my experience. This is the first time you're trying on your dress- it needs to be a memorable and impactful experience." "Fine..." You cross your arms over your chest and roll your eyes, deciding it's better to give in than to keep fighting it. All you want to do is stay in bed and sulk.

The only good to come out of the fitting today is the fact that you'll be seeing all your college friends; Han Soo-Hee, Shin Se-Kyung, Jisoo, and Jung Chae-yeon. You'd not seen them in a couple years and it'll be nice to catch up. Of course, the only downside-

"Lisa!" Mrs.Jeon says cheerfully, walking ahead of you, B/f/n, and your mom into the bridal shop. Your heart starts pounding and you can feel your blood boiling instantly. "Breathe," B/f/n whispers to you. "Mrs.Jeon!" Her voice is sickeningly sweet and you can tell by the hug she gives her that she's intent on laying it on thick. "I'm so happy you accepted to be a bridesmaid on such short notice," Mrs.Jeon turns to the side and extends her hand to motion to you, "This is Y/n." "Y/n, it's so nice to formally meet you," Lisa says with a low bow. "Same to you." You're such a liar. "I'm so excited to see you in your dress- I'm sure you'll make a beautiful bride." Her comment takes you by surprise and it takes you a moment to respond. "Th-thank you," You blush. "Of course- I'm sorry, how rude of me. What's your name?" B/f/n gives a polite smile, though you knew her enough to know that it was totally fake, "I'm B/f/n. Maid of honor." "Oh that's so sweet- You're so lucky. I won't ever be able to be a maid of honor unless my best friend finally gets married. You may have met her. Rose?"

Your mind flashes back to Rose's burning rage that day when she pulled up on Jin while you were out to dinner with Jungkook. "That sounds vaguely familiar."

"Yeah, well anyway- probably never gonna happen. Her boyfriend's a raging asshole. Anyway, are we expecting anyone else?" Lisa asks.

This whole thing feels strange. She seems way different from the impression she gave that day in the bathroom at Kook's party. You expected to be met with a sour attitude and cattiness, but she seems quite...bubbly.

"Yeah, our four other bridesmaids should be here shortly," B/f/n says, checking her watch.

Not a second goes by and the bell on the bridal shop door chimes, announcing the arrival of the rest of your court. "WHERE'S THE BRIDE!?" Se-Kyung exclaims, throwing her hands up in celebration.

"MY GIRLS!" You cheer, both you and B/f/n running to hug your guests. Instantly, you feel yourself relax. It doesn't matter how this fitting goes, you finally have your people around you.

After a few minutes, you were all lead by a sales associate to a back room with various mirrors and a pretty pink couch, the walls lined with dresses upon dresses. On the furthest wall, facing the couch, is a platform with three mirror, meant for you to be able to look at yourself from all angles...the thought makes you want to gag.

You're going into this fitting basically blind, not having been shown a single stitch of your dress until this moment. The sales lady leaves you in a room with it, hung high up to keep the long train from sagging on the floor. You stare at the grand gown for some time- so long that the sales lady comes back and knocks on the door, "You okay in there?" "Just-just a moment," You say, scrambling to get your clothes off and slip into the dress, holding it up at the bodice so as not to expose your boobs before they've laced you in.

You don't dare look in the dressing room mirror- seeing yourself might just make it too real and right now, you're trying desperately to convince yourself that this is all one big dream that you're gonna wake up from. Once the dress is secured, you pick the heavy skirt up and walk out to your court, each lady waiting for you with a glass of champagne in hand. A series of claps and cheers erupt and you feel your face burn. You stand with your back to the mirror, facing everyone. Your moms eyes are welling with tears, Mrs.Jeon has her hands covering her mouth, B/f/n and all of your bridesmaid's are fawning over you. "You look absolutely gorgeous," Mrs.Jeon says. "Doesn't she? God, Jungkook won't be able to keep his eyes off you," Se-Kyung smiles ear to ear. "Or his hands!" B/f/n adds, causing you to blush even harder. Even your mom and Mrs.Jeon can't hold back a laugh at her most inappropriate comment.

"So, what do you think?" Chae-Yeon asks. "About what?" You ask. "About the dress, you goof." "Oh- it's fine," You say, looking down and smoothing out the bottom. "Just fine? Did you even look in the mirror?" B/f/n asks. You respond with a long period of silence, pursing your lips. "Turn your ass around and look in that mirror," Jisoo reprimands you. "I did!" "Liar!" "Ugh, fine." You cross your arms tightly over your chest, shut your eyes tight and turn around. You brace yourself for a few seconds before finally, slowly opening your eyes.

You'd heard about this before- this moment. The moment where you see yourself for the first time in the dress. In everyone's stories, it's the second or the third dress, maybe even the tenth- but the moment will always come where you see yourself in that dress and simultaneously, see your future unfolding in your reflection. Suddenly, your eyes begin to well too. You can no longer pretend; this is real. Mom was right, you think, the hair and makeup did make a difference.

"It's the dress," Your mom says softly, pride in her voice. Everyone erupts in cheers again, though you hardly pay it any mind- your mind is completely and totally fixed on this feeling in your chest...

You want to see Jungkook.

B/f/n helps put the dress safely in the trunk for you, leaving you standing there with Lisa, as the other girls had headed off to the restaurant to get your table and your mom and Mrs.Jeon went back to the hotel to start dealing with the preparations of the ballroom. Lisa had been quite warm and welcoming to everyone the entire fitting, and you began to question whether or not you'd imagined her conversation with Rose.

Could it have been that you misunderstood everything? You misread the situation? Did you fuck everything up by jumping to conclusions?

"Uhm- Hey Lisa, we're gonna be going out to dinner once we pull out of here...would you like to join us?" You ask, the words feeling strange as they come out of your mouth.

"Oh, that's so nice of you to ask- unfortunately I really have to go take care of some stuff at home. Rain check?" "Yes, of course. No worries...And hey, listen. Thanks again for agreeing to be part of my court." "Of course, it's not a problem at all," She opens her arms to you, a warm expression on her face as she goes in for a hug. You gladly return the gesture, though once she's pulled you in, she brings her lips really close to your ear, "Anything for Jungkoook."

Venom drips off of her every word, the air thick between you; and suddenly, it all makes sense. The uncharacteristically sweet smiles, the polite bows, the compliments...she's an actress, and this fitting was her stage. In fact, the entire Jeon family is a plot device for her performance. She doesn't want Jungkook...she wants to be adored.

This is why Jungkook doesn't believe me.

Before you're able to respond in any way, Lisa is letting you go, walking in the opposite direction toward her car.

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur; so much to take in and so little to time. Dinner, drinks at the hotel bar, and now, more drinks at a pub a few blocks away. You decide to put Lisa out of your mind and just enjoy the company of your friends: drinks upon drinks are passed around, laughter and merriment fill the air- before you know it, your insides feel warm and fuzzy and your mind more free and uninhibited. "I'm gonna call him," You say, standing from your chair, a self-righteous expression on your face as you pound your chest once. "That's the best idea you've had all night," B/f/n says. "Call him!" Se-Kyung shouts. "Call him, call him, call him!" They all pound on the table, cheeks cherry red and hair disheveled- you were the sloppiest bunch anyone ever did see.

You take your phone out of your purse and punch in his number- having grown accustomed over the past few weeks at seeing it pop up on your screen, you'd memorized the number by heart. You can faintly hear it ringing but the music in the bar is so loud that you decide to stumble your way out to the parking lot. It continues to ring a few more times before he finally picks up.

"Hello?" Jungkook's voice is groggy, like he'd been sleeping. "Where were you at dinner?" You ask, cutting to the chase. "Y/n it's...it's 1AM. Where are you?" "Fuck you," You slur. "Fuck you too," He returns the same cold tone, though he doesn't hang up. "Fuck you more!" You hang up on him, mouth hanging open in disbelief at how rude he's being. Clearly, you're drunk. You can't hold what drunk people say against them. "Asshat," You grumble, returning to your friends.

About fifteen minutes go by and everyone is absolutely zombified, with B/f/n having tapped out five minutes prior, her head resting on the table. "I'm never drinking again..." Jisoo groans. "It'll be at least...twelve hours before I can stomach another drink," Se-Kyung adds. "Y/n," A familiar voice says behind you. You turn around and realize it's Namjoon. "'Joon?" You ask incredulously, "How'd you know we were here?" He chuckles, "It's my job to know. Remember?" He walks around to B/f/n and sweeps her hair out of her face. She's sound asleep. "I'm here to take you all home." "I could've gotten a car, you didn't have to do that-" "Jungkook sent me." You blink in surprise. Jungkook? "You're kinda hot," Chae-Yeon says, staring dreamily at him. "Thanks but I'm seeing someone," He says politely, gently scooping B/f/n up into his arms. "Everyone ready?"

Thursday goes by quickly, with everyone scrambling to get everything ready for the wedding. Your mothers decided to hold the wedding at the other hotel location about thirty minutes away for a nice change of scenery. Decorations are being brought in, tables and chairs set up, tapestries are brought in and hung up all over the hall ceiling. It's all coming together quickly- a circus of workers directed by yours and Jungkook's mothers. You avoid thinking about the previous night's shenanigans, cringing at yourself for having sunk so low as to drunk dial him.

But you also can't stop thinking about the absolute lack of consideration- sending Namjoon instead of just getting you all himself? What a prick...not that you wanted to see him, but it's about common decency. Don't get someone else to do your job. Even if it is technically what Namjoon gets paid to do...

"Stop talking so much, I'm getting a headache," B/f/n says sarcastically, gently nudging you. You're snapped out of your thoughts, cheeks blushing slightly, "Sorry. Just out of it today." "I can see..." You both watch as flowers are placed inside of the tall vases at the center of each table. "Am I making a mistake?" You ask, not looking over at her. She doesn't respond for a few seconds and you begin to wonder if she even heard you. "Do you love him?" She asks. Your cheeks get hotter and hotter, embarrassed by her question. "Love? I- I barely know him..." You nervously twiddle your thumbs. It's true, you barely know him...but you can't help the way your heart flutters at the word: love. You'd never been in love before...but if you're being completely honest with yourself, you can't deny that this feeling within you is nothing like the crushes you've had in your youth. This is a heavy, sticky feeling- a painful yet exhilarating condition of the heart. Love...how could you dare to speak it out loud? "Only you can answer that," B/f/n says, referring to the initial question, "And once you do, the next question is...now that you've gotten to know him, could you see yourself going back to the way life was without him?" "B/f/n! Can you please help me with this? I can't decide if I want them to out the couple's table on the left or right side!" Mrs.Jeon calls out. "Bridesmaid duty calls," She says to you before jogging over to the far end of the ballroom to give her input.

Her question stays with you, like a heavy boulder on your shoulders. The truth is, you know you can't go back. Not now...not after all of this... You guess you have your answer.

You toss and turn all night, your dreams plagued with nightmare scenarios of how it might go during the ceremony. One moment, Jungkook is saying 'I do', and then you somehow morph into Lisa before he can kiss you. In another moment, he's completely walking away and running out of the church, holding Lisa by the hand. It feels like the night only lasts as much as the blink of an eye before B/f/n is shaking you awake, her hair disheveled and eyes barely open, "Girl are you okay?" "Wh-what?" "You were like...whimpering in your sleep- and your alarm has been going off for like five minutes." You suddenly become aware of your very loud alarm. "Sorry," You say groggily, reaching over and turning off your alarm, "Just had a rough night." "I can imagine...you're probably feeling really nervous." "Yeah..." You sit up and slouch forward, your eyes locking onto the TV that's already turned on and fixed on the news channel. You mindlessly watch as clips play, one after another- and then you see an image of the Jeons' hotel. It then switches to a reporter who says, "June Company will soon be merging with L/N Co., which will open jobs throughout the country, as well as in Australia, the United States, and Japan."

"Looks like your merger is making headlines," B/f/n says, jaw practically on the floor. Your face is completely frozen and your heart is pounding. You feel as though you may have an enormous panic attack. You obviously know that the Jeons are kind of a big deal, but you didn't realize just how important this was all going to be. "Y/n?" She sees your expression and quickly turns off the television. "Let's just get you ready, yeah? Come on." She helps you out of bed and leads you to the bathroom. You're practically catatonic for the next hour while you brush your teeth and take a quick shower.

You get your hair and makeup done at the other location, having been put up in a room that connects to the ballroom. Mirrors were brought in to aid in the court's preparation. Every few minutes, you look over at the dress that's hung up on the opposite wall from the collapsable vanity where you're sitting. You don't dare take it out of the garment bag for fear of messing it up. Your mind is still so full of thoughts, all shouting at you for individual attention. It's almost like you're on auto-pilot, the makeup artists asks you to tilt your head or suck in your cheeks, or puff out your lips and you do- though it doesn't register that you've been cooperating so well until those odd moments you look in the mirror and realize your face is almost done.

In fact, you're so out of it that you don't notice Lisa come in. Now, your bridesmaids lovingly picked out coordinated velour tracksuits; yours is black, theirs are pink. They even got one for Lisa, but apparently she didn't need it because her dress is already on and her makeup is already done. Of course, she looks beautiful; her dress fits her absolutely perfectly, the silk fabric laying beautifully on her hips, and the color compliments her skin tone so that she looks like a pretty little porcelain doll...but fuck her. "Hey, Y/n would you mind just coming out to do a run through of the walk?" Your mom asks, popping her head into the suite. You nod, standing up and dusting the setting powder off of yourself, all bridesmaids in tow, though at the last second before entering the ballroom, Lisa says, "I'll meet everyone in a few minutes, I just have to run to the restroom really quickly," to which no one responds of even gives a flying fuck about. Because again, fuck her.

You'd practiced the entrance yesterday with everyone except Jungkook who, of course, was in meetings all day as he had been all week. You're surprised he's even found time to marry you today. Right now, he and his groomsmen are all in another part of the hotel getting ready; you're only practicing with the bridesmaids. You all run through it about three times and then head back to the suite to wrap up getting ready. One by one, all your bridesmaids slip on their dresses and jewelry and head to the next room over to start recording their video diaries for when you put the wedding video together. You're the only one who has yet to put on your dress. You needed the moment to be private; a second to gather your thoughts. You close the door to the suite and then slowly walk over to the garment bag. "This is it..."

You take off your tracksuit and lay it neatly on a nearby chair, leaving yourself in only your pretty, white, lacey bra and delicate silk, white panties with a small bow at the front. B/f/n had insisted you wear them so you could feel beautiful through and through- you initially thought it was an unnecessary detail, though as she is about most things, B/f/n was absolutely right- you do feel beautiful. You gingerly pull down the zipper of the garment bag, revealing the big white gown. Just as beautiful as you remember it from the fitting. You take it off of the hanger and walk over to one of the mirrors leaned against the wall. You step into the gown and pull it up- of course, you'll need help lacing it in but you just want an intimate moment to look at yourself. You press it against your chest and look up at your reflection-

and then the blood drains from your face.

You feel your hands get stiff and ice cold, and you feel that familiar tightness in your chest.

The panic attack that could not come to fruition this morning has now returned with a vengeance, and you are doubled over, sturggling for oxygen.

Cuts. Cuts everywhere. All over the skirt of the dress. Deep, angry slashes. How did I not see them before? How did I miss them? Were they there when I got to the hotel after the fitting? No, it couldn't be- B/f/n put it in the trunk and then hung it up at our hotel room... when did this happen?

Tears stream down your face as you slump forward in the chair. It's drafty in this suite but you can't bring yourself to put the tracksuit back on, or even to move at all beyond the violent jerking of your shoulders with every sob. "Y/n, Y/n, are you okay!?" B/f/n runs over to you, having just finished her recording, "What happened!?" You can't even speak, you just point to the mound of fabric on the floor that once was your dress...that once was the dress. She picks it up off the ground and holds it up, her mouth immediately falling open in disbelief. She's just as confused as you are. "What- how even- This dress was in perfect condition when I brought it here. I checked," She says angrily, trying to rack her brain just like you had only moments ago. Your crying intensifies, a strong feeling of defeat washing over you.

"Oh, Y/n," Her face softens and she hugs you tightly. "I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do. That was the dress. That was the last shred of hope I had for this God-forsaken marriage. Now what? I have no dress, I haven't seen Jungkook once since I've been back. I have nothing left in me to give..." She lets you cry into her chest for a moment before pulling away, "Okay, we have a little less than an hour before the ceremony. Let me see what we can do." She runs out of the room and then you're alone again. Completely and utterly alone...

About fifteen minutes go by and not a single person has entered the suite. You assume they're all trying to figure out what happened and how to help. Your cries have quieted down a bit but still have not ceased. You feel broken and you're tired of fighting it.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You're snapped out of your thoughts, head lifting up and looking toward the door, "Come in," You say, your wavering voice just loud enough to be heard from the other side. The door opens slowly, and you expect to see B/f/n or maybe your mom, but instead, Jungkook walks in, his expression soft and solemn as he closes the door behind him.

"Hey, Y/n."

A/N: Hope you all liked it! Plz comment and DM for suggestions on what you'd like to see happen next in the story; you might inspire me <3

Also, I am so honored that ppl would want me to tag them in the next part. To know anyone likes this series enough to keep up with it is so heartwarming. So, with that being said:

@ttanniett <3

[beautifulpersonpeach]

A Rant.

A lot of you have sent me asks about how JK's solo promotions isn't the same as Jimin's and other BTS members, about JK's rumoured all-English album, about BTS doing payola (you can read my views 4th paragraph from the bottom), about how HYBE has apparently destroyed the BTS OT7 agenda...

I don't want to answer y'all for two reasons:

Perhaps some of you are newer followers, but I can only repeat myself so many times. Don't you get bored of hearing me say the same thing over and over again? /gen

I don't share the apprehension, worry, or appetite for speculation and theorizing that I'm seeing from many people on Tumblr and Twitter.

It's very possible I'm the one in La La Land and you all have good reason to be concerned. But the way I see it, a lot of hysteria is being driven by two things: (1) a very myopic pov, as though the time between June 2022 and December 2025 is the most defining period of BTS's solo careers, as though this is the best and only time for any member to make a move, leave their mark, and thrive. And that BTS/BigHit is working on the same timeline.

(2) All these conversations are being driven by people who have brought that toxic hyper-competitive feature of k-pop, inwards, into the group, and now see the members as direct competition in the narrowest and most reductive sense possible.

And I just don't relate.

I don't feel sad for Hobi on how his solo roll-out was 'sabotaged' relative to Jimin's, I don't feel angry for Joon on how his roll-out compared to JK's, I don't feel confused at JK possibly having a full English album, if anything I'm even more excited by how he's pushing himself and I think it suits him given his pronunciation is one of the best in BTS. I know he'll be more involved than with Seven given how long he's been working on his album, I just hope he doesn't sacrifice depth in his artistic and lyrical expression for a shallow, wider reach.

In my very honest opinion.

When BTS talk about wanting to be together for a really really long time, I wonder if people have sat down to really think about what that looks like. Because maybe it's just me, but I don't think it makes sense for a company/group that has operated like BigHit/BTS, to shove their grandest plans for seven individuals into a ~3 year window. Right now, it's JK getting the push, he's been very vocal and consistent about his solo ambitions for the last 4 years, and I'm glad he's getting this shot.

Also,

While I feel BigHit has become bloated and inefficient, the boys are still capable handling their affairs and I feel very comfortable not having all the answers for a business and career that isn't mine.

I have my opinions about how things could be done differently, and I think if people want to voice their dissatisfaction to the company that's obviously fine, but I don't feel sadness, anger, or pity for any of the guys in BTS in Chapter 2. Not for my biases, not for Jungkook, and certainly not for Jimin. And it's getting tedious repeating my unpopular sanctimonious opinions to people who have already made up their minds and really ought to be more honest with themselves.

Speaking of Jimin, it continues to amuse me how the top group of people who just do nawt rate this man, is his solos. It's like dejavu for the discourse around OSTs circa 2018 - 2021 all over again. PJMs complaining about how BigHit was holding him back from doing OSTs, just for Jimin to say he wasn't interested at the time. Or how in 2022 people were fretting in my inbox about how only Jimin hadn't done any solo work/promotions yet and I would put out gentle reminders about how he operates and his tendency to leapfrog the rest when he's ready, then we started getting the producer pics.

Jimin has always been a 'bigger picture' kind of guy so how can anyone blame me for not taking this latest outcry seriously when that man continues to do what he's always done: work in silence, and wow with the result.

(Does anyone really think a man with no plans would be airborne every 2 weeks, and that a company with no desire to market him would be paying for and managing those plans?)

Not to be dismissive of people who wanted a stronger American push for Jimin's debut, while I agree he would've benefitted from a more targeted push, I genuinely think Jimin has always been better suited for Europe anyway.

I mean, look at him.

*

Anon from yesterday said they envisioned Jungkook doing a song/video like Troye Sivan's Rush... I didn't comment on it yesterday, but Anon, personally, I've never seen Jungkook as capable of making a song like that. Jungkook will never make anything like that. The only person in BTS who has the range for that sort of provocation and subtext, is Jimin. And the market that will fully embrace that sort of art isn't America, it's Europe. In my opinion.

We'll see what his plans are.

Anyway, I'm not sure how more tactfully I can say this, but my blog isn't the place to be if you feel some type of way about seeing Jungkook succeed like this relative to your bias, if you think his promotion and success is at the expense of your bias, and so on. It's not even that I care about some vague OT7 ideal, it's that while I understand the anger and heightened emotions a lot of you feel, I just cannot relate to it. And it won't be enjoyable for either of us if you come to me with asks about it because we think very differently about the group and our relation to BTS.

You can mark this post to revisit in 6 months so we can compare notes.

[kosmicdream]

the way i think of the "3 arcs" in ffak (i am not sure i will end up with 3, btw, its possible i might cut one in half or something else..) is basically that.. arc 1 was the unplanned improv adventure that developed everything, taught me how to draw comics, write a story, ect. arc 2 is the ~actual~ story that i "originally intended" to tell with FFAK (although a lot of that is also in ARC3 too), before it was made into this big sprawling story - and has developed all this time and taken me years to write and prepare for. so im excited and interested in reactions to that. and arc 3, well, arc 3 is something else entirely, but i don't want to say too much about it yet.. it is weird to have the entire story written out though. it feels both big and so small vrs the days id spend building up more and more for the world. i don't think about it like that anymore, even though i think about it a lot every day still. I feel pretty satisfied with how the first chapter of this arc has gone and I hope the next four of this arc will also go well too. yes, im only planning this arc for five chapters. can i do it? idk. it wont be a big deal if it needs more. in a weird way, it means more to me to finish the 2nd arc than the entire story as i've waited so many years to draw the scenes in it. its kinda amazing how long it takes just to develop a story, and in a way 10 years does not seem that long at all. before FFAK, i basically gave up my dream of making comics/writing because of how "disorganized" and crazy my ideas felt.. it has always been the story that FFAK was kind of something i threw myself into, but since it worked at all i was not going to ever let go of it. Still haven't.. yet. But i feel ready to let go when its time. Now, I feel like the work of making a comic its not all that hard even if it is very tedious. sure id love to draw and write better, but that feeling will always be there. I am just grateful to see the ideas come out at all feels a lot better than being creatively constipated and feeling miserable about it, like its bad to have "too big" of plans and be "too ambitious" like its a negative thing, cuz it might not be achievable - what? i love to try. just a sad place to be as an artist, to shame yourself for your own natural creativity and curiosity and pity yourself for not being good enough to make a fool of yourself for trying. pride is such a stupid thing to stop yourself from drawing your own ocs LOL. either way, id rather have it out than just have them sit inside and not ever be shared or seen for myself. every time i think i could have done something better, in the end i just feel relief i managed the miracle of making it at all. its weird to think that i can see an end to this story too and im still getting used to that feeling. i can see all the stories i want to get to beyond it, but Im patient and i know they can wait. i am going to really enjoy my time with it while its all still here. Just felt like sharing some of my feelings as this chapter gets closer to its end and i finish the first step of this new adventure of FFAK!

[wings-of-ink]

Just some updates on where we're headed now...

Chapter 3 is moving right along. I got some tedious bits done, which is a huge relief. I have also been giving a think on how chapters 3 and 4 flow together, and I'm making some changes to my original plan.

Chapter 3 is already pretty hefty, and I am nearly done with a huge segment that would provide a natural divide between it and chapter 4. I was hoping to leave chapter 3 in a more exciting fashion, but I think revamping the flow could still work in favor of the story and even out the sizes of these chapters.

Chapter 4 was going to end up shorter originally. This way, it would be more equal and contain a number of exciting things (including some ROs finally taking the stage). There's a small chance I could get chapter 4 done by the end of April, but that might be me being too optimistic...Chapter 4 will be mostly exposition - things happening that won't require a ton of coding (I think, lol), though there are a couple choices that divert the MC's path a little. If I can't get it done enough to release with chapter 3, then I think I can at least get it out not long after.

So, I'm going to wrap up what I have of chapter 3 and then get to editing and polishing. I expect more errors with this one, both coding and typos, but I'm going to try and get it to where those mistakes aren't as distracting for readers.

Below is how ch 3 looks now. Those three little passages on the right are the last ones for this section before I wrap it up!

[the-lonelybarricade]

You Are Not Alone - (2/3)

Summary: Captured and held in the dungeons of Hybern's castle, Azriel receives help from the most unexecpted being—a priestess.

This takes place in the A Court of Faded Dreams universe after Chapter 50, though it could possibly function as a stand alone read. I think the context is relatively straight forward, but I definitely recommend reading the main storyline if it interests you!

Read on AO3 ✦ ACoFD Masterlist ✦ Previous Chapter

-

Azriel was going to murder Jurian.

Of course, he would need to make his way down the list of people he was planning to murder first, and that was currently a long, grotesquely detailed list. At the top was the King of Hybern, who stood smugly behind him, carelessly holding Azriel’s restraints like he was little more than leashed chattel to be sold to the highest bidder.

Which led him to the next person on his kill list—the High Lord perched on the dias above him, as well as the litter of red-headed sons standing on either side of the oak-hewn throne. They were grinning, a pack of hyenas prepared to close in for the final kill.

“A gesture of goodwill,” the King of Hybern said, shoving Azriel to his knees. “Yours to do what you wish. Kill him, sell him, trade him back to the Night Court.”

Beron leaned back in his seat, studying his prize carefully. Azriel’s arms and wings were bound tightly behind his back, and though the chains biting into his chest and shoulders were crafted of faesbane, Azriel still liked his chances of putting at least one of the Vanserras on their ass if they got too close. He curled his lips back into a snarl, wanting them to know that if they took him prisoner, he would do everything in his power to make containing him a miserable, tedious affair. Eris smirked, eager to play the very same game.

“The fae do not give gifts freely—particularly none as valuable as the Night Court’s Spymaster.” Beron tipped his chin with an authority that spoke to the centuries he had sat on that throne. Even an instinctual part of Azriel sensed the power thrumming from the High Lord and begged for him to yield.

He raged against it, baring his teeth at the Lord and his sons. Jurian kicked him in the ribs as retribution, and Azriel snarled. With his matted hair and blood stained clothes, he likely looked every inch the primitive beast the Illyrians were usually accused of being.

“As far as I am aware,” Beron continued, paying no attention to Azriel’s show of defiance, “all debts between us are paid. What is it you seek in return?”

The King of Hybern tipped his head back and laughed. The sound rattled through the chamber—as low and hollow as a wooden knocker slamming against a rotted door.

“Still so careful, after all these centuries. Have I not fostered good will between us?” Beron stared ahead at the King, unflinching in the face of so much power. The King shook his head, the way one might at an amusing, petulant child. “Very well, Beron. I wish to add additional reinforcements to the delegation from my Kingdom.”

Beron’s face was stern. “How many?”

“Three of my commanders,” The King said, then made a sweeping gesture towards Jurian. “And my human general. They’ll be overseen by my niece and nephew, who I’ve heard have been greatly enjoying your hospitality.”

To the right of Beron’s throne, there was a whisper of movement. A flicker of red hair, attracting Azriel’s attention as he watched Eris Vanserra quickly reach out and bunch the back of his younger brother’s tunic into his fist, restraining the furious male with that single gesture. It was so subtle that no one else seemed to notice.

“For what purpose?” Eris asked, calmly, drawing a flat look from his father.

“Their mission is to survey the land. Find the best place to stage our battleground. They’ll be making expeditions into Spring to examine the wall.”

Beron gave a slow, if not displeased, nod. “Very well.”

At that, Jurian delivered a sharp kick to the gap between Azriel’s wings. With his hands restrained behind his back, Azriel had nothing to slow the momentum as he fell miserably onto his stomach with a low grunt. The chains rattled through the throne room.

“Eris,” Beron called.

There was no other instruction. Brown polished shoes came into Azriel’s line of sight as Eris stepped forward—a leashed pet in his own right. Azriel was tempted to spit on the fine leather that stopped in front of his face. From the clamor above him and the way his bindings slackened for just a moment, Azriel imagined the Autumn heir was taking the chains from the King.

Then a sturdy hand tangled in his hair, gripping tightly to yank Azriel’s neck upwards, forcing him to peer into the burning amber eyes of Eris Vanserra.

“Welcome to the Autumn Court,” he crooned.

-

“I must admit, I was surprised to hear from you.”

Ianthe’s voice had a lovely cadence and an even lovelier inflection. Soft, lilting, so like the chitter of birdsong in the trees overhead. It was easy to see why she had fast become a voice of influence among the priestesses. And though Gwyn had only heard glowing praise about Ianthe, she couldn’t help feeling nervous to be walking beside the High Priestess. Likely because she was so well renowned, and so kind, and Gwyn had not been entirely honest in her correspondence.

“Many of our sisters are understandably cautious about being assigned to the Autumn Court with the current state of politics,” Ianthe continued, leading Gywn past a pair of bronze-armored sentries standing outside the solid oak doors that led into the Forest House. The personal residence of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

“Of course,” Ianthe said, pushing the doors open with an unsettling amount of comfort, like she was more than a guest to the High Lord—like this was her home. “We have avowed to stay neutral to such affairs. Regardless, I understand that being in a court central to the conflicts can feel intimidating.” They stepped into a long corridor, their footsteps bouncing endlessly down the empty hall. “But it is precisely for that reason that the people of the Autumn Court need our help more than ever. As you well know, it is faith people turn to in times of crisis. They require our help, ordained by the Hands of the Goddess, to lead them out of despair and darkness.”

“I couldn’t agree more, sister,” Gwyn said, feeling only mildly guilty for the lie. She’d had to feign twice as much enthusiasm in Sangravah to get the transfer approved. Even more to Catrin, who strongly felt this plan was absurd. “My mother is from the Autumn Court and its people did not ask to be part of this conflict. I feel strongly that they could use our support, which is why I asked to be assigned under you.”

“It has been a long while since I had a pupil training under me,” Ianthe mused. There was a fondness in her voice that relaxed some of Gwyn’s nerves. Though it was an unexpected and sudden request, there was no reason for Ianthe to suspect Gwyn was there for anything other than enriching her studies as an acolyte.

“I hope you will find my guidance valuable.” Ianthe said, perfectly content to do the majority of the speaking. “And I’m sure there is plenty I will learn from you, in turn.”

Gwyn bowed her head respectively. “I will strive to learn all I can as your humble pupil.”

“I’ve been told you’re very well studied.” Ianthe’s full lips stretched into a smile. When she reached up to push the hood of her robe down, Gwyn was struck by how beautiful the High Priestess was. Sparkling teal eyes and bright golden hair that cascaded down to her slim waist. Charming and gorgeous and clever, it was all consistent with what Gwyn had been told to expect. She could not fathom why someone like Ianthe would choose to work so closely with a High Lord like Beron.

“I just enjoy reading,” Gwyn said, cheeks already growing warm from the praise.

“Research is a very valuable skill. I can already tell you are going to be a great asset.”

Together they turned down a short corridor where on the other end, Gwyn could see a spiral staircase carved from stone. They stopped just before it, at a wooden door which Ianthe opened to reveal a spacious bedroom.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” Ianthe said. “The temple is just up the staircase, so that you can come and go at your convenience.”

“That is very considerate,” Gwyn murmured, peering into the room. It was much nicer than the accommodation she shared with Catrin in Sangravah. Gwyn eyed the large bed with longing, trying to remind herself that she was here on a mission and that it would be foolish to indulge too readily in the luxuries of Beron’s Court.

“Why don’t you get yourself settled?” Ianthe offered her a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Once you’re ready, meet me in the temple for our afternoon service, then I will give you a tour of the Forest House.”

A tour. It would be the perfect opportunity to collect more information, to see what of the Autumn Court’s ties to Hybern would have encouraged the shadows to send her here.

Gwyn flashed the High Priestess her brightest smile. “That sounds perfect!”

-

“What a pleasure to have one of Rhysand’s dogs as our very own prisoner.”

Azriel had always known that Eris liked to hear himself speak, and he’d truly believed there was nothing that could make the male more insufferable than he already was. As it turned out, Eris’s snide voice was far worsened by the inability to punch him in the face. Regrettably, Azriel’s arms were still restrained behind his back, bound by the chain that wrapped around his neck, his legs, his wings. Two Vanserras hauled him forward by his shoulders on either side. If not for his injuries and the sedative Jurian had given him before they left the Hybern Castle, Azriel would have favored his chances of overpowering them.

Though Eris was capable of winnowing them to wherever Autumn kept its prisoners, he and his brother had decided to drag Azriel through the halls of the Forest House, flaunting their quarry to every courtier and servant that passed them by. It was a means of humiliation, but Azriel was taking full advantage of the rare opportunity to see inside the High Lord’s personal residence. He marked every corridor they turned down, his shadows already slinking away to search for every potential exit. Typical Autumn Court arrogance, betraying valuable intel for the sake of stroking their pride.

“I heard they couldn’t break you in Hybern,” Eris crooned at his back, closer than Azriel expected. “I wonder if a few nights under my care might be more persuasive.”

Azriel gave a low laugh. “From what I’ve heard, a night with you will only leave me disappointed and wanting—” He cut himself off with a low grunt as one of the Vanserra on his left threw his fist into Azriel’s gut.

“Illyrian filth always running their mouth,” he hissed.

“Easy,” Eris chided, unruffled by the insult. “There will be plenty of time for that once we’re downstairs.”

A shadow darted back to Azriel from around the corner. He felt its restlessness, but before it could provide its warning, the Vanserras turned him down the corridor.

Azriel was pinned instantly beneath two pairs of wide, teal-colored eyes. He tried not to stiffen in his shock, desperate not to let his captors know how much the sight of the younger priestess—who looked suddenly to the point of tears—had rattled him. She was wearing the same acolyte robes he had last seen her in, hood pushed back to reveal her rich coppery hair. She raised a freckled hand to cover her mouth, red brows bunched together in abject horror.

No, Azriel internally begged, wishing he had some way to communicate with the priestess that she needed to put her hand back down. You don’t know me. You don’t care about me. I am nameless, nothing.

Ianthe stood beside her, her fair expression arched with intrigue. He was unsurprised that the High Priestess was not grieved to see a prisoner of war, though it made a stark—and almost amusing—comparison to Gwyneth’s outright horror.

“Pardon us,” Ianthe said, pressing a hand to Gwyn’s shoulder to guide her firmly out of the way. “My pupil is young and has just transferred from the Sangravah temple. She’s never been exposed to the facets of war.”

One of the brothers holding Azriel by the shoulder took a breath and Azriel was preparing himself for whatever cutting remark he’d need to repay in blood later.

“Excuse us for the violence, priestesses,” Eris interrupted, with more earnesty than Azriel had anticipated. “We are just transferring a prisoner from Hybern. Continue as you were.”

With that, Azriel was led away. He didn’t dare glance over his shoulder to watch the Priestess as he went, though his mind stayed with her, wondering where she was going, what she was doing here, as he was dragged further and further into the depths of the Forest House.

-

“You’ll get used to seeing such things,” Ianthe said with a frown that made it difficult for Gwyn to subdue her rapid pulse. She knew she needed to calm herself down or it would become obvious that she was disturbed for more than just a passing stranger. “The Autumn Court is rather blatant with its brutality. Other courts observe the same cruelties and simply keep it better concealed. I find that in some aspects, the transparency is refreshing.”

Refreshing. Gwyn felt nauseated.

She stared after the stone staircase, where the Vanserra’s had vanished with a bruised and bloodied Azriel. So close to where she was lodging… she imagined it had to be a sign from the mother. An indication that she was on the right path.

“I am fine, just a bit rattled,” Gwyn assured the High Priestess, putting a hand to her chest. Her heartbeat thrummed beneath her fingers and she willed it to still. “As you can imagine, I’ve never witnessed such violence before.”

Ianthe touched her shoulder sympathetically. “It will be good to get some exposure, so that you can better understand the adversities that others face.”

“Yes,” Gwyn breathed, numbly. All she could see was Azriel’s wide hazel eyes. He always kept to the shadows in the Sangravah temple, so this was the first proper glimpse she’d had of his face, caked in blood and grime as it were. His eyes were so big, trying so desperately to communicate something with her.

Ianthe was staring at her expectantly.

She forced a smile. “As you say, it is helpful to know the hardships of others, so that we can guide them from a place of understanding.”

“Precisely.

The fingers on her shoulder tightened, then released. Ianthe stepped back, pulling her hood back over her hair.

“Get some rest, Gwyneth,” she instructed. “If you need anything, the servants will be happy to accommodate you.”

Gwyn nodded, bowing to her High Priestess before she slipped into her lodgings and shut the door. She held her breath, listening to Ianthe’s footsteps grow distant as she disappeared down the hall.

Then she cracked open the door, peeking through the slit to see if anyone was coming. It was utterly silent, no approaching footsteps and no one in her line of sight.

So with a great, fortifying breath, Gwyn darted towards the staircase.

-

“Ready to play, shadowsinger?”

This time, Azriel did spit on Eris’s polished boots. The satisfaction made the sting of the resulting kick to his jaw slightly more tolerable.

“Leave us,” Eris growled to his brothers. There were huffs of disappointment, but the Vanserra grunts did as they were told, scraping the metal door shut behind them.

The Autumn Court prison was as dark as the one in Hybern, but not nearly as cold. The stone floor felt more welcoming without the biting chill of the sea, a mercy Azriel did not expect to encounter. He raised his head to meet Eris’s cunning eyes. The Autumn Lord bore all the self-importance of a sadistic god, staring at Azriel laying at his feet. His nose scrunched in distaste, the way he might stare at a bug he was considering crushing beneath his boot.

Azriel curled his lips back into a snarl. “Give me your worst, Vanserra.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Eris said, crouching in front of Azriel so that they were eye level. The affronting male reached out to straighten Azriel’s torn collar, as though he were making the least bit of difference in the Illryian’s haggard appearance. “I’ve heard your High Lord’s little alliance has decided to help me take the throne, which makes us allies. Things are about to get very ugly in this court.”

Eris was exactly the kind of male who used the term allies loosely. He never helped anyone if it didn’t benefit him in turn, and Azriel expected that meant he would be the Autumn Court’s prisoner until Eris could make a deal with Rhysand.

“And your vicious pets?” Azriel asked, jerking his head in the direction the other Vanserras had disappeared. “I think they might notice I’m not being tortured.”

Fingers dug, hard, into his chin as Eris pushed Azriel’s face back up, forcing their eyes to meet again. “I’ll keep them out of your cage,” He said through gritted teeth. It was clear his hostility was just barely leashed by their alliance. “But I want a favor from your court in turn. To be redeemed at my leisure.”

Azriel jerked his face away, like he’d been burned by the Autumn male’s touch. “I don’t speak on behalf of my court,” he said, seething.

“Then I want a favor from you,” Eris crooned in a sweet, mocking sing-song.

Torture was preferable.

But Azriel thought of those glistening teal eyes, staring at him as if he meant something. He swallowed roughly past his pride. “Only on the condition that the priestess—the red haired one—stays safe. If anything happens to her while she’s in this court, the deal's off.”

Eris raised an angular brow, intrigued, but clearly not invested enough to pry any further. It was enough that Azriel cared about her safety. An exposed vulnerability, but at least for the moment their interests were aligned.

“Fine. The priestess will be under my protection.”

“Deal,” Azriel said bitterly.

The smirk the crossed Eris’s face was disconcerting. Azriel tried not to think too carefully about what manner of favor he’d be called in to complete. He could worry about that after he was free.

“Good,” Eris said. “Then I hope you enjoy your brief stay. Make yourself comfortable.”

-

Gwyn wasn’t certain how far down they had taken Azriel. She hadn’t realized, until she embarked, just how many levels there were in the Forest House. The staircase twisted downwards indefinitely, growing darker with every step.

It allowed Azriel’s shadows to slip through undetected. Gwyn had nearly shrieked when one jumped out at her four levels ago, tugging at her wrist when she’d been about to push open the corridor. Down, it had told her, and so she kept going. Pausing at every floor only for the shadow to tug her harder. Down.

Down, down, down.

Until she heard footsteps, and paused.

Voices, distant at first, then closer. Bouncing off the stone.

The shadows pulled at her, but Gwyn didn’t need their instruction to dart out of the stairway, slipping through a large oak door. She didn’t let it shut fully—too nervous the sound would alert whoever was coming, and because it allowed her to press her face to the small slit in the door frame.

A pair of red headed males passed by, grumbling about Eris hogging all the fun. They passed by without even glancing her direction, continuing their ascent up the unending staircase. She released a breath once they were gone, counting the seconds in her head. How long should she wait, until she was sure they wouldn’t hear her shut the door?

Glancing behind her shoulder, Gwyn could see that she was in a long, dust-covered hallway, with a single door on the other end. Portraits covered in white cloth decorated the wall and, curiously, Gwyn wandered towards one to lift the cover.

Long, flame red hair greeted her, followed by golden brown skin and bright russet eyes. A handsome male, undoubtedly a Vanserra, though there was something different about him that caused Gwyn to tilt her head to examine him closer. Lucien, she recalled. The exiled son of Autumn.

Well, at least she knew that no one would likely be frequenting this floor.

“What’s this?”

Gwyn shrieked, whirling to find Eris Vanserra standing in the entryway, the wooden door propped open beneath his palm.

“I—” Gwyn scrambled to think of an excuse, and when she came up short, she admitted, “I was curious what was under the portraits.”

He raised a brow. She could tell he didn’t believe her.

“And what are you doing so far from the temple?”

“I think he’s cute,” she blurted, face burning so hot that she hoped it was convincing.

That, at least, seemed to surprise him. But pleasantly. The way a fly surprised a spider when it tangled in his web.

“You think my exiled little brother is… cute?”

“Is this where his room used to be?” She asked, pointing down the hall.

Eris’s expression soured. “Stick to your temple, little priestess. I don’t want to find you down here again.”

There was a threat to those words that made Gwyn feel like she was choking. She bowed her head in shame, hurrying quickly out of the corridor as she mumbled, “Yes, s-Sir. Er, my Lord—Lord Eris.”

He snorted. She couldn’t decipher if it was a sound borne from humor or irritation. He didn’t move as she skulked back into the stairwell, forcing her to duck beneath his arm. Those amber eyes tracked her the whole time, watching her climb back up the stairs. Even once she was out of his line of sight, she didn’t dare turn around to see if he was following.

Azriel would have to wait.

[askaalaska-vdeppressed]

I Cannot Breath (So I Must Sing) Ch. 2

Alastor X Fem Opera Singer Reader

Masterlist

Please be warned this chapter does touch on some period accurate racism. Proceed with caution.

 Most people assume that being a performer is all about the audience. That if the audience leaves happy, with excitement in their voices and smiles on their faces, that the performance was a good one.  

Your father had instilled in you from a young age that most people -- were wrong. You could see him now, his dark hair styled neatly, gray bits beginning to sprout on the sides. His hair line high, pushed up after years of his mask irritating it. His shirts were always cotton and the warm leather of his sheep skin gloves was always a comfort. The smell of damp that permeated the house on the lake never bothered you. Nor did the eerie silence that stained the air, only ever broken by the odd squeak of Rodentia or hard splash from the waves.  

Or the sounds of a poor lost fool being drowned. 

Father was always pleased on those days.  

 "Ma fée” he would beckon you over to the piano. You always preferred it when he taught you on piano. ”Remember when you sing, you sing only for yourself and for me. If you sing for others you will become complacent, and a complacent artist is a dull one.”  

The memory of damp and sheep skin gloves faded as you approached the radio station. Walking in, the doors’ hinges squeaked alerting the receptionist to your presence. 

“Can I help you miss?” An excessively thin and dainty woman called out to you. You glanced over, spying the clock above her head. 2:15 p.m. Perfect. Just like you planned.  

“I‘m here for an interview. I‘m early a little. My name is Y/n Leroux” Your accent was back on in full swing, though you’d been toning down the breaks in your English since your bluff had been called by the radio show host. Doing it had been getting tedious anyway.  

“Oh wow, it’s a pleasure to meet you miss, the station’s been very excited to hear from such a seasoned performer.” It was hard to tell if the woman was genuinely excited to see you there or if she was just very good at her job. Perhaps a mix of both. You ultimately decided her earnestness wasn’t of import.  

“Thank you”  

“Don’t thank me yet” the woman’s eyes were tense as she read over a planner on her desk. “You’re more than a bit early honey. I don’t think anyone was expecting you here till 3 at the earliest” She peered up, trying to gauge your reaction to the news. “But you’re more than welcome to wait up here, or you could go take a walk and come back” She gestured to a very well-worn couch that sat in front of the station’s front picture window. The fabric was aged and stained, several patches covered it in varying colors and materials.  

It looked like they'd dragged it out of the trash.  

You assessed the current worth of the dress you had on before deciding to sit on the remnants of a couch. This little scheme of yours was worth more.  

The plan was simple really. Alastor Altruist was clearly a man that like being in control of the situation. He liked knowing what would happen, how things would go.  

You were going to throw him off his rhythm.  

Simple as a sonnet.  

If you were being honest, you didn’t hate Alastor- quite the contrary. From what little you had interacted with him he seemed sweet, terribly intellectual and keen to rise to the challenge. That’s what made him so fun to fluster. He was the first source of stimulating entertainment you’d had since coming to the country. He’d captured your attention in such a vivacious way, you were eager to do more mental sparring with him.  

“Who you chatting with Sandy?” A dishwater blonde gentleman stuck his head out of the door cattycorner to the reception desk. He looked to be in his 40’s, white, strong jawline, pouty lower lip, conventionally attractive by most metrics. Though some deep subconscious instinct in you couldn’t help but think- snake.  

“Oh this is Miss Leroux, the opera singer Al is interviewing.” The man’s eyebrows raised as he stepped into the atrium proper.  

“Well I'll be damned, here I though he was fibbing on us just to get a rise.” The man walked over his hand outstretched. “Gary Whitaker I do the morning run from 4 to 9, it’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am”  

“Indeed a pleasure, sir.” You stood and shook his hand. ”I’m afraid my apartment lacks a radio so I’m ehh ’no knowing’ most of your shows.” That one wasn’t even a lie, you didn’t own a radio, it would only serve as a distraction from the music you were already creating.  

“Well with as big as this opening is shaping up to be, I’d imagine affording one will be no problem afterwards” He gave a modest chuckle. His comment was telling. He knew you were a big deal but didn’t know why. If he did he’d have known you had no issue affording one now, you just lacked the motivation to do so.  

“Say Al’s show doesn’t start for some time, how about I introduce you to the boys in the back” His posture was nonchalant, one arm in his pants pocket, the other pointing his thumb at the door he’d appeared out of.  

The plan was to throw Alastor off his rhythm, you never specified how.  

“I’d be delighted”  

~  

Alastor’s day had not been a bad one. Nothing totally earth-shattering had happened. He didn’t almost lose a limb or get mugged. He didn't forget anything or stain his shirt. He didn’t even step in a puddle or receive an untoward glance.  

Alastor’s day had not been bad.  

So why did every mild inconvenience he encountered today spark within him an indignant rage? The laces on his shoes were too tight and he wanted to throw them into the bayou. His skin itched from the allergen invested air and he wanted to peal it off. The temperature wasn’t quite right in his coffee, and he wanted to strangle the poor sod that served it to him. Alastor was many things but blindly angry was not one of them. Neither was he prone to reckless acts of violence. Violence yes but reckless no. He was poised and planned. He knew his targets and he picked them meticulously. He knew how each and every stroke of the knife would enter them.  

That’s why he had become so annoyed with Y/n. She made him second guess himself. An error he was loath to make twice in front of her.  

‘Oh yes that’s almost certainly it’ he thought, his stride almost automatic as he made his way to the station. The interview with Y/n was the culprit for his hair trigger mood swings. The looming threat of having to possibly defend himself, or decipher her, while live on air hung over him. The fog it produced affecting his senses. If the games Miss. Leroux played weren’t directed at him, he’d probably enjoy watching them. But they weren’t so he didn’t  

 “What’s shaking Sandy?” He entered, cheery demeanor in place as he greeted the receptionist.  

“Nothing but the trees Al.” She replied, pausing what she was writing to properly acknowledge him. “Your interviewee came early.”  

Al stopped his stride abruptly, glancing at the clock. 3:15, he supposed she did mention coming at 3 to ensure punctuality in the airing of the broadcast. He appreciated her consideration in that regard. “How long has she been waiting?” he asked smoothly, bending to one knee as he did so to tie his shoelaces.  

“An hour”  

Alastor whipped his head up. 

“An hour?” His eyes were wide.  

“Yes sir” Sandy replied sheepishly  

“Good God why?” He stood once more, his arms making vague gestures as he tried to fathom if this woman really had nothing better to do this afternoon, then wait for him. Sandy’s only reply was a display of throwing her hands and eyebrows up in confusion. Alastor twisted around, noticing the lack of opera singer on the parlor couch.  

“Well, where is she then?” he asked.  

“Gary took her back to meet everyone. She hadn’t been sitting here five minutes before he swooped in here and snatched her and-” Alastor made his way to the back, the sound of Sandy quickly fading. His eyebrows furrowed in frustration and anxiety.  

Alastor’s day had not been a bad one, but it had just gotten much much worse. 

~ 

So, you’re telling me the only reason Al snagged you was because of a buddy of his? Ha! Just goes to show you how far having the right friends will get ya!” The salt and pepper haired radio host—whom you had learned was named Ernie—laughed animatedly as he spoke. His assistant and wife--whom you had learned was named Sara-- was hanging on his shoulder.  You were sat with the two of them on a couch— in much better shape— that sat off to the side of several desks.  

You liked Ernie well enough. The whole lot that Mr. Whitaker had introduced you too, you liked well enough. Though you could sense down in your core that they were all business people at heart- Ernie perhaps the only exception. The cordial nature they put on only a front in order to network. They were fine for a day, but you wouldn’t want to see them every day.   

No wonder Alastor seemed exacerbated.  

As it had been explained to you, the station ran regular content Monday, Wednesday and Friday, with different specials interspersed on other days. There were four main hosts at the station that worked these days from what you could gather. Gary Whitaker, and his assistant Kim Parsons had early mornings. They also did broadcasts Tuesday nights, usually episodic radio dramas. When talking about it Gary had proudly stated that he had started the trend at the station and others such as Alastor followed in his footsteps. Though when he said this, Kim had rolled her eyes and fixed him with a ‘sure you did’ look.  

 Ernie Welch and his wife Sara took mid mornings to early afternoon. Ernie was the oldest at the station at 56. He was also one of the owners, the station was owned by him and two of his brothers. Ernie didn’t do any other specialty programming, probably spending most of his free time running the place or dealing with the metaphorical fires his son was starting. You only knew about the latter because a call had interrupted your initial meeting with Ernie and Sara. A police officer on the other end of the line.  

Franklin Marks and his assistant Stacie Quick had afternoons to evenings. It was clear to you from the onset that Stacie was the one really running the show and Frank was just her mouthpiece. It was also clear to you that Franklin had a raging and obvious crush on the onyx haired woman. You could tell just from the way he looked at her, though it became glaringly obvious when he mentioned he came in at the ass crack of dawn on Tuesdays and Thursdays to do broadcasts because Stacie liked doing the morning shows.  

Alastor had evenings into the night, no assistant that you had seen. His and Franklin’s normal spots were the cream of the crop so to speak, since people were at home relaxing from a hard day at work and were more likely to sit and just enjoy some radio. Alastor also did evening broadcasts Thursday and Saturday. From what you had heard he was the only one to work on Saturdays. For as cocky as he was, he at least had the work ethic to back it up.  

“So Cal Al lucked into success once again, what a surprise.” Gary said, frustration evident in his voice, he had turned and walked away before you could question him further on the comment.  

“Cal Al?” You asked confused.  

“Callous-er Alastor, an unfortunate nickname he’s earned himself with a lot of the staff, though I wish they wouldn’t call him that in public.” Ernie huffed and shook his head. The two of you were now alone. You spied the retreating form of Sara behind him, looking like she was headed to the front to speak to Sandy.  “He does it to himself though. I keep telling him to just keep the peace, but he lets that mouth of his run. And it certainly hasn’t made him any friends” 

Ernie grabbed his ever cooling coffee from the table and leaned back, letting the mug rest against his lips in contemplation. “He’s a grown man though, I can’t make that decision for him.” He took a sip. “I used to though. He came in here when I first started, begging to work for me. He was just a kid, tall as a pole and looking like he’d be all of 50 pounds soaking wet. Heh, we used to use him to get shit out from between walls or in the crawl space.”  

You laughed at the image; a young Alastor being held by his ankles being used to grab things. Ernie was off in his own world though. “Yet for all the hard work he’s put in, he does nothing to keep it. He’d rather work harder, not smarter. I keep telling him he needs to open up, talk to people, get in the good graces of the right folks.... I’d given anything just to get him to listen. Just to get him to succeed the way I know he can.”  

You stared at Ernie, sentiment saturating your gaze. The stare seemed to wake Ernie out of his trance. “Oh, you don’t wanna hear the troubles of some silly studio head”  

“No” you interrupted. “It's nice, reminds me of someone I know”. The memory of sheep skin gloves resurfaced once more. The hard look of determination in your father’s eyes as he was adamant to ignore every good piece of advice your adoptive uncle tried to give him.  

The loud clunk of the front door shutting caught both Ernies and your attention. You assumed it was Sara, returning from wherever she had darted off too. Instead, you saw the quickly approaching form of Alastor. One side of your mouth perked up.  

“Ready to start” Alastor quipped curtly. His smile was strained, and his gloved finger tapped incessantly on his crossed arms. Your smile grew into a full grin.  

Y/N: 2, Alastor:0 

~ 

The interview had gone swimmingly. Though Alastor by the end of it looked like he never wanted to see you again. A shame really, he had been quite fun. Though you suppose you could understand his frustrations. Considering his lack of wanting your attention, receiving a letter from his station delivered to your dressing room came as quite a surprise. The paper was crisp and heavy, making such satisfying noises as you opened it.  

Miss. Leroux, I must say it was quite a delight meeting you yesterday. I was not able to catch your interview with Al, but I’m told it was quite an intriguing listen. Though I think there may have been better hosts available for you to speak with. Forgive me if this seems odd, but I will be clearing up some paperwork at the station today, and I would like to see you there. I have some business propositions that I think you may find interesting.  

Regards,  

Gary Whitaker  

You set the letter down, thinking. Mr. Whitaker had been a bit brash, but he seemed fine. It seemed a little tacky trying to book you so soon after his coworker, but he seemed the type. You rose, grabbing your bag.  

There was no harm in hearing him out, you supposed.  

~ 

The skies had decided it was high time for them to open up as you walked to the station to meet Gary. The rain not dropping down in streams but rather falling from the sky in sheets. Your outfit was soaked as you entered, water dripping onto the worn carpet of the reception area. You tried opening the door to the back you’d gone in the day prior, only to find it locked. Three hard resounding knocks were given in your frustration. After a moment you decided whatever, he was trying to sell you wasn’t worth it, searching in your purse for your apartment keys. As your hand feebly searched you saw the distinct picture of them sitting on your dressing room vanity. You’d had them in your dress pocket, and had set them there when you were changing.  

Great, perfect! Now you were going to have to go back in the storm to retrieve your keys from the theatre. You only prayed someone was still there to let you in, or you’d be picking a lock with your hairpin again.  

That was only fun the first 40 or so times you’d done it.  

Just as a dramatic huff was on the precipice of exiting your lips, Gary opened the door.  

“There you are, sorry I wasn’t sure if there was knocking or if it was the storm.” Gary’s mood was light and joking, which right now, was mixing with your frustrated one like oil and water. He at least seemed to read the room quickly, letting out a crisp “Right” before leading you back. As you walked you couldn’t help but think the small space seemed so much bigger. The noise of typewriters and movement of bodies had taken up so much space before. Gary led you to an office, keeping the door open much to your delight.  

You didn’t fear being alone in a room with Gary. You didn’t fear being alone in a room with any man, or woman for the matter. All people breathed the same, and the expertly tied piece of rope that sat in the trick pocket of your dress stopped that breathing the same. But still, it was nice to have the escape route as a precaution.  

The hard polished wood of the chair in front of Gary’s desk was slick, combined with your soaked attire it was a chore to stay upright and not slide. You prayed to whatever deity could hear you that this wouldn't be long.  

“Well, I know you’re a very busy woman Miss, Leroux, so I won’t waste your time.” 

So, God was merciful after all.  

“I want you to be a voice on my radio drama”  

“Radio drama?” You raised an eyebrow. This was what he had dragged you out in the rain for? 

“Yes, I have this darling little dive character I’ve been wanting to introduce for a while, and you’d be perfect. You see the plot we have now is-” You tuned Gary out. You were already playing two characters here in America, one on the stage and one on the streets. You didn’t need to add a third in the studio. You tried your best to wait for a break in his pitch before stopping him.  

“Mr. Whitaker?” You said.  

“Please call me Gary.” You really didn’t want to, but you acquiesced none the nonetheless.  

“Gary, while I'm flattered you would choose me for this...” You gestured at him with your hand to give you the word he used, as if you didn’t remember it.  

“Radio drama” 

“Radio drama, right. While I’m flattered you would want me for this radio drama you have, it’s just not something I’m in the business of. I did the interview to promote the show, nothing more.” and for your own entertainment in flustering the host, but that wasn’t important.  

“Yes, you did it to promote the show.” Gary’s arms flailed as he spoke.  “This is to promote you. Your talents, your skills. This is for you.” His bid for goodwill was a facade you saw through immediately. He was doing this to use your name for his own advantage, not the other way around.  

“It’s just not something I can see myself doing Mr. Whitaker.” You reinforced the no, you’d dealt with this type of man before, if you gave them any lead, they’d never leave you be.  

Gary pushed himself away from the desk with a huff. “Figures. You’ll show up two hours early for Cal Al but won’t even hear me out when I’m trying to help you.”  

“Radio is just not something I’m interested in seriously branching out into” You crossed your legs, hand resting on your abdomen, inching ever closer to the trick pocket. Just in case.  

“Heh I wouldn’t be either if my first experiences with it were from Alastor blooming Altruist. Blast it all, I can't believe he lucked into success once again. He’s got Ernie in his pocket, and he walks around here like he’s invincible. Acting like some better than us big shot, when he’s the reason we have to keep the door locked! We can’t do photography with the press, have to do limited live events, all because he had to go and get famous as someone with his ’heritage’. We all have to suffer and be lesser just because Ernie still sees him as 13. Somebody outta tell him that he shouldn’t be running a business if he doesn’t see his employees as men. And somebody outta tell Alastor that he shouldn’t have gone into public broadcasting if all it takes is a second glance at him to tell that there is definitely one in the woo-” 

“Enough!” The chair slammed onto the floor, as you shot up. Your eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched in disgust. This little tantrum of Gary’s had gone on long enough. And someone outta tell him what he needed to hear.  

~ 

Alastor reveled in the peace that came with broadcasting on Saturdays. The air was clean of noise, just him, the booth and radio waves. His co-workers all made digs at him, choosing to come in on a day they didn’t typically broadcast, but Alastor adored it. That’s what set him apart from his peers, he didn’t do this for the money, he did it for the love of the art. To hell with what those fools thought, outside of when he was feeling the life draining from someone's body, when it was just him and the mic was when he felt most alive.  

So, he was disappointed and surprised to find that he was not the only one at the studio today. Sitting in his office alone, it was easy to make out the noises of someone else mucking about the place. No matter, they probably didn’t even know he was there. He was a good few hours early for the show.  

Having Y/n in his space had made him realize just how disorganized it was. And how self-conscious Y/n pointing that fact out to him had made him feel. Now was as good a time as any to remedy that situation so it never happened again. Not that he planned on inviting Y/n back again but still.  

He wasn’t taking any more chances with that woman.  

Three loud knocks gave Alastor a jolt. He got his bearing once more and rose. Perhaps the other person did notice that he was there and had locked themselves out. Just as he made his way to open the office door, he heard a male voice speak. He couldn’t quite make out who it was. He then heard two sets of feet walking into the building. One in shoes, one in heels. A man and a woman.   

Alastor waited as the sound of footsteps passed his office. He waited till the sounds of clicking stopped completely before cracking open the door and peering out. He could hear voices coming from down the hall. Intrigued, he crept his way out slowly, silencing himself much like he did on hunts. As he neared, he made out the male voice to be Gary’s. The rhythm of his speech familiar. He was pitching his radio drama to someone.  

Boring. 

Alastor turned on his heel making his way back, still being cautious to be quiet. The last thing he needed was Gary to find him here. He was just about back when a long, rough squeak of a chair being pushed back caught his attention. Gary’s voice had risen in pitch and sounded upset.  

No longer boring. Alastor made his way over again, quicker this time, using the raised voices as a cover for his footfall. He knelt down outside of Gary’s door, hearing him in the midst of an angry rant.  

“- We all have to suffer and be lesser just because Ernie still sees him as 13. Somebody outta tell him that he shouldn’t be running a business if he doesn’t see his employees as men. And somebody outta tell Alastor that he shouldn’t have gone into public broadcasting if all it takes is a second glance at him to tell that there is definitely one in the woo-” 

“Enough!” The unexpected sound of the chair hitting the floor nearly knocked Alastor off his balance, thankful he was flush against the wall.  

“Mr. Whitaker, I’m not sure if you conduct all business meetings this way but I must say I do not find it in the least bit amusing.”  

Alastor knew that voice. That was Y/n. That sneaky son of a bitch was trying to recruit less than 48 hours after his interview.  

Tasteless tactless hack.  

“Now since you have thoroughly wasted my time here and ruined my shoes, I’d advise you to listen up, so at least someone gets something from this evening. “Alastor could hear her take in a harsh breath.  

“If you were half the radio host you say you are, you wouldn’t need to put your coworkers down to lift yourself up. I say if you're as grand and good as you say you are why don’t you leave? Certainly, another station would love to have such a fine gentleman on their staff. And then you wouldn’t be bogged down by such supposed restrictions. But something tells me that you tried that. And no one would have you, so you just have to suck it up and stew in your pity party here. Because you're not good enough, and you can’t stand that someone else is.”  

Alastor’s mind was racing. Was Y/n... defending him? He felt a small twinge in his heart. Of all the things he’d have expected her to do in this scenario, that was not one of them.  

This woman just kept throwing him for a loop.  

“And” Alastor could hear the clipping of heels on the floor. “If I catch even a whiff of you continuing to tout this Alastor’s heritage blame game bullshit, I think I may just find myself becoming quite loose lipped about the nature of yours and Mrs. Welch’s relationship.”  

Alastor’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. His mind to stunned in the moment to comprehend Y/n’s defense of his being mixed race--Ernie’s wife and Gary? No, it... Y/n couldn’t be implying what he thought she was implying.  

“How could you-” Y/n cut Gary off. 

“Oh please it wasn't that hard. You leave off yesterday all in a tizzy and suddenly she’s taking off without a word in the same direction? Then you both come back together looking quite pleased with yourselves? And Sara’s lipstick is gone off her face? You might as well slap her ass in front of the whole office. It'd be subtler. "  

Alastor was right, he did like Y/n’s games a lot better when they weren’t directed at him.  

~ 

The door to your dressing room slammed shut as you entered, stopping furiously as you snatched your keys off the vanity table. Someone was still here, or they forgot to lock up. No matter, that was the furthest thing from your mind. Steam was still rolling off you from your encounter with Gary. You took no joy in feeding him his lunch so to speak. It only angered you, because whatever joy you could derive from seeing him knocked down a peg, was quickly cancelled out by the realization that the world was being run by buffoons like him. At least when things like this happened in Paris, your father and you had outlets to let it out. Both savory and unsavory. Now you were wound up, a spring coiled with no release switch. A jack-in-the-box on its penultimate note.  

“Oh Miss Leroux, you’re still here. I could have sworn it was just me here” A middle aged costume woman called from the hallway. She was curt, fine if not a bit of a bitch. Then again, most customers were to some degree. 

As the rage festered and boiled within you, your hand instinctively rested over the trick pocket of your dress.  

Perhaps there was at least one outlet you could utilize.  

[franckyfox2468]

Francky's top 5 games released in 2023

So with 2023 ending soon I decided to make a little list and a top 5 of the games that I enjoyed and played that came out this year

Though i will be limiting myself to games/remakes released this year so while i greatly enjoyed Sonic Frontiers and AI the Somnium files this year, they wont make the lsit sorry.

I will start with the honorable mention of games that i still enjoyed but didn’t make it to the top 5.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Like a Dragon: Ishin

Ishin is the last Yakuza game I've played that was made by its longtime director, Toshihiro Nagoshi. And after playing Like a Dragon Gaiden, it helped me realize how much of a difference a new direction can make and how much I have taken the quality of the series for granted. Ishin wasn’t the worst nor the best Yakuza game I've played imo. Which makes sense given it was made right in between one of my least favorite games in the series (yakuza 5) and one of my most favorites (yakuza 0). Its story is perhaps not something you would be used to compared to the rest of the series but it is based on a tale that is as old as time itself that is still quite enjoyable for what it is and while it has some annoying bits (like substories always getting in your way during important event or gun fights), Ishin is still a quite enjoyable game with some fun stories, fun combat and fun minigames. And honestly the funniest version of Baka Mitai somehow.

BombRush Cyberfunk

I decided to check out bombrush cyberfunk after it was absolutely snubbed over in the same award show that decided to promote a JetSetRadio game and I figured I would finally get around checking what it was about before the year ended. I haven’t finished the game yet. I haven’t played JSR so I can't exactly make a full comparison but through some of its rather painful and counterproductive input mapping/options and some frustrating platforming here and there, BRCF is still a game with a very charming, silly and engaging presentation with its story, art and music.

Robocop: Rogue City

Rogue City is not a perfect game, and a quite short one at that. But it is a really good and enjoyable game for what it is. It's not something I would recommend to someone who hasn’t seen the two first movies as they would absolutely get lost in just what the hell is going on and potentially get spoilers from both movies. While the final battle was a bit underwhelming in contrast to what the plot was potentially leading up to with it and some fights could get absolutely tedious, the game to me is in line with the telltale back to the future game or the atari ghostbusters where it can easily serve as a new chapter for the mainline film franchise but through a really good game.

TOP 5:

#5: Baldur's Gate 3

Don’t get me wrong, Baldur’s gate is an excellent game and a fantastic experience that I would recommend to anyone who likes RPGs of any sorts with ease. But part of the reasons it is so low on my list are, 1, i did not finish it unlike every other game on that list, 2, all of the fun and your will to plan a future character and playthrough is absolutely drained out by the time you reach act 3. I played explorer mode as I am not exactly a tactical rpg person myself and wanted to put more focus on the story, which is absolutely great. Every party member is fantastically written and voiced characters, each with their own tastes, goals and views upon the world and situation around you that makes them very likable and fun to have. Honestly some of the more fun companions i've seen in an rpg. The game really does a great job at emulating the sense of playing through a real DnD campaign with a ton of hilarious optional dialogues and where your actions and picked skills will matter in the end, as well as how you synergize them with the rest of your party (without the dogshit power hungry dm or the potential constant in-fighting of other players), the way you are introduced to most of the main party members so early into the story really helps to that feeling of your DM making a scene to make sure all of the players are quickly gathered together and introducing each others’ characters.

For most of the game creativity with your spells, tools at hand and strategy are absolutely rewarded and if you bring in some friends for co-op it can get hella chaotic for better or worse. But by the time you reach the third arc, the story and paths you can take in combat are really narrowing down and not exactly for the better as each fight and situations you start being put through really ties your ends and forces you to be quite careful and specific with what you do even on the easier modes. It's gotten to a point where I kinda haven’t played the game in a long time because doing literally anything done by that part of the game feels like a goddamn chore. But BG3 is still a fantastic game that I do intend to get around to finishing someday as I still think quite positively of it for the most part.

#4: Hi-Fi Rush

Hi-fi rush is simply a fantastic game. A game that involves platforming and combat while mixing rhythm game mechanics could have easily been a blunder but this game manages to succeed at every aspect it does on top of its fantastic artistic presentation. The art, the animation, the music, the writing… It's all fantastic. The only thing that really left to be desired is the ending kinda falling flat on its message and just going back to the situation the world was in despite the systematic issues still being there but the good guys are on top of it now so that makes it okay i guess? But with that aside, I would say the game might not be for everyone as some of the rhythmic elements can be quite tight and unforgiving in some aspects and fights but overall it was one of the more enjoyable and absolutely hilarious games i’ve played in awhile.

#3: Trepang2

On the surface, Trepang looks like a dull military shooter game with some horror elements that are inspired by FEAR. But the problem is that going into detail about why it is so much more would spoil a fantastic experience that absolutely caught me off guard with how good it was. As someone who has never played FEAR, the combat, if anything, was a lot more reminiscent of Titanfall 2. Sure you don’t have cool giant robots but trust me it makes up for simply how absolutely bonkers and high octane it can get. It just feels absolutely amazing from start to end. This is one of the best single player fps games i have played in a long while and i am absolutely looking forward to the story dlc they have announced coming in 2024. 

#2: Street Fighter 6

I have a love hate relationship with this game. I hate it because this game has caused some severe damage to my hands and at times I had to take a month long break from it because of how much it was starting to hurt. On the other hand, this is one of the most fun, enjoyable and accessible fighting games that I have ever played and definitely my favorite to this day. And i don’t simply mean because of its different control scheme. SF6 does an excellent job at giving all of the information the players need to better understand the game from within the game as well as official reading material like frame data and such provided by the devs themselves. And even if you aren't into fighting games or multiplayer games, I would absolutely still recommend SF6 for its world tour alone. While it does not have the most phenomenal story imaginable, it is a really goofy and enjoyable experience that perfectly blends rpg and fighting game mechanics for all to enjoy. And the best part is that every dlc release comes with free content and the ability to learn techniques from dlc characters you do not even own. Which honestly despite some of its issues with the monetizations is a huge W on the part of the devs regarding this game. Honestly despite some of its issues SF6 is the real first fighting game i started to feel like i was able to take seriously with how much resources and content you get, and it helped me get even closer to some friends as well as meeting some quite friendly people. I love SF6. But what could possibly beat it then?

#1: Pizza Tower

S rank is for Street fighter, which is pretty good. P rank is for Pizza Tower, which is perfection to me. I’ll admit I nearly gave up on this game because of some initial frustrations but pizza tower is a game you can ALWAYS get better at, even if you managed to finish the whole game. The best way to describe it is… it's the best Nintendo game not made by nintendo. Not because it tries to do something fans always wanted or replicated an aesthetic. But it's through just how polished and tightly designed the game is but it does so in a way that doesn’t punish experimentation with all of its crazy movement mechanics and it doesn't try to streamline anything for you except perhaps how player damage is handled, which feels like quite the opposite of what Nintendo does with a lot of its game nowadays. Everything feels so samey, streamlined, slowed down but the dated tired shit like extra lives and such are here to stay and you have to deal with it, while the new fancy stuff rarely brings benefits and usually are more so gimmicky annoyances (at least this is my feeling towards a lot of more recent Kirby games). While the game definitely has some of its downside and it's a quite hard game, it is honestly one of the best 2d platformers I've played and I'd easily put it aside to a game I would deem legendary like DKC2 or Super Mario World. Every level is well defined, well designed, you always get something new and fun at each of them. And that is not even mentioning its absolutely wonderful and hysterical art, animation and this absolute banger of a soundtrack.

I am ultra excited for the upcoming character dlc as it will give me a reason to replay the whole game with some new mechanics to add some spice to it all. Pizza tower is excellent.

[no1frogfan]

Desire lines, part 1

Kuroo x afab reader

Series synopsis: Against his wishes, Kuroo must hire a personal assistant. You’re not exactly the right person for the job, but it’s a job, and you need the money. Inspired by Robert Macfarlane’s definition of desire lines in landscapes: “paths and tracks made over time by the wishes and feet of walkers, especially those paths that run contrary to design or planning.”

Chapter word count: ~1.4k

Chapter tags & warnings: some sexually suggestive language

Note: Since I’m throwing all my half-baked series ideas out there, here’s another one. I’ve literally already written 25k for this series but I’m completely dissatisfied with most of it. So fly free, dumb little thing, and bring me back some better ways of progressing this story. Side note: small celebration for this, my 20th piece of writing posted to tumblr! It’s especially fitting since this is the first series I attempted to write when I started this blog 5 months ago, and because Kei & Tetsu are my deepest, truest loves

Series masterlist part 2

1. Best-laid plans

“I don’t want to hear any more excuses, Kuroo. You will do it, and that’s final.” Nishida states forcefully, turning his attention back to the papers in front of him. A clear sign that the conversation is over.

“Yes sir, Nishida-san.” Kuroo bows stiffly as he backs out the door.

In the privacy of his own office, Kuroo collapses behind his desk with a string of quiet curses.

Being a director comes with a lot of perks. The promotional game he’d organized a few years ago had turned out to be a massive success, reinvigorating volleyball in Japan and bringing in scores of new fans. On the back of that and a few other creative and well-executed events, he finally landed that sought-after position 3 months ago — Director of the Sports Promotion Division at the Japan Volleyball Association.

At the age of 30, he’s the youngest director in the organization.

He’d earned it with the best pitch he’s ever made — a long-term partnership with FIVB, the Fédération Internationale de Volleyball, to train and support coaches and referees throughout Japan. “This partnership will require intensive investment of our time and existing resources, but the payoff will be exponentially greater. Think about how much of an impact this could have on our organization locally, nationally, and globally. On the local level, we’ll be able to improve and expand the existing leagues by increasing the caliber of current coaches and training new coaches who can build new teams and bring more young talent into the sport. On the national level, a higher quality of gameplay means more exciting games, more news coverage, and a higher profile for the sport as a whole, allowing the JVA to further build upon on the momentum of growing fan interest across Japan. Finally, on the international level, the partnership with the premier international volleyball organization would increase the visibility of the JVA and of Japan as a volleyball powerhouse around the world.” By the end of his spiel, Nishida and the other executives were practically eating out of the palm of his hand.

As Director, Kuroo’s life is not bad at all. He gets to design more impactful projects. He gets his own corner office on the 38th floor with a stunning view overlooking the city. Plus, he received a substantial raise, though he barely has time to spend any of that money. The one thing he did splurge on was a larger apartment in Kagurazaka, an eccentric neighborhood he’d always wanted to live in. The new place is closer to his grandparents and to Kenma too, not that he’s been able to squeeze in more than one brief visit a month over the past year.

Yes, there are certainly a lot of upsides to being Director. But there are a lot of downsides too.

There’s so much more administration than he ever imagined. Most of his time each week is spent in tedious managerial meetings when he'd much rather be running around, boots on the ground, meeting players and making deals. The paperwork, the departmental politicking, the boring pleasantries, the late hours almost every night… It’s all worth it to make his dream a reality, but it’s taking a toll. Even Kenma of all people chided him about it.

The thing is, getting the promotion was only the first big hurdle he had to clear on the way to his goal of expanding volleyball and truly lowering the net. He’s been working toward this FIVB partnership for almost a year now, and he’ll be reaching his second big hurdle in one month when representatives from FIVB will be visiting the JVA for the first time to officially begin talks on the details of the project.

Or at least, he thought that was his second big hurdle, but now it seems like Nishida-san has thrown a new one in front of him: find an assistant, no ifs, ands, or buts.

Kuroo tried his best to fight it. He really doesn’t need a babysitter. As long as he gets his work done and goes to his meetings, if he wants to leave early on a whim, he can do it, and he if wants to take a long lunch, he can do that too… And if Satoko needs to “double check the numbers” on the accounting sheets, or Aya wants to “talk over potential new hires,” well, nobody is the wiser. (Sure, maybe the stress is getting to him more than he wants to admit, and sure, maybe he’s not dealing with it in the best way, but he’s got needs too and this works out for everyone involved.) So why would he willingly give up that freedom and flexibility to have someone constantly watching over his shoulder, micromanaging his schedule, and reporting his whereabouts to everyone?

But that’s obviously not what he told Nishida. He informed Nishida he simply doesn’t need an assistant. That he’s handling things very well on his own and is perfectly capable of continuing to do so. Plus, think of how much money it would save the company to not have to pay an additional salary!

Unfortunately, his unfailing charisma finally failed him.

See, Nishida was concerned about optics, especially for their meetings with FIVB. How would it look to the FIVB representatives if the Director of Sports Promotion at JVA had to make his own coffee? Take his own notes? Schedule his own flights? “We can’t have one of our directors hashing out a meeting schedule with one of their interns! It would look like we’re not a serious organization. It would look like we lack the capital and leverage to hold up our end of any cooperative agreements. Listen, Kuroo, this isn’t just about what you want. It’s about the impression our entire organization makes when we negotiate with other entities.”

Nishida laid down the law: Be a team player. Find a personal assistant within two weeks or Nishida would find one for him.

So, right now, Kuroo is unquestionably more focused on the downsides of his position.

The conversation with Nishida plays over and over again in his head as he tries to figure a way out of this mess. Naturally, he dials his first port of call whenever he’s in trouble.

“Oi, I’ve got a problem.” Kuroo starts as soon as the ringing stops.

“What is it now, Kuro?” Kenma responds curtly, yells and bangs from whatever game he’s playing popping off in the background.

“It’s serious!”

“You say that every time.”

“Well it’s really serious this time.”

“Must be if you’re calling me.”

Kuroo’s voice softens. “Sorry I’ve been MIA. The prep for this FIVB meeting has been kicking my ass.”

“Good.”

“I really do need your help though.”

The game sounds stop. Kuroo knows it means fine, I’m listening.

He explains the situation with a sigh, equal parts frustrated and exhausted, “— and now I have to hire a personal assistant even though I don’t need or want one.”

The other end of the line remains silent as Kenma carefully considers the options.

Finally, landing on, “Why don’t you just hire someone?”

“Oi—” Kuroo yowls, “Were you listening? I said I don’t want an assistant!”

Kenma’s eye roll is almost audible. “I know that, but you still have to hire someone, right? Otherwise you’ll be stuck with whoever Nishida hires.”

“…Right…”

“Right. So take the initiative and hire someone. And then just have them do nothing.”

It’s Kuroo’s turn to be silent now.

“Hello?”

“I’m here.” Kuroo replies slowly, trying to decipher the plan. “What do you mean have them do nothing?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.” The sounds of his game start up again. “Whoever you hire will probably have to take notes at your meetings and do a bit of administrative work just to keep up appearances with Nishida and the others at the office, but then the rest of the time is theirs…as long as it looks like they’re working. It’s a win-win. You get to do keep doing what you’re doing and they get paid a full salary to do whatever they want.”

A sly cackle erupts from Kuroo, “As expected, another brilliant strategy from the Brain! But where am I going to find someone like that…”

[foundtherightwords]

Sunlight Through the Mist - Chapter 6

Pairing: Hellcheer (Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham) Regency AU

Summary: Having witnessed the broken marriage of his parents, Edward Munson, Baron Hurstfield, always regards love with a cynical eye. When circumstances compel him to marry and produce an heir, he quickly proposes to Christine Conyngham, a debutante whose reputation is hanging by a threat after an ill-fated affair. All Edward wants is to save his family estate, but as beautiful, fragile Christine finds her way into his wary heart, their marriage of convenience may become something neither of them ever expects - a union of love.  

Warnings: angst, past domestic violence, suicide attempt, smut (non-explicit)

Chapter word count: 4.9k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Chapter 6

In the months that followed, Edward felt as though he and Christine were moving around each other in a complex dance whose steps neither of them knew well. There was growing ease and warmth in the way they talked and acted with each other, but there was wariness as well. It wasn't the painful diffidence of the early days of their marriage, when they hadn't known what to say to each other, but something more thoughtful and watchful, as they tried to gauge and match each other's response, smiling when the other smiled, sobering up when the other turned pensive, finding meaning behind every little touch, every passing glance.

But why should it be so? Why should he attach so much importance to their conversations when they only talked of trivialities, such as the building of the conservatory or even what to have for supper? Why should he take such pleasure in asking for her opinion when he ordered a light gig for the stable? Why should he feel such delight when she asked him about the book he was reading? Why should he watch her work on her embroideries with such fascination, wondering if it was something for him?

He told himself that this was because they were spending more time together, and he was simply enjoying the novelty of having someone to talk to, someone with whom to share his thoughts. He tried not to think about it too much. Now that the spring rush was over, the debts were paid, and the estate had started to turn a profit, Edward found he had more leisurely time on his hand, so he tried to fill them, tried not to let his mind wander, or he would become self-conscious and nervous around Christine, and that, in turn, would make her self-conscious and nervous as well.

The weather had stayed hot and dry for a few weeks, and all the farms had started their haymaking. Edward had always loved this time of year best, perhaps even more than the lambing season, which was rather hectic. There was something relaxing and languid about haymaking. As a child, he'd loved running with his bare feet on the field, feeling the rough stubble under his soles, loved the sweet smell of the cut grass drying under the sun, loved that the whole village came out to help one another, turning the work into a time of celebrating. Now, as a grown-up, he wanted to have an actual hand in it, not just watching from the side. He had done so the previous year, wishing to escape the tedious ledgers and the constant worry about the estate, and this year, he was planning to do the same; only this time, it was to escape his confusing thoughts about Christine.

Only one thing marred Edward's enjoyment of haymaking, and it was the farmers' reticence around him. Few remembered him as the inquisitive little boy who had always been underfoot and asking a million questions; most only saw him as the master now, and though they let him mow beside them, they ceased to sing or even talk around him, and often stole furtive, questioning glances at him. It soured the whole atmosphere for him, and he often went home tired and irritated at the end of the day.

"They think I'm just like my father," he complained to Christine over supper. "They think I'd turn them out of their farms and mortgage their land away for gambling money, before drinking myself into an early grave, leaving them to fend for themselves. What can I do to convince them that I mean to take care of them?"

"It has only been a year since your return, they don't know you yet," she said. "Give them time."

The next day, Edward looked up from his scythe just in time to see a blue ribbon fluttering in the distance and realized it was Christine, walking toward the hayfield. She stopped for a moment to exchange greetings with the farmers. Edward looked on, annoyed, thinking she might try to offer them some sort of handouts, but after a few friendly words, she simply nodded at them, gave Edward a quick smile, and continued on her way.

In the subsequent days, Christine often passed by the hayfield, sometimes stopping to talk to the farmers when they had a moment of rest, sometimes just waving at them from afar. What didn't escape Edward was that following her visits, the farmers became a lot more relaxed toward him. Soon after Christine left, a man who had been mowing next to Edward all morning without a word offered him a drink, and later, another gave him some pointers on how to better hold his scythe.

"All right, what did you say to them?" he asked Christine later that evening.

"Nothing of interest," she said, looking rather bemused. "I asked them about their work and their families and so forth."

"You didn't ask them to welcome me or anything of the sort?"

"Why would I do that?" She seemed to remember something and added, "Do you know a Mr. Buckley?"

"The blacksmith? Why?"

"It appears that his daughter, Robin, wishes to be independent of her parents, and Mr. Buckley has given her his blessing. She and another girl, Victoria Ryan, are putting together their savings for a farm. They are hoping you would allow them to lease the property by the trout pond for a lower rent, just until they can get on their feet."

Edward stared at her. "You found all that out just from talking to them for a few minutes?"

Christine shrugged sheepishly.

"Of course they can have the place," he said. "But why didn't Buckley or his daughter come to me directly?"

"Perhaps Miss Buckley was afraid you might judge her harshly for not wanting to be married."

"Nonsense. You know I'm all for women's independence."

"I do, but they don't, do they?" Christine gave him an enigmatic smile, before bending over her embroideries again.  

There was always an excited buzz around the field whenever Christine's blue bonnet was spied on the horizon. Edward watched with interest, and not without a little pride, as those rough Yorkshire men, who had never even heard of the word "chivalrous" in their lives, all removed their hats as she approached and rolled them shyly in their hands while she talked to them, or scrambled to offer her a seat on their wagon steps. He wasn't sure if his pride was of his farmers for being so gallant, or of Christine for charming them.

Christine did seem to have a way about her that made people feel at ease, something in her bright smile and sparkling eyes that put them in an amiable mood. It wasn't just the farmers that lit up at her charm, but their wives and their children as well. When Christine first visited the village school, the children had been rather shy and nervous, but then she'd caught Edward performing Don Quixote with them one day in an effort to teach them about mills—an idea he'd had from talking to Christine, in fact. She had joined them for a tour of the village mill, and the children, and even Mr. Clarke, the schoolmaster, had relaxed around her, and Christine seemed to enjoy spending time with them as well, for she went to visit them more often afterward.

She would make a great mother, Edward found himself thinking as he watched Christine play a game of battledore and shuttlecock with the children on the green outside the schoolhouse. And would he make a good father? He'd like to think so. He'd like to think that he'd learned from his mistake with Christine and would not make the same blunder with a child, should they have one. But despite the pleasantness that had blossomed between them, her bedroom door remained closed night after night, and Edward felt he wasn't ready to breach that particular fortress just yet. With his new resolve to avoid overthinking, he decided to just leave things as they were. And if something did arise as a natural consequence of their relations, he would welcome it.

Still, that resolve didn't stop him from flushing when he felt her body next to his as they jostled in the gig on their way home. Her skin was warm and glowing with all the sunshine she'd soaked up during the game, and her hair was coming loose from under her bonnet. She took the bonnet off to tuck the rogue strands back, and Edward fought the urge to reach out and help her.

"What are you thinking about?" Christine asked, noticing his stare.

"Nothing in particular," Edward replied, clearing his throat and focusing his attention on the reins. "I'm glad that you seem to be enjoying these outings."

"Oh, yes," she agreed enthusiastically. "I feel as though I couldn't get enough sunlight into my bones after all those miserable winter months—" She cut herself off with an uncomfortable look, probably remembering that there were other reasons behind the misery of those winter months. "Do you want to know what I'm thinking?" she said, changing the subject.

"Please."

"I'm thinking I should like to learn to ride again. And to drive as well. So I don't have to rely on you or Wheeler for transport."

But that shall rob me the pleasure of driving you around, Edward thought, but he kept it to himself. Seeing his hesitation, Christine added, in a small voice, "I'm not going to run away again, if that's what worries you."

Edward was horrified. Did she think he was some sort of Bluebeard, keeping his wife locked up in his castle? "No, no, no," he quickly said. "I was simply thinking I should buy you a horse of your own, if you wish to learn to ride. Warlock is too... spirited."

"Can we afford it?" she said, then blushed. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to question—"

"It's perfectly all right. I should have involved you more in the management of the estate. Only I thought you weren't interested."

"I may not be able to understand all of it," Christine said, "but I shall make an effort to learn."

"And I shall be glad to show you," Edward said with a smile. Much like their discussion of the conservatory, Christine's interest in their finances pleased him a great deal, though he could not say why. There was nothing remotely exciting or romantic in such a conversation, but it made him feel they were a proper couple, sharing the same concerns.

***

For her birthday that July, Edward presented to Christine a gentle grey mare called Starlight. He soon discovered that his fear of losing Christine's company was unfounded, for she still needed him to teach her to ride. Come Michaelmas, her seat and her hands were firm enough for them to go riding together, and Edward soon came to look forward to those rides. He thought he could never tire of seeing Christine's hair flying in the wind before him, gleaming through the transparent folds of her veil, and feeling her slender waist under his hands as he helped her on and off the saddle.

The dome of the sky seemed to have stretched taller, but its blue was a little faded, and frost had started to gather on the ground, drawing a mantle of gold and brown over the once-green fields and pastures. On their rides, Edward and Christine often encountered farmers bringing their harvest home. It was a good harvest, and Edward's heart swelled at the sight of wagon after wagon piled high with sheaves of wheat, barley, and oats, drooping with heavy grains. They met the sheep farmers as well, flanked by their dogs as they drove their sheep down from the hills.

"Are they bringing the sheep to the farms for the winter?" Christine asked while the sheep parted around them like a wooly current.

"No, the sheep are not kept indoors in winter," replied Edward. He'd left Yorkshire too young to remember the particulars of farming, but ever since his return, he had spent many instructive hours learning all he could from his tenants, and was now only too happy to share his knowledge with Christine. "There are shelters in the pastures for them. These are brought down to be prepared for tupping."

"What's tupping?"

"Mating," Edward explained blithely, before realizing what he'd said and turning beet-red. He glanced at Christine, hoping she hadn't noticed, and only caught the end of her trailing veil as she galloped ahead of him.

Edward didn't follow her. Instead, he kept Warlock at a trot, though he could feel that the horse was itching to catch up with his friend. The animal's exasperation seemed to match his own. He'd expected that, with time and familiarity, he would grow more comfortable around Christine, but somehow, he had become more tongue-tied in her presence lately, like a blundering schoolboy.

Gathering his thoughts, Edward turned his attention to more practical matters - the harvest feast he was planning for the village. Once, only once, in Edward's childhood, his father had thrown such a feast. Edward often wondered what had prompted such an act of generosity. Had his father had a windfall or won big at some card game? Or could it be that it was simply how he had been, before drink and cards and dissolution turned him into a monster?

Edward had been too young to remember the details of that feast; his only memory was a general sense of joy and excitement, and he wished to recapture it now. He was pleased to see some of that joy and excitement already present on the village green, where preparations for the feast were underway. The men were busy digging pits for roasting meat, setting up tables, and hanging up the garlands of wheat and corn and green foliage made by the women, while children ran back and forth with armfuls of Michaelmas daisies gathered from fields and hedgerows, to be made into wreaths.

Christine was there as well, sitting amidst some women who were teaching her to make corn dollies, giggling with them over some feminine confidences. She lifted her head as Edward approached, gave him one of her little smiles, and he relaxed slightly. Perhaps she hadn't noticed his blunder about sheep tupping after all.

Later, as they returned home, he noticed she had a corn dolly hanging on Starlight's saddle. "Did you make that?" he asked.

"Oh no, mine were nowhere near as good," Christine replied with an embarrassed laugh. "This... is a present." 

"These all have different meanings depending on their designs, you know. Did they tell you what it is?"

"It's a secret," she said, and blushed so prettily that Edward could very well guess what the dolly was for. He also blushed and didn't press the matter.

***

The day of the feast dawned red and sultry. Although it was morning, the church was already sweltering as Edward and Christine entered it for the Thanksgiving service. Fortunately, the heat forced the vicar to cut his sermon short, and all the villagers were secretly relieved as they went home, with promises to see their friends again at the feast that evening.

At sunset, the sky was the color of a bruise, and there was nary a puff of wind to relieve the heavy, menacing air. It didn't bode well, but Edward was determined not to let it ruin the feast. The villagers had outdone themselves, transforming the village green into a picturesque square of gleaming firelight, fragrant with the scent of ripe wheat and corn and the mouth-watering aroma of roast meat, and vibrant with the sound of laughter and joyous voices—the musicians had yet to pick up their instruments, as the dancing would come later, after supper was eaten. Still, for all his pride, Edward was aware of how quaint it may look to Christine, how different it was from the fashionable balls and parties of London, and he turned to her, anxious to hear her opinion. She was looking around, her eyes shining in the light from the fire pits and the lanterns.

"I think this is the best feast I've ever attended," she said in response to his questioning look, and he squeezed her arm gratefully.

They didn't get much of a chance to talk once the feast began. After a short speech to thank everyone for their hard work and bid them to enjoy the feast, Edward made his way around the green to make sure the villagers all had their fill. People smiled at him as he walked past, the men tipping their hats and the women curtseying, and Edward would nod and smile back, rather shyly. He would never feel quite at home as Lord Hurstfield, but at least the title didn't seem as heavy and daunting as it had a year ago. Once, on his round, he ran into Christine as she was asking the women to set aside some portions of the feast to bring to the elderly and the infirm. He nodded at her with approval. It hadn't even crossed his mind to take into account those who could not attend the feast, and he was glad she thought of it.

As the sky darkened to a velvety black and the fire burned low, some tuning sounds from the musicians signified that the dancing was about to begin. There was the usual hesitation when the music first started up. It was broken as the most brazen of the young men stood up and pulled a giggling girl by her hand into the center, and soon others were joining in. They had been enjoying themselves before, but now, the music was like a magic incantation that lifted all restraint, and men and women, old and young, were dancing as one to the sound of violin, fife, and tambourine.

Watching and listening to the old songs he hadn't heard in so long, Edward felt himself transported. This, this was what he remembered from his childhood, this scene of unhindered joy, where ranks and titles no longer mattered, where everyone treated each other with kindness and love.

Before he knew it, he, too, was amidst the dancers. Laughing, he tried to mirror their steps, some vague memories from his childhood keeping his arms and legs moving in time to the music. Shrieks of laughter went up as the men caught the women up and whisked them to the edges of the green, before the women came circling back. Edward followed suit, picking up and spinning anyone that he came across, while they whirled around him in a blur of floating fabric, flying hair, and beaming faces.

Then he found himself facing a woman in a sprigged muslin dress with blue trimmings, her gold hair coming loose under a wreath of Michaelmas daisies. She smiled up at him expectantly, and with that crooked smile, everything suddenly became clear, like a wall of mist vanishing under the sun.

Christine.

He hadn't recognized her at first, for she had transformed completely. Gone was the distant, desperate debutante he'd proposed to, gone was the morose, moody woman who'd drifted about the place like a ghost. The changes he'd seen in flashes and glimpses over the past few months were now blazing on her face, lighting her from within. She was radiant with happiness, more alive and thus more beautiful than he'd ever seen her.

The dancers rushed at them like a wave. Remembering the steps, Edward picked Christine up and swung her in a circle, startling a laugh out of them both. He had never heard her laugh before, and the sound mesmerized him so that he wanted to keep twirling and twirling with her until, dizzy with laughter and out of breath, they reached the edge of the circle, where many pairs of shadows had escaped to and were now blending into one... 

But as soon as his arms moved off her waist, she slipped away from him, swept away by the crowd. Like in his dreams, he only caught glimpses of her here and there, blue and gold like a Yorkshire summer, but try as he might, he couldn't come close enough to reach her.

A flash of lightning followed by a thunderous boom jolted Edward out of his fantasy. The storm they had all feared and expected was finally here. At least it had held off until the feast was coming to an end. A cold wind started howling around the green, putting the lanterns out and tearing the garlands down.

Edward's only thought was for Christine and to get her back to the safety of Hurstfield Hall before the storm arrived. They had three miles to go, and Starlight was not a fast horse. Weaving his way through the panicking crowd, he breathed out a relieved sigh to see Christine amongst the women, helping them clear up the feast. He told the women to take their children home and took Christine to the gig.

Despite the haste, they were unable to outrun the storm. They had just reached the turn in the road when they heard the rain coming from the hills. A moment later, it hit them, in splattering drops at first, and then in sheets after sheets of water, pouring over them, leaving them gasping. This was no ordinary rain. It was a deluge. The gig felt like a little boat being battered about on a dark, turbulent sea, and other than the two of them and the horse, there was no other life for miles and miles around.

Edward's hands shook, and he wondered if it would be wiser to turn back and take shelter at the church or the vicarage until the worst of the storm had passed. But they were already halfway back to Hurstfield Hall; turning back would make little difference. In the midst of this dilemma, the soothing scent of lavender filled his nose, even as the rain continued to pour down and washed everything away. He realized it was Christine, who was leaning close to him to avoid the worst of the splatters from the hood. Instinctively, he drew her into his arm and could feel her tense body relax while she held on to him, as though he were her life raft.

Realizing she was relying on him to bring her to safety, Edward gathered his strength, steadied his hold of the reins, and pressed on for home. Luckily, Starlight seemed undeterred by the storm and continued as patiently and steadily as a pack mule.

"Look at th' state o' th' pair o' you!" Mrs. Wayne chided from the backdoor of Hurstfield Hall when she saw the gig pulling in. "I'll have Nancy draw you a hot bath, my lady," she said, bustling inside.

Edward helped Christine into the hall, where they stood in front of the roaring fire, trying to catch their breath, feeling quite incredulous that they had made it through the downpour. Reaching out to rub some warmth into Christine's arms, Edward noticed that her dress was soaked through, showing every line of her body, molded to her every curve. Blood rushed through his veins, burning him up much faster than the fire ever could. He hastily lifted his eyes to her face. A drop of rain still lingered on the corner of her lips, which were parted while she gazed at him breathlessly, almost eagerly. He wanted to brush the drop away, but before he could touch her, the door leading into the hall opened with a heavy bang, making them both jump.

"Sir, the Ure's risin' fast!" a footman shouted from the doorway. "They say 'tis close to overflowin'!"

Edward came crashing back into reality, all other thoughts gone from his head. He knew how dangerous such a flash flood could be, having witnessed it the previous autumn. He'd stayed home then, not knowing what to do, feeling like a coward while his tenants battled the fierce water to protect their homes and their livestock. He had no intention of repeating the experience.

"How many men do we have?" he asked.

"Six, sir."

"We'll call more on the way. Tell them to saddle Warlock, and bring me a change of dry clothes."

"Aye, sir."

He almost forgot that Christine was there until she grabbed his sleeve. "What's happening?" she asked.

"The river's flooding," he explained. "The farmers are going to need help bringing their stock to higher grounds."

"Surely you're not thinking of going yourself?" she said.

He looked at her more closely. She was clutching at his arm, her eyes wide with fear. Was the fear for him, or just due to the general danger? He couldn't tell. Had he been a more confident man, had he been more assured of her feelings for him and of his own feelings for her, he would've swept Christine into his arms right there and then... but there his own imagination failed him. He didn't know what to do.

"Don't worry," he said. He was aware of how inadequate it sounded, but he had no idea what else to say to her. He left, with her touch still lingering on his arm.

***

Edward dove back into the torrential rain, huddled under an old oilskin coat and hat. The rain soon drove thoughts of Christine from his mind; in fact, it drove all thoughts from his mind as he and the men urged their horses through the rising water, chasing the sheep up the hills. Some sheep were too frightened to move, rooted to the spot by the rain and the thunder, and even the vicious barking and nipping of the dogs could not stir them. These and the younger lambs had to be picked up and carried, or else they would drown.

Edward didn't know how long he labored in the dark and the rain. Nothing existed save for the painful drumming on his head and shoulders and back, the freezing streams running down his face and his neck, and despite the oilskins, he soon became soaked through until dryness and warmth were only distant memories. He didn't even know when dawn broke, and was only dimly aware that the dark seemed thinner, when they stopped at a barn for a brief repose. The rain showed no sign of letting up, but he was used to it now, or perhaps his skin had become so numb from the cold and the wet and the relentless strike of the rain that he no longer took notice of it.

It must have been noon—it was a mere guess, from the gnawing in his belly and the general fatigue of his men, for he had lost all sense of time at this point—when the rain finally lessened to a steady drizzle. Although he was so exhausted that he could hardly keep hold of Warlock's reins, Edward was glad that most of the livestock of the village was safe.

As they approached the hills that stood between the village and Hurstfield, Edward remembered the Hoppers, an old, childless couple living in a remote farm at the foot of the hills. "Did anyone remember to check on the Hoppers?" he asked. The men looked at each other and back at him, shaking their heads. Edward noticed they all looked ready to fall off their saddles. "Never mind. Go on back to the Hall. I'll look in on them."

The Hopper farm was quiet when he arrived. The front door was barred against the muddy water that reached almost knee height, but Mrs. Hopper opened the window and told him they were all safe and sound. "Our sheep are up on Wild Boar," she said, naming a well-known hill and pasture just behind their farm. "They've been there since my Jim broke his arm. Can I get ye anythin', lad? Ye look half-dead." She peered at Edward's pale and drawn face with concern.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Hopper. I'll just go up the hill to make sure everything is all right with your sheep."

"Take care, 'tis steep goin' on th' way up."

"I shall."

The sheep were huddled together under a ledge on the hilltop, looking none too happy about their situation. "Count your blessing, at least you're alive," Edward told them. Feeling easier, he turned Warlock around and started making his way back down, toward Hurstfield Hall.

Halfway down the hill, an odd cracking sound, like that of a branch snapping, caught his attention. He turned around just in time to see an entire section of the hill breaking away, sliding down the slope like a ribbon being pulled, bringing with it rocks and grass and mud. Horrified, he wrenched at Warlock's reins, trying to steer the horse away from the path of the landslide, but Warlock slipped on the mud and rocks, and Edward tumbled off the horse's back. A dart of pain jolted through his ankle as he landed, and, too dazed to catch himself, he kept rolling over and over to the bottom of the hill, as Warlock ran off with an empty saddle.

Chapter 7

[modern-oedipus]

Hey , i just want know are you okey ? Are you alive ? Because youre not been here for a long time and i just wonder . Loveyou <3 <3

Hello! Thank you for checking up on me! I am doing well. I shifted my focus from the online platforms to different priorities, so I am not checking my social media as often, but I am really doing great! I’m also here with good news that I want to accounce while responding to this ask:

I am writing Conflict!

Important parts of previous chapters are being rewritten, polished and edited for a better reading experience. Chapter 20 is on the way!

I have been working on it for last two weeks by now! I wanted to post the new chapter on Norman’s birthday, but reviewing the previous chapters take way longer than I anticipated. I am also adding some author’s notes to update about what I changed in the fic or how I am feeling compared to then-vs-now! I am putting more emphasis on the trigger warnings as well!

Right now I am editing chapter 11. I am directly editing on AO3 and posting whatever progress is done, then I go back to it, so if you check the chapters you may come across to live-time edits! As I explained in detail at the author’s notes of Chapter 1, I don’t aim to edit or rewrite the whole story; doing that would be against the fic’s soul and it wouldn’t feel the same anymore. I’m just doing some reconstruction work, I am trying to keep my writing style as it was back in 2019, add some details and in-depth descriptions of some scenes, explain the little plot holes, fix the formatting issues, etc. I am doing this both to remember the story better before writing Chapter 20 and so on (Chapter 20 is not the final chapter, so I am thinking about giving more regular updates since I am getting my momentum back) and to confront the times I was writing it.

I kept back from announcing it here and just silently edited it, though a reader realized it on first day and commented on Chapter 1 and I felt the happiest to know that they were still here! I am going to reply back to the comments I received within 1 year, as well!

My plan is to finish editing and reviewing all of the chapters 1-19. Then I am going to make a full Google Drive doc with detailed, spoiler-containing Trigger Warning for each chapter. Then I’ll publish Chapter 20. After that, I’ll respond to the comments. I think after all of this long and tedious committed work, I can just keep updating regularly. That’s the plan if it all goes well!

On a good note! I am also adding Chapter Songs! Those are the songs I used to listen while I was writing Conflict. I really thought they are fitting to certain chapters. I didn’t write any chapters with a specific song on my mind, in fact, I discovered those songs for Conflict aesthetic instead, but either way they are really fitting! So I am editing and updating as I go, to the songs I find relevant.

Reconstruction of chapters 1-10 is complete and I am consistently working on the next ones, so if you want please check it out! ❤️

On a side note, I am aware that it has been sooooo long, so I wasn’t really expecting anyone except for a few people I know in-person, to read Conflict again! I mean, I am not even offended or anything, most of us have sort of moved on from hyperfixations we had back in 2019, myself included. But I have my personal reasons to go back to checking Conflict. On the day I started editing, I was telling myself, “It is okay if no one notices. I don’t even want to make an announcement. I’ll just quickly take a tour on AO3.” but I received a comment on it on the morning of it, despite not making a single announcement! It just… made me happy beyonds words can express.

I don’t know if I would go so far in editing/rewriting if I did not KNOW for the fact that, some people are definitely interested! I know that because they went out of their way to let me know! All the comments I have been receiving within this year, all the asks, dm-s, everything summed up and gave me the Courage to keep writing.

So, once again. Thank you. All of you. I’m looking forward to enjoying the ride with you! ❤️

[smytherines]

got very excited when i saw u reblog the anon post thats been going around bc u deserve all the compliments. every compliment ever

as someone who's kinda still slightly new to this fandom, youre one of my favourite creators!! you're always interacting w others abt ideas and just having a blast discussing different aspects of the show, the amount of thought u put in all of ur posts is so incredible. the fact u love saf so!! much!! how u consider every aspect of the show w so much detail, how you have such beautiful complex characterisations of them. the way u write them in chwm is just sooooooo!!! you just care so MUCH about these characters and this show and it makes me so fucking happy. you really make such a wonderful impact on the community space. thank you sososososo much for caring as much as u do abt our silly little spies i cant explain how much we appreciate it <3

(also, the woodworking thing u made is actually SO CRAZY COOL IM OBSESSED W IT. YOU DID THAT. WITH YOUR HANDS. AND TREE SHIT. THATS SO FUCKING CRAZY. the detail is impeccable, the shapes of curtwen's silhouettes are made w such care, AUGH woodworking is such a cool art form and ur so amazing for being so good at it im lowkey jealous)

(also also so sorry if this is slightly incoherent, i am very sleep deprived but i really wanted to send something in)

Oh wow, thank you so much! I honestly worry sometimes because I can get kinda intense and write obscenely long responses and theories and headcanons, and I worry that it just makes me kind of tedious and irritating to everyone else. Just like our boy Agent Curt Mega, I am ADHD, so rejection sensitive dysphoria is something I have to manage pretty much constantly. So it really means a lot to know I'm not being a pain in the ass for everyone.

I'm absolutely thrilled to see chwm get a shoutout!!! So thank you for that. It was a total accident, it was only ever supposed to be that first chapter, but I sort of fell in love with that fic and decided I had to fold it into the larger series I was originally planning. I just adore getting to get inside these characters heads, to explain the way I see them in a more artistic way as opposed to long theory posts (although obviously I love those too). They're fascinating, messy, beautiful, horrible, compelling characters, and every chapter I post I just say a little prayer that I'm doing justice to them.

I'm actually finishing up the epilogue for chwm in between answering these asks, so that should be up by morning. I'm gonna spend most of May doing writing projects for Curtwen week, and then I have the sequel/next installment mostly mapped out to start working on after that!

I'm also thrilled to see a shoutout for the wood segmentation project! It was a lot of work, but I'm so happy with how it turned out! I can't really draw or do a lot of the immediate, visual stuff that our wonderful talented fandom artists can, but woodworking is something I love and I just had to find a way to honor this show I love so much with it. I've considered a few ideas for another SAF woodworking project, but I'll probably be focused on writing for the immediate future, so we'll see if I can make it happen.

Seriously though, thank you for this very kind ask, it really felt so good to read

[kosmicdream]

Well, Chapter 6 of Nasty red Dogs is finally complete. This chapter took about a year to make and it was one of the hardest chapters to make. A lot of factors played into this, but probably the hardest one was my day job making the whole process much slower. This meant that there was a lot more time for me to sit and think, sometimes this was a benefit, but in general I am a massive over-thinker, so that dragged down a lot of my enjoyment of the process as I kept over analyzing all my choices. 

But, it wasn’t just chapter 6 that was tough. For a while, i have been struggling with Nasty Red Dogs. This isn’t a surprise, its something i face with every long-term project and it makes sense that I would hit that moment at some point. NRD is 5 years old now and while its getting closer to being complete, we still have a few more chapters to go. My process for it is much slower, so a single chapter can end up taking a long time. Still, this past chapter was both the longest in length for a NRD chapter and also took the longest to make, so it was a very tedious process.

I have dont a lot more writing and rewriting than I normally would do, and while I don’t consider myself much of a perfectionist, it was really starting to creep back in my mind in a way I haven’t experienced in years, but more so targeting my writing than anything. I also got very critical over my drawings, but I have felt that way outside of NRD too. I am still very proud of the end result of this chapter, but I don’t think im out of the storm yet. It took years for me to refind my footing with FFAK and Eggshells, but I eventually got there and both projects, and I, got stronger for it. I expect that to happen here too, its just pretty draining and difficult. Regardless of the struggle, I am glad that it’s bringing deep feelings like that out of me because I feel like that’s the whole point of trying to make something that takes so many years to finish, cuz it really creates a situation where you are having to challenge your own personal demons on a mundane, daily level and sorting through those feelings. I don’t really know if the story is going to end up “good” or even how i want it to, but I know I’ve changed from it as an artist, and that already makes it invaluable to my journey to make great stories, which has always been my deepest dream to do on this planet.

That being said, I need a break from NRD to rebuild my stamina again. As I said, we’re nearing the end of the story.. But not quite there. I do expect there to be at least 3 more chapters, but considering how I originally planned for Chapter 5 & Chapter 6 to be a single chapter, that could change. It is still all written though, and has been, but pacing the scenes often changes as I’m actually “on the set” and “directing” the moments. While NRD is on hiatus, I will be returning to FFAK, which I have been pretty desperate to return to as I’ve been looking forward to ARC2 for literally years. I also know ARC2 of FFAK is tremendously long, possibly 4x longer in length than all of NRD (my expected length of ARC2 is around 4k or 5k pages).. So Of course, i get anxious when I’m not drawing it for too long. As I mentioned before, I already kinda got through a really huge block with FFAK that took years to address & heal from and I’m very happy to say that I’m in a great place with the project again, in a way that i haven’t felt in years (even if it still feels very different and new.) So returning to it makes me tremendously happy, which I will need to be in high spirits to feel like I can tackle the next NRD chapter. Anyway, I just wanted to share some of my thoughts on this past chapter and as always- thanks for reading my comics. Every day, Its the first thing i check are comments on them and it is always the last thing i do before sleeping. They are always on my mind, but also so are the readers, and I want to deliver my story to those who are willing to listen to them. -kosmic

[almoststedytimetravel]

After finally finishing Raincode I kinda want to just get my thoughts on the game out; going chapter by chapter because holy shit it's a lot and I have so many thoughts.

Spoilers under the cut

Chapter 0

Looking back this case was a really solid start and really help set the tone and how ruthless Amaterasu corp is. Fake Zilch was a great killer though in hind sight there are a few plot holes. Specifically with the Zilch homunculi we find in the factory and him being on the train he would be exposed to sunlight. Though with the limited size to the windows and Zilch's clothes covering most of his body I can buy him not having stepped in direct sunlight.

Also the Doyleist vs. Watsonian reason for the bodies being burned is pretty interesting. Zilch needed to make Aphex look unrecognisable and Kodaka needed there to be no large amount of blood to be spilled so as to not tip the player off about the pink blood. Simple mystery that does a good job introducing the game mechanics.

Also shows how early everything is being set up, with Yuma's blood on the door being red.

Chapter 1

First off Helara, excellent companion. What's her gender? Detective. What's in her pants? A picture of a cat. Do you want to know what's not in her pants? the 5,000,000 shien you owe her. Her ability is pretty interesting and I love how its mechanics are incorporated into solving the mystery, with the tipped over paint can.

Certain locked rooms were easier to solve than others. Personally I found the gallery room the most difficult to do and it's the only one I actively needed the game to spell out for me.

I like how each murder pretty well telegraphs how each room was done and how it eliminates each church goer.

I was able to call the gallery murder being a copy cat. I think what tipped me off was the paintings being used instead of the dolls.

In this case I saw the first corpse and thought "Wow, so glad the wacky Danganrompa bright pink blood has been brought back! I guess the blood being red was just to show it had dried, or a mistake that slipped through."

...

"Does she know?"

Chapter 2

Kurumi you will always be famous, to me. God speed to you and the sequel that was set up for you at the end. "I may be immortal but I'm not that patient." Iconic. Same voice actor as Framme fire emblem. I love her.

Generally I don't tend to like the token pervert characters but Desuhiko has the cringefail charm that I love. Khoi Dao gives an excellent performance and really made me like Desuhiko in spite of my dislike of his archetype.

Now the case itself was really good. Kurune, Yoshiko, and Waruna all working together to kill Karen because she killed Aiko and got away with it was excellent. You can really see Kodaka is enjoying not being bound by the restrictions of the killing game. (Almost) Every mystery in this game could not have been pulled off in a Danganrompa style killing game, it's really great.

The ending of this case where we kill three high school students did leave a bad taste in my mouth and I had to put the game down for about a week. Though at least it did feel like something of a mercy kill.

Chapter 3

As usual chapter three is the worst one. Easily the weakest case and it's not even a close. The murder method feels like one that could be done in a killing game, like they needed filler so they pulled out a draft of a case where Asahina was the culprit and tweaked it a little bit to fit the setting.

It does not help that it is really poorly paced (Ironic considering the abilities of your companion) running around planting the bombs, then immediately going to diffuse them with a zero escape style mini game, combined with the fuck ton of qte's in this chapter made it really tedious.

Icardi was the worst culprit with the worst motive and the two peace keepers from this chapter were so forgettable that I don't remember their names.

Sucks even harder that his plan would have never worked since he would have left Kanai ward and immediately gone berserk.

Fubuki was easily the bright spot in this case. Her powers being so broken and that being what helped her get into Kanai ward in the first place was pretty interesting. her knowing that her powers are a crutch and what she thinks gives her value on the team was very interesting. I loved her clashing with Shinigami in the labyrinth, carrying this chapter on her god damn shoulders.

Chapter 4

Crying in the club about this one. Yakou you're my sad little meow meow who did everything wrong.

Yakou tanking the poison gas and relying on the detectives' fortes to get past the security and into the doctor's lab was such an inspired choice. I pretty quickly deduced that the killer had just face tanked the gas. Of course because Yakou was already at deaths door I began to go into the denial stage. Telling myself that the gas needed half an hour to take effect but the security logs said the system was turned off an hour prior to Yuma obtaining the logs.

Vivia going after Yuma with a box cutter in the mystery labyrinth as Yakou was just unresponsive behind them... I'm surprised I was able to see my switch screen through all of the tears.

I thought I couldn't hate Yomi more after what he did to Electro. I was wrong. Seeing Vivia get angry at Yomi when we were released from the labyrinth. He should have shanked Yomi with the box cutter.

Chapter 5

Another chapter with whack ass pacing though it is a final case so that's pretty common.

Should've known the bodies were fake were Halara supposedly dies second when it would obviously be Vivia. (Desuhiko is still dying first). Coalescence being used to mimic the handwriting of the other master detectives was pretty neat and while being something we weren't shown it makes sense as something it can do.

The pink blood. Oh boy the pink blood. I don't think I'm ever going to shut up about this. Yuma yelling "Blood being pink is obviously strange!" left me staring at the screen, slack jawed. What a twist that could only hit with the three Danganrompa behind it. So excellent, I'll forgive all this cases' pacing issues on that twist alone.

Getting chased through the abandoned village by past victims and culprits was really frightening. Waruna, Kurune, and Yoshiko jumping Kurumi was really horrific. Fink the Slaughter artist being dead felt a little anti-climactic. Yakou giving Yuma the disk was a really great moment.

Shinigami's goodbye was really emotional. I loved her very unserious attitude so her being serious, telling Yuma how much he means to her was really good.

over all a solid 7.5/10. Without chapter three, 9/10. really good game.

[alolanroy]

2024 Watch Thread-Part 2

part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/alolanroy/739287467975458816/watch-thread-2024-pt-1

Resident Alien S1: Decent humor and it did a pretty good job of the small town with many interlocking sub-plots vibe. I wouldn't say that it is consistently laugh-out-loud, but you really never know when it'll floor you. I do kind of wish they toned down the attempts at serious drama, because this is a fish-out-of-water alien show, how serious can I take it? 5/10

Helldivers 2 at Launch: It scratches my multiplayer itch. Maybe the trick to making a successful live-service game was to...make it fun? The balancing is just teetering enough to be a blast. I didn't even mind the horrible queueing problems, nonfunctional matchmaking and level breaking bugs once I had half an hour of actual playtime. 8/10

Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger: I'll be honest, in the beginning I was worried we might drop it, but it won me over hard. And I mean maybe my second favorite sentai so far (Donbrothers will remain undefeated for all time). While simplistic, the writing manages to unfurl a web of history, personality and cultural identity. While the choice to film most of it on green screed made it look awful most of the time, the strong writing and acting pulled it through, especially in the later chapters where the reveals kept getting bigger and the characterization swings. Personal favorites are Kaguragi's backstory, which feels out of a proper prestige drama and the two-parter on earth. It saves up its budget and goes ham. 9/10

Forbidden Planet: While I find a lot of this movie repulsive for its 50's-ass gender politics, I choose to say 'wow, cool robot'. I see why Robbie is iconic and was disappointed by how little of him I got. Its tedious pacing makes me appreciate how Star Trek TOS distilled this formula into the blueprint for great TV. (Sidenote: I gotta figure out where this ancient alien megastructure vibe comes from. I feel like a lot of dwemmer related skyrim mods are repeating this without knowing it.) -4/10

Ice Station Zebra: Nice of them to start the plot in the second half after the intermission. For such a basic thriller, they seem to think this was a cinematic event with all of its intermission cards and posturing. Did they think the submarine set was worth half the runtime? I find its red-scare politics kind of pathetic and I've seen more complex thrillers air on Cartoon Network on weekdays. 3/10

Ultraman Geed the Movie: Connect! The Wishes!!: A team of scientists distilled tokusatsu summer movies into a thick paste and molded it into the shape of a tourism ad for Okinawa. The results made me cancel my plans to watch the ultraman movies and doubt if I actually like Geed. 1/10

Skyrim: Midwood Isle: Really impressive stuff here. A good variety of locations and a satisfying main quest. The reveal of a mirror map filled with locations and daedric realms really got me excited. The only downside is that some of the back and forth with the mainland got old and the LOTD patch didn't work. I'm a little surprised this doesn't get talked up more. 8/10

Dune Part II: Incredible watch. Gorgeous visuals and really strong performances all around. Great cinematography and violent sound design really made me FEEL the power (the lackluster theater speakers could barely handle it). I do feel a lot was lost in the cracks though and didn't hit as hard as the first, but boy am I glad I saw it. 8/10

The Mummy Demastered: This is a very good video game. An efficient love letter to metroidvanias (and boy I can see the metroid) with some neat ideas and that Wayforward polish. If you like these sorts of games, what are you doing here? Go play it! The paired-back scale means none of the ideas get old, and none of the backtracking is egregious. But my real favorite spin was the varied and interconnected environments that flowed so well together. 8/10

On a sidenote: this really feels like a mirror into another universe where the Dark Universe actually took off. In a way, it made me more excited for it than the actual movie. It made me wistfully muse about what might have been (committee driven slop movies)

Born to Fight (2004): This movie occupies the same part of my brain as RRR. I'll overlook almost any nationalism if resolves in an hour-long string of white-knuckle Olympic sport action. Genuinely some of the most insane stunts I've seen committed to film. My watch group was hooting and hollering! 8/10

Death Code Ninja: Sometimes Godfrey Ho's chop-shop ninja movies are an ironic good time. This is not one of those times. It couldn't hold any of our interests. -3/10

Blue Submarine No. 6: This owns. It was so continually visually interesting and the art so distinct I didn't even mind the early CG. Sure a few threads might have been underdeveloped, but I admire how much of a non-traditional ending it had. Conclusiveness doesn't have to come from nukes and resolution doesn't have to be on screen. Honestly, good on them for redirecting most of the strange sexual energy to the fish girl, though I don't know how to feel about her role in the end. 8/10

Ninja Knight: Thunder Fox: man this sucked. At least two white guys in ninja outfits killed each other with shotguns at the end. -2/10

Money Plane: Just because it could be a whole lot worse doesn't mean it couldn't have been a whole lot better. Try having your wrestlers have action sequences that let them fight good. -5/10

Chop Socky Chooks: Sometimes we put bad TV on the wheel to see what would happen. Apparently, these things are supposed to be chickens, but without any form of exposition or attempt to set the stage in the first episode, I can't really say. I don't know which is worse, the radiation of vague racism or how aggressively bad this is on 'TV you watched when you are home sick from school' standards. -2/10

Gridman Universe: It's hard to talk about gridman without going on a series of digressions about the purpose of fiction, growth and the Ultraman Fandom. Most of it I would describe as some cute fan service without much meat, and a plot that just kinda happens. But my cynicism melted away in the final act. Man, I love the passion in these designs. 7/10

Werewolf Santa: I felt nothing. 2/10

Undertale Yellow: Perhaps my standards for fangames have gotten a bit high, but I was a little disappointed. There are some good gags, don't get me wrong, but the overall energy kinda drags. I don't think it helps that the boss battles are more transparently endurance tests for the defense minigames. I never felt like I was talking them down, just that I was letting them monologue at me until they let me go. Maybe it pulls some zingers in the last half but I can't bring myself to care. 3/10

American Ultra: This might be Black Panther for stoners, but to me, it is just Max Landis's wish fulfillment. the half hour we stomached felt longer than some seasons of netflix. 3/10

Thankskilling 3: Possibly one of the biggest delights of the year. Extrapolating from Thankskilling 1, I was worried this would be the bad kind of self-aware. Instead, the watch party was floored by the tireless barrage of joyful camp. They cracked the code, just mixed up the bits enough so that another gets old and washed it over with cinematography good enough that it too becomes a joke. I'll give this the rare +/-8 for being legitimately great and entertainingly bad (intentionally)

Viking Seige: First of all I feel lied to. This poster is nonsense. There were no dragons or longboats. Instead, it is a single-set zombie 'thriller' that would have been alright under normal circumstances. Still, the overall momentum isn't really there and the quality of performances is uneven. 4/10

Los Campeones de Justicieros (1971): Luchadors, little people, mad scientists, and non-stop jazz. Especially non-stop jazz when it is least appropriate. -7/10

Spy Kids Armageddon: This isn't nostalgia for the originals speaking, this was just a legitimately inferior product. The design philosophy of making a movie with everything a kid could want but camp for the adults is absent. Netflix original tier. -4/10

Zone of the Enders Dolores, i: The first act had me nearly drop the show. The worldbuilding was sloppy and the character design and environments were totally incongruous with the sci-fi setting this was supposed to be selling. However, when it remembered it was supposed to be a space opera, the show became much more watchable. By the end I was surprised how attached I had become. 7/10. It would've been higher if the beginning wasn't so tough.

Zone of the Enders 2167 Idolo: The story that it has is good, but it sure is in a rush to have it over. What I find interesting is that in many ways this is one of the more complicated mecha designs that Sunrise animated towards the end of the cell era. It makes me a bit sad now knowing how much of a downgrade the early Digipaint sequel is from a visual standpoint. 7/10

Godzilla X Kong The New Empire: THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN! I initially recoiled at the possible return of the podcasting gang, but all returning characters benefit from a more solid group dynamic that avoids the cringe the series hadn't quite shaken. The monster madness is as camp as it comes, but I the cinematography made me feel like I was having a panic attack with all the rotating. 7/10

MacGyver: I bounced right off this. Maybe it gets better in later seasons, but the pilot and the first batch after that were cheesy in a bad way. I don't like Anderson's accent and the vibes are too cartoon-drug-psa-episode. It could barely hold my attention 4/10

Battle Beyond the Stars: Forgot to add this one. I've seen enough 7 samurai 'in space' but the cast was varied enough be counteract the dull male lead with the fun factor. 6/10

Outer Wilds: Few games out there are real originals. And I'm glad to have played as much as I did. I've given the writing major props for making this silly setting feel real and consistent. A personal highlight was landing on the sun cannon station first try without knowing what it was because of my raw uncut skill. However, I don't really feel like definitively scoring on this one since I paused playing it for about a year right before getting to the finishing sequence. I honestly had no idea how to pick things up again. It felt like I ruined it for myself and resorted to watching a playthrough of the end. I'd probably say maybe a 7-8? A few of the environments cross the bridge between exciting to traverse to dull and maze-y wandering.

Lensman (1984): Gorgeous, and occasionally kind of charming, but not enough to overcome the general malaise of the non-starter plot. The vague Heroes-Journey shaped plot doesn't bother to explain what a lensman is or what the titular lens does until the final moments. There wasn't really enough there to not make sense. It almost says something about how resistance can take many shapes, even insignificant ones, but I almost feel like it does so on accident. 5/10