#GIL chapter two

[beachyserasims]

Geneva Island Legacy┃Chapter two┃ Feel The Need

~ Transcript ~

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[softquietsteadylove]

Ohh you have to continue the zombie au!! Them finally meeting sersi and co will be amazing :D

"Welcome, Gilgamesh."

He frowned at those around him. He hadn't given them his name. Usually it was Thena who was deeply distrustful of anyone they came across, but he was happy to take up that mantle in her absence.

That was the worst part about this place, that he had yet to see Thena.

He had woken up in a fit over it, but they had told him - promised him - that he would see her if he kept himself calm. They returned his clothes to him, washed and everything.

"We take in all those who need help," the short doctor, Ajak he had learned, said beside him. The cafeteria was surprisingly bustling with people. "That was how you came to us."

They had told him that Thena had arrived with him on her back, which he couldn't help but doubt. Not that she would do it, but Thena was half his weight at most, and they didn't exactly have food or water to spare, last he remembered.

The last solid memory he did have was of feeling feverish, dragging his feet as they continued towards the next city. He must have been really lagging, because Thena did something they never did, which was commandeer a car.

He could remember being in the backseat, and he could remember Thena's voice whispering sweet things, his head in her lap, her tipping water up to his lips.

All the more reason for him to be wary of these people until he could see Thena for himself. He looked around the place, "I don't see her."

They sighed. He had been a broken record since getting on his feet, but he felt he had good reason to be. The other doctor patted his shoulder, although he flinched away from her. "Thena is just getting back."

"Back?" he frowned and turned. Sersi, the younger, taller doctor, and a third guy in a white coat named Phastos all stepped back from him. They were the only ones he'd met so far. "Where was she?"

"She joined some of our scouts on a run," Phastos attempted to be a voice of reason. "Some of the supplies we needed were for you, so she volunteered to go with them."

He wasn't exactly placated by the news. "So you sent her out there with people she doesn't even know? Are they really gonna watch her back out there? What if they can't protect her?!"

"Gil, please," Sersi joined in the effort to soothe him. "It's a simple run to the closest facility outside the hospital. We've been here a long time--since the beginning, really. We've already sectioned off half the city as safe territory."

Gil huffed. With Phastos behind him and the docs in front, he felt a bit like a caged animal. He looked around the bustling cafeteria again, "fine. When will they be back?"

"It should be any time now," Sersi promised before turning and trotting off.

"Sersi's husband is part of the field team," Ajak supplied in her absence, leading them closer to the rest of the populace. The people already there eyed them and kept their distance, but they didn't exactly pull out pitch forks and torches at the sight of him. "We have some very good people here with us."

Gil watched as Doctor Sersi trotted over to the door, her wavy black ponytail bouncing behind her. She must have seen they were coming, because she ran at the door and launched herself into someone's arms before they were even in the room.

A man walked in with her attached to him, tall and broad shouldered. Gil couldn't hear them, but he had an inkling that he was one of the men who had dragged him inside when Thena no longer could. The other one walked in past the married couple, not even glancing at them.

Finally, far behind the other two, a ghost of a figure hurried into the room and immediately split off and away from everyone. Despite the promise of food, she steered clear of the line for it, pushing a blonde ponytail off her shoulder and pulling off her backpack.

Her clothes had also been washed, and the jacket she was wearing seemed to be new, maybe as a form of protection. But that was definitely his Thena prowling away from the thick of the crowd.

"Thena!"

Heads turned and people jumped out of the way of the huge stranger sprinting across the room. Some of them yelped, as if he were a train barrelling forward on its tracks. But he could only see Thena.

"Gil!" she barely got out before he swallowed her up, his arms snaking around her and his massive form folding over her. Her knees bent in response but he held her close, swinging her around in his arms.

"Thena! You're okay!" he sobbed, openly at that. For all his reluctance to cooperate with their hosts thus far he let himself weep with joy as he finally felt Thena's light frame in his embrace again. She still smelled like fresh air, and she was warm, and she was kind of bony, but soft in the places it mattered. "I-I thought-!"

"Sh, Gil, I'm here," she cooed, running her fingers through his hair as he blubbered over her like a baby. She let him lean his weight on her, his face buried between her neck and her shoulder, their legs stumbling, "it's okay, just breathe."

"I told you--they're too committed to each other, they won't-"

"Ikaris, hush."

"Are we just gonna watch them make out, or...?"

"Give them some space," Ajak urged the rest of her team. Gil pulled his head up to see her waving them back, her back turned to them. She didn't have the distrust in him and Thena that he had with her. "can you blame them?"

"Gil," Thena called to him, pulling his attention back to her. She put her hand to his cheek, her eyes scrubbing over him, "are you okay?"

He nodded, leaning into her touch, "I'm okay. Wh-What about you? I woke up and a-and you-"

"Sorry," Sersi leaned over to offer her apologies, "I voted to move you into the same room, but I got outnumbered."

"We weren't sure what to make of you," the other man who came in alongside Sersi's husband shrugged. "And then you freaked out when she wasn't there, so-"

"So," Gil made a face, "you decided that keeping us apart longer would fix that?"

Ajak laughed, although the guy clearly didn't appreciate it. He huffed, putting his hands on his hips, "hey, big guy, I'm the funny one here, got it?"

"Okay," Ajak spoke to those crowded around them en masse again, "let's let the lovebirds have a bite to eat and settle themselves. We can discuss what happens from here on afterward."

What did she mean by that? But Gil looked down as Thena slipped her hand into his. He was going to have to ignore that 'lovebirds' comment for now too, huh?

"Come on," Thena pulled him by the hand, keeping their fingers intertwined, "you must be starving."

"Well, yeah, but-" he looked around, still feeling on edge in the completely new environment. It was being around people - living people - that had him so on edge.

"I'll tell you everything that's happened," Thena promised him, "after you eat."

He just sighed, looking at her like she was the sun and he'd been underground for years. He would do anything if it meant he didn't have to let go of her hand yet, "fine."

[redwitchrune]

thinking about them btw

[doueverwonder]

Okokokok hear me out: vaguely Rapunzel based Hetalia au where Liesl gets kidnapped/traded whatever when she’s a baby gets locked in a tower etc… nameless figure who locked her up there and gave her ✨Stockholm syndrome✨ goes missing one day just months go by and they don’t show back up.

Meanwhile a set of 4 brothers (Gilbert, Roderich, Aldrich & Ludwig) are out hunting or smth, and they went farther then they usually do. Stumble across the tower, Gil goes “yep, that look abandoned” climbs himself up and promptly gets pushed out by a very scared Liesl.

They’re like “holy shit there is a child up there” (she’s like 13-14 in this au) they realize she’s been by herself for a really long time and convince her to come down by telling her if she does they’ll help her look for her lost guardian. (which is tbh half a lie from the beginning).

along the way she gets to realize her “parent” was actually yknow, manipulating her her entire life, and finds a real family and learns how to live and cutting her hair at some points ends up being a symbolic “letting go” thing; and the four boys just get a sister :\

that’s it. It’s just vaguely fantasy found family.

[hollygl125]

[finmoryo]

Thinking about my OC Elach Maicamírë, daughter of Celebrimbor and ftm trans Maeglin as Gil-galad. Maeglin nearly dies giving birth to her (Míriel situation, Celebrimbor is heartbroken) and gives her the name Elach when he sees a vision, but forgets it when he wakes up from his traumatic birth coma a couple months later (Elrond managed to soothe his spirit or something idk yet). He is horrified to relive the vision when she burns alive and can do nothing but watch and remember what he named her.

[grassbreads]

For the love of god someone explain to me why there are not one but TWO whole Caucus Race stories whose plot is "Alice unintentionally freaks out one of her friends because she doesn't know what sex is and makes them think she's coming onto them."

[hellishjoel]

when you know, you know (mini chapter)

3.2k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Main Masterlist | Notifications Blog | Ko-Fi

summary: A flashback shows Tommy’s crew enjoying Christmas Eve at the diner. Frankie makes his first move with a New Year’s kiss. 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), half-ass editing because I’m exhausted (I’ll reread it tomorrow and fix any errors I catch, food and alcohol consumption, reader is has no physical description, swearing, smoking, pet names (princess, asshole ((yes it’s a pet name to me))), christmas/holiday themes, a first kiss is shared that starts this whole journey.

A/N: look at these stinkin cute dividers I made for Table for Two! like shut up! I hope this mini chapter holds you guys over for a little as I also give my focus to cherry thrill and delicate with the beautiful and talented @thetriumphantpanda! also thank you to @undercoverpena for helping me dial down my brain and helping me focus on writing what I really want to write first 💛

Tommy’s Diner. One year ago. The recollection of events is slightly impaired due to alcohol consumption.

The last time it snowed on Christmas Eve in Texas was 2012. It wasn’t a normal, pretty, White Christmas. It was snow. And sleet. And pea-sized balls of hail. The winter storm began in Breckenridge, near Denver. It grew and spiraled, traveling southeast to Northern Texas. 

By the time the storm saw Austin, it barely affected the city in terms of transportation. Just beautiful little white flakes, all of them unique, not one like the other. And it was dazzling. 

Now, ten years later, in a mythically euphoric way, they land on the pavement in front of your sneakers. A snowflake lands on the toe of your shoe, melting quickly into the material. You let out an appreciative hum and bundle yourself tighter in your jacket, letting the size swallow you. 

The diner bustles inside. It’s busy, very busy. You thought people would like to be at home on Christmas Eve, celebrating with their families before the holiday rounded out in the following twenty-four hours. But some people have traditions here. 

Older couples who met here on a first date still make their anniversary appearances. There’s this older couple you see like clockwork every year, Maude and Gil. 

Gil said he met Maude by accident. Took off from the lumber mill in a hurry to grab a late lunch. Maude was there on a date with another man. 

But Gil said it was love at first sight, watching her push her straw around the milkshake glass and trying to seem moderately entertained by her date. Gil thought they were a total match the instant he laid eyes on her. 

But Maude didn’t think the same. Not at the time, anyway. 

Gil said it was fine because he knew. He just knew. Even if Maude thought their timing wasn’t right at the moment, he’d try again when it was right. 

Maude said she found it endearing; how he’d chase, beg, concede, anything he had to do to get her to at least go out with him. He was persistent. And it paid off. 

Now, all these years later, with kids and grandkids, they were celebrating a date night before they travel to their daughter’s house for Christmas tomorrow. 

After penning in their order, you can’t help but smile at the couple. 

“You two are really cute.” A sweet grin is shared between the two patrons before they turn back to you. 

“When you know,” Gil pauses to take Maude’s hands across the table, wrinkles forming around old gold wedding bands, “you know.” 

You usually don’t get along well with older people. Sometimes you didn’t know how to talk to them. You didn’t understand the references they made and felt awkward trying to navigate back to the menu selections. That, or sometimes they were just plain rude, but you suppose anyone at any age can be fucking rude. 

In this part of Texas, some folks felt all too comfortable pushing religion or politics into your lap. And when they weren’t doing that, they were complaining about things that were out of your control. 

That light is giving me a headache. 

You don’t have any trees to park my car under. 

The mashed potatoes aren’t mashed enough. Like, sorry guys, but that sounds like a problem between you, the line cooks, and your denture implementation specialist. 

Then there were the more generous guests, those who tip well and sit in your section because they like your playful personality. Where talking doesn’t feel like a chore, and you’re so goddamn funny that they laugh at everything you say. 

There’s this ongoing joke between you and these older gentlemen who come every Sunday morning for breakfast. It goes something like,

“Hey, doll, did you put the whiskey in the coffee like I asked ya to?”

You’d playfully gasp, widen your eyes, and look at them with your mouth agape before you lightly smacked their shoulders with your ticket pad. “I certainly did not, my manager would have a fit.” You’d tease, wink, and pour a little extra coffee to top them off as they snickered. They were just guys young at heart who enjoyed making you laugh. 

Frankie would play cards with them on his break. Spin the chair around and have the back against the table, thick thighs straddling the seat as he nibbled on a toothpick. He always lost to them at poker but won at blackjack. 

Unfortunately, someone really did put some sort of schnapps in the coffee. The staff’s coffee. You weren’t going to name names, but you definitely saw who did it. And you weren’t telling. Especially since you were enjoying your third cup. 

Christmas music plays loudly in the back of the kitchen, the restaurant having been closed for the past hour. But for the love of God, Rudy couldn’t get you all to clean up the place and go home. 

“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock! Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring! Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun, now the jingle hop has begun!” The entire kitchen sings, all terribly off-tune, but it makes it all the funnier. 

You double over in laughter as Carla, your five-foot-tall manager attempts to put a Santa hat on Frankie’s head. He simply crosses his arms and shakes his head, unwilling to bend down and let her put the stupid thing on already. 

Finally, with a roll of his eyes, he kneels down and takes the red Santa hat like a crown to a king. 

“You’re only fueling his ego!” You boo, Carla walking over and cheering her cup of coffee with yours. 

The kitchen is noisy after hours. 

All the crew has funneled to the back, sitting on countertops as Lou mops the floor and tells people to stay out of his way. Water sprays from multiple sink faucets as the dishwashers clean at a leisurely pace, too busy singing a rendition of whatever Christmas song played next off the radio. 

The old dishwasher hums along as it cleans. People talk or sing over each other, and it’s just loud. You’d be overstimulated if it wasn’t for the spiked coffee in your hand. 

“You put this booze in here, didn’t you?” You whisper to Carla as she circles back to your little corner of the counter, looking straight ahead as if she didn’t hear you. She’s as silent as a rock, which you can respect. 

“Alright, some manager you are.” 

She snickers at that, playfully slaps your thigh with the back of her hand, and watches the line cooks and busboys lazily scrub pots, pans, and plates, too busy howling out what they think are the correct lyrics to the classic Mariah Carey song playing. 

“Frankie!” Carla growls, her actual manager tone coming out now. Even Rudy shudders at the lion’s roar. 

Frankie looks up, wide-eyed like a kid about to get freshly yelled at. He’s got a cigarette hanging from his lips and a lighter one centimeter away, finger on the trigger ready to light it. 

“Go outside and smoke that, you know I can’t come home smelling like cigarette smoke! My kids will get mad at me. Shoo! Shoo!” She ushers with her hands, Frankie smirking against the cig and holding his hands up in playful defense. 

“Sorry Mama Bear, I’ll take it outside.” 

Carla playfully scoffs as he ducks down to kiss her cheek, giving him a roll of her eyes in return. 

Frankie’s eyes meet yours and he nudges his thumb into the pack of cigarettes, one inching out towards you. 

“Come on, princess. Let’s go.” 

You purse your lips to try and stop the smile, but you can’t help it. You push yourself off the counter and join him outside, the kitchen door closing behind you with a whoosh. 

It’s colder outside now, and the snowflakes fall faster but still melt as soon as they hit the pavement. 

You walk with Frankie to the loading dock. Tommy’s doesn’t have an actual loading dock, but it has an attached storage garage that houses old equipment. The concrete has questionable stains of varying colors and sizes. A game you and Frankie play is coming up with dramatic stories for each one. 

The large maroon puddle was definitely a murder covered up by a secret crime syndicate. The dark green dribbles every few inches are from a lizard-like monster, trailing its way through the garage where its buried itself under the concrete until it’s resurrection day in one thousand years. Or so they say. 

Frankie pulls a blue tarp off an old brown leather couch, both of you falling into it with a heavy sigh. 

Tonight was exhausting. The holidays in general were. 

“You goin’ anywhere for Christmas?” Frankie asks as you hold out your hand for the cigarette, but he lifts it to your lips instead. 

A playful smirk dances on your lips as you lean in and take the cigarette obediently, both of Frankie’s hands coming up as one flicks the lighter and the other shields the snowy breeze. 

The nicotine swirls down your throat and chills your chest, a nice contrast between the warmth the alcohol has spread through your tummy. Your eyes magnetize to the pretty orange blaze glittering at the end of the cigarette. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, smoke billowing through the air and then into nothingness. “I took off from Christmas to New Year’s, so I’ll be at home with family. You?” 

Frankie makes a noncommittal noise, distracted by lighting his cigarette. He flicks the spark wheel multiple times, but the flame only grows smaller and smaller. To Frankie’s relief, it catches. He takes the dead lighter, damn near out of juice, and makes a long chuck to the dumpsters where it clatters deep inside. Dink-bong. 

“I’ll be here- wait, until New Year’s?” Frankie asks in disappointment, head tilting affectionately like a dog’s. 

You’re a bit shocked by the dramatic reaction, eyes scanning over him.  

“Uh.. yeah. Why?” 

He’s silent for a bit, eyes avoiding yours before he looks out beyond the freeway and into the void. You shrug it off and lift the cigarette to your lips again. If Frankie wants to say something, he will. 

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” You nod your head towards the snow and Frankie agrees as he looks up at the sky with a fond little smile. 

“So, no New Year’s at Tommy’s for you this year, huh?” He circles back, and you’re all too curious. 

“Why do you care so much if I’m here on New Year’s or not?” Your demeanor is playful, but he’s dancing around the subject and you’d wish he’d just come out and say it. 

But he wanes on your temper and plays oblivious. “Was that Maude and Gil out there earlier?” 

You roll your eyes and shuffle closer to him on the couch. Frankie does the same. “Yeah. I wish they came here more than just on Christmas Eve. They’re so refreshing. They’re older, but cool.”

Frankie nods and lets the calm settle between you both. 

“Before Tommy retired and moved to Florida... Or ran and hid from his bookie due to his crippling gambling addiction, he said that he was long-time friends with Maude and Gil. They’ve been coming here for like… fifty years.” 

You scoff in disbelief and glance over to him. “Who would want to come to this dump for fifty years?” 

Frankie shrugs and smiles, leaning into your side as you lay your head on his shoulder. He’s warm. 

“I guess it’s all about perspective. We see Tommy’s as clock in, clock out. Run around until our feet hurt and work until we’re sweating pigs. The customers, people like Maude and Gil, they see this place as where their lives began.” Frankie’s eyes look beautifully starstruck in this moment. “Where they started, and where they reminisce. Where it all began. It’s perspective, princess.”

And just like that, he crashes the moment. Again. 

With a roll of your eyes, you sit up properly, shoulders shuddering inward from the cold. You shove off his hand that has somehow gone below the radar on your thigh, crossing your leg over the other and tugging down the skirt of your uniform.

“You gotta stop fucking calling me that incessant nickname, asshole” 

Frankie scoffs around the exhale of his cigarette. “Why don’t you make me?” 

“Oh, I could definitely make you, but where’s the fun in that, Francisco?” You smirk in his direction, but something shifts. 

His lips part but he’s at a loss for words, and his eyes dance over your face like he’s trying to memorize each pretty eyelash and the slope of your cheekbones. 

A weird feeling of charged energy zigzags back and forth between your bodies, stitching you closer together. Where the flirting goes a little too far and something could happen. It could keep going, like a snowball effect, both of you unwilling to stand down to the other. How far could things go? How far would you let them go?  

His eyes look incredibly deep brown in the night, but they pour into you all the same. The red bandana tied around his forehead keeps his unruly dark curls out of his eyes as the wind makes the strands flutter. He’s overwhelmingly handsome. You can feel your breath change, but you don’t want him to notice how your chest falls shallow under his eyeline. 

His husky voice breaks the pretty silence. 

“If you’re not here for New Year’s, then how are you supposed to be my New Year’s kiss?” 

An unbeatable smile breaks out across your face, feeling your stomach summersault. Oh, Frankie. 

You playfully shrug as you look beyond the loading dock at the snow that amounts to nothing, still melting upon greeting the asphalt. 

“Well. Sounds to me like you’re kissing the back of your hand on New Year’s. Just the same as last year. And the year before that. And the year before that.” 

“I’d rather kiss your ass, princess.” 

“Oh, I bet you would.” You both snicker and shake your heads. He’s still staring all too longingly. 

“Come on.” He speaks softer now. His head tilts so it’s closer to your level. “Lemme kiss you.” His head is hanging to the side, and he speaks with need. His tongue lines his lips and your breath staggers again. 

Your and Frankie’s cigarettes burn with abandonment, dangling between fingers settled in your respective laps. 

Why can’t a fire break out in the kitchen right now? It would be convenient. Anything to get Frankie from getting too close. Not that you wouldn’t mind kissing him, you just fear that you’d like it a little too much. And he would like it too. What if things changed?

All you can think to do is try to lighten the mood with a little teasing because it feels all too serious right now. 

“You don’t wanna kiss me.” 

Frankie scoffs and suckles on his cigarette again like it’s the most unbelievable thing he’s ever heard. “I would, I really would.” 

Fuck, it’s not working. “What if it’s weird? We work together.”

“It won’t be.” 

“How do you know?” You tease. 

“I just know.”

“Okay, but how do you know.” Frankie shrugs nonchalantly like it’s no big deal. “When you know, you know.” 

Surprise lines around your wide eyes, recognizing the all too familiar sentiment shared by Maude and Gil. The sentence you didn’t realize had so much importance to you until Frankie uttered the same words. 

“I- what did you say?” You ask, surely he didn’t just share the same expression. Or spare the same meaning. 

A cocky smirk tilts the right side of his mouth upwards. “When you know, you know.” He repeats unphased, eyes twinkling all too sweetly as he looks at you like you’re a wonder. 

It’s just one kiss. Nothing else will happen. You wouldn’t let it. 

Before you can overthink any further, before you can decline, his large palm casts itself over your cheek, thumb skimming across the silky flesh. Warmth floods your body, and it feels like time has frozen. The snow falls silently around you both, a soft whisper of the wind hissing through the air. 

“This alright?” He whispers. You feel so caught off guard, unable to respond with words, just a lousy excuse of a nod. 

The heel of his palm guides your jawline upward, lips mutually parting as you take each other in. Anticipation fills the air, fuels the rapid beat slamming around in your chest and nudging itself up in your throat. 

Your lips meet, warm and plush. You’re sure he’s not this gentle all the time, but he is in this moment. It’s tender and delicate, slowly taking you all in as if this is the last time he’ll ever get this chance. It probably will be. The bite of each other’s cigarettes tangle in your mouths. 

It’s unclear who deepens the kiss first, but there’s more of a desperation to this part. Both of his palms are on your cheeks now, bodies inching closer as your smaller palms fist lightly at the neck of his dingy white tee. You’re keeping him close, fuck, it’s so undeniable. 

The intensity that follows highlights a level of emotion you had far long ago locked away. Shoved into a locked crate and stored in secret under your bed. You didn’t like those feelings, they were cute looking from afar, but up close, they were monstrous. But you can’t deny you enjoy the movement of his lips against yours, both of you melting into a sweet rhythm that’s lined with desire. 

His tongue explores your mouth. Your fingers dance up the dip of his neck and sink into the warm flesh. He must like the feeling of your skin on his because he lets out a low hum of appreciation. The charged energy you felt before was now flooded, running on all cylinders to keep up with the feelings you and Frankie were exploring for the first time. 

It’s heated and flickers like his dead lighter. The bond grows deeper at this newfound connection, much different than a simple peck on the lips for a New Year’s kiss. 

It feels like it lasts forever but it’s gone so soon. You find yourself pulling away first, despite it taking all of you to do so. Frankie’s head naturally follows your own, wanting more, drunk off the taste. His lips brush yours again as you laugh. 

Both of you grin before you can stop yourselves. 

“Shit,” he mutters, pulling away finally as warmth kisses the apples of his cheeks. His thumb lines his lower lip like he wants to remember the electricity and the pattern of your kiss. “Sorry.” 

“No, it’s- fine.” You’re all flustered, both of you shifting farther away on the couch. 

“I got carried away,” 

“Yeah. You did.” Lie. 

“I liked it.”

“I know you did, Francisco.” The tight-lipped grin on your lips won’t disappear. But you could. 

Everything that follows is muddled sentences and interjections on both your parts. You start. 

“I’m gonna head back inside. Carla probably needs some help-”

“Yeah-”

“Are you-”

“Yeah, I’ll stay out here for a few more.” 

“Okay.”

“Okay.” 

You’re both nodding and you’re scrabbling for balance as your feet pace on shaky ground. You nudge your jacket tighter around your body as you drop the cigarette and smother it with the toe of your shoe. 

A shaky breath leaves you as you walk away and smooth out your uniform, thankful to have your back to him as you walk off and return to the kitchen’s back door. Or else he might see you smiling sheepishly. 

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Main Masterlist | Notifications Blog | Ko-Fi

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐁*𝐓𝐂𝐇 (𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐄𝐑𝐀)

; 𝐆𝐔𝐍-𝐖𝐎𝐎 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈. 𝐍𝐎 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐒, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐒.

summary: killing kim myeong-gil would bring many people satisfaction. as hyeon-ju, gun-woo, woo-jin and the others begin to plan on how to do it, choi knows that there's someone in seoul who would take part in it with much pleasure.

wordcount: 3.348k (i got a little bit excited, the other chapters gonna be shorter don't worry)

tw: swearing, almost-fighting, so just plain bloodhounds-things (i update this section with every new part of the story)

author's note: i watched the k-drama in one day, it's wonderful. a little explaining for the "y/h/c", i wrote it with creme-blonde haired character so i'd recommend some extreme or light color. other than that, it's free for every hair color!!

in the burger shop, the pregnant silence after gun-woo's confession about the loan and his mother's café shop was broken by the arrived burgers, brought by woo-jin. hyeon-ju's face became hard again.

"as you heard, my grandpa is no longer a loan-shark. he provides zero-interest loans to people in need. but we occasionally come across punks who try to take advantage of his good heart. yang jae-myeong was one of them. he lied about his mother needing to get an operation. he borrowed ten million won and vanished. it took me half a year to track him down. i saw him begging in front of a train station. at first, I thought he had really become homeless, but i noticed how clean his teeth were as I was passing by. so i tailed him, I found out that he and his goons were pretending to be homeless and stealing IDs from actual homeless people. they use the IDs to create shell corporations and open bank accounts. then they con loan sharks and take out loans anywhere from tens to hundreds of millions of won. this tactic was so professional, we thought there could be someone behind yang jae-myeong. i heard that this person had connections to yang jae-myeong. do you know him?"

after the photo was shown, they talked about how to follow yang jam-myeong's gang, but before the trio stood up from the table, hyeon-ju nodded to the guys to stay sit. digging into her jacket's pocket, she took out a piece of paper that seemed to be like a photo.

"before you begin stalking the gang, i want you to find this girl. i didn't have the time to talk to her, since i was searching for yang jae-myeong, but now i want you two to talk to this girl. gun-woo, tell her about the loans your mom signed and what happened after. she's hard-headed and kind of keeping to herself."

"fine, but who's she?" woo-jin asked, as gun-woo looked at the picture. long y/h/c hair, the mask was on her face, but she had wide, clear speaking eyes. ones like woo-jin's, the ones you look in and can read from them without a loud word.

"she's y/n. i heard my grandpa talk about him on the phone, this was the only picture i could get about her. she doesn't have instagram, facebook or any of these apps, i took this from my grandpa's office. it's possible that she won't open up to you, but it's a must to talk to her."

"yeah, i get it. but why do you want us to find her?" gun-woo was also interested about this question. was she an enemy? young kids can also be stolen by criminals and raised by them, to be as loyal as a dog can to do anything for theirs.

"y/n is good, don't worry. as far as i know from what my grandpa said on the phone, she is someone whose parents were close to my grandpa. she followed her father's track and trained herself in the most brutalist martial arts, like the israelite krav maga, the russian systema or muay thai."

"aisssh, i wouldn't want to confront her in any way", woo-jin said. gun-woo thought about these fights; he only saw muay thai on tv, and that seemed really dangerous in itself. he knew that as soon as they begin to track the girl, he's gonna search up the other two martial arts on his phone.

"yeah, me neither" gun-woo added.

"will you two do? and asking for her phone number?" hyeon-ju asked, the guys nodded.

"yes, of course. but i'll bring a white flag just in case", woo-jin answered as they stood up from the table.

a few hours later, gun-woo and woo-jin were on the streets, wandering around buildings.

"fuck, how can we find someone in a town where nearly ten million people lives?" woo-jin asked. gun-woo looked at the picture. 

“hyeon-ju said that she’s a pro in martial arts. maybe we should look in the gyms?” 

woo-jin patted his chest, “look, a real genius here.” 

going to every gym around the town, gun-woo and woo-jin began to lose hope. 

“maybe she’s working today or just doesn't feel like coming down to train.” gun-woo began to think about what to tell hyeon-ju if they don’t find the girl. she sure will be pissed or angry, but this is a really difficult task. 

“aish, gun-woo, don’t be like that! would you say something like this? people like us, people who train daily, their safe place is the gym. feeling sad? go to the gym! feeling happy? go to the gym! did your date went well? go to the gym! you just broke up with your girlfriend? go to the gym! look, for every problem, there’s a solution, and the solution is called–”

as woo-jin talked and talked, gun-woo thought he’s hallucinating. on the other side of the crosswalk, a girl tapped on her phone. same (y/h/c) hair, same (e/c) eyes, the same way she dipped her shoulder as she looked behind her, even the black sweater was the same. she wasn’t tall, the arms of her sweater weren't puffed from muscles. maybe she isn’t y/n, but they can try. 

“woo-jin, look. do you think that is her? y/n?” he asked, cutting off his friend. woo-jin looked at the picture, than at the girl, than at the picture again, and the girl again. 

“honestly, how could we know if we don’t ask her?” woo-jin smiled, just as he always does when he’s in some doubtful situation. they began to walk behind the girl. she wore earphones. woo-jin went to tap her shoulder, but when he touched her shoulder, the girl turned around, grabbing woo-jin’s wrist to keep him still so she could punch him in the face, gun-woo hurried to stand beside woo-jin. the girl took out the earphones with her free hand. 

“what the fuck do you want from me?” she asked, looking up from under her eyebrows, looking from one second to another at each of them, like she waited for some attack. she really was a pro, gun-woo said to himself. gun-woo had to admit that she was quite pretty. not like pretty girls from clubs or his high school and university, or the nurses at the marine, but some pretty girl that his mother would like to date him. he bent deep down. 

“we are sorry to disturb you, but we have a question. we don’t mean harm, we don’t intend to hurt you” he said fast, and the girl let go woo-jin after looking at the guy, and making sure he nodded. the girl turned, pointing to one of the restaurants. 

“can we talk while i eat? i just came out from training, i’m starving.” woo-jin and gun-woo nodded, following the girl. 

“so, what did you want to ask?” the girl began eating. woo-jin looked at gun-woo, who watched her dainty fingers grabbing the utensils. he sighed and took out the photo, placing it down to the table so the girl could see, she stopped eating instantly. pulling up her eyebrows, she distanced from the table a little bit. before any of the guys could talk, the girl began to speak fast and stark. “are you from the police? the secret service or some fucking spy-bullshit? what the fuck do you want from me? it doesn’t matter, i shouldn't talk to any of you, i’m not gonna do this shit. how did you get this photo of me?” gun-woo wanted to talk, but the anger in her eyes made his mouth shut. “doesn't matter, i hope i'll never see you again.” she began to pick up her things. gun-woo thought about hyeon-ju, sir choi, her mother, and the ugliest guy that beat him up that night in the coffee shop. 

“we just want to ask you about your name,” he spoke clear. “we’re just curious if you’re y/n or not. anyway, my name is gun-woo, and he’s woo-jin.”

“yeah, why? you probably know this because you have every information about me.” she replied, her chest rising and falling a little bit faster than usual. 

“no, we don’t. we… so, well… we know a man who’s name is sir choi. and her granddaughter… her granddaughter told us to meet you.” 

y/n looked around herself, like checking if someone else was there as a spy or some third wheeler, but when everybody was lazily chomping down on their dinner, being on their phone with some boring video or tweet, she slowly sat back down. sir choi’s name moved something in her, because she leaned closer to the guys. 

“if that’s what about i think it is about, then this is some serious shit. really, maybe the most serious shit in seoul’s money and business history, so if you truly mean sir choi’s name, than i really recommend you two to turn around and walk away from all of this. understood?” gun-woo sighed. 

“i think that i’m deeper in this than i wanted to”, he replied, the girl looked at him from under her lashes. 

“what do you mean? is this about loans?” gun-woo nodded, the girl looked up to the ceiling, sighing, letting out a long whisper of swearings. “then we aren't talking about the price of my dinner, aren't we?”  

“we don't talk about money, we talk about catching the men who are behind this.” woo-jin continued, y/n looked up at him, smiling sadly. 

“i hope that you are alright in the head, so you can understand that this is nearly impossible.” 

“it is not, believe us. we gonna find a man who’s in contact with them.” y/n sighed, looked to the side, looking at her phone. 

“how can i trust you two? really, anyone can talk to me about this, anyone who took loans from the old man.” “we found this photo of you in sir choi’s office.” 

“you two? how did you get into sir choi’s office? not even his closest people could get there.” gun-woo looked at woo-jin, sighing. 

“well, not us, but his granddaughter. her name is hyeon-ju, we are her so-called bodyguards.”

“i don’t know anyone who’s name is hyeon-ju. so, summing up, not sir choi, but his granddaughter wants to talk to me? why?” 

woo-jin looked at gun-woo. “can we talk a little bit?” 

“sure.” y/n responded, turning back to her food. woo-jin gulped. 

“should we tell her about the plan? yang jae-myeong? but what if hyeon-ju wants to tell her this?”

“i think she would understand it better if we told her. she doesn't know who we are, and sir choi’s name means something to her, but in this case, sir choi doesn't know about our mission.” woo-jin shrugged his shoulder, turning back to y/n. 

“it’s about catching a man who’s in connection with the loan-sharks, and the one smile capital. since hyeon-ju told us to find you, we think that you’d be interested to catch these guys.” 

“this is real, they have some repayments for me.” gun-woo somehow knew that this wasn't about money, but how could he ask when they knew each other for two hours? 

“so, are you in it, or not?” woo-jin leaned forward, offering his hand for a handshake. y/n pointed up her forefinger. 

“one talk. only one session with hyeon-ju, and then i decide whether i'm in or not.” she stated, woo-jin and gun-woo nodded, while they smiled lightly. looking at each other, they shared the ‘we made it’-look, making the girl scrunch her eyebrows. “okay then, where and when should we meet tomorrow? i guess this can't wait, if that’s so important that you found me.” y/n brushed her hair behind her ear, gun-woo didn’t miss the tattoos on her fingers, and the 

“maybe… tomorrow at noon? here, in front of this restaurant.” gun-woo offered, the girl nodded. 

“deal. see you guys tomorrow!” she said as she stood up, gun-woo stood up too. he didn't know why, he just felt that he needed to accompany the girl, no matter where she went home. 

“wait, y/n!” the girl turned around, woo-jin looked at him like he had some shock or something. “where… where do you go home?” 

‘to yongsan, and you?” she asked, gun-woo’s eyes lighted up. 

“me too. would you mind if i… so, maybe we can go home together?” he asked, hoping that the girl wouldn't mind. 

“yes, we can. goodbye, woo-jin!” she answered easily, bidding goodbye to the guy beside gun-woo. after she went out of the door, woo-jin began to lap gun-woo’s back. 

“aye, gun-woo! did little y/n just trickle some love into your heart?” he asked grinning, gun-woo shook his head. 

“no, it’s just… what if she gets into trouble at night? it’s dangerous.” gun-woo answered innocently, making woo-jin do a little ‘tsk’ in the corner of his mouth. 

“by her grabbing on my wrist before he almost punched me to death, the one who needs protection is me!” woo-jin dramatized the situation, pointing at his wrist. 

“she didn’t do anything, and she won’t again. she seems… peaceful.” 

“yeah, well, stopped beating me because she found his prince.” woo-jin continued the teasing by adding some eyelash flutter that girls do when they find someone really handsome, making gun-woo roll his eyes. “okay, well, just go. and tell me everything when you get home. or… if you haul up at hers. or i hope that your house has thick walls and your mother doesn’t mind the constant whining noise!” he giggled, having fun. he could tease his friend forever, now that this girl was in the picture. 

“woo-jin-ah! don’t do this!” gun-woo replied, making woo-jin laugh. 

“okay, okay! have fun, and bring her too! don’t forget to ask for her phone number!” 

“goodnight, woo-jin.” 

stepping out into the chilly night air, y/n waited for him. they began to walk to the bus station. gun-wo thought about what he should ask from her. family? no, that's too personal, and they just met today. he wasn’t good with girl stuff, only had one girlfriend and she dumped him after two months, when he applied to the marine. 

“so, since when do you box?” she asked, making gun-woo looking at her wondering. 

“how… how did you know that i box?” y/n snapped with her tongue, looking at him. she had pretty eyes, and although her mask was on, she seemed like this was the easiest question in her entire life. 

“when your friend grabbed my shoulder, his grip was firm, his palms are not too big, but they are strong. he lifted his other arm, just in case he needed to protect himself. i think i even saw your friend on the tv. you two are muscular, it can be seen from under jackets, but your legs’ aren't as muscular as your torso. in other martial arts, you need to train your legs too, to kick as strong as you can, but in boxing, you only use your arms. oh, and bodyguards are most of the time professional agents, but you two are young. or am i wrong?” 

gun-woo didn’t know how to respond, he wanted to tell her how cool it was to deduce what they did, just from looking at them. 

“no, you are right. and… hyeon-ju told us that you are a pro in many martial arts, so… since when do you train?” 

“since my childhood. it’s not that difficult, many movements and styles are similar.”

“did you fight competitively? like, in championships?” 

y/n shook her head. 

“no. only in gyms, i don’t like championships. you can get burned out easily. but i guess, since you asked that, you do championships. what is it like?” 

gun-woo smiled under his mask. y/n was really cute as she asked about him. otherwise, maybe he could never tell her these things. he wasn’t a man of words, and only a few times he knew what to say. 

“you would like it, really much. before covid, the arenas were filled with people, and the energies, the mood was really high and good.”

y/n hummed as they got on the bus, sitting beside each other. gun-woo protested that he should sit on the outer seat, and as y/n didn’t sense any dangers from him, she accepted and sat down. 

“i hope that this hyeon-ju girl is cool, because i had some cat fights with others in the last weeks. girl fight in the gyms, you know.”

“cat fights? with girls?” 

“yeah, but it wasn't so serious, i wondered where all the girls were, who'd ripped each other apart. a year ago, those fights were brutallic, like some freaking mma-cage fight, and now… at there, we say about these lazy gym-championships that there were no claws, but only strokes.” 

gun-woo snickered. 

“and these gym fights, do they pay well? or… do you work somewhere?” 

the girl looked at him, scanning him from bottom to top while leaning to the glass window, leaning on her elbow, tilting her head. “you don’t look like a drinker, so i don’t think we would meet at my workplace.”

“you're a bartender? woo-jin would like this! he likes to drink, sometimes, always saying how good he can bear alcohol.”

y/n laughed. 

“yeah, he looks like the typical tough guy who grew up on the bad side of the river, but when the two of you constantly looked at each other, i knew that he’s just as rookie as you.”

“yeah, that’s right. we began to work recently at sir choi, we are his granddaughter’s, hyeonju’s bodyguards. but she said she don’t need bodyguards.”

“but if she doesn’t need you, then how did you stay?” 

gun-woo sighed. 

“i… i begged for her to stay. i have a debt to work off to sir choi.” 

“oh, so you work down the loan sir choi gave you, and this is the way you are affected personally by these loans?” 

gun-woo thought about that night. when in-beom beat him up, when the boss threatened him not to call the police because his mother would end up dead, when he felt like he can’t do anything. looking at y/n, he didn’t want this girl to get involved in this business. gulping, gun-woo nodded. 

“yeah. my mother too.”

“you work for your mother and her protection? you take life danger upon yourself so that she doesn't get hurt?” y/n asked, pulling together her eyebrows. 

“we could say so.”

y/n sighed, looking forward, leaning back on the seat. looking at her hands, picking at the tattoos she had on her fingers. after a few seconds, she bent closer to gun-woo. she had dauntlessness and bravery in her eyes, without a blink of her eyelashes. her lashes were longer than usual, giving her the attitude on the outside as on the inside. pressing the get-off button of the bus, she gathered her bag in her lap. 

“i understand it now. in this case, count me in, too.” 

gun-woo looked at her. 

“why? you doesn’t even know what is this about, this is serious danger, y/n.” 

y/n shrugged her shoulders as gun-woo let her out from her seat, as they stood, y/n gave her a piece of paper. 

“because it’s personal for me, too. see you tomorrow, gun-woo.” 

gun-woo bent deep down as the bus stopped. 

“thanks, y/n, for talking to us, and not beating up woo-jin.”

y/n giggled, and bent slightly down too. 

“thank you for giving me an opportunity.”

as she got off, gun-woo sat back, folding out the paper. it was her number, they didn’t even ask for her number and she gave it to him! on the paper, there was a little message too. 

show this to hyeon-ju. you guys forget everything. make sure she notes my number. and don’t worry, we are going to figure this out, one way… or another. y/n. 

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃.

author's note: i hope you liked the first chapter. sorry for my english, it's not my first language, and i just got back to writing after a looong break. leave a like or comment if you liked it!! by babes

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[demonscantgothere]

Litost. Galadriel/Sauron | Halbrand. Explicit. 261.1k | 5.1k chapter [44/61] Chapter 44: No Tethers Binding

During Ar-Pharazôn’s rule of Númenor when Sauron holds the position of the High Priest of Melkor, Galadriel is captured in the middle of a war, imprisoned, and handed over to him as a sacrifice to be made in the Temple of the High Priest, but Sauron has other plans. From Akallabêth to the founding of Gondor, unlikely allies are forged.

“We have attempted to use the palantíri for reconciliation,” High King Gil-galad suddenly announced behind Elrond, “but it has remained silent in Minas Ithil, save for one message that came through.”

The table fell silent, and when Gil-galad did not elaborate any further, Galadriel glanced across all of the faces present. They had almost all looked down at the table, too, sullen and beaten back in their doom—Elendil, most of all, looked on the verge of breaking into two, but he kept up his composure as best as possible. It seemed, though, that they all knew what the message had said, save for her.

She could not stop herself.

“What was the message?” asked Galadriel, glancing from Elendil to Gil-galad.

Gil-galad did not look at her. He stared forward at the map on the table, his eyes empty and devoid of emotion.

“You have taken my child from me, and for that, I will take your son.”

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[beachyserasims]

Geneva Island Legacy┃Chapter two┃ Bodies

Bitch, get it together bitch ♫

Spicy version + Transcript below 18+ ONLY PLEASE

Beginning / Previous / Next

[pinkkittysaw]

CHAPTER II

- MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE?

← chapter one

series master-list can be found here!

summary: the night of your brother’s annual birthday ball takes an unexpected turn

paring: knight! clive rosfield x princess! reader

word count: 9,613

content: NSFW (minors + ageless blogs DNI! you will be BLOCKED!) heavy plot, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving) handjob, power imbalance, dirty talk, spit, slight humiliation kink, parental loss.

disclaimer(s): although this series is inspired by the medieval and regency time periods, they are not 1:1 representations. although i will always do my best to represent both as accurately as possible, there may be some minor changes.

some of the plot points in the original game story have been altered or taken out to fit this au better. there are no eikons

a/n: i want to dedicate this chapter to my AMAZING friend, and fellow writer, jordy (@cryptictongues) who not only let me bounce ideas off her constantly, but also beta read some of this chapter as well. thank you for everything!!!!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

dividers by @/saradika-graphics and art is by edmund blair leighton

A month or so passed since your last tryst with Clive, leaving the relationship between the two of you to be strained with pent-up tension. In light of the momentary heat of passion, you both agreed that such conduct would be better kept private, in places where no wandering eyes could intrude, so as to not arouse any more suspicion. There were to be absolutely no dubious behaviors in public, which proved to be undoubtedly difficult.

With every promenade you'd take around the castle grounds, you'd see him training, all sweaty and flush in his fit form, and all you'd be able to think about was mounting him then and there, riding him until you were both run ragged.

Your confidants and lady's maid have caught your prolonged glances during your strolls in the sunshine, but you've always met their accusations with a dismissive flap of your hand fan, stating that you were "simply curious about the training regiment that the knights were conducting," even if your eyes always lingered on one knight in particular. Baddies

There was talk around the palace for a while about the sudden disappearance of a certain scullery maid, but seeing as the crown had more pressing matters to deal with than the loss of a single maid, one who could easily be replaced, any investigation resulted in the conclusion that she had simply "fleed her duties," and it was left at that.

In reality, though, you had visited her late in the night after your passionate affair with Clive many moons ago, offering to pay off her debts and then some if she swore to secrecy that nothing she saw that night would make its way into the ears of the public.

The amount of gil being offered was unlike anything she could have ever imagined. Seeing as your father amassed insurmountable fortunes during his reign, idle gossip wasn't worth the consequences if she were to be found out as the source of the rumor, so she took the small fortune and fled the palace walls that very same night.

Now you find yourself sitting in another store room, one that's presumed to be in less use than the previous one, perched upon an old barrel.

A royal ball was in attendance, and all nobility within the realm were invited. The occasion? Your younger brother and future heir to the throne's birthday. He reached the tender age of one and twenty, which just so happens to be the legal age of marriage in your country, so, of course, your father invited all the reputable debutantes in the realm in hopes that your brother would secure a future queen, though he'd never admit to such schemes out loud.

You were hoping that tonight would be another secret rendezvous with your lover, but you haven't so much as gotten a single word with him all evening.

All you had thought about during the preparation was how you were going to tease him throughout the night. The gown you had selected to wear was chosen with him in mind. The silhouette hugged your figure to perfection, and your cleavage was heavily accentuated in the lavender muslin. The hem was detailed with a layer of tulle tulips, and crystals of various sizes decorated the bustline. Put simply, you looked ravishing—the epitome of the most elegantly cut diamond.

Your father would spare no expense when it came to his son's birthday ball, so you were in luck to some degree, but the only man whose eyes you wanted on you was nowhere to be found.

The ball was supposed to provide perfect cover. All the orderly staff would be at your father's beck and call all evening, and he'd be too busy showing off your brother like a prized chocobo to notice your disappearance, leaving you to your own devices after a certain amount of time.

You and Clive would be able to sneak off without a trace or care in the world, but for some reason, every man of nobility just happened to be extremely insistent upon getting in at least one dance with you, all whilst having meaningless conversations regarding topics you couldn't bother yourself with caring about.

The ball started off well enough. You knew you couldn't immediately disappear into the shadows; you owed both your father and brother a dance to start the evening, as was tradition for the royal balls in your country.

The three of you walked out into the ballroom together. Your father went first, then you and your brother in succession.

The room was lavish, as it often was whenever such events were hosted in your kingdom. Multiple chandeliers holding long wax candles filled the ceiling, and the light reflecting off the gems on your gown made you shine beautifully. A golden hue encapsulates the entire room, casting wispy shadows and twinkling shapes on the hardwood floor. Your family emblem was painted in stark white chalk at the center of it. Various flowers from the royal gardens hung in sconces around the perimeter of the room, with vines filling out the empty space in between. Fine fabric in your kingdom's colors was draped over the windows in high arch shapes.

Scanning the room, you look for where to make your grand escape. After a few dances and perhaps some intermingling at the refreshments table, you'd be skittering along the ballroom walls, hiding in the shadows, before making your exit.

There was still a short amount of time before the guests started to file in, so after the final touches were made to the decorations, you took your place on the dais next to your family, with your father in the center and your brother to your right.

The royal knights line up in front of the small stage, and though Clive is always the pinnacle of orderliness while on duty—excellent posture and great form—you swear that you catch his eye as he files inside the room. He's not so careless as to let his emotions wear on his face while in the presence of others, especially your father and the Lord Commander, but you're certain that the slightest tinge of pink floods his cheeks at the sight of you.

As the knights continue to get into position, your gaze falls upon Clive's shaggy hair, reminiscing about how the thick yet soft tendrils felt between the length of your fingers as he made his presence known between your legs moons prior.

Your father's voice reels you back from your fantasies as you clear your throat slightly and hope that the bright lights of the chandelier won't give way to your previous thoughts.

Nobles from all across the realm begin to file in and make their greetings, some familiar and some new. A part of you is surprised that all these people traveled from their home countries just to visit your brother, but you supposed that none of the nations wanted bad blood between your kingdom and theirs.

After all the introductions were made, your father began his long-winded speech about your brother, the future of the country, and how proud he is of how far his children have come. The smile plastered on your face feels stiff, and your thighs feel as though they're about to collapse from the amount of curtsying you've been forced to do.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you're granted some relief from the spotlight while the band sets up on the stage where you and your family previously resided.

You make your way over to the refreshment table, nodding and curtseying to the fellow noble ladies as you make your way over to procure yourself a glass of iced lemonade.

It was not even three seconds later that your father was introducing you to some nobleman.

"Dearest daughter," he starts. You take a deep breath and settle your princessly smile on your face once more before turning around.

"I'd be pleased to introduce you to the Archduke of Rosaria and his mother." You gaze upon the both of them; this is the first meeting you've had with the current Archduke of Rosaria. You met the previous archduke, Elwin, when you were still of tender age, before your brother was born. You scantly recall the details of the meeting, only that he gifted both you and your mother bouquets of Rosarian wildflowers and that he had a penchant for making you laugh (as later on confirmed by your mother).

It's clear, though, that the man standing before you bears no resemblance to his father, sharing the same icy eyes and pale hair as his mother.

"His Imperial and Royal Highness, Joshua, the Archduke of Rosaria, and her Imperial and Royal Highness, Annabella, the Dowager Archduchess of Rosaria," your father continues, giving you room to make your formal introductions.

"It is an honor, your Highness," you state, giving a swift curtsey to the both of them, and although Annabella merely nods to you in acknowledgment, her son gives a full bow in return.

"Come now, Joshua. There's no need for that," she chastises, as if her son were still a child and not a grown man.

"But mother, how could I not marvel at the beauty bestowed upon me?" He responds in full. At your astonishment at his bold declaration, he takes your gloved hand into his own and presses a delicate kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Might I say that your gown looks exquisite tonight, my lady? You shine bright like a diamond." Both you and the Dowager Archduchess share a similar look of shock on your faces, and even though you can't see your father's expression from behind you, you're sure that he mirrors both of yours.

Heat floods your face as your eyes meet Joshua's, then his mother's, and although their eyes bear the same shade of cerulean, her gaze pierces through you like daggers of ice, whereas the strawberry blonde beside her carries a lot more warmth.

Time stands still, and you wonder if such flirtations were a product of his father, seeing as his mother held very little kindness or regard in her heart.

You feel your father's hands on your shoulders and realize you've spent the last minute or so gawking at Joshua and his display.

"Please forgive my daughter; she isn't used to such blatant declarations of affection from esteemed gentlemen." It's at your father's statement that your brain kicks back into gear. Your hand is withdrawn, and an immediate curtsey follows in its place.

"My sincerest apologies, Your Highness." As you raise your head, your eyes meet Clive's just across the way from behind Joshua, but he's quick to refocus and march forward in front of him.

"No apology is necessary," the Archduke smiles, "though if you truly wish to win my forgiveness, you'll allow me your hand in a dance."

Before you even get the chance to respond, Annabella interrupts, "Joshua, you mustn't. Think of your health."

"Mother," a domineering smile plasters itself on Joshua's face, "certainly I have enough energy to last me at least one dance with the most elegant princess in all of Valisthea."

Annabella sends another harsh glance toward her son before muttering, "Of course," and  taking her leave elsewhere.

Joshua heaves a heavy sigh before extending his hand, silently asking for your dance card. You raise your wrist and allow him to pencil himself in before he gives one final bow, and retreats toward his inconsolable mother.

Your father exhales the breath you were unaware he was holding when the band gets in position for their first song. Both you and your father take place in the center of the ballroom as the first dance of the evening.

You couldn't help but notice as you scanned the faces in the surrounding audience that someone was missing. As the starting notes boomed from the instruments, you whisper to your father, "Papa, where's Dion?"

Prince Dion, next in line to be the Emperor of Sanbreque, had grown to be one of your close friends—well, as close of a friend as a princess could have when confined to castle walls for most of her life. You were close in age, and given that there weren't as many young heirs throughout the realm at the time of your childhood, it was only natural that the two of you would become fast friends.

Rumors quickly spread that you and Dion would become betrothed when you were older, securing an indisputable alliance between both nations, but as the years trickled on and both of you came of age, no such proposals were made. After he became leader of the dragoons, it was apparent that one such proposal would never come, but you weren't deterred; if anything, you were relieved.

You held love for Dion in your heart; you'd known each other since you were children, but the love you held wasn't the type of love fostered between two individuals who were passionate about each other romantically.

Your father's face held a quick grimace before lowering his voice as the two of you prepared to take your first steps in tune together. "Dion is busy preparing for a war effort; he sends his regards."

"What?" You mutter, trying to keep the look of shock from developing on your face.

Though you and Dion couldn't frequently meet in person, the two of you penned missives back and forth. In none of your most recent correspondence with each other, had he mentioned anything in regards to an oncoming war.

Your father wasn't a gossip, but being the ruler of an entire kingdom, one must be well knowledgeable about the state of other nations.

He lowers his voice even further: "It seems that the King of Waloed is insistent on reclaiming his territory from Sanbreque."

"Dion never mentioned anything of the sort in his letters."

Your father gives you a lopsided smile in an attempt to reassure you: "He probably didn't want to worry you unnecessarily, especially with the ball coming up."

Your father was more than likely correct in his assumptions, but you couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach.

"I'm sure Dion will be alright," he adds, brushing his thumb over your hand after noticing the newfound stiffness in your movements.

You nod. Dion was and is strong; he turned the tides for Sanbreque in battle many a time before. This was a fact, but something about him having to go against Waloed's army shakes you to your core.

Your father and the king of Waloed, Barnabas Tharmr, were amiable allies for the most part, but you've heard stories, many in particular when he visited your kingdom after the death of your mother. You were still young then, so you couldn't quite grasp the weight and meaning of the whispers your handmaidens had shared in secrecy upon his arrival.

He visited annually for some years after his initial visit before they died down altogether, though you could never ascertain what the meetings were for besides the first one.

Barnabas was kind enough, as one of his nature could be on his trip, but you could never help the feeling that something more sinister lingered beneath the surface when your young eyes met his.

You did your best to quell the unease in your heart and continued to dance with your father. Although he had gotten up there in years, he still moved swiftly across the ballroom floor, even if you had to slow your steps a bit.

It seemed that just as soon as the dance with your father began, it was over, and you were anxiously anticipating the next dance with your brother. You go hand in hand with him while the band begins to play.

"So, Crown Prince," you begin, filling the air in an attempt to quell your nerves. "Future heir to the throne, how does it feel to be Papa's favorite?" You smile, albeit teasingly.

"Surely you jest, dear sister. For without you, I'd be hopeless."

"Now who's jesting?" Your grin graces your face once more as the two of you glide across the ballroom before a somber expression soon replaces your previous jubilant one. "It pains me to think that this ball may be the last time we see each other like this."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Look at all the people here," you whisper to him, "surely you don't think Father is just merely celebrating your birthday. You're twenty-one years of age now, dear brother; officially legal to be wed."

"You don't truly think he'd see to it that I'd be married right away, do you?

You both twirl around, and your father comes into view, standing next to the royal guard.

"Maybe not right away, but you know how he is. Ever since Mama died, all he's wanted is to see our futures secured, and in your case, our bloodline. If that means marrying us off early, then so be it, I suppose. At least you have the luxury of choices in who you'll marry."

"Then how come you weren't married off as soon as you came of age?"

"Because you still needed me. You had no mother to set an example, so I needed to be in your life to show you how proper noble ladies should act," you snirk as he rolls his eyes. "If I'm speaking honestly, I feel the answer is more sentimental than logical. I don't think Father wanted to lose another member of our family before we were both of breeding age."

"I suppose you're right. It's more than what most fathers would do. Now that I'm able to be wed, do you suppose that'll hasten his plans for your marriage?"

You sigh, the thought has lingered in the back of your mind since your brother grew out of being a child. "I'm not sure, but who knows?"

"Don't look so down," he smirks. "If you reach spinsterdom, you'll always have a place here with me."

You smile kindly. "Thank you."

As the instruments die down, signaling the dance coming to a close, you once again find yourself on the outskirts of the ballroom. You snag a look at your dance card to check where Joshua has penciled himself in. A waltz, of course. He'd undoubtedly use this opportunity of close quarters to flirt with you some more.

His name was listed far enough down the line that you could make a break for the storeroom now, and...

"Your Royal Highness!"

The next hour and a half was filled with nothing but dancing, with only a few minutes of rest provided in between.

You had been skirting along the edges of the ballroom when you just so happened to catch the eyes of an old presiding duke who resides in your kingdom, and it was all downhill from there.

What was supposed to have been a "romantic" evening was turning into a disaster. At every turn, you were swept into the arms of yet another elderly gentleman looking for a younger and more agreeable wife.

As you twirled and spun around the hardwood flooring, you were afforded only mere glances at your lover from afar. Every time you laid your eyes on him, he always appeared to be preoccupied with something else. Not that any of your concurrent dance partners would've noticed your wandering eye, as theirs were doing much of the same.

If there was one thing that all these men had in common, it was the ogling. Some of them "tried" to be more polite about it than others, going for glances at your cleavage in between the minimal required time they had to actually look you in the eye instead of blatantly staring at your chest the whole time.

It was clear, though, that all of them were oblivious to just how obvious they were being with their gaping looks, not realizing that you could tell when people were talking to your chest instead of your face.

Though you're certain that a drink limit was set for this ball, it was becoming quite clear that a majority of the "gentlemen" had imbibed to their pleasure, the smell of port lingering on their breath whenever they'd lean in close. 

After a while, you had managed to escape all your suitors and camouflage yourself in a nearby group of gossiping noble ladies, the majority of them being mothers, who were well-equipped with an onslaught of questions about your brother and the future of the kingdom.

After quelling their curiosity, you nestled yourself in a corner, facing the wall of the ballroom, and let out an exasperated sigh, taking a few moments to collect yourself.

You were beyond frustrated, both sexually and mentally. All you desired was to climb between the sheets with your lover and have him pleasure your body until your thoughts were reduced to a mindless fog. To say you were having intense urges was an understatement.

It'd be easier to deal with if Clive wasn't a member of staff that you saw often, like a cook or a coachman, but being your sworn shield, he was in your presence a majority of the time. So close, yet so far.

His touch was often the source of your fantasies at night. Your mind wanders, flitting between thoughts of his scruff against your neck, his breath on your skin, and how his strong hands would grip your body.

You were never able to help but wonder what your first time together would be like. What does he look like when he comes? What does he sound like? Does he moan, grunt, or whimper? Would he be gentle with you? Similar to how he grasps your hand when helping you step down from a carriage, slow, languid thrusts into your heat as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, both of your bodies clinging onto each other for purchase. Or would he be rough? Similar to how he fights: powerful, unrelenting thrusts into your cunt, overwhelming as he batters into you, stealing the breath from your lungs. You were often unable to decide which scenario you liked better as you reached your climax, whispering his name as you came down.

You know you shouldn't have such intense lust for someone who's working in your service, but knowing that just excites you more.

"Princess!"

You release another deep exhale as you turn around. You're really starting to get irritated at the word "princess."

"Your Highness!" you exclaim with a half gasp. Apparently, Joshua was set on keeping his promise of a dance.

"My sincerest apologies," you curtsey.

He gives a dismissive wave of his hand before extending it toward you. "You owe me no such things, my lady. Are you still willing to accept my dance proposal?"

"Of course, Your Highness," you place your gloved hand in his as he walks you to the dance floor, and you can't help the smile that rises on your face as you take your place together.

"I know it's against propriety for you to deny me a dance, but I'm not so cruel to force a lady when she doesn't want to."

"It's a pleasure, Your Highness. I assure you. You're perhaps the most polite man I've danced with thus far, besides my father and brother, of course."

His hand makes its way to the small of your back as more couples fall in toe behind you and the Archduke. Your conversation lulls until the music picks up, your hand delicately resting on his shoulder.

"Although I am most disappointed to hear that these gentlemen would treat a beautiful woman such as yourself with little regard, I can't deny that I'm pleased to be the only one who's seemed to win your affections."

This man.

As much as you try not to fawn over the attention, his words are like silk in your ears, as if they're the most natural sound you've ever heard.

It doesn't register that you're smiling so brightly until he comments on it: "You have one of the most radiant smiles, my lady."

You shake your head from side to side as if trying to regain your composure. Despite all the time you shared with Clive over a month ago, you weren't used to such blatant flirtations in front of so many people at once. Even if they couldn't hear your conversation, the smiles on both your faces single you out from the other couples on the floor. It leaves you feeling exposed, as if a bright light has been shone on both of you.

"Forgive me if I speak out of line, Your Highness," you inhale, "but where on Valisthea did you learn to become so charming?"

He offers a chuckle and a swoop of his strawberry-blonde hair. "I'm quite a fan of the written word. It was often one of the few escapes I truly had as a child, so I may have picked up a few techniques after reading a romance or two."

"Perhaps you could lend your novels to some of the other gentlemen here so they can learn how to properly woo a lady."

"And risk losing being the sole recipient of your affections?"

"Feeling insecure over your abilities?" You cock your head to the side, a small smirk appearing on your lips.

Joshua ponders the question for a moment, putting on a good face of deep thought as if he's truly rolling the question around in his head before responding, "More so like...I don't want to give the poor blokes false hope when I'm sure to come out on top anyway."

"It seems that you're very confident indeed."

The two of you chuckle as he twirls you around, only to be met with the scorn of Annabella's icy gaze after locking eyes with her from the other side of the ballroom. The joy in your expression quickly dies off, and the figurative noose tightens itself around your neck, suffocating the life from your lungs.

With your newfound stillness, Joshua has to guide you back into his arms. He looks off in the direction of your eye line and sighs before speaking once more, "I apologize on behalf of my mother."

"You needn't do so for my sake," you're quick to respond, attempting to reassure him that you were unaffected by Annabella's glare.

"Do you think I can't sense the dread in your eyes?" He smirks, and you offer a strained half-laugh in response while waiting for him to continue.

"I was frequently ill as a child, thus it was very rare to step foot outside the archduchy," he clears his throat, "after my father had passed, it seems that her protective nature only grew."

"I'm sorry about the loss of your father. I've only met him a handful of times, but he was always very kind. My mother once told me that I frequently laughed in his presence." You understood Joshua's pain well, having lost your mother during the birth of your brother years before the former Archduke passed. 

A solemn look graces his features before he relaxes once more. "He was a good man, from what I can recall from my memories of him," he pauses, "I can only hope that I can be half the man he was when it comes to ruling the archduchy."

You take a moment to mull over your words before voicing them. "It seems like you've managed to capture his kind and generous spirit. I'm sure you're already well on your way to living up to his name."

"You're very kind," he nods, and a genuine smile fixes itself on his face, unlike the charming one he's graced you with before.

The music slows to a stop, indicating the end of the waltz, and Joshua walks you back to the fray of the ballroom as slowly as possible. "Perhaps this is inappropriate to say given the present company, but I'd love to call upon you some time."

A part of you is surprised, not expecting a courting proposal from someone you could actually tolerate. Being thoroughly charmed, you agree.

"There's a jousting tournament within the next fortnight. It's always an invigorating time. You should attend if you're able."

He takes your gloved hand in his, raising it until your knuckles graze his lips. "I'd be most delighted to attend. Until then, my lady." He releases your hand and turns off in the direction of his mother, who looks all too unhappy with him, and you, by extension.

You sigh, ready to be completely done with the evening. You move toward your father, ready to meander around where he sits near the dais, hoping that any lingering suitors would see him situated nearby and turn the other direction.

Once you've raised your head and made your way toward your father, Clive comes into view. He's moving toward you at a fast pace, and before you can stop yourself, your feet turn to guide you in his direction instead. Momentarily forgetting your place, you call out his name, though it's difficult to hear over the chatter of the ballroom.

At the same time, two overlapping voices call out to you. One is Clive's; the sound of his voice is more familiar to you, but there's another that cuts through the air.

A gruff "princess" is all you're afforded in terms of a greeting.

Both you and Clive come to a halt and turn in the direction of the unknown voice.

The man has a familiar face, though you can't exactly place from where you know him. He's around your father's age, with wrinkles lining his eyes and forehead as well as dashes of grey in his facial hair, so you conclude that your father must be how you've made his acquaintance before.

The man is decently handsome, more so than the other creeps you've had the displeasure of dancing with. He has stark eyes, almost crystalline in nature, which are a sharp contrast to his raven-colored hair.

These traits prove to be startlingly similar to those of your current lover, but you decide it's best to dissect that later.

Clive is the one who breaks the silence. "My sincerest apologies, Your Majesty."

Your majesty?

You offer the man a curtsey in apology while Clive bows, but the stranger pays you no mind, choosing to focus on the knight instead. 

"Is something the matter?" Though it's merely a question, his voice carries a wealth of command behind it.

"Nothing that can't wait," Clive begins, his eyes flitting between you and the unknown—at least unknown to you. "Please pardon my intrusion." He bows to the both of you before stalking off toward your father.

You suppose you'll be informed later if it's truly so important.

The silence fills between you and the man again before he asks, "May I have this dance?" His mouth quirks up in a smirk.

“It's only a country dance; nothing too intimate,” you think to yourself.

If you were being honest, the last thing you wanted to do was begrudgingly endure a dance with this gentleman after having more than your fair share of imbeciles indulge themselves in your assets, but propriety comes first. So instead of telling this man to kindly fuck off, you put on your best princessly smile and place your hand in his.

"Of course," you reply, and he leads you toward the floor.

You stand next to each other in between other couples before the band begins to pick up once again. The melody starts slow enough, so you take this time to ask the man exactly who he is, keeping your tone light and polite.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty; it seems that I remember the face but not the name.”

He must've made his entrance later on in the evening after the formal introductions, because you certainly would've remembered him during the greetings.

He offers a light chuckle before muttering, "Barnabas, King of Waloed."

King of Waloed. The very same king who's planning to go toe to toe with one of your closest confidants. He's aged quite a bit in the fifteen-odd years it's been since you've seen him last; it's no wonder you didn't recognize him. 

Your body language gives you away despite your best efforts, and his laugh pierces through you. "It seems my reputation proceeds me."

The disdain is thinly veiled in your voice. "Don't you have a battle to prepare for?" you grit, and he laughs again as if the prospect were beneath him.

"I'm not worried," is all he offers in response. His presence must've been what Clive was trying to warn you about.

You take a deep breath, seeing it best not to stir anything up in the public eye.

You get a better look at him when the succession of people in the line with you turns around. He certainly doesn't dress like a king—definitely not one like your father. There are no bells and whistles to his outfit, no ornate capes lined with exotic furs, or gilded crowns.

If anything, it seemed like he'd dressed down for this event, and you can't tell what pisses you off more: his pompous attitude toward heading into battle that may surely send Dion to an all too early grave or his nonchalance in showing up to a royal ball in only a blue tunic and black leathers. It felt like a jab. Though his pompousness in battle may be deserved, this blatant display of disrespect was not.

He gave the impression of a venomous snake, intriguing to look at but ultimately best viewed from a faraway distance.

It takes everything in you not to grind your teeth together and overemphasize the stiffness in your movements.

As if sensing your irritation with him, Barnabas probes, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

No, you're quite simply NOT!

"I've gotten to the age where these sorts of gatherings lose their luster."

It wasn't exactly the truth, but it wasn't a lie either. As you got older and balls became more about finding matches, you started to dread them. You were hoping that it being your brother's birthday would be enough to spare you from marriage prospects, but alas, you were clearly wrong.

"A shame," he mutters, his words lacking enthusiasm.

The group moves along to the beat of the tune when Clive comes into your view, talking to your father.

"Who's that brooding fellow you're staring at?" Barnabas asks, trying to cut off whatever is taking your attention away from him.

The two of you move in succession toward the back of the group when it registers just how much you've been gawking at Clive in Barnabas' presence.

"Him? He's my first shield," you answer nonchalantly, letting no indication of fondness slip into your voice.

Barnabas snickers, "I had no idea noble ladies were so heavily invested in the lives of their shields."

"I know naught of what you mean," you scoff, acting like the princess you are.

His voice rises in volume as he declares, "Why don't you let a real man take care of you?"

Heat floods your body at his words, and you do little to hide your disgust.

"Excuse me?"

"He's nothing but filth," he continues to say, and the rage inside you reaches a boiling point.

"You speak of him as if he's nothing but a lowly street rat."

"He might as well be, compared to us. You could have an entire kingdom of knights protecting you as well as one of the most powerful men in the realm, instead of just one lowly feeble knight."

"Are you always so incorrigible toward those who are beneath you? It's a miracle that your kingdom still stands."

He laughs out loud, beside himself. You were sure he'd have your head. Instead, his volume just gets louder, so those dancing alongside you can hear.

"I've heard rumors that your precious first shield is actually a royal bastard, but from whom he's a descendant, I've no idea. A man of his standing is simply not fit to be in the position of protecting a princess. I'm just looking out for you."

If you were feeling rage before, now you're furious. As much as the people in your dance group tried to be respectful, heads couldn't help but turn at Barnabas' accusations.

Whether Clive being a bastard was true or not didn't matter; you refused for someone who valiantly defended your life to be made a mockery of over such trivial matters in your eyes.

"I was the one who held the sword that knighted Clive!" You start off loud, similar to him, but your voice gets lower as you draw near.

"My father gave him a title under his tutelage. Clive's been protecting me since I was the tender age of twelve years old and is the only man I'd trust with my life outside of my father and brother."

There's a pause before you continue.

"If you wish to win my favor, it'd be wise to watch what you say in regards to him," you grit.

You're not sure when the rest of the group stopped dancing alongside you, but by the time you realize it, all their eyes are on you. Though the people outside of the circle couldn't hear your conversation, the crowd caused those on the fray of the ballroom to turn their attention toward you.

Barnabas only snirks, scanning your face plainly when you turn back to face him. Your glare is prominent as he escorts you back off the dance floor once  the music dies down.

He speaks in a low voice, right in your ear, "You're a feisty one, but don't worry, I enjoy a challenge." He smiles menacingly before releasing you.

All the wandering heads seem to return to their original activities upon the group's dispersal. You don't want to cause any more disturbance, something you're sure you'll get a lecture for later on, so you give a curtsey to Barnabas, lowering your head.

"I shall bid you adieu, Your Majesty." The words are choked out, and not a moment later you're turning on your heels and making your exit out of the ballroom.

Which is how you ended up in an old store room, with nothing but your various frustrations and the ebbs n flows of silence to keep you company.

You're not sure how long you've been sitting there, but by the time you hear the door open, you're convinced that it was a servant sent to escort you back to the ballroom, but instead, it's Clive.

There's no hesitation in his movements as he steps toward you, catching your face in his gloved hands as he reads your expression.

"Are you alright?" He asks. Even if there's no threat of physical danger, that doesn't mean emotional scars weren't left after your interaction with the king.

"I tried to warn you...I tried to-"

You cut him off, "I'm okay, Clive. A little embarrassed, but it's nothing I couldn't handle." You smiled softly at him, which he returned in full.

"What were you two talking about?"

Warmth flows throughout your body once more, and you don't want to admit that the cause of the outburst you had was because of him, so you act nonchalant.

"Nothing of importance."

He raises his eyebrows like he doesn't believe what you're saying at all, but he doesn't press you on it, not now at least, and you won't give him the chance to when you ask, "Jealous?"

He smirks, shaking his head back and forth slightly. "Do you enjoy tormenting me, my lady?"

"I beg your pardon."

"Do you enjoy watching my torment? Does it give you pleasure?"

"I'm afraid I know naught of what you mean. Have you perhaps forgotten your place, knight?" You put extra emphasis on the word as you toss a smirk his way.

He backs up from where you're sitting on the barrel. "All those men, dancing with you, ogling you. All the while, I'm forced to stand by and watch them all make a pass at you."

You offer a faux pout. "Aw, come on. They're not all bad."

"Enough of them are."

"Are you truly so jealous of those who're above your peerage?" You can't help but snirk in amusement. This was the first time you'd seen him act like this.

"Yes, no!" He takes a deep breath to collect his thoughts: "The Archduke and that bastard king."

Your eyebrows rise at his declaration. "You hate them so much that you've forgone proper titles?"

He rolls his eyes at your statement, and you're unable to hold back your giggles. You hop off the barrel and take his face into your hands.

"There is absolutely no affection for that king in my heart, I assure you. As for the Archduke, though he is roguishly charming, I happen to prefer meaner mugs to delicate pretty features like his," you move to press a kiss to his cheek.

His head hangs low in shame. "I cannot deny that jealousy and resentment burn in my heart at the thought of you with another."

"Believe me," you say, stroking his cheek, "I'd much rather spend my time with you than with stiff men who smell of port. I've been looking for an escape practically all evening.“

"They don’t deserve you at all, my lady. Those men don’t deserve to know the softness of your skin,” he lowers his mouth to place delicate kisses on your neck, then moves toward the exposed flesh of your bosom above your gown.

"Clive," you gasp, tangling your fingers in his thick locks.

“They don't deserve to know the sweetness in your voice when you cry out in pleasure," he whispers, pulling away from your skin to trace his thumb along the frame of your face.

“I’ve missed you," he states.

“I’ve missed you too.”

He pulls you into him for a kiss, one full of hunger and desperation, eager to taste each other once more. The kiss is sticky; the clear gloss painted on your lips transfers onto his. He’s licking into your mouth as your lips brush against each other, tongues wrestling each other for dominance.

You're moved backward until you're pressed against the storeroom wall. Clive reaches down, grazing your bum with his palms over the fabric of your skirts before lifting your legs in the air. The back wall holds you steady as he wraps your legs around his waist.

Desperate to get close to him once more, not even wanting to separate for a second, you pull him back into you and kiss him fervently, not wanting to be parted from each other. He angles his hips toward you, teasingly grinding himself into your heat, causing you to whine into the kiss.

“Looks like you did miss me, hm?” He separates from your lips, moving to kiss down your neck once more.

“Let me make it up to you for being so neglectful of your needs.” He continues kissing down your neck, moving over to your décolleté, and then finally down the swell of your breasts.

“Founder, how I wish I could mark these tits,” he murmurs, dropping your legs back down onto the floor so that he can skim your torso and squeeze at your chest through the fabric of your gown.

“You have an intense infatuation with my breasts, don't you?” You giggle, laughing at his awestruck countenance while he continues to knead the fat in his hands.

“You've no idea." He smirks at you, then suddenly kneels before you.

“What are you doing?” You pet his hair softly as he looks up at you.

“I’m just being a good knight, my lady. On my knees for you, like I should be.”

"Oh, really now?"

"Mhm," he mumbles, taking your gloved hand in his. “I truly did miss you, and I plan on showing you just how much.” He reaches towards the hem of your gown, bunching it up over your navel.

"If you'd be so kind as to help hold up your skirts, my lady."

"I suppose I should be so kind." You lift the hem of your dress over your hips as Clive places your leg over his shoulder.

“Now this is how I shall swear fealty to you,” he leans towards your bare mound, planting a few kisses upon your mons before blowing cool air onto your cunt.

“I’ve missed your taste. I dreamt about it for so many nights." His thumbs trace slow circles into the skin near your pelvis as he continues teasing. He trails his tongue where your thigh meets the stark white stocking covering the majority of your leg.

"Fuck." He leans his face into your pussy once more, inhaling the rich scent before finally dipping his tongue into your wetness. He groans into your cunt.

Holding up the skirts of your gown the best you can in one hand, you snake the other into his shaggy locks, taking hold of his roots. Your chest heaves in anticipation.

“Please, please, Clive, don’t tease me," you whine, "it’s been too long.”

“Aw, did my sweet princess miss me?” He goads, sticking his tongue in your entrance and greedily sucking up your arousal on his wet muscle.

“Did her princess pussy miss how good I made her feel?” He kisses up the seam of your cunt until he reaches your clit.

"Did she miss how I made love to her with my mouth?” He spits on your pussy, the glob of saliva sticking to the hairs that cover your mound, some of it dripping to the ground.

He's quick to remove his gloves, tossing them aside before he takes his thumbs and spreads your folds apart, watching as your quivering hole twitches in anticipation.

“She must have missed me, with how much she’s leaking just for me."

All you're able to do is bite your lip and nod, feeling embarrassed as his words generate heat in both your cheeks and core.

He plugs your warm hole with his tongue, not wanting a single morsel of your essence to be wasted.

“It’s alright, princess; I’m right here.” He speaks directly into your cunt, looking at you with a deeply enamored gaze.

"I’ve missed her too, you know," he says, sliding his tongue all around your sopping pussy.

“I’ve missed her wetness, her sweetness, and her warmth. I missed how she clenched around me as I gave her pleasure," he groans.

Making his way to your clit, he gives it sweet kisses and drags the length of his tongue along the entirety of the bundle of nerves before pulling it into his mouth. His teeth graze the nub, causing your hips to jump forward, pressing more of yourself into his face.

Your fingers curl into his shaggy locks, struggling to keep your dress in your hold as you lose yourself in the feeling of pleasure, his pretty face proving to be useful for more than just gazing upon.

His teeth nip at your inner thigh, “getting greedy now, aren’t we princess?” He traces the divots of your thighs with his fingers, enjoying the feeling of your skin.

You don’t say anything, choosing to instead respond with an angry huff and pull his face back into your cunt by his hair.

“Point taken,” he smirks against you before pulling your clit back into his mouth again.

He moves his hand from your thigh and down to your pussy, sliding his middle finger back and forth between your folds, coating it in your slick. He slips to your entrance, circling the quivering hole and waiting, drawing out a whine from you.

“Please,” you exhale, your head rolling back against the wall, desperate to have him deep inside you. Though you’d much prefer squeezing down on his cock, that’d have to wait for another day.

He chuckles, the vibration from his voice moving through you, causing you to keel over slightly. Clive breeches your warm hole, slowly, letting you enjoy the feeling of his thick finger stretching you out.

“Fuck yes,” you whimper.

“That’s it, princess; you’re so wound up. Just take what you need," he coos, murmuring against you, his breath hot on your skin.

He curls his finger into you, the pad of his digit hitting the spongey spot along your walls.

“Looking for another audience? Was the poor maid not enough the first time?” He’s smirking against you now as he begins to pump his finger in and out of your cunt.

“What if your father were to catch you with me, hm? How do you think he’d react to his little girl stuffing her cunt in the face of someone he deigned worthy enough to protect her?"

Your breath is ragged, unable to form words due to the sound of his voice, deep and gravelly as he spews more filth at you.

“Keep moaning like that, and we’ll soon know the answer yet.”

He moves to your clit once more, slurping and sucking at your swollen pussy, desperate to push you over the edge. He fucks his finger into you at a rapid pace now, and his tongue is quick to catch whatever dribbles out onto his fingers, dining on your essence like it’s the finest ambrosia known to man, and to him, it might as well be.

Your head is lulled back against the wall as heat creeps onto your face and into your core. You don’t dare look down at Clive, who's nestling his face further in the hair that covers your cunt, knowing that you’ll surely come undone at the sight.

After the night you’ve had, you more than deserve this a thousand times over, and if it were up to him, he would happily oblige in all your desires.

The tips of your fingers cinch into his scalp, tugging him impossibly closer to your core, your orgasm building rapidly.

Clive pulls no punches, suctioning his lips around your clit and sucking it like a piece of hard candy. His index finger has joined the middle digit, fucking in and out of your cunt.

With practiced strokes, he contorts his fingers until your climax is upon you. Your lips part with a silent scream as your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

Your thighs shake as they try to close around his head, and his steady palms hold them apart as he removes his fingers from your pussy. Every drop of arousal that leaks from your womanhood is lapped up by his tongue til your hands are pushing his face away.

Clive gets the hint, removing your thigh from his shoulder and setting it back down on the floor. You attempt to move away from the wall, but he holds you in position until the jitter in your leg ceases.

He wipes the remnants of your spend from his face onto your inner thighs, and the roughness of his facial hair sends a shiver up your spine.

Once you've settled, he moves to help with fixing the skirts of your gown.

"Do you like it?" You smile brightly. "I wore it with you in mind."

You twirl slowly, your dress billowing slightly, wanting to show off all the detailing. His face warms at the gesture, and he presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

"I think lavender may be my new favorite color."

You allow yourself a moment to indulge in the blissful feeling before Clive speaks up once more.

"We should get moving. The break for supper will be happening soon, and we don't want any whispers of our whereabouts if we're not in attendance."

He moves to make a break for the storeroom door when you grab his forearm.

"Surely you're not going to go out there with your... predisposition," you flit your eyes down to the front of his trousers, where a prominent erection has made itself known.

"I'll take care of it myself, later."

"Let me help you..." There wasn't much time for you to return the favor with your mouth, and any other activities would leave you disheveled in a way that everyone would know of what happened between the two of you, but you could provide relief with your hand.

Despite the time restraint, you wanted to tease Clive a little, putting the tips of your silk gloves into your mouth and pulling them off of each hand slowly with your teeth before setting them aside nearby, so as to not be sullied with bodily fluids.

You wanted to get a good look at what you'd be working with, so you sink to your knees and pull his trousers down to his thighs. You give him a wide-eyed expression as the appendage bobs free, hitting his stomach gently.

His cock looked a lot different than those pictured in the medical texts that you've snuck from the royal library. He had extra skin and hair and garnered a much bigger girth as well.  

As tempted as you are to swallow the whole of him into your mouth, you settle for a simple kiss right on the tip, and his cock twitches back at you cutely in appreciation.

You rise to your feet once more with his aid and grasp him in your hand. His fingers are quick to cover your own, the size of them dwarfing yours.

"Are you positive that you want to go through with this? I truly don't mind taking care of myself," he asks.

"And not return the favor?" You chuckle. "I promise, I am doing this out of my own desire." You move to the column of his throat, placing soft and delicate kisses on the skin before moving toward the junction of his jaw.

"Now just relax," you coo, running your fingers delicately up and down his shaft.

He's so pent-up that it won't take long for him to climax, but you do your best to be as teasing as possible. His head lulls back as muffled sounds are delivered from his throat, and you can't help but admire how pretty he looks like this.

Not only does he have an impressive amount of girth, but his length is nothing to scoff at either, with a protruding vein running along the underside of him. The sheer size of him fills up your entire palm as you continue to pump slowly, the softness of your skin akin to silk upon his cock.

"So tell me, Clive, how many nights have you been fucking your fist to the thought of me?" You whisper in his ear, and his eyes shoot wide open as he takes in a gulp of air.

His hips buck lightly against you in response, giving you all the permission you need to continue your questioning.

"Come on, tell me. It can't be that bad." Your kisses continue on his neck as his hips continue to rock.

He takes in another gulp of air before answering.

"E-every night.”

"Every night? How cute," you tease, speeding up your movements on his cock. He bites his lip in an attempt to hide his noises while the rhythm of his hips meets your hand every time.

"I touch myself thinking of you too. Except my fingers are nowhere near as filling as yours," you chuckle to yourself as he groans out.

"Founder, above."

His cock is fully slick now, and at any moment, he looks like he's ready to burst, taking to wrapping his fist around yours and creating a vice-like grip with your fingers. All his movements are hurried and rushed as he chases his release.

For the final blow, you mutter to him, "Fuck my fist like you would fuck my pussy."

Clive full body shudders, tightening his grip once more before thrusting wildly. It's only a few short moments later that he's removing your hand from himself and laying his seed on the floor below, groaning your name in the process.

Afterward, the two of you take a few moments to collect yourselves and tidy your appearance. Old rags were used to wipe off the remnants of Clive from the floor, and you were just about to make your exit when the melody from one of your favorite songs played through the door.

"Clive, may I have this dance?" You extend your hand toward him, giggling to yourself.

From looking at your dance card earlier, this song was the second-to-last song to be played before the break for supper.

"And don't give me the excuse of not having enough time. We'll make it back to the ballroom before everyone's filed out for the evening."

"Even if that is true, my lady, I assure you that I know nothing of ballroom dancing."

"Did I ask you if you knew how?"

There's a momentary pause, one that he fills with a shake of his head. You nod in return.

"No, I did not. I simply asked you to dance with me. I'd still wish to so even if you had two left feet."

There's another pause as you extend your hand toward him again.

"I even saved you a spot on my dance card," you smile, shaking the parchment in front of his face, where the line for this dance is indeed left blank.

In his indecisiveness, you take his hand in your own and press yourselves close together.

"It's just you and me," you whisper, resting your head against his frame, the sound of the music filling the silence. His opposite hand moves to the small of your back, and the two of you end the evening in each other's arms, swaying to the sound of muffled music. 

[softquietsteadylove]

Hiii i just noticed thena's ear piercing can you do a fic where sprite visit them in Australia and then Gilgamesh leave for a market and sprite pierce her ear and Gilgamesh totally freak out🤣 i think it would be fun 🤣

"What did you do?!"

"Oh come on, Gil," Sprite whined.

"Sprite!" he growled right back at her. It would sound intimidating if he didn't sound so distressed. "I was gone for one hour! And now Thena's bleeding!"

"Will you stop?" Sprite rolled her eyes, leaning against the sink. She'd been pushed - tossed - there after Gil rushed in, having smelled Thena's blood from a good distance away. He'd rushed in to cradle his beloved in his arms, no matter how unscathed the Warrior Eternal was. "It's a piercing--she already has them!"

"Yeah, she does! She didn't need more!" Gil glared at his tiny sister, cradling Thena's head against his chest. He was overreacting, and they all knew it, him included. But he knew the kind of trouble these two in particular could get up to if left unsupervised. "What made you think of this?!"

Sprite shrugged, looking around the room and up at the ceiling. "We were bored."

"We?"

"Yes," the Illusionist huffed. "Thena's so mopey when you're gone. And I told her I wanted to get my ears pierced-"

"And that somehow became this?" Gil gestured, pointing out the fresh holes in Thena's ears, as well as the blood there. "They shouldn't be bleeding this much."

"Well, I might not have aimed the best the first time."

Gil closed his eyes and buried his nose in Thena's hair. All the stars in the sky, give him strength not to throw Sprite into the stratosphere.

"Gil, I'm fine."

He sighed, at last loosening his grip on Thena. "Why did you let her do this?"

Thena just shrugged, though, very much like Sprite, and also very unbothered by her bleeding. "You were gone."

That wasn't the explanation she thought it was.

"I'm sorry, Gil," Sprite sighed loudly, sounding very put out by having to apologise to her brother at all. She dragged the toe of her boot along the floor. "I thought it would be cool to see if Thena could make a needle to use for piercing but...I was too scared to test it first."

Gil gave Sprite a look; "you're an Eternal, Sprite."

"I told her she could practise on me."

Gil inhaled, gathering his mental strength again. Sprite shrank in on herself, genuinely feeling bad for winding him up so badly.

Thena reached up to the back of Gil's head, pulling it down so he could nestle against her more closely.

"I can't heal you, Thena--not out here. Not like...I-"

Sprite caught Thena leaning in to kiss his cheek and averted her eyes. She didn't want to see shit like this. This was exactly what prompted her escape/visit to Australia in the first place.

"I'm sorry we scared you," Thena all but whispered, her lips close to his skin as she spoke.

Gil pulled back, smiling as much as he could to let her know that her apology was accepted. He sighed, "okay, let me see."

Sprite turned back, hearing Thena gasp. She hadn't even blinked when she'd pushed her Cosmic Energy forged needle through--did it hurt now?

Gil latched onto the earlobe, running his tongue along the new spot, both soothing the swelling there as well as inflaming the tip of the ear red.

Sprite made a gagging noise.

Gil let go but didn't stray far, glaring at Sprite from once again nestling into Thena's mane of blonde. "You deserve it for putting both of us through this."

"Okay, I get it, enough!" Sprite screeched, stomping outside as Gil tilted Thena's head down so he could repeat his disgusting display of affection to her other ear.

Thena purred out a laugh as his tongue ran over the spots rapidly healing, even on their own. "You're tormenting her."

"Shush, I'm healing you," he chuckled, although he'd moved from the earlobe to kiss up the ridge of the ear. "She deserves a little time to cool off anyway."

Thena hummed as he pulled her upright again, still holding her in his arms. She sighed. "She's here to escape-"

"I know," Gil sighed. "I'm glad she feels like she can come to us."

Thena smiled. "Me too."

"But that does not mean she can put holes in my wife's ears while I'm running errands."

[the-passenger-if]

hi Pime! Is it too early to ask questions about your new project yet? ROs and characters and setting and stuff? Sorry if this sounds pushy, that’s not intended!

Not at all! I enjoy talking about my IFs <3

Since I'm working on two projects I'll give you a quick rundown of both of them. First,

❆❆❆Leesangre❆❆❆

This game is set in the southernmost tip of South America in a distant future after a cataclysm wipes out most of humanity and the Earth turns into a big snow globe.

The main character travels in a caravan along with their family/clan which are also the only people they have ever interacted with, 1. because there aren't a lot of human beings around, just small settlements, and 2. because their family doesn't want other people to know about the main character. The lack of contact with other human beings and their constant dependency on their family has made the main character very sheltered.

The game starts after the death of the matriarch of the clan just as the main character's big brother becomes the new leader and everyone is feeling very uncertain about the future. The family consists of the main character's father (a huge mother-hen to everyone but mostly to MC and MC's niblings); the main character's brother (who has a strained relationship with MC); the mechanic of the caravan (the best mechanic in the world, or at least that's what they proclaim); the "shaman" of the caravan (a woman the caravan adopted when she was nine, she's in her late twenties at the start of the game); the main character's nephews, two teens who are also the clan's hunters, and the preteen nibling who has yet to find what role in the clan they will fulfill (these three were given to the clan when they were six, five, and one year old and they are presumably children of another big brother MC has never met); the main character's five-year-old niece and four-year-old nibling (they are the children of MC's brother and the mechanic). The clan also adopts a guy they find passed out in the snow at the start of the game (something neither the clan nor this guy really wanted but is forced onto all of them after he finds out about the main character).

The romantic options are:

Heco (they/them) — the clan's mechanic. They are thirty years old and they prefer to be maintaining the caravan than interacting with others but they don't mind people sitting in a corner and watching them work if they aren't too distracting and promise not to touch their tools. They're also the parent of MC's youngest's niblings, but they aren't in a relationship with MC's brother and never have been. It's a bit complicated.

Mo (she/her) — the curandera or shaman of the clan. If Heco is the hands of the caravan, Mo is its soul. It's impossible not to know where she is at any given time because she's a talking machine and also the type who loves to make people laugh. Of course, her jokes are hit or miss now that everyone is mourning the clan's matriarch but Mo's sense of humor can be like a runaway freight train if she isn't paying attention. (Mo is also my attempt at the friends-to-lovers trope)

Gil (he/his) — the guy the clan saves from certain death. He's in his early twenties and speaks a language that's more common in the north of the continent, so what was he doing completely alone so down south? Even though not much is known about him, he is friendly and quick to adapt to his new life in the caravan.

This game is a trilogy and I will add a few more ROs in the next books.

Project 2 is called,

˚.༄˚.༄A Song of Sirens and Soulmates (ASOSAS)˚.༄˚.༄

ASOSAS is set in modern times (2024∼) in an alternate timeline where Sirens appeared in the fifties changing the world forever. The game starts in New York but the main character and their buddy are thrown into the Siren realm around the first or second chapter so don't expect a lot NY lore.

In this alternate timeline Sirens are considered THE beauty standard with tall and toned bodies if they are male and petite and graceful figures if they are female. Also pointy ears, cavernous black eyes, and wide mouths full of sharp teeth.

Although they prefer to live in their own dimension it isn't rare to see Sirens as movie stars, runway models, and musicians. Most humans won't ever interact with this larger-than-life creatures but a few lucky ones will get claimed by the Song of the Siren, a red dot that shows up just above a person's belly button and marks them as a Siren's soulmate. Sure, leaving the human realm means never coming back but most people will take the opportunity if it means marrying and forming a family with these impossibly beautiful (and rich) beings.

Unfortunately, the main character of this game isn't interested in any of that and has been on the run since they were twenty and they were claimed. Seven years later, their betrothed finds them in a prison cell after they and their road buddy are detained at a punk show. MC is able to convince the Siren to bring said road buddy along and off they go into the Siren realm. Now MC and their ally must come up with a plan to escape before MC's wedding day befalls them.

The romantic options are:

Spook (ze/hir) — MC's ally in this mess. They met a month before the start of the game and decided to travel together for the time being. Spook is a thirty-three year old crust punk that can't stand Sirens and the power they wield over humans. Ze's also half-human and half-Siren, something ze carefully hides behind masks and dark shades. (Non-binary RO)

Verna/Vernon "Vern" Harley (she/her or he/his) — Twenty-four year old Vern is on the same boat as MC; they are a Siren's soulmate who has just arrived to this realm. Unlike MC, however, they've completely bought into the Siren fantasy and can't wait to marry and form a big family with their betrothed. Vern might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but they are a sweetheart and painfully candid. They are a breath of fresh air among the sneers of the Sirens. (Gender choosable RO)

Camille Abadi (she/her or he/his) — In their mid to late thirties, Camille has been married to their Siren for a longer time than they've been single. They speak with the tiniest trace of a french accent, which is hard to notice when they so seldom speak. They are very polite and attentive but a hard person to get to know on a deeper level. (Gender choosable RO)

[echo-bleu]

End of the Year Fic Recs

thank you @thescrapwitch and @sallysavestheday for tagging me!

This is a wonderful game, I love reccing fics and I should do it more. I'll keep it all Silmarillion for the recs, since that's the bulk of what I've read this year. I haven't had the spoon to leave proper comments on some of these, so hopefully reccing them can count too?

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

- The Harrowing by @chthonion. I am forever in awe of this whole series and of Chthonion's writing. Somehow every single sentence is relatable and at least half of them are a punch in the gut, but in a healing way. A delightful Frodo, Celebrimbor and Finrod working through their trauma and Annatar, remade as an elf, learning how to be a good person (and a person at all, really).

- we will make this place our home by @leucisticpuffin. Truly delightful 70s AU as narrated by 8 year old Elrond, who just makes my heart melt in every chapter. Maedhros and Maglor as traumatized foster parents doing their best, the twins with their antics and their fears and joys, it's such a breath of fresh air and I can't get enough of it.

- Hanged Man by @tethysresort. Second age fic about the fall of Eregion and the start of Imladris with so much interesting worldbuilding and plot, and characterization of Elrond and Glorfindel especially that I really loved.

- Everlasting Song by @amethysttribble. This is perhaps a little more niche, a crossover with A Song of Ice and Fire, but I'm not an ASOIAF fan at all and I have like two whole memories of the books and I'm still finding absolutely delightful. Top-notch characterization of the Fëanorians, and it really keeps you on your toes.

- Aurë entuluva by @theheirofashandfire. Just very recently caught up with it and I love it to bits! The time loop is all kinds of angsty and breathtaking, and I really love the world that is being constructed afterwards. Wonderful Russingon, and I'm also, especially, in love with her Curufin and Celegorm.

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

- Wayward Son by @thescrapwitch. Angst exactly like I like it. Fëanor and Maglor, and it will make you cry. @thescrapwitch writes Maglor just wonderfully and I really love this Fëanor that will do absolutely anything for his son.

- On the difference between hostages and sons by leodesic (and the rest of the series as well). Absolutely delightful Elrond and Elros, as seen by Gil-galad when they first come to his court. I love Elrond defying expectation, and this was such a wonderful read.

- the world to come by arriviste. Arda Remade, told through the shadows and the gaps of what's missing. It's eerie, and I love a well-written eerie fic that leaves you feeling a little off-balance. Wonderful reflection on the price of perfection.

- Sea-Bells and Sunlight by @actual-bill-potts. Finrod, Lúthien and Beren in Mandos. This broke my heart in the best way.

- in the breaking by @thelordofgifs. Short but terribly impactful study of Maedhros and Maglor before the end, one of the best I've read of them.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).

- A Farewell to Arms by MorwenSteelsheen (LOTR, Farawyn). Such a wonderful characterization and development of Faramir and Éowyn's relationship in a slight canon divergence where Éowyn arrives in Gondor two years before the end of the war of the Ring.

- The Splintered Light by @thearrogantemu. The whole series. These Gifts That You Have Given Me (Silvergifting) is well-known in the fandom, I think, and I absolutely loved it, but the other fics set in the Fourth Age were among the first I read in this fandom that I just fell straight in love with.

- The Host of the West by @mynameisjessejk. Various fics of the Otter Mayhem and Otterless Mayhem series could have gone into every category here because I love them all, but this is the one I chose because I reread it yesterday for the fourth (fifth?) time and it still had me bawling my eyes out. Probably my favourite Finrod, and definitely an inspiration for my own writing. The whole series is about healing and redemption and elf therapy and all of it is delightful.

- The Peril (and Potential) of Unleashing Lightning in a Fishbowl by @dawnfelagund. This one took everything I thought I knew about Caranthir, threw it out the window and gave me a truly brilliant characterization I didn't know I needed in my life. The worldbuilding is also delightful, and so is Amarië.

- Aranya by SpaceWall. I read this recently and it's really staying with me. Some people in my asks have expressed interest in fics that take the Valar to account for their mistakes, and this is a wonderful one. With a bonus revolution. I really love the non-linear storytelling as well, a hard-to-use tool that is done wonderfully here. Plus the title is inspired.

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

- your veins are empty of dust. Character study of Nerdanel as feels her family die across the sea, and she sculpts. This is also the fic for which I made the art I'm probably the proudest of to date.

- your smile tells me I'm safe. Modern AU with aro Maedhros and a Russingon QPR.

- silver. Míriel, Celegorm and Celebrimbor, and living with chronic illness.

- the light that you keep burning there. Part of a much larger AU where the second and third kinslayings don't happen, but this one is about Maedhros, Maglor and Fingon in the later years, as the world crumbles, trying to remember what (who) they're fighting for.

- if I am to braid my mystic crown. The Silmarillion retold through worldbuilding headcanons about braids.

Tagging @unforth @foodsies4me @wren-of-the-woods @camille-lachenille (I don't know who has already done it, so feel free to send me a link if you have!)

[duxwriter]

Pardon my mini theory time, I am very interested in others thoughts on this

I was re-reading Ava's demon (check it out if you haven't) and came across these

I never noticed this till now, but notice the makeup Wrathia is wearing in each panel shes in

Pink and blue, the colors of Nevy

None/if any, muted, close to natural

Purple, the color of Pedri

Now, idea here

In every panel, it related to her relationship at the time

The pink and blue (Nevy's horns and skin) are also paired with a blue colored fabric top(similar, Nevy wears a lot of blue and Pedri does purples/pinks in the first image, but also note, he has on red in his hair, which might be a hair tie (so possibly it means he has feelings for Wrathia at the same time))

There are also pink nails

The second one, she takes on the colors of the being beside her (possibly an ex lover or simply just a toy(?) Servant(?)

(also note in this, Pedri is not wearing pink, but only purple tones, maybe indicating he no longer had feelings towards Nevy)

In the final image, she has purple makeup and ribbon, maybe indicating some what if a wall(?) with her feelings towards Pedri (Pedri is also wearing red in this image, more items with red than the pink with Nevy)

This is paired with how different it is towards Nevy, who got nails, makeup, and clothes to match her, but Pedri only got a ribbon and makeup

I'd also like to note, that in the same chapter, we see Wrathia in purple clothes and painting her nails purple

Which might mean all feelings for Nevy are gone, and replaced with only Pedri (which one thinks is obvious because she married and had a kid with him, tho it's theorized she gave Nevy the egg to hide)

Also in these, Wrathia starts in pink and red

We see Nevy in red

But eventually the two revert to their original colors, red and blue separate (I say blue, because Gil is blue, everything in Nevy's surroundings is blue when with gil or her realm, she wears a lot of blue rather than pink)

Both colors together make purple

Conclusion? None really, I just wanted to point this out because it was interesting to see with colors and the possibility they relate to the characters relationships

(this also happens with normal couples(?) who take on traits of one another, including wearing a favorite color of one another)

Then again this might have just been color choices, but either way it was fun to find