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madschiavelique · 29 days ago

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A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 11 - The Empress

summary : Eris comes over to spend the holidays with you, and drags jayce and viktor in tarot readings. Some bad news linger in the air, but nez beginnings are blooming.

content warnings : lots of dialogue. like a lot. and an enourmous amount of tarot yapping, some angst, and some fluff to close it all

word count : 12,4k

author's note : i hate having like zero perception of my own writing ARGH i hope this is good. gosh this is so long. but hey first writing post of 2025 yey!!!

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world

masterlist : here ．．discord : here ．．playlist : here

Piltover under the snow had a profoundly different atmosphere to its usual gilt. The domes and roofs covered in thick snow gave the impression that all the clouds in the sky had fallen on the town, covering it in a smooth, white mantle. It seemed silent, as if frozen in time.

As you emerged from the dormitory building, wrapped in your scarf up to your nose, you were greeted by the incessant waltz of snowflakes falling from the sky. They tumbled like white feathers - like all the angels in the skies had removed their leaves like the trees, simply guided by the wind towards an unknown destination. But it didn't matter - they were flying, simply free.

Your boots crunched in the snow as you set off towards the bridge to find Eris. The day had come for you to pick her up, and as agreed you were going to meet her at the usual bridge linking the two cities.

The town was all decked out with garlands and lights criss-crossing from buildings to buildings, apparently firmly preventing any colour other than gold from running through its streets. The carcasses of trees stripped of their foliage were lit up again, the majority of passers-by had their gloved hands around a cup of hot chocolate, and children were running after each other with snowballs in their hands ready to fire at their friends.

Still, there were fewer people than usual, the majority staying at home in the comfort and warmth of a well-insulated fireplace. You didn't need to wonder what it was like in Zaun - you had spent enough winters there that you didn't miss it.

The lack of heat in the promenade level wasn't too bad, although it would have been useful to have good chimneys or radiators that didn't break every other day. Some of the holes in the roofs led to leaks, but despite a few power cuts, it was possible to live normally.

Surprisingly, the sump level was the least worst. The constant heat from the machines brought a little warmth back to the bowels of the city, and this time the most hard-pressed workers found themselves in a new level of comfort.

As for the entresol level, it was a terrible in-between. Too far away from the big energy machines, and receiving the freezing snows in certain crevices falling from the top, the entresol level was poorly housed, at least in your memories. Who knows - perhaps public heaters filled with flammable resources had been introduced to prevent anyone from being absent from the streets.

When you reached the bridge, it was almost deserted, apart from the unfortunate enforcers chosen on this day to ensure customs and passage between each town. With your hands shoved into your pockets, you waited for your friend to appear in the distance.

It was always preferable for you to be present and to set up a meeting point like this, just in case the enforcers wanted to cause problems for nothing when looking for papers and for you to confirm that she was with you.

Sky would no doubt have liked to come and meet your friend. You had already spoken to her about your soul sister, and she would have greatly appreciated seeing her. But Sky was already on the other side, spending her holidays with her family on the Promenade level. You hoped she wouldn't have any problems, no leaks, no power cuts.

At last you saw your friend's face, wearing a cap almost as black as her hair, as she made her way painfully towards the enforcers. Mechanically, she took out her papers, her fingertips peeking out of her mittens as she passed them to the officer before quickly stuffing them back into her pocket to keep out the cold. She exchanged an annoyed glance with you as the man made sure everything was in order, earning you a chuckle as she puffed out her cheeks before sighing heavily. He finally handed her her papers, and she gave him a polite but cold smile before moving towards you.

"It's like they take their time on purpose," she breathed, before taking you in her arms.

You hugged her back, despite the thickness of the coats that separated you with difficulty. "You're too pretty for the Piltover standards, they have to double-check if you're real."

With a tired laugh, she backed away from you, squeezing your shoulders and examining you for a moment. "Have you been doing something to your skin or is it just the perfect air of the city that does that?"

You brought your gloved hands to your cheeks, not really having changed your routine. "I'll have to look at what was in that champagne they served at the masquerade."

She raised her eyebrows, then frowned. "Masquerade?"

"Let's walk home," you said as you started to move forward, "I'll tell you on the way."

"You seem to be having a whole lot of fun without me around, young lady. I envy you," sighed Eris. "I don't get many highlights in my days."

"Am I not the highlight of your day?’"

"As long as we aren't in a warm place, you're not."

"Ouch!" you said falsely offended, bringing your hand to your chest. "This vexes me."

"I'm sure you'll overcome this affront." She pressed her shoulder against yours. "Tell me about what I missed. Since when do you go to masquerades?"

You sighed, a wisp of steam rising into the sky as you finally reached the end of the bridge. "After the exams, our dear Jayce Talis asked us to come with him to a masquerade because he was terrified of it."

"Us? Did Sky come with you?" Eris repeated, arching an eyebrow.

You shook your head, as if it was really ridiculous. "If only it had been Sky," you turned to her. "The Emperor himself has honoured us with his presence."

"Are things always this thorny with him?" She questioned.

You shrugged. "I don't know."

"You? Not knowing? That's a first," Eris chuckled.

"It's just... I don't know," you sighed, taking a turn with Eris. "There's change everywhere and I still have to get used to it - change in my relationships, in my mind." You let your shoulders drop. "Maybe I also need a change of scenery."

"Buy a plant," sighed Eris at the sight of the stairs you were about to climb.

"Won't be needed," you sneered. "Turns out we're going to Demacia once the holidays are over, apparently."

"Demacia?" Eris exclaimed, "I'll need to make you a list of things to bring me back."

"Do I need to take a second suitcase if I'm going to bring everything back?" you asked.

"You'll need to pack a second suitcase so I can sneak in and come with you."

"How should I explain this to security?"

She shrugged, pressing her lips forward in a pout. "They'll just pass me off as a national treasure."

You chuckled, Eris smiling back before resuming.

"But weren't your exams supposed to be after the holidays?"

"That's the thing, I've already taken them."

She looked at you deeply confused.

"I know," you confirmed by the look on her face, "had a near death experience. Overworked myself."

"Nobody's surprised so far," Eris confirmed.

"Underslept," you went on.

"As always."

"Under ate."

Eris turned to you. "This is actually starting to border on dangerous."

"So I ended up very ill, passed out and spent a feverish night during which..."

You thought back to that morning, remembering the sunlight streaming through Viktor's hair, his fingers resting on your forehead before returning to his temple, his insistence that you get some rest.

"Which?" asked Eris, awaiting the end of your sentence.

You swallowed, sniffling as your nose began to get damp from the cold. "During which Viktor stayed by my side to make sure I was okay."

She arched an eyebrow, a naughty little smile playing on her lips.

"And..." she said, her tone a little playful as you sensed what she was about to say, "are you sure the dislike is mutual?"

You sighed almost brutally. "Not you too."

"Who else theorises my way?"

"Who else but Selene?"

"Ah, the wisest woman alive," she exhaled. "Is he here during the holidays, Vik-tor?"

She deliberately lengthened the pronunciation of his name, making you roll your eyes. "Apparently, yes. Jayce and him are staying over in their apartment."

"Great - sounds like the perfect plan for us to meet them."

"You want to meet the number one cause that got me to almost shake hands with death?"

"He is also the number one cause that pulled you out of this situation which I suppose you got yourself into all on your own." She had a point, and you half-closed your mouth, but she just took the wind out of your sails. "Your clit has millions of nerve endings but it's still less sensitive than your ego."

Shocked by the stupidity of her sentence, you laughed nervously, her joining you in a fit of laughter.

"I'll know what to write in my presentation on Zaun's slang."

"I hope you'll give me proper credit."

"Of course I do. I just hope the teacher marking us doesn't put ‘verbal drip’ in the margin. I'd risk 15 years of psychotherapy just to be able to cherish the hope of recovering from that."

"The famous paper you're sharing with the charming Viktor."

"You call him charming when you haven't even seen him."

"What, isn't he charming?"

You thought back to the masquerade, his dark hair with strands falling lightly over his mask, his amber eyes highlighted with kohl piercing you as he sketched a smile that raised the mole on his cheek.

"I suppose by most standards he's not bad."

"Not bad. I suppose I'll see for myself."

"I will use your vocal cords as floss," you breathed once more as you continued on your way.

"Use one of Talis' hair instead, I'm sure it'll be cleaner than anything from Zaun."

"Leave Jayce out of this, poor guy has had enough of our constant bickering with Viktor for his entire life."

"You're already acting like an old couple," quipped Eris.

"I wish you the mumps," you grumbled, "but speaking of couples, Jayce is apparently dating none other than Mel Medarda."

She turned to you. "The counsellor?" She asked in confirmation.

"Yup, met her at the masquerade."

"How is she? Apart from breathtakingly gorgeous and perfect?" questioned Eris.

"I don't like saying bad things about people, but she's actually nice," you replied.

"Hmm," she hummed. "Did you know that if given access to it, butterflies will happily drink blood?"

You turned to her, the change in conversation seeming strange. "Really."

"Yes," she continued, "they won't bite or harm other creatures to get it though. They are solely taking advantage of whatever foods are available in their environment. So most of those up above aren't too far off. Their beauty and supposed simplicity isn't everything, especially in a world as gilded and polished as Piltover's." Her eyes went to the golden tower of the council. "Do you think she's a butterfly?"

You now understood her reasoning. Sometimes you didn't always understand what she was trying to get across, unpredictable as she was. "I don't think she's much of a butterfly, I see her more like a dove in a golden cage."

"I don't have the material to be one of these birds, but if I was a bird..." began Eris, and you felt a déjà vu of conversation emerge following the end of your masquerade evening.

"What, you wish you could fly?"

"I know who I'd shit on."

You huffed. "Got a target in mind?"

"Not for now, but I guess you got yours?" She kept teasing you, and you knew you'd never get to the bottom of it.

"Apparently not any more, we're currently on a truce."

"A truce," she nodded once, dramatically.

"What does it consist of?"

"Fewer problems, more help, more opportunities, and..." you thought for a moment about Viktor's coat still lying in your dressing room, "less cold."

"Less cold?" she repeated.

"Mhm," you hummed as you finally reached the dormitory area.

"I think I'm going to like this Viktor," she confirmed.

"What, are you going to fall for his charms?"

"I'll leave this task to you, dearest trouble."

Eris had put her things in the bedroom, occupying Sky's bed, which would be free until the last weekend of the holidays. She knew the flat. During the times you'd had it to yourself when you weren't sharing it with anyone, she'd come and sleep there whenever she had the chance.

You couldn't count the number of times you'd both laughed there, the stupid things you'd done, or the number of heart-to-heart chats you'd had at three in the morning.

Despite Eris's many complaints, you took her to see Emmeline, who took her in her arms and, like a distant relative who talks about having changed our nappies when you were babies, kept telling her how she had changed.

With a few sweets offered, you returned to the dormitories, enjoying them while chatting about everything and anything. Her eyes inevitably fell on your tarot cards.

"Did you draw one every day?" she asked, stuffing another marzipan sweet into her mouth.

You swallowed your own mouthful, sucking the excess sugar off your fingers. "Apart from the few days I was too busy to study to do so, yeah."

She grabbed another sweet. "Did you do your reading this morning?"

"I thought that with you here we could get a better and proper reading, to see what I learned?"

"Oh you're a master of the art now?"

"I wouldn't go that far."

She wiped her fingers in a final gesture. "Let's go into the hall by the fireplace. Not that I don't like the flat, but being by a nice fire in a big armchair is much nicer."

And so, taking with you your own card deck, you headed down the hall.

Most of the students had left to return to their families, leaving the building virtually deserted, to your delight. All the armchairs and sofas were free, and it was only natural that you should sit down on the two sofas facing each other by the fire.

Eris placed the box and the small booklet of your deck on the varnished wooden coffee table separating the both of you, keeping the cards in her bare fingers covered with a few tattoos along their length. They weren't her only tattoos, of course. She had a few on her arms, ink under the skin being almost unavoidable in Zaun. They were covered, though, by the long sleeves of the jumper you'd lent her when she arrived.

It felt good to abandon the academy uniform for a moment and dress without restraint. Oversized shirts, oversized hoodies and oversized pants were the watchwords for your holiday clothes, in contrast to the Academy vest that clung to your body all the time.

"A general reading?" she questioned, knocking on the back and front of the deck.

"I guess," you breathed as you leaned over, elbow on your knees, "I just hope I don't end up with another tower again."

"Wasn't it for the best though?"

You thought back over the last few months, the constant torment hadn't been pleasant at all, but the achievements you'd made were undoubtedly a real step forward.

"Yeah," you half admitted.

Eris huffed, knowing full well that you wouldn't fully concede this fact even if it were scientifically proven. In a perfect, expert gesture, she spread out the line of cards.

"Just three cards right?"

"Just three cards - for now at least."

Just like two months ago, you repeated your gestures, letting your hand float over the cards like a storm cloud looking for the highest point to strike with its thunderbolt. Once the three cards had been drawn, Eris folded the clean cards back into a perfectly straight deck.

"Let's see what we're working with."

She turned over the first card. Four of Swords. The card was covered in grey, a surprise considering the rest of her deck's twins always sported a variety of colours.

"Good start," commented Eris, before moving on to the second card.

Two of Wands, a man in a carmine cloak, was looking into the distance.

"Adds up," she confirmed before finally reaching the last card.

The Lovers.

Your eyes met Eris's, pressing her lips and eyes hard shut as she tried to stop herself from laughing.

"Whatever you're about to say, don't," you decided.

She had to take a deep breath to refocus and stop herself from giggling.

"I'm not the one who pulled the cards," she almost coughed as she grabbed the deck and looked at the shadow card. "Interesting."

"How interesting?"

She turned the deck towards you. "Interesting."

The Empress reigned under it.

You swallowed, thinking back to the Emperor card drawn for Viktor, your eyes drifting inevitably to the lovers card.

"Much more positive than our last draw, if I may say so."

You say nothing, simply sighing as you place one of your hands in the palm of the other. "Just start it."

She cleared her throat, putting the deck down again and letting the Empress reign over the top of the deck. She picked up the Four of Swords card.

"That's pretty much in line with what's been going on lately, and by that I mean relaxing."

"So I'm just... resting?"

"Not just resting, you're resting like a hero. Not everyone has their recumbent in a church. I take it the exams went well all things considered?"

"First place," you replied.

She pressed her lips into an inverted smile and shook her head. "So mediocre, I expected better than you."

You smiled at her sarcasm - you missed her teasing.

"In any case, you left a part of yourself there that was no longer useful, because to have a recumbent on your grave you have to be dead."

You thought back to the death card you'd drawn and Sky had read to you. The reaper had done his work so that with his sickle the weeds were cut down and new healthy plants grew there.

"In the stained glass window," she continued, "you can see two figures, one kneeling before the other. It's easy to see from this card that, through stability, it's peace that we're looking for - especially after experiencing pain - as opposed to the anguish of not being sure, of not even knowing if tomorrow there won't have been something that will have made us see everything differently."

The champagne hadn't betrayed you by making you agree to things you would otherwise have thought you'd never have said yes to.

"It was a situation of stagnation that you cut out," Eris pointed out, "values inoculated by parents or other authority figures that you had no use in following any longer, that you took on yourself without questioning them."

"So basically I was stupid?"

"Why are you saying this in the past tense?"

You giggled, "Shut up."

She smiled, continuing her explanation. "It was mostly a refusal to reconsider things; resentment or refusal to give a second chance. You stayed in that place that didn't suit you because you were already there, it was something you knew and there's nothing more reassuring than things you know - even if they hurt you." She reassured following your question. "It's a card that represents retirement, isolation, sleep and illness. An excellent moment of respite during which you can contemplate the past, learn from it and make peace with what you've been through."

‘’Right, enough about my past,” you sighed, realising that the cards were obviously well aware of what had happened. "What about my future?"

"You're skipping a step here," she said as she put the card back down, taking the Two of Wands, "because before your future, there's your present."

"It's just a transition between past and future - present doesn't exist, there are only 2 times."

"There are four times," Eris pointed out. "Past," her fingers pointed at the Four of Swords as if she had a pistol, "present," she pressed them against the Two of Wands, "future," her fingers reached for the title of the Lovers, and just as you thought she'd be pointing at the Empress, she pointed one hand at the it while the other aimed her fingers at you, "and forever. It's a time too often forgotten since it's the only time we live entirely, but it truly exists."

You sighed, nodding at her lesson as she picked up the Two of Wands card.

"After the four, whose monotonous stability has taken us out of repetitive circles, the two is an encounter, but not just any encounter."

"Am I going to meet someone again?" You huffed, the prospect not thrilling you any more than that.

"Not necessarily. As you probably know from the tarot's classification of colours, the wands represent desire, the swords rule the realm of the mind, the cups are the emotions, and since there's nothing left in us after those three, what's left is the material, which is governed by the pentacles. What can desire encounter? Nothing but the world, against which it will have to measure itself if it wants to achieve."

"So I'm going to conquer Demacia, am I?" You leaned back, looking at the card. "That's still in the future, not the present."

"That's because Meeting plus Desire equals evaluation. You're evaluating in the present what's going to happen."

You understood the intriguing twists and turns of the multi-card tarot reading more and more. It was completely different from the simple one-card readings you used to do for yourself.

"The first thing desire does as it develops is confront reality." She brought both hands towards her, all her fingers together as she pointed at her shoulders. "I have my desire, I realise there's the world, so I wonder how I'm going to combine the two. It's evaluation time."

It was when Eris was working on the cards that you realised just how professional and educational she was. She was patient in spite of your useless remarks and knotted the lines of the cards together to make a clear and precise explanation.

"Behind the battlements," she continued, pointing to the symbols, "the man dominates the landscape: planning requires height and perspective. The globe in his hand," she pointed to the drawings one by one, "reminds us that the world belongs to him if he manages to combine his desire with reality. The village facing the ocean gives the idea of openness; the strategy in place allows us to open up our horizons. The blooming basin that appears in the niche recalls the roses and lilies of the fool. Where the latter is in the thick of the action, the man on the Two of Wands is still observing. But in both cases, it's the same thing - which is it?"

You looked at the card, going over what Eris had explained to you. "Apply your will to the world."

She snapped her finger, pointing it at you. "Exactly. The whole point of these cards is that," she took the two cards in each of her hands to show them to you so that they faced each other, "where we've abandoned patterns that no longer interest us and that we followed blindly with the Four of Swords, the Two of Wands reminds us that now that a new world is open to us - it would be a good idea to evaluate it before you can forge your true will and apply it to the world around you."

She put the cards back down straight as she crossed her legs. "It's the evaluation of a project, a partner, an opportunity - gathering information, studying feasibility, a skills assessment to observe and ask ourselves if it's really what we want, and if it really corresponds to the expression of the need."

"Do the cards tell you all that?"

"I'm the card whisperer, haven't you confirmed that?" She designated her body, sweeping the air from her shoulders to her thigh.

"You do your readings to all your customers like this?"

"You're a very special client, I have to adapt to my audience," she said as she straightened, her eyes returning to the card. "It's also all about planning and preparing for a big trip - I hope Demacia will have a strong enough stomach to digest you. In any case, you're asking yourself a lot of questions. Is it really what I want? Is it really possible to get what I want, given the circumstances and the means at my disposal?"

Were you ready to accept Viktor as a friend in your life? The last few months had worn you down so much that you were sincerely wondering how things were going to go. Would it be the same bickering every day? Would it be different? You still didn't know where you stood on the question - the card was right.

"Now," she rubbed her hands excitedly, "the future." She took the card in her hand, raising it to your eyes. "What do you see?"

You bent down, looking at the illustration. An angel filling the sky, a crown of leaves encircling its head, its carmine wings reaching down to a woman on the left and a man on the right, both naked. Your eyes returned to Eris', a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Please don't tell me it's about me and Viktor getting naked," you lamented, your tone almost plaintive and asking for pity. Why did it always have to be about him?

She stretched her lips. "I'm not saying you and Viktor are going to get naked, but I definitely wanted to hear you say it."

You rolled your eyes, resting your chin on your palm.

"The lovers' card isn't necessarily to be taken literally - I thought with your immense sense of deduction you'd have come to that conclusion." She turned the card towards her. "The Lovers card is a card of choice. In the Original Tarot, it represents an arrowed angel over a man, hesitating between two women, one young and seductive and the other older and rather severe. It sometimes shows the crossroads between vice and virtue, with the idea that one should obviously choose virtue." She shrugged, rolling her eyes. "Only, if you had to have virtue, it would be by discipline, so the Cupid on the old card would have no place there. The Tarot should help to better understand who we are; therefore, the card of choice should teach me how to make the right choice for myself, not for moral teachers."

She turned the card back to you. "The central character in the old cards hesitates because he has as many reasons to go one way as the other. It's easy to imagine that the older woman is wiser than the younger one, but the younger one is kinder than the older one..." she swung the card between her fingers like a pendulum. "But the older one is more experienced... and so on. So the message is clear: when it comes to making the right choice for me, reason isn't going to help me. Choosing your career on purely objective criteria is the best way to make yourself unhappy, because it's choosing what anyone should do, when you're not just anyone."

She held the card out to you like a mirror, the varnish on the thick glazed paper gleaming in the firelight.

"How do I make the right choice for me?" you asked, your eyes moving from the card to find hers.

“By turning to the only thing at your disposal that isn't commonplace - your sensibility,” she smiled. "When it comes to the choices that matter, reason can only lose us. So, you have an essential tool for the journey ahead of you," she says, her free fingers resting on the Two of Wands. "To make the right choice, your reason knows it's useless on its own, so it turns to your sensibility, because it's connected to something higher, something that's never wrong."

Your eyes drifted over the silhouette of the man and woman.

"This is the path to harmony. We mustn't forget that it's just as valuable as the path to glory, although we're only bombarded with examples of the latter, because to be known, you have to surpass the others."

Your first place seemed more bitter than the sweetness it had brought you when you learned of your victory. Your cheeks warmed as you thought of all the comments your little family Eris and Selene made had suggested.

"And the lovers' card has no sentimental connection?"

She offered you a benevolent smile. "It's the card of love as the most obvious cry of affection. The card of mutual attraction, of the sentimental relationship, of the soul mate - becoming one. A balanced love relationship where one matchs the other, where the partners are complementary and in tune with each other as opposed to love at first sight which can leave us in shock like a certain arcane number sixteen you know all too well, burning sexuality like that of the wands and their insatiable desire, or illusory relationships."

The man and woman on the lovers' card weren't necessarily just opposites, they were mirrors of each other.

"It's a bit scary," you admitted.

"The veracity of the cards?"

"That, and..." you pointed quickly at the card, "them."

"Love is either sought after as the solution to all problems, or shunned like the plague. It's neither. There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Yeah well," you sighed, "can't help but be scared of something I never experienced."

You hadn't really had time to dwell on love affairs, so much so that to this day you tu didn't have a single ex to your name. You had been so determined to achieve academic perfection that you had pushed any potential distraction out of your way. And now, with the possibility of a breakthrough on the horizon, you were terrified.

If love struck, would you be able to fight back?

"Let's not close any doors to the future," pointed Eris, laying down the lovers' card, “especially with a card like the one we have for the globality of this reading.”

She picked up the Empress card, presenting it to you again as if you were the artist's inspiration for this illustration.

"The Empress is the card of creation and fertility."

You recoiled slightly in surprise. "Please don't tell me that by some misfortune I'm going to get pregnant."

"It's not necessarily fertility in the literal sense, although that's part of it in certain specific cases," she cackled as her attention returned to the card. "It's the card of generation from within yourself. You have to have depth if you want to create, because to create is to bring something out of yourself. If the creative process is so mysterious, it's because it takes place in our deepest recesses. She is depicted in a sensual pose, creation being a matter of love and pleasure, as much in the flesh as in the intellect, because ideas germinate in the mind that conceives them."

You looked at the cards again, frowning.

"I see you're beginning to understand."

"So," you tried to summarise, "taking a step back from the situation and creating my own convictions is going to lead me to... fuck my way up to the top?"

Eris bobbed her head like one of those spring-loaded dolls, rolling her eyes at the sky. "Among other things." She put the card down, pointing as she had before at each symbol. "Three is a creation number, given that if you put 1+1 and turn off the light, it's through their power of generation, sexual, that they will become 3 by creating a child." She moved her finger. "The ball-shaped sceptre represents the total domination of the Empress of the Earth. Her crown extends her reign over the entire cycle of the year. The stars are six-pointed, the triangle forwards and backwards: her power is both material and nature, spiritual and intelligence," she explained, her hands weighing the words out like a balance.

Your eyes drifted back to the Two of Wands, resting on the globe the man held.

"The eagle on the shield of the Original Tarot represents intelligence; this bird flies high and has a piercing gaze. However, its wing is still in its infancy. Its creativity has no other purpose than itself, so it can fly off in all directions without producing anything usable. The Emperor's eagle, on the other hand, will be complete because it will have added what the Empress lacks in order to master the whole process of the material world."

She exchanged a look with you. "She represents the creation of harmony from disordered elements so that the matter develops freely, like building a system or a plan. It's also femininity in full bloom, sensual, self-confident, seductive," she winked at you in an exaggerated way that made you smile. "It's about building a relationship for mutual development, but not only that." She moistened her lips. "It's what you create out of yourself, the protector, the one who cares, who develops, who accompanies. The one who helps a company, a group or a project to grow."

She straightened up after this listing. "Something is born, brought into being, cultivated or made to believe: a vocation - possibilities. It's Abundance, and being ready to share its wealth with others, out of pleasure and love." She turned her eyes for a moment to the fire in the fireplace. "A simple ‘want’ is not enough to move the fixtures that business creation requires, nor is a desire rooted in selfishness or hatred, like doing something only to break someone else."

She described a loose, descriptive movement over the cards with her arm. "So the Empress represents the power of generation, naked creativity, cool. But there's something missing," she smiled, "someone who's very creative can give birth to a whole bunch of great ideas... without ever achieving anything, because they go off in all directions." She turned to the deck and the card the Empress was covering. "You need structure and discipline for that."

She grabbed the card, bringing it close to the Empress's, and your lips parted in shock.

“The Emperor will bring them both to us.”

The Emperor's card was there, its presence unchanged, its meaning weighing on your warming heart. She placed the last two cards on the table with an air of satisfaction. You looked at the deck for a moment, the cards interlocking. You took the Empress's card in your hand, hovering over every detail of ink and colour on it.

Was it really you? This charismatic, strong-willed being? Could you really become this, this abundant being?

"Wow," you breathed, setting the card down on the table as Eris picked up her sisters to put them away again and you slumped back on the sofa. "That's something."

"Yup," Eris confirmed.

You bit the inside of your cheek for a moment as your eyes drifted towards the fire, thinking about the huge bag of information and truths that Eris had just dumped on your thoughts and that you were probably going to be thinking about for a very long time. And yet one name kept lingering in your mind.

"Say," you asked, your eyes returning to her, "why do you all think that Viktor and I could be... something?"

She giggled, leaving the deck on the table before resting her elbow on the arm of the sofa and resting her cheek on her fist. "You're asking me that as my first question after this reading?"

You sighed, your knee jerking repeatedly as you lowered your eyes to the floor. "Just... answer the question."

She knew there were certain limits to bickering. "Well," she began, "from what I've been hearing from you, you truly respect him, as in the name at the top of your 'list of respect'. He practically saved your life when you were fighting against your own stubbornness, and..." she seemed to search for words for a moment. "I get the impression that he's the person you make the most effort to be accepted by in your entourage."

"And... on a deeper level?"

"On a deeper level, in my humble opinion as the heart sister and friend you've known the longest in your life, I get the impression that, subconsciously, you're seeking his approval. Because now that he's given you a taste of what it was like to lose on your own ground and made you realise how much it was destroying you, you're grateful to him even if you refuse to admit it, to others and to yourself." She watched you for a moment, circling you under her skilful, sharp gaze. "I think he's the first one who's reached your level, and managed to keep up with you without ever tiring, always trying to bring out the parts of you that you don't show to others. And that scares you," she shook her head, "but I honestly think the fact that he's come into your life is the best thing that's happened to you in a long time."

That's what you liked about Eris, her honesty. She didn't care about hurting people's feelings or exposing them raw to the eyes of all, time was too short for pointless little lies, and she realised the truth of that very early on.

And you weren't offended, but you felt stripped bare by her words. That was probably what frightened you, finding yourself and the truth shining through for everyone to see. That was probably why the lovers were undressed. They saw each other stripped of all lies, hearts open as they created harmony.

Only two people knew you completely - the two members of your family. But that you could find someone who wasn't part of this circle and who saw all these things in you and accepted them no matter what, to lead you towards the best? It was new, and there's nothing more terrifying than the new. But surely, that was the lesson of the cards.

Yet your train of thought was interrupted when two figures you recognised all too well entered the hall.

"I think," you croaked, Eris following your gaze and turning towards them.

Jayce and Viktor, in casual clothes, were approaching you.

Eris turned back to you, shocked and shaking her head. "Is that what you call not bad?!" she almost shouted in her whisper.

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your hands. "I said by most standards!"

"I'm going to end up having heart attacks if your judgement's this poor."

"Hey there!" called Jayce as he approached. "Didn't think I'd find you here."

He wore a charming smile, dressed in a chunky cream hoodie and brown jogging bottoms. You'd already described to Eris what Jayce looked like, bringing back one of the class photos from your year so she could really see him.

Viktor, on the other hand, was wearing a brown turtleneck covered by a black cardigan, as were his wide pleated plaid trousers. He was frowning, his eyes shifting from you to Eris in confusion.

Eris turned to you, waiting for you to make the introductions.

"Jayce, Viktor," you pointed at Eris, "this is Eris. My sister."

"Pleased to meet you, Jayce," the latter smiled, extending his hand to shake hers as Eris stood up.

"Eris," she replied as Jayce gave way to his sidekick.

"Viktor," he said, squeezing her hand.

"I know," Eris smiled proudly as she turned her gaze back to you, "I've heard a lot about you."

You pressed your tongue lightly against the inside of your mouth as you laughed tiredly. Of course, now that he was here, she was going to be as playful as could be.

"Really?" said Viktor, surprised as he turned to you.

"Absolutely," Eris replied.

"You never mentioned Eris was your sister," Jayce remarked.

"Best friend, sister, it's the same thing to me," you answered simply.

"Is that a Tarot deck I see here?" remarked Viktor.

Jayce riveted his eyes on the object. "You guys were playing?" he asked curiously.

"Eris was giving me a reading for the times ahead and other advice," you corrected.

"I'm a professional reader," she confirmed, "that's my job."

"How does that work?" asked Jayce, his eyes lighting up with the excitement of discovering something new.

"I can do a reading for you if it's okay with your schedule?" she suggested.

"Oh, we're just here to read and chat by the fire, nothing will be disturbed," Viktor assured her, resting his eyes on yours.

"All right then, let's go," she said, grabbing the deck.

Without missing a beat, Jayce took his place on the sofa where Eris was sitting. Viktor exchanged a glance with you, and you shrugged your shoulders and pointed to the seat next to you. Eris's words echoed as the leather slumped not far from you and Viktor placed his cane against the table.

"Alright, let me explain," began Eris as she rolled up her sleeves to reveal her tattoos.

Jayce seemed blown away by them, and you could feel his lips burning with the famous ‘did these hurt?’ which he never dared to say.

"I'm going to shuffle the cards so they're well mixed, then I'm going to...’��

But the conversation slowly faded into the background when Viktor spoke to you.

"I didn't think you'd dress like this on the daily," his voice was low, obviously not wishing to disturb the explanation to Jayce who seemed far too excited for this activity.

"What, you thought I slept in my uniform or something?" you questioned back.

He shrugged. "A bit."

You couldn't help but crack a smile before redirecting your gaze to Eris, looking at you both with a knowing glance.

Your smile faded as you straightened up, curious to see what Jayce would come up with.

"So all I have to do is take three cards?" he asked again.

"Yes," confirmed Eris.

"And can I show them or not?"

"Jayce, it's not a magic trick," informed Viktor.

Jayce turned to you, apparently waiting for your opinion too.

"Just pick three cards Jayce, the ones that call to you the most," you replied, resting your cheek on your fist.

"How do I know if they're calling me?" he questioned.

Viktor was already bringing his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as Eris explained again. "Just take the cards you wish to take."

He straightened. "There are no traps are there?"

You and Viktor sighed in unison as you just urged him to take his damned cards.

"Alright, alright fine," sighed the latter, raising his hands in the air, "left hand, right?" he asked to Eris.

"Yes," confirmed the witch.

"Right - off I go."

You exchanged glances with Viktor, both of you rolling your eyes as Jayce finally picked up his first card.

"Where do you want me to put it?"

"Anywhere," laughed Eris. "Jayce, you can't make any mistakes with tarot, you know that, right?"

‘’Right,‘’ he nodded, placing the first card in front of him above the card line.

The ace of Pentacle arrived on the table.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Jayce asked immediately.

"That depends on what you draw next," laughed Eris, “just keep pulling.’’

Jayce then drew the eight of pentacles, immediately turning to Eris to gauge her reaction as she looked at him with eyes that said ‘you know what I'm going to say’.

He then drew his last card, the nine of cups.

"Okay," smiled Eris as she picked up the rest of the cards and gathered them into a compact pile, turning it over and smiling at Jayce.

"Is it good?" He asked, turning to you and Viktor.

"It's horrible," you breathed.

His face decomposed. "Is it?"

"No, I just said that to tease you, you've got a good game," you turned to Eris, “right?"

She giggled, uncovering the sun like shadow card.

"It's splendid, my dears."

Joy returned to Jayce's face like a dog presented with a bone. Viktor propped his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers as he watched the set.

"Well," began Eris, clearing her throat, "I'm going to proceed as I usually do with my dear inexterminable microbe here and make a simple reading. One card for the past," she rested her fingers on the Ace of Pentacles, “one for the present,” on the Eight of Pentacles, “one for the future,” on the Nine of Cups, “and one card that will give the overall colour to the spread and potentially give us some advice.”

"Okay," Jayce replied, eager to hear what she had to say.

"First of all, we have the Ace of Pentacles. The Ace is used to place us in the field we're going to work in; for this one it's the material field, and this one is fraught with possibilities."

She took the card in her hand and turned to an angle where you could all see the card.

"The divine hand emerging from the clouds reminds us that the material realm, like the others, is a given; it's up to us to do something with it. A garden of lilies is traversed by an alley that passes under an arch, flowered with roses and leading to the mountains. Thought is born of matter and, in any case, you can't rise without the necessary material foundations. As for the pentacle, it's a sign of protection - upright, it's a representation of man with his head, or spirituality and consciousness, at the top and his two feet at the bottom, anchored in the earth. That's the attitude you need if you want to prosper in and with the world."

"Am I in the right inclination?" asked Jayce.

"Absolutely," reassured Eris. "Now that we know all these elements, how can this help us? Well, the Ace of Pentacles represents a material opportunity, something to be developed in the concrete domain. It's the birth of a new interest or a new energy in the material and financial spheres. Didn't you have a career change last summer or something like that?"

‘’Yes,‘’ Jayce exclaimed, ‘’how do you know?" He turned to you. "Did you talk to her about it?"

"Talked about what?" you said with a shrug. "I'd only told her about the explosion in your flat and my concerns about your trial, that's all."

He seemed to soften at the word "concern".

"In any case," continued Eris, "the Ace of Pentacles often represents a job offer and the possibility of professional advancement. It's synonymous with a new project, and sometimes an influx of money from an unforeseen or unexpected source.”

You thought back to the few bills he had given you without any difficulty so that you could purchase a dress.

"That's incredible," he mumbled, all surprised, "don't you think, Vik?"

"Yes," he admitted, "but I'm waiting to see the whole result.’

"Let's move on to the present, the Eight of Pentacles," she put down the Ace to take the next card. "We remain in the realm of the material and following the financial influx that the Ace of Pentacles was able to bring, there is the expression of the free with the eight and the lemniscate for its infinity. We have the talent, the materials, the knowledge and the ability to concentrate, so we can produce without hindrance."

Jayce seemed to be hanging on her every word, while Viktor seemed increasingly interested and methodically observant.

Eris's slender finger traced along the card. “The Pentacles are neatly lined up on the fully-covered beam and spill out onto the floor, and the craftsman has so many of them that he doesn't know where to put them. The bench can be seen as a representation of the skills he can rely on. The small village behind could mean that the craftsman can devote himself freely to his work because he knows that the other members of society will provide for his other needs." She turned to Jayce. "I suppose living here in such a small flat can't be very practical for carrying out your projects - is your apartment still being refurbished?"

Jayce looked at her with wide eyes, turning to Viktor who maintained an inflexible phlegm, but you knew him well enough by now to recognise that he was intrigued by this discussion.

"How do you know that-"

"I don't know anything," smiled Eris, "I just read the cards and follow my intuition which, luckily, is rarely wrong."

"Well, that's just it," Jayce breathed, turning to you, "I got the go-ahead yesterday to move back into the flat."

You straightened. "You're moving out?"

"We're moving out," Viktor corrected.

The news, strangely enough, fell on you like a weight. Your eyes darted back and forth between Viktor and Jayce.

"When are you leaving?" you asked.

"Tomorrow morning," Jayce replied. "We finished packing up a few things today. We were going to come and see you later to tell you the news but," he smiled, "you were already here."

You turned to Viktor, who lowered his eyes. 'Just here to read and chat by the fire,' as he'd said. Why hadn't he just said they wanted to talk to you? Why did he change the subject?

You should have been relieved, to finally be rid of him on a daily basis, but you couldn't.

"What about the future?" asked Jayce as he turned back to the deck. "What's announced?"

You tried to digest the information as quickly as he had, but it was simply impossible. You forced yourself to, letting Eris resume her explanation as your heart seemed to weigh its weight down your throat.

"The Nine of Cups is pure and simple satisfaction. The Nine is the very last single-digit number, so it's an achievement. But the Nine is still an accomplishment in the weakest sense of the word, because it shows us what it's like when you see something through to the end - you don't go beyond anything, you just achieve it and that's all there is to it. For cups, it's 'filling the feeling of lack to the end, to the point of satisfaction’." She pinched the card between her two fingers, twisting it back and forth. "It's wish fulfillment, getting what you want. It's not having to ask anymore, it's one partner always there for the other no matter what, and the other counting on it."

Eris's eyes moved from Viktor to Jayce with a gentle glance.

"And the sun assures us of this with its warm presence. It brings self-confidence, the ability to assert oneself with kindness and to share happiness and the joy of life." She put the card down again, bringing the reading to a close. “I don't know what you're working on, but I hope it's something good for the world.”

Jayce exchanged a knowing smile with Viktor, who always returned it with mischief in his eyes.

"Well, that's really surprising!" Jayce exclaimed. "It's so right... I didn't know you could deduce all those things from cards."

"There's nothing random about arcane blades," asserted Eris. She turned to Viktor. "Would you like one too?"

He seemed taken by surprise, parting his lips and lifting his chin with his hands as his eyes moved from Jayce, to Eris, to you.

"I," he cleared his throat, "I don't know if this thing is really for me."

Viktor? Hesitating? That was definitely new.

"What," you chuckled as you turned to him, "scared the cards are going to be bad?"

"I'm not particularly fond of the idea that they could be right and doom me to think that I am doomed." Viktor explained. "What if they are bad?"

"What if they're not?" you suggested with a shrugged smile.

He considered you for a moment. "Haven't you ever regretted one of the readings Miss Eris here made for you?"

You sighed heavily. "It's sometimes painful," you returned Eris's gaze for a moment, she wore an infectious smirk that wasted no time in stretching your own lips to the side, "I have a very distinct one in mind that I deeply disliked. But..." you looked back at Viktor, "the cards were right, and for the better. Believe me."

He remained motionless for a moment, finally nodding.

"Alright," he nodded, turning to Eris who was already shuffling the cards.

She made a perfect line of cards, and Viktor moved his left hand forward to take his first card.

The Ace of Swords.

Viktor drew a second, and you frowned.

The Knight of Pentacles. Your tarot was a real player when it came to pulling out cards apparently.

"Him again," you breathed.

"What do you mean again?" questioned Eris.

"I'll explain some other time."

"And the last one?" asked Eris as Viktor picked up another card.

Page of Cups.

Having two aces as first cards for both acolytes was interesting.

"Intriguing," admitted Eris as she collected the cards into a single deck to observe the shadow card.

Her eyes landed on you, stunned. You could feel what was about to happen.

"No," you breathed, "not him."

"Yes," confirmed Eris, "him."

Eris then held up the Emperor's card, and you brought your fingers up to pinch the bridge of your nose.

"That bad?" inquired Viktor, surprised.

"No, it's not bad," you laughed to yourself for a moment, turning your gaze to his. "The cards are just very playful, that's all."

Eris set the deck down on the table, the Emperor facing Viktor.

"I suppose you met this Emperor in another reading?" he suggested.

You moistened your lips, tilting your head to the side. "Not just that."

Eris laughed with her nose, catching herself as she straightened up.

"One day," you said to Viktor, "I'll explain the whys and wherefores, don't worry."

He nodded weakly, turning to Eris. He seemed a little nervous, and you were discovering this phenomenon in him. He could be tense, but nervous?

"To begin with, then, the Ace of Swords, like the Ace of Pentacles, is a possibility, a spark that hasn't yet produced anything, but which puts us in the right field. The crown indicates that intelligence is the queen faculty. The palm on the right and the laurel branch on the left are symbols of victory."

Viktor like victory, of course.

"Intelligence is the highest of our faculties, enabling us to rise to the highest heights; it is what makes us a thinking creature. As for the mountains, they represent elevation, the sometimes arid and cold summits of thought. It's a card that represents intelligence and the fact that you can count on it in any situation."

Viktor turned to you, smiling. "You'd rather have that card for yourself than for me, wouldn't you?"

You chuckled. "Maybe once, but now I'm leaving it to you."

He seemed surprised by your answer for a moment, pressing his lips together for a second as he turned back to Eris who was changing cards.

"Now it's the Knight of Pentacles' turn. He represents reliability. He's down to earth, he does what needs to be done without question. This is the card of routine. In terms of symbols, on his helmet and in the horse's ears, there are oak leaves to remind us of what is rooted, powerful and takes time. The soil has furrows in it, so it's about being rooted to the earth, about regular, long, cyclical work like farming, where you have to show stamina and well-applied physical strength.’

"My perfect picture, I am the very definition of athleticism while my colleague Jayce Talis the skinny watches me do my thing in my corner," Viktor joked as he retrieved his cane in hand.

"Don't put the blame on me," interjected Jayce, "I offered to train at least your upper body when you sometimes come with me to the forge."

Viktor rolled his eyes, waiting for the rest of what Eris had to say.

"In any case, the Knight of Pentacles is the definition of moving slowly but surely, with methods that may not be original, but are tried and tested. It's a knight slow to anger who won't take the first step without being reassured of the other's intentions. If there is to be a meeting, it must take time to develop into a solid friendship before it is possible to move on to something more."

Viktor seemed to be playing with his cane, but was listening carefully to what Eris had to say. You remembered the day you read the information on the Knight of Pentacles' card. Physical and sensual. You began to blame the fire in the fireplace for the heat that was rising in your cheeks.

"Now let's move on to our last blade, the Page of Cups." She picked up the card in question. "The Page of Cups discovers, so in the emotional frame of the Cups, he discovers an idea. We welcome new information; we examine a way of thinking or a way of relating facts, of news that affects us."

Again she began to point to the various symbols one by one as you bent to see them better.

"The little fish swimming in the cup, to which the Page gives a sympathetic ear, represents the little voice of intuition, that elusive mystery that lives in our depths and sometimes comes to speak to us. The water lily flowers on his shirt can refer to sleep and the messages of dreams, as well as to the sacred nature of sensitivity that takes root in the depths. On all the cut figures, the water represents the changing and fluid nature of emotions, as well as their depth."

She placed the card on the table. "This is the card of announcement, of wonder, of joy, of something that touches. I should point out that it's still a card that's recognised as being very romantic, but not only that. It's the card of love, but it's also the card of a new friendship, the one that makes you discover that you really care about someone."

You bit the inside of your lips, the heat spreading from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, which you covered with your hand, a ghostly memory of Viktor's breath washing over you.

"At last," Eris grasped the Emperor's card, "the card of stability and anchoring that is the Emperor represents you here."

"Me? The Emperor?" repeated Viktor, pointing his finger at himself.

"Yes," you said under your breath.

He turned to you for a moment, and you knew full well that when he found the time to discuss it with you, he wouldn't miss the opportunity.

"The Emperor completes the Empress's teaching by introducing the idea of rule, law and structure. Discipline doesn't mean giving in to the first distraction. He is a man who teaches us to take responsibility without deviating, to defend our principles without failing, to be obedient without letting ourselves be influenced. That's where his authority comes from,this lucid examination - it's the foundation that makes us sure, and allows us to act without wavering." She then placed the card back on the deck, closing the reading.

You had a feeling that Viktor wouldn't be the only one thinking about this reading. The cards reflected each other so perfectly it was impressive.

"Any questions?" Eris asked simply as she gathered up the cards and put them back in the box.

"How long have you been practising," Jayce asked, turning to her.

"I'd say... seven years?" she said, turning to you to make sure she was right.

"And a half," you added as she handed you the box of your tarot.

"Is this yours?" asked Viktor.

"Yes, I draw one every morning to see what the day has in store or for advice," you explained.

Viktor turned to Eris and said, "Where do you practise?"

"In one of the streets on the entresol level."

"Could I have the address?"

She seemed as surprised as you, glancing at you then back to Viktor. "An interest in spirituality?"

He exchanged a look with you. "Now, yes."

After giving her shop address to Viktor, he and Jayce excused themselves and left to make sure all the boxes and other luggage were ready for the next day's departure.

You and Eris were back upstairs, you preparing the evening meal while she rushed to the shower to warm up from the absence of the fire she already missed so much.

You couldn't stop thinking about Viktor, about the changes, the ideas swarming around in your mind without ever finding respite or giving you any. You felt that the fact that he would no longer be in the building tomorrow gave you the impression that his absence would force you to think only of him.

But another subject was about to hit you, bitter, fearsome.

Eris stepped out of the shower, droplets of water beading from her hair and running down her tattooed arms. She crossed her arms seriously, pressing her shoulder against the doorframe as she crossed her leg.

"Do you remember my letter, when I mentioned there was something I needed to talk to you about?"

You stirred the forest pan over the stove, not looking away from the task as you expected mere gossip in the rising streets of Zaun. "Mhm?"

She sighed, watching you sternly.

"The child disappearances have started up again."

You froze in your tracks, the sound of the hood and the oil cooking the vegetables fading into a distant blur of sound.

You turned to Eris, almost trying to get her to repeat what she'd just said, as if she'd just resurrected an entire graveyard. "What?"

"Not just in Zaun," she continued, just as austerely, "I've had customers from Piltover. It's starting here too. It's very small and tiny as a disappearance compared to Zaun, but it's still there."

"Are you absolutely sure?" you asked, registering this information almost robotically.

She nodded. "When Renata Glasc came into my shop and I performed her reading, she said his name."

You huffed, as if someone had just punched you in the stomach and expelled all the air your lungs held.

"Is the situation under hand?"

"Glasc is on it from what I know."

You huffed with difficulty. "Could you um..." you felt your throat tighten, "could you continue cooking? I think I need a shower.

She smiled at you, a thin, empathetic one. "Take all the time you need."

"Thank you," you barely managed to say before moving towards the bathroom and carefully closing the door behind you.

Silently, with hasty movements as if all your clothes were ten times too hot on your skin, you got rid of each layer at record speed and turned on the water.

Your whole body was shaking like a leaf, your breath coming fast as you passed under the hot spray. Your eyes clouded over in a blur of tears, your whole face tensing, your brow furrowing as your nose scrunched up and your lips curled. You drew a huge, rapid, jerky breath, anger and despair contorting every feature of your face until your forehead ached as your hands ran over them as if trying to erase it, to dilute it under the shower water until everything was smooth and clean and you were pure again.

Your back jolted despite the warmth of the water running down your spine, the sobs attacking you as you placed one hand on the wall to keep yourself upright while the second pressed against your mouth to prevent any sound escaping from the prison bars of your fingers.

You only gave yourself a few moments to cry before letting the salt on your cheeks be washed away by the clear water of Piltover and turning off the shower. You didn't want to abuse it, even if all the drops it could have spilled down your body would never have been enough to bring the rain that would wash away the past.

Today had been too full changes, of emotions, of movements and unpredictable things that weighed on your mind like an elephant.

When you got out of the shower, Eris had already prepared the table and served your two plates.

"You know," she said with her mouth full, raising her fork in the air, "it's a bit hard to tell how you and Viktor stand."

You were still relieved at Eris's understanding. She had seen you cry very little over the years, the habit of choosing the excuse of the shower to have a moment when your sensitivity could take over and go beyond the limit of your eyes having come early in your friendship. And when you came back, she always had a different subject to discuss to take your mind off things.

With a tired smile, you took the chair opposite her and sat down.

"What do you mean?"

She took care to chew her mouthful to the end, winding her index finger in the air to ask you to wait. "Well," she finally swallowed, "I saw you staring at each other. I just can't be certain if it was sexual tension or murderous rage."

You let out a small laugh, your eyes still stinging from your tears and wrinkling with admiration for her.

The evening continued on a variety of topics, with countless teases about Viktor, who seemed to be burning a hole in her lip.

And when you both went to bed to find respite, the walk in the cold having knocked Eris out with sleep, yours didn't come. The cards all came back into your head like emblematic figures from a distant story, a fairy tale with final lessons for little children.

You thought of the Empress and the Emperor. You thought of yourself, of Viktor.

The same warm palpitations in your heart and stomach returned as you thought of him. You brought one to the one, the second to the other, like a stethoscope trying to discern any worries or disturbances.

It was warm and sweet - it was a hope that sprang up in your soul and filled you completely.

Did the Empress have a metaphorical womb pregnant with a budding love, ready to grow?

You thought back to Eris's words.

I think he's the first one who's reached your level, and managed to keep up with you without ever tiring, always trying to bring out the parts of you that you don't show to others.

Was it the warmth that sprang up deep inside you, like a candle in the darkness of a cavern containing thousands of crystals ready to sparkle, that he brought out?

When morning came, you had given up on the idea of sleeping and sat on your windowsill to watch the sun emerge in the distance.

You had thought for so long in the silence of this room that the inside of your body was a constant echo of thoughts reverberating against the walls of your skin and every corner of your mind. The sun was the first to say hello, and you smiled at it as it caressed your cheek with its warmth.

You'd fought with it so much that it had made your cheeks red. And you wanted to catch him, to hold him close to your chest so that he could feel the warmth of your heart, so much so that the night fell away. And now that you'd got to know the moon thanks to him, you told yourself that you'd just put everything out like a poor cigarette. But we're talking about the moon, and the sun, that's not nothing.

His reality had made the wheat grow, and the truth had made men eat, but reality was coming towards you little by little with a flag, staggering.

Down below, approaching the building in the soft silence of the morning and the waking city, a van pulled up.

The day was here, and you wanted to bury it in a suitcase to let the night stay a little longer, to keep the moonlight on your skin and in the glow of your eyes.

Your gaze turned away from the truck for a moment, back to the dressing room. The coat.

In the greatest of hasty silences, you pulled on a heavy jumper, trotting on tiptoe to the dressing room to pick up the coat that still had his smell on it. You gently turned the key to the apartment, moving from the silence of the bedroom to that of the corridor bathed in half-light.

You hurried down the stairs, praying that the van hadn't left, that they hadn't left, and that you'd be able to say ‘see you soon’.

When you got downstairs, Viktor was standing in front of the entrance, just beyond the door, outside, with his back to you.

You inhaled, trying to hide your miserable gasping breath deep in your chest.

You were moving forward, feeling cold. The coat could have given you that warmth, but you didn't put it on. Your hand came to rest on the handle of the golden door, and you pushed it open despite the trembling you presumed to be due to the fatigue of a sleepless night.

Viktor turned and his eyes fell on you. His expression wasn't wide with surprise, and his eyebrows weren't furrowed, but you could feel a flicker of regret on his face that was swept away as soon as he realised it was you.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the stillness of the morning making you both feel as if the whole town would wake up at once if you spoke.

"Hey," you managed to say softly.

He gave a surprised little smile. "Hey."

You breathed in, swallowing as you tried to work out if all the ideas you'd been fed about him wanted to come back through your throat.

"So uh," you jerked your chin towards the van, "you're all set to go?”

Miserable small talk.

Viktor looked at you calmly. “The removal man is still inside picking up the rest of the boxes."

"Oh," you nodded, "Jayce isn't with you?"

"He's gone to the flat to settle the last few things that needed his attention."

His eyes never left you, his face a peaceful, unchanged emotion. It feels like a dream, you thought, but it's not, and that's probably the most reassuring thing about it.

You tightened your grip on the coat slightly, and finally let the breath you'd been holding expel itself from your lungs.

"You're fierce as my rival," you admitted, "but I think I prefer you better when you're not."

Viktor remained motionless for a moment, the light breeze in the air combing a few strands of his hair. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, barely rising.

"What good is a truce if we're not rivals anymore, then?" he asked.

"The truce can just turn into a deal," you suggested almost hastily, "a friends' deal."

He smiled at last, and your stomach warmed in the dead of winter.

"Friends," he repeated as if testing the taste the word had in his mouth, "I like the sound of that."

You smiled back, and relief washed over you.

He changed the grip on his cane, straightening up. "Any clauses you want to add to the truce, Miss?"

You couldn't help asking. "Why do you call me Miss all the time?"

His eyes remained serenely in yours, silently letting a moment pass.

"I can't say yet. Someday, maybe," he replied as if he'd just come back from somewhere else.

You nodded. "Alright." You straightened your back and cleared your throat before raising your eyebrows. "I just have one clause then."

"Go on," he nodded, curious.

A satisfied smirk spread across your face. "All your coffees are free if you come by the Brown Bitt, so you better come often with such an offer."

He laughed softly, his eyes dropping to his shoes for a moment before returning to yours.

"I'd be a fool to refuse such a discount."

"Well," you shrugged, "there is some kind of dignity being the first fool of the academy."

"Last time I checked," he said, raising an eyebrow, "you're the first of the Academy."

"Last time I checked with Eris, one and two together make the three of creativity." You smiled. "What did Heimerdinger say again? About us joining our forces for the presentation."

Viktor sighed, starting to recite. "There's no need to point out that you two are the sharpest elements of this class - you're well enough aware of that, as is the rest of the school certainly. None of the fellow teachers in this establishment seem to have brought to the table, however, a possibility which seems to me to be the most interesting for both of you."

"Teamwork," you both pronounced, nodding and smiling.

"You remember it so vividly," you grinned, impressed.

He nodded. "Eh, better have a sharp memory and wit to follow with Heimerdinger, if you can't race."

Your lips parted, remembering a little too well the first day we worked together. "Please tell me Jayce never heard of this."

"I recite your words to him every night before sleeping like a prayer," he sneered.

Another moment of silence passed, both your breaths billowing in the air.

"When we’re all settled," he finally said, "come to the flat."

You clasped your hands together. "Is that a challenge?"

"No," he chuckled, "just an invitation."

“As long as you don't organise masquerades in Jayce's apartment every other night, I will."

"Nah," he admitted as the wrinkles in his nose crinkled for a moment, "we keep that outside our explosive apartment."

It was refreshing to be able to listen to Viktor's comments and not find annoyance in them, just laughter.

"Speaking of masquerades," you realised as you handed him his perfectly smooth coat, "I took care of it."

His leather-gloved fingers closed over the dark fabric.

"I'm sure you did," he said, his eyes moving from the fabric to yours.

Behind you, you heard the distinct sound of castors on the floor of the hall, and turned towards the man dragging a trolley with a few boxes piled on it.

"All clean," he warned as he passed you both and began to stack the boxes in the back of the vehicle.

He quickly closed the boot and climbed into the front seat next to the steering wheel.

"See you to the demacia boarding airship?" asked Viktor.

You smiled. "Don't be late."

He gave you one last smile.

"No chance."

✦﹒ previous chapter ✦﹒ next chapter

taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr @potatointhedirt @atrocioushaircut @ren-ni @schrodingersraven @urmommt @enoojnij @stilinskisensation @emlovesya @soupsaurus @luvreadingfics @the-valars-sapphire @solbringer @adorabluesposts @pxszels @nerolovesseongjiyuk @cyberwears @cryptidcut @seohaepeachyun @danielsbackupglasses @2hiigh2cry @16novvs @cicadastoner @patchs-cuiosity-corner @w41k3r-94290 @minniiv @roku907 @lumilarity @peachy-writings @disturbyn

#a crown of ink #acoi #viktor x reader #arcane #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor #arcane x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor fic #arcane fanfic #viktor x you #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x you

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raven-cincaide · 4 months ago

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Get To Know Your Wife

Summary: You can’t fight your arranged marriage with Megumi Fushiguro. But you’ll do everything you can to ensure it doesn’t become one of those loveless, boring marriages on paper. Even if that means you have to be the biggest pain in his ass, you could be.

Pairing: Fem! Reader x (future husband,arranged marriage) Megumi Fushiguro Sweetober prompt 8: Farmers Market WC 1.3K Warnings: Suggestive (dirty jokes and light humiliation/being a pain in the ass/dick jokes) cursing, fluff

“This is a pointless waste of time.”

“ Hey, you take that back!” you spun around on your heel to face the brooding, pouting, cross-armed Megumi Fushiguro, who merely raised an eyebrow at your outburst and disrespectful tone. As you came closer, one hand on your hip and the second pointed an extended index finger in his face the tip of your nail was just inches away from his nose, and he merely scoffed.

You stepped closer, your nail just barely graced his nose.

Megumi swatted your hand away from his face as though it were a fly. “I said this is pointless,” he repeated slowly, as though you lacked some marbles or were a very dense child unable to keep up with the obvious adult talk. “ We will be married regardless of our thoughts or feeling; all this is just a waste.”

He made an open palm motion towards the farmers market all around you, the lovely-dovey couples sharing autumn treats, the families playing market games, high scholars messing about at the pumpkin carving contests and just passers-by enjoying the farm fresh veggies, hand-crafted items and stories from travelling merchants.

It was a place where tradition met modernity, the new met the old, and there were indeed activities to fit both your tastes. Typical topics to talk about, childhood memories to share, heck even just as simple as learning about each other's favourite and hated fall treats could be something to talk about.

Anything that wasn’t marriage or clan-related.

Or at least, that had been your plan for the day. A feeble attempt at connection. You even went through all the formal hoops to request a sliver of his time, all according to customs and expectations and ridiculous rules between your clans. However now that you finally made it to the farmers market, he had the audacity to call all your effort ‘pointless’.

If you weren’t so flabbergasted, you would have slapped that self righteous expression right of his condescending face. The piercing glare that was soon accompanied by a self-satisfied smirk. The way he drew his own conclusions from your actions “I’ll take your silence as agreement, now then we’ll head back-”

“ -I’m not going to be stuck in a loveless marriage.” you cut him off. Your arms moved to cross over your chest, your foot tapped away at the ground in a nervous tipp-tipp-tapp sound- a dead giveaway to your anxiety.

Megumi raised an eyebrow at your statement. “You think a trip to a farmers market will somehow turn this into a love story? You’re more naive than I thought.”

You hated how he looked down at you. How he thought he knew everything because he was the zenin with the greatest technique that could make him the strongest in the world. How the power so obviously had gone to that spikey head of his and turned it so empty he became a sea urchin “No, I am giving you the opportunity to learn to treat me right before the marriage ceremony takes place”

“ Or what?”

“Or I will be the biggest nuisance to you, turning this marriage into a living hell” You threatened. When he didn’t relent, you smiled almost too sweetly, taking a deep breath. “ Megumi Fushiguro has a small dick!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. Instantly he was on you, his hand covering your mouth and the obscenities it spewed.

“ What the hell?” Megumi growled,his face an awkward shade of red as he heard several passers by repeat your sentence. You weren’t done yet. Using the old, stick out your tongue and lick, trick, you felt him yank his hand away from your lips in disgust.

Then you graced the passers by with another well timed, embarrassing comment: “ Megumi Fushiguro has a small dick and doesn’t know how to use–!”

His hand was back over your mouth, blush unmistakable as he peered at you through narrowed eyes. “ Will you shut up!” Megumi growled as he began to pull you away from the centre of the marketplace. “You’re humiliating yourself!”

“Mphhmmm mmm phm” his hand muffled your words and insults that you tried to scream right out, insults which turned into laughter as you dug your heels into the ground, making him stumble and struggle to drag you away. A sight that definitely attracted attention much to your delight and his humiliation

“Fucking hell, shut up and move will you?” Megumi snapped, yanking you particularly hard the same second as you raised your leg,which made you lose your balance and hit his back, sending him flying forward. Megumi caught himself last second, and by extension you caught yourself by crashing into his back. “Ouph you little- Don’t you dare!”

You didn’t realize why he got snappy, until your eyes landed on some of his clansmen and a few familiar faces. You took another deep breath readying to scream your most humiliating insult yet. Should you do another dick jab? Maybe the next one should question his choices? Or his inability to find a lover unless his clan bribed someone and-

“Okay fine!” Megumi snapped over his shoulder before you could finish formulating your thought. “Fine.” He sounded defeated as he turned to face you, arms crossed over his chest like a petulant child. “Where do you wanna go first?”

You were tempted to send him to hell, to humiliate him in front of his precious friends and clansmen. But then you reasoned your ammunition against him would bleed dry even before the day was over. So you bit your tongue and plastered a huge smile on your face as your eyes landed onto one of the jewelry stalls a distance away, “We start over there” You nodded in the stalls direction and began walking there. “Oh and by the way you’re paying today. Your punishment for being ungrateful.”

Megumi shot you another dark look as he fell into step beside you. “Whatever” he muttered with a huff. His hands were in his pockets but even without seeing them you could tell they shook in anger. An unmistakable frustration at being outsmarted by a girl.

“Oh, and try to smile, will you?” you knew you were toying with him, but you had to know the limit to your power.

“Tsk”

Okay, no smiles you concluded just as your eyes ran over the market patrons and landed on a familiar tall white-haired man you were certain carried the title of your soon to be’s adoptive father.“ Megumi has–”

“ Will you shut up already with the dick jokes?!” Megumi snapped his voice loud enough to make the white-haired man turn around, and his lips split open into a huge grin. You swore the sight of it, and the subsequent ‘My son’ made Megumi hate you just a tiny bit more. “See what you did?” he mouthed pulling you in another direction as the man made a beeline for you, leaving you to wonder whether you should take mercy on your soon-to-be and sneak away before Satoru Gojo met you, or if you should dig your feet in again just for the sheer amusement of it all.

After all, if Megumi had taken the time to get to know his soon-to-be wife, he wouldn’t have been in this predicament. So he had only himself to blame for this situation, right?

Author note: I'm dying beneath uni studies, work and my upcoming trip, but I still wanted to update something more this week. Hope this was worth the wait!

Taglist: @ambiguouslady42 @vividraft @escapistoftherealworld, @ssetsuka

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All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

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theclaravoyant · 3 months ago

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AN ~ short bucktommy angst/whump with a happy ending, coz i love torturing my boys. 8x07 spoilers and verrrrrry loosely insp by a still from 8x08

typing

Why would he type type type and not send anything?

The alarms blare and Buck throws his baking back in the oven and sprints downstairs, but his mind is elsewhere. This? This is all muscle memory at this point. His mind occupies itself with other things, wondering what exactly Tommy might have wanted to say.

Evan. No. Buck. God, he still hates it that he called him Buck.

Can we talk? Tommy always was a man of few words. Or maybe Buck is just a man of many. But what does 'can we talk' even mean? He'd be spiralling just as hard as with the silent disappearing bubble. It's better this way.

MARRIAGE, EVAN??

God, he's an idiot. A pathetic, clingy idiot. Even now he would kill for a second round, just to dig that knife in deeper. At least then maybe, he'd be able to pick up what he'd missed before; where exactly that big dimpled grin and soft eyes had turned to hard words and hidden pain. At least then, he'd be able to fix it.

Hen watches him with a knowing eye.

“Stay strong, Buck,” she reminds him as they pull up to the scene. “Head in the game.”

Buck nods. He drops his phone on the seat and packs it away to the back of his mind, as best he can. Maybe he'll get to whip out the jaws of life. They always make him feel better. Shake it off, Buckley, let's go.

He's the last one out of the engine, and he hits the ground already triaging the scene. His senses expand, cataloguing the vehicles, the passers-by, the direction and nature of the accident. Eddie and Bobby are getting a run-down from a uniformed police officer on scene and it happens a splt second before Buck's mind catches up.

“A silver-” he overhears - “oh-”

He can see it in his minds eye, almost feel it even as his own heart sinks; the way recognition sets into Eddie's face. And then horror. He looks further down the road, to a sight that's partially obstructed from Buck's view. Partially, but not so much that he doesn't start running toward it because he has a feeling he knows, he knows, he knows who it is.

Why would he type type type and not send anything?

“Buck-” Hen warns, reaching to grab him but she's already missed.

Buck knows he should be helping but his world is caving in. Bobby's barking commands but all he hears is a wordless echo. Ravi hustles the balloons and the jaws up to the worst hit of the vehicles and Chimney is already there; medkit tossed over the worst of the shattered glass as he kneels by the dangerously crushed window and tries to make contact with the person inside.

“Buck.” It's Eddie this time, blocking with his body as much as he can – and he can, even with the full force of Buck throwing himself forward - but even he can't stop the terrible, terrible knowing.

“TOMMY!”

The name rips out of his lungs, because it's the truck: it's Tommy's pride and joy. It's singing along in the passenger seat and Tommy's smiling – sometimes he joins in, even though he wouldn't otherwise care for Buck's taste. It's Tommy slinging a greasy towel over his shoulder and hitching himinto the truck bed and making out until they both can't breathe. It's spilling the salt from hot chips in there; it's shoulder to shoulder at the drive-ins; it's getting fucked into the seats; it's polishing and vacuuming just last week because he can't help with the engine for shit. He'd put a little thing of jellybeans in the cup holder after - like his old detailer used to do, just to be cute - and it hits him that that's what those little coloured smudges are, intermingled with the crushed glass littered across the road.

What if he's in trouble and he needs my help?

“Oh, God, Tommy.”

The howling turns to hopeless. Breathless. The fight evaporates right out of him and he collapses forward into Eddie's arms. Eddie's embrace is firm and steadying as he lowers them both as gently as he can manage to the curb. Buck closes his eyes, sapped of the strength to watch any more but cursed by the knowledge of what's still got to be happening. Hen and Chim will be extracting Tommy's bruised and broken body onto a backboard right about now, and then lifting him onto a gurney. They'll be doing CPR if he's lucky – and they are, he can hear it, so at least there's that.

Then it stops.

For a few, horrible seconds all he can hear is his own hammering heart. Eddie's ragged breathing. Footsteps. Bobby.

“Buck.”

It takes a second, for him to gather the courage to open his eyes and look up. Bobby's demeanour is solemn and serious, but there's a softness Buck recognises well. A lightness that promises things might just be okay, as he offers a hand to pull Buck up from the roadside.

“He's asking for you in the ambulance,” Bobby says, and there's just a flicker, just an iota of a smile as he urges - “Go.”

#bucktommy #evan buckley x tommy kinard #tv: 911 #911 fic #911 spoilers #clara's fic tag

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utterlyotterlyx · 8 months ago

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The Time Travellers Husband

Rhys x Cassians!Sister!Reader

Summary - The gift of time travel was unique to you and you alone, the only thing is that you can't control where you go or when, or for how long.

Warnings - ptsd, trauma, angsttttttt, fluff, mentions and depictions of SA, Under The Mountain trauma

Word Count - 6.8k (unedited, don't come at me)

Based on this ask x

It was an odd feeling, to travel through time. The sensation of it was like you were swimming toward a tide break, desperate for oxygen that felt an infinite number of lengths away whilst battling the currents of time like they were rips in the ocean waves.

Reaching the destination had never been the issue, it had always been the disappearance, the blinker of your essence as you faded into oblivion for what felt like minutes to only return to your husband hours, days, or even weeks later.

No one understood it. Prythian had never been graced with a traveller before you, even Helion and Thesan had researched endlessly but returned to Rhys empty handed. All he wanted was to help you to control it, he knew the mental toll it often took on you considering how you sometimes travelled to the darkest of places and memories, most of which were never your own.

Nights had come and gone where he would have to cradle you in his arms, whispering sweet nothings into your ear whilst you cried from the nightmares that plagued you; of bloody battlefields and torture, both of which you'd have to endure until the Mother decided to send you back to your mate who was waiting for you in Velaris.

Rhys had always been fated to be yours, you were certain of it.

The pair of you had grown up together thanks to Cassian being your older brother by only a couple of minutes, he had been gifted the strength and agility of the gods whilst the Mother had sealed your fate long before you were both even conceived.

It had snapped for Rhys first, on your birthday 300 years ago. Mor had insisted upon throwing you and Cassian a joint surprise birthday party at the House of Wind, though she had told you that she had planned an intimate dinner for you all to make sure that you dressed as best as you could. As a thank you for everything you had done for them, from your incessant teasing to your bounding wisdom, Rhys had delved into his mothers trousseau and had hand-picked the most spectacular dress he or you had ever seen; though, he hadn't told you where he had gotten it, you were led to believe that he had it commissioned.

Rhys had kept it a secret from everyone, he didn't want to upset Cassian or ruin anything for you, he wanted it to snap for you on its own.

It only took a year for the bond to snap for you.

It had been one of the more warmer afternoons in Velaris, and you had been tending to the garden at the River House, planting your favourite shade of peonies into the earth when you felt the sensation. Cassian had returned to the garden to find that you had disappeared, leaving your tools buried in the soil and your scent drifting away in the breeze.

You had been transported to a shared memory, but the projection of your present-day body found itself stood behind Rhys, staring inward at the room buzzing with anticipation. Nerves were pouring from him as he fidgeted in his spot, whisky in hand and swirling it every moment his attention wasn't stolen by a passer-by muttering a greeting to their High Lord.

It was a night you remembered very clearly, but you weren't there to live it again through your point of view, you had been taken there to see it through his.

Looking toward the large double doors of the House of Wind, you watched as they opened to reveal both you and Cassian arm in arm. Cassian was wearing his usual lax trousers and open collared shirt, hair styled into a low bun with strays falling over his face; and then there was you, and you watched Rhys inhale sharply as his eyes landed on your frame, scanning you from head to toe whilst joyous shock consumed your angelic features.

The dress he had gifted to you had certainly been the right choice, it accentuated each and every curve and line of your body, hugging your delicious hips and exposing just the right amount of skin. And your wings, gods, they had fluttered and rustled with every compliment directed at your from a room teeming with whispers. The garment was the shade of newly born starlight, a cascade of fine diamonds had been sewn into the skirt and they flowed downward like lazy ocean waves at sunset. Light bounced off of you, your skin held a certain shimmer to it and the warm faelight was making you glow.

The brightest star in a sea of darkness. Everything felt dim in comparison.

It felt as though you were on the first row at the theatre, enthralled in the emotions of the moment; you examined Rhys closely, how his eyes trailed down your body and then to your face, and then they widened, and he stumbled backward, his fingers floating over that particular spot on his chest whilst the past version of you was none the wiser from her spot on the other side of the room, laughing and thanking Mor for all of the effort she had put in to make your birthday as special as possible.

As though you could see the golden thread winding itself around you, Rhys muttered a singular word to himself, a word that made your heart clench in its cage

Mate.

That night was just over a year ago. Why hadn't he said anything?

Before you could fathom an answer, you felt your essence be pulled back to the present, and you landed in the main living area of the River House feeling confused and conflicted, and betrayed to a degree.

Within moments Rhys was on you, standing at your side whilst your gaze bore into the ground, he could see your mind reeling, replaying whatever you had seen from whichever moment you had been taken to. The sky had grown dark beyond the window, telling you that the day had scurried by whilst you had been kidnapped by your power.

"Hey, hey, hey," Rhys cooed to you, trying to gently pull your mind away from the memory or future, "Where did you go, darling?"

Your brows twitched with every thought that flew through you and Rhys turned your body to face his own, resting his large hands on your arms and rubbing his thumbs softly against the skin he found there, lowering his eyeline to yours to try and capture your gaze.

Then you peered up at him, eyes colliding with pools of violet serenity, and it snapped, your own thread dancing outward to meet the end that had longed for it for so long and you gasped when it found its marker, "When were you going to tell me?"

Knowing what you meant due to the opening of the bond, Rhys' expression faltered, but he held onto you tighter, "I wanted you to find out on your own. The bond is a beautiful thing. I just wanted it to snap for you when you were ready."

Rhys' fingers reached for an escaped strand of hair, delicately tucking it behind your rounded ear in a way that made your wings shiver, "You've lied to me for twelve months."

He cringed, his fingers retracting from the shell of your ear, "It was more like avoiding the truth," you gave him a pointed stare, "Which I know isn't good enough. I'm sorry, y/n."

You'd be lying to yourself if you said that you hadn't wondered what a life with Rhys would look like, the High Lord was the most stunning male you had ever seen, and the way he carried himself in front of you and others was so alluring to the point that you often thought of him when you were alone in the confinements of your bedroom. Rhys had always respected you, he had always held a certain tone of humour with you that neither Cassian or Azriel were privy to, and he had always been the one to look out for you the most.

Despite being very well aware of your tactical prowess, Rhys did all he could to avoid sending you on missions, and when he did send you away, it was often on his behalf to other courts, he knew they adored you just as much as he did so much so that you would never truly be in any real danger.

"Say something. Please."

Worry had infected his bones at the possibility that you may not want him, and the longer you stood saying nothing the more tense he became, "My head hurts," and it did, not just from the information, but from the anguish travelling brought upon your body; Rhys knew that little fact better than anyone considering he often tended to you afterward.

A hand rested on the side of your face, his fingers curling around the back of your neck, "Let me look after you," Rhys visibly relaxed when you nodded, exhaustion settling into you and coursing down the bond.

Sweeping you into his arms, Rhys rested his cheek atop your head, inhaling the lavender of your shampoo as he carried you through the house that he had permanently moved into to be closer to you; he paced up the stairs and into your bedroom, laying you onto the pristine white sheets before finding his place beside you and pulling your body flush against his.

Lazily, you traced your fingers over his clothed chest, drawing small circles and tendrils over his heart, "What did you see?" Rhys asked you, his breath caressing your forehead and his digits curling into your hair in the way he knew brought you untold relief.

"Our birthday last year but from your point of view," your voice paused for a moment as you recounted the images in your mind, you craned your head upward to meet his nervous gaze like he knew that all it would take for his dreams to burn would be the mere action of you pulling away from him, "I saw how you looked at me from across the room when the bond snapped for you, I felt the air shift in a way. You were looking at me like I was the brightest star in the Prythian skies."

A ghosting smile quirked at the corners of his mouth, your voice was soft, void of any anger. Rhys dragged his thumb across your lips, resting it at the dimple in your cheek, "You are." Rhys' eyes drifted over your face, drinking in the fine lines of happiness that had embedded themselves at the corners of your eyes, "You are the star which points to home. You are my homeland, y/n. I think that you always have been."

Watching your gaze soften, he had to ask you, "Does the idea of me disgust you? The idea of us?"

A furrowed brow greeted him, but you shook your head softly, your cheek rubbing against the silk of his shirt, "How can I look away now that I have seen you?" Reaching to brush your fingers against his jaw, eye sparkling and brimming with the silent permission he had been waiting for.

In one swift but gentle motion, Rhys rolled you onto your back, cupping your face in his hands and hovering his lips a whisker away from your own. His breath fanned across your face, it was warm but heavy, he was overthinking it and what it would mean, but nothing would stop him from claiming you. Not even Cassian.

You pulled his eyes to meet yours, dragging him from the thoughts that plagued him, and like you were a spring in eons of desert, Rhys drank. Connecting his lips to yours was something he had only allowed himself to dream of, but nothing could have prepared him for how you tasted. Honeysuckle and sea salt, with the slightest hint of sweet spice. Rhys couldn't stop himself from deepening the embrace, running his tongue along your bottom lip and then darting it into your parted mouth, exploring every inch you would allow him to whilst curling the fingers of his free hand around your hip, his other resting at the back of your head.

Reluctantly, Rhys created a space between your lips, feeling himself losing control of his body the longer he was connected to you; he watched closely as your chest rose and fell in quick succession, the curve of your breasts grazing against his shirt and lips sinfully swollen from the onslaught of his adoration for you. He found his place beside you once more, pulling you to him so that your head rested on his chest, "Rest now. We can face the world tomorrow."

What you wouldn't give to go back to that moment. Everything had been so much simpler then. The new nerves and the oncoming anger from Cassian had been the only negativity in your world, though, your twin had taken the news much better than you had expected, he had only beaten Rhys once before the happiness for you had taken over.

If you were going to be mated to anyone, at least it was to the person who doted you and protected you at all costs.

It didn't take long until he was asking when the first babe would arrive.

It wasn't like you didn't want children with Rhys, it had been a topic that made you both excited, but you were also very happy with one another so had decided to not explicitly try for a babe, but if it happened then you would both be overjoyed. It took of mounds of pressure from your shoulders.

The mating ceremony itself had been beautiful, Rhys had truly spared no expense on the intimate ceremony where he had also sworn you in as High Lady of the Night Court in front of your family, and he had cried nearly as hard as Cassian when you saw you walking down the aisle in the dress that you knew belonged to his mother, the same one he had seen you in when the bond had snapped for him with some minor alterations, that being a lace veil that clipped into each loosely wound braid of your hair and matching gloves that kisses above your elbows.

The Inner Circle had succumb to the possibility that they wouldn't see you both for at least a month afterward. You were far too radiant for Rhys to allow from his sight, not only as his newly wedded wife, but also as his High Lady and the future mother of his children. You were exquisite.

Centuries passed and your love and devotion toward one another never waned, if anything it only grew, and you didn't think it possible that you could love anything else more than Rhys, and you were right.

There wasn't a single moment of the day where you didn't want to rip his clothes off and have him fuck you until you couldn't form coherent words, and he was always happy to oblige you. No matter what he was doing, whether working through stacks of paperwork in his office with hair messed from raking his fingers through it or relaxing in the living area after a long day, if you entered his space with that feline speck in your eye, he would be the one throwing everything aside to be pulling those mewls from your lips.

It was a love that Prythian would never see again, a love it would always search for and wither when it couldn't be found.

What you'd give to go back to that. Back to the time before Amarantha happened.

You remembered the feeling as though it happened only yesterday, the tidal wave of love and regret and sorrow, a pleading tsunami that you returned with your own, and you could almost see his sad smile, drowning in that feeling for a heartbeat longer before the bond went cold. Cassian and Azriel had burst into the room after hearing your screams all the way from the training ring at the House of Wind, finding you balled up atop the cold ground sobbing and clutching at the skin where your heart lay.

Azriel had moved to you first, his arms wrapping around your body and shadows peppering your tear-stained cheeks, he coaxed your ire from you, freezing as you told him that the bond had gone cold. It had only taken a few minutes for him to piece it together, of Amarantha no doubt trapping him below the mountain and him playing along in order to protect his court, his home, his y/n.

It had taken weeks for you to rise from the ashes of your bedroom, you had refused to move from the sheets that held his scent deep within them. But you were the High Lady of the Night Court, and Amren was struggling to lead the court on her own. Throwing yourself into your tripled duties was all that you could do, if Rhys ever came home, then that home had to be healthy and flourishing.

The citizens of Velaris pitied you more than they mourned the absence of their High Lord, you were the image of despair, pallid skin and a certain voidness to you usually bright eyes, though it didn't stop you from ruling over the court whatsoever. The only time when you would break would when you would be alone, and Cassian and Azriel couldn't allow you to wither away any longer so moved you into the House of Wind, leaving your once perfect home abandoned.

Before you knew it, 50 years had drawled by, 50 years without your mate and best friend. Life had tried to curl around you gracefully, to will you back into some form of enjoyment, and Azriel had coaxed you to accept the hand offered to you, so you did, but there wasn't a single moment that came and went that you didn't think of Rhys and what he was enduring Under The Mountain.

"Cassian, have you been to Windhaven lately? I need an update on the wing clipping laws we put in place." You entered the study, your pale blue dress dragging behind you from the pace of your steps, the crown growing heavy on your head.

It had always been something you and Rhys had spoken of, banning the archaically brutal practice of wing clipping in Illyria. Once upon a time you had almost been one of those young girls, pinned to the ashen soil with a blade a feathers touch away from taking the most sacred part of you. Luckily it never happened, and you had Cassian, Azriel and Rhys to thank for it.

Not looking up from the reports in your fingers, "Cass?" you gritted, too exhausted to deal with his silence. You had disappeared again that day, it had happened much more frequently over the last 50 years without Rhys by your side, but you weren't allowed to rest when you would return, there was always too much to do. "Cassian." Finally you looked up, finding your twin leaning against your desk with a shit-eating grin on his face and puffy eyes, "Are you going to answer me within the next two working minutes or shall I just go to Windhaven myself?"

"Oh how I have missed that voice."

Frozen in place, you felt your heartbeat rattle in your chest at that voice, the voice that haunted every moment you lived no matter if you were sleeping or walking the city aimlessly. Needing some form of confirmation you looked up to Cassian, your bottom lip wobbling when he nodded once at you and leaned back.

Then you felt him, his hands on your hips and nose grazing the curve of your shoulder, those two things alone making the reports in your fingers float to the floor. His chest met your back, his arms wound around your midsection, "Tell me that I'm not travelling right now."

A chuckle rumbled within the chest behind you, his lips pressed dainty kisses to your exposed skin, "I'm here. It's real."

A sob fell from your mouth and you turned in his arms, you buried your head into the nape of his neck and cried, and you felt bad for it, you weren't the one trapped in that place, but part of you had wished that you had been.

At some point during your crying and Rhys shushing you softly with his fingers running through your hair, Cassian had left the room, closing the door on his exit to give you both the privacy you so desperately needed. Another few moments passed and Rhys pulled away slightly, creating a small space between you so that he could hold your face in his hands and know that it was all real, that everything he had endured had been worth it just to have that moment.

"You look exhausted, my love," his thumbs caressed the skin of your slightly hallowed cheeks, his face lowering to level with your own. He didn't look much better than you did, his eyes were darkened with the things he had seen, his skin rough and pallid from the lack of sun, fine lines of worry and anguish ran along his forehead, "Cassian told me that you've been running this court on your own," he told you with a gentle smile, knowing how difficult it must have been for you to rule without him, to take on that load and also deal with your gift, "You've done so well, darling. I'm so lucky to have you."

Rhys pressed his lips to your forehead like a mother would a babe, loving and certain, and you couldn't help but sob again at the words and his touch, "I thought I wasn't going to see you again. I thought you had left me forever. When the bond went cold, and I couldn't feel you, I thought-"

"Hey. Don't think that. There is no reality where I wouldn't return to you, y/n," he rested his fingers at the base of your neck, relishing at the touch of your skin beneath his fingertips, "You are the only thing that kept me alive down there," his eyes glassed over, replaying memories he would soon rather forget, "I couldn't look into your eyes, but they were all I thought about. I memorised your face long ago, but it was a mirror for me there, or a prayer I had to recite nightly to make me remember who was waiting for me. I told you that you are my homeland, I will always come back to you."

Tears rolled down both of your cheeks when he kissed you, so full of need but also so hesitant, it was tender and light and warm, and you felt the floodgates of your bond crash open, your heart fighting against the tide of his relief and exhaustion, of his love and regret.

"But right now, I would like to bathe with my wife, and hold her until we both fall asleep. That's all I want, to hold you. Can we do that? Please?"

You had never been able to say no to Rhys and you weren't about to start, not when his eyes were weary and heavy with the turmoil of being away from you for so long, for witnessing and taking part in the acts that he had.

Carefully, you took his hand in yours, entwining your fingers and kissing his knuckles, "Of course we can," a gentle tug from you spurred him to move, and you led him through the House of Wind to your private chambers, mumbling to him that sleeping in your shared rooms had been too painful.

The tub was already steaming by the time you entered the bathroom, candles were lit and the window showed the golden valley you both adored so much as well as the snow-capped mountains. A once sultry act of undressing one another held a new meaning, you stripped one another bare with the upmost of care, taking time to touch one another as if you'd blink and it would all be gone.

Rhys lowered himself into the water first, almost groaning at the lavender soak that seeped into his muscles, and he held a hand out to you, positioning himself perfectly to accommodate you between his legs and running his fingers along the membrane of the wings you had done your best to tuck away.

"I love you so much," he kissed the glistening skin on your shoulder, trailing his lips from the spot up to the shell of your ear, and he smiled into your hair when you returned the sentiment, kissing his open palms and drowning in his power.

It didn't take long for exhaustion to settle within both of you, and once it had, Rhys lifted you from the tub and wasted no time in drying you and pulling one of his shirts over your head, pecking your nose once it was secured around your frame and nestling into bed with you for the most tranquil nights sleep he had gotten in 50 years.

It had taken Rhys a few weeks to feel comfortable enough to be intimate with you, he had never given you a reason, but you knew why. There had been many rumours of Amarantha's whore, and you could only imagine how he was feeling. Whether he didn't wish to admit it to you for fear of embarrassment or judgement, you weren't really sure, but you would never push him. Everything had to be done when he was ready and he alone.

You'd wait an eternity if that's what your mate needed.

Settling back into life in Velaris had been strange for him, he didn't know a single thing that had gone on in his court during his absence, but you walked him through it all. From your detailed reports, Rhys realised just how much love you had poured into his, your, city; orphanages had opened in the city offering education to the less fortunate, you had cracked down on the barbaric act of wing clipping so much so that there were very few cases reported in the last three years, and you had funded so many projects that would better the lives of all, from art galleries and theatres to community gardens, the Night Court was undeniably thriving.

"How have you accomplished all of this?" Rhys had asked you one morning as he scanned over all of the reports, flitting through the pages in wonder.

You had nervously picked at the skin around your nails at the question, "In all honesty I never really stopped working," his gaze met yours and he softened, opening his arms to you and pulling you into his lap, "I was scared that if I stopped doing all of this," you motioned to the papers littering the desk, "That the weight of your absence would consume me. I wanted to make you proud."

"I'll always be proud of you, my incredible mate and wife. You are amazing. Truly."

The darkness still gathered beneath his eyes, more nights than not you'd be awakened from slumber by his nightmares, and you would rise immediately to hold him, to remind him of where he was and that she was gone. It was clear that he didn't wish to burden you with the details, as usual, he was protecting you.

After a couple of months, Rhys felt like he was back to his old self, his usual banter with his brothers was rife and he was spending a lot more quality time with you whenever he had the opportunity. Everything had felt peaceful.

Until it wasn't.

The feeling you hadn't been consumed by since the day of his return had slowly settled in your gut, clawing and tearing at your essence, but it felt more sinister, like it wanted to ruin you. Crashing ceramic pulled Rhys from his book to see you in the doorway, your hands turning translucent and eyes full of terror as it travelled up your arms. Rhys was moving to you in an instant, trying to reach you before you disappeared entirely but he was too late, his fingers moving through you like you weren't even there.

It felt as though death itself had come to take you in that moment as you clawed your way to the surface.

You had landed in a place you didn't recognise, dark stone glistening with day old rain, hallways illuminated by lanterns and torches. The halls were wide, so tall that you felt tiny in comparison to them, and you knew where you were, where the Mother had decided to take you.

Under The Mountain.

A faint voice drifted through the air to you, pulling you toward it, and you followed the call, peaking into each room before you found the one where the sounds felt much more powerful. Though, nothing could have prepared you for what you were about to witness.

The room was dark, dressed in hues of black and wine red, faelight illuminated the walls lined with various dark artworks, a curved tub sat to the left, and in the centre was a large four poster bed, and on that bed was your husband and that creature of a woman you knew to be Amarantha.

Rhys' eyes were closed as he thrusted into her, his brow furrowed and face flashing with pain and remorse, you covered your mouth to conceal your gasp, forgetting that neither of them could see you. Amarantha lay beneath your husband, moaning and raking her talons down his spine, breaking the skin and grinning at the blood sweeping across her lips; her legs were wound around his waist, pushing him deeper into her with every rock of his hips.

"Tell me, Pet," she drawled, rolling him onto his back and sinking down on him, riding his cock and muffling her delight at the feeling, "How do you think your precious wife would feel if she knew what we did each night?" Rhys visibly tensed, "Do you think that she would still love you? Do you think that she would still want to be wed to you?"

Everything within you was telling you to look away, but you couldn't.

It was a question that Rhys couldn't answer, mostly because he didn't want to think about what you would do if you knew, which was the reason why he hadn't told you.

Tears streaked down your face, dripping onto the stone cold floor with every roll of her hips, "Who would want to be wedded to a cheating whore?" Amarantha's talon dragged down the column of his throat, "Do you not think that she deserves so much better than a male who would allow this?"

A moment of silence passed from Rhys, a silence that was filled with her moans as she neared her release, "Yes, I think that she does."

The words broke your heart, that your mate truly believed that you deserved better than what he had done, the things she had made him do. Each night she tormented him, made him submit to her against his will, and told him that you wouldn't want him when she was done.

With that soul-tearing admittance, Amarantha's movements jolted around him, her talons tugged at her hair as her moans climbed and she rode out her release, and once she had slowed, she wasted no time in removing herself from your mate and pulling a robe over her alabaster skin, smirking to him wordlessly before padding right past you on her exit.

It had all been to protect his home from her, and by extension, you. And that fact made you feel sick to your stomach, so sick that you felt the bile rising upward. Rhys had endured the unspeakable to protect his court and family, he knew what Amarantha would do if she got her hands on any of you, but it would be you who would suffer the most, and you knew that Rhys would stop at nothing to avoid that.

As soon as she was far enough away, you watched Rhys crumble; he perched on the edge of that large four poster bed with his head buried into his palms, loud, painful sobs causing his body to tremble and quake. His pain roared through him, "I love you," you rushed to him, you tried to reach for him but your fingers passed right through his body that was covered by a thin onyx sheet, "I love you," he repeated but more strained, he looked to the ceiling, his cheeks stained with his anguish and guilt, "I'm so sorry, darling. I'm so sorry."

"Rhys, please," your broken voice pleaded, but he couldn't hear you, no one ever could when you travelled, you were a simple bystander in these types of memories, "I love you."

The loud sobs of your mate continued, he wrapped his arms around himself, it had been the only thing to bring him comfort, and it was clear that he was imagining that it was you holding him and not himself. Rhys carried on apologising to the skies, hoping that his sincerity would reach you, hoping that you knew just how much he loved you and how much he would endure to keep you safe from her.

You weren't sure how long you knelt before him on that cold stone floor, telling him that everything would be alright, that no matter what happened you would never stop loving him whilst your own sobs broke your heart at the sight of your mate looking so defeated and worthless.

Only when that memory began to fade did you realise that the Mother was done with you, that she deemed you enlightened enough to return you to your home.

You landed with a thud, your knees crumpling beneath the weight of your body making you a blubbering mess on the floor. Marred hands found you instantly, shaking your shoulder softly until you found their owner, hazel pools of worry sketched over your face, his shadows frantically weaving between one another with panic. Sound had become muffled, like you were in a daze, you faintly knew that Azriel had called out to someone, likely telling them to fetch your husband as your focus honed in on him, "Where did you go, y/n?" Azriel had never looked so distressed, "You've been gone for three weeks."

Three weeks.

Rhys must have been going insane.

All you could do is cry and fall into his arms, the vision of your mate causing your body to shake, and Azriel folded you into his embrace, rubbing circles into your back, "I was Under The Mountain," you told him between sobs and he froze, like he knew what you had seen, "I'm going to throw up."

Another presence entered the room and moved to the two of you, an angelic touch graced your lower back and a bowl appeared before you, her fingers tugged your hair from your face as you hunched over and emptied the contents of your stomach, "It's alright," Mor cooed to you, rubbing your back to ensure you had gotten out what you needed to, curtly telling Azriel to meet Rhys and Cassian before they entered and saw you in such a position.

Mor held you as you sobbed, your guilt eating you from the inside out from knowing that Rhys had endured all that pain and suffering and abuse to keep you all safe, to protect you from the devil incarnate.

It didn't take long for the doors to open once more, Rhys took one look at your coiled frame, and the bowl to your left, and strode over to you, sliding onto his knees and gathering you in his arms. Knowing you wouldn't be able to tell him what exactly it was that you saw, you felt him caress your mental shields, asking for permission to enter, and you allowed it, you allowed him to sift through the images and felt his grip tighten around you.

Rhys scooped you into his arms and didn't say a single word to anyone on your exit, he carried you to your shared bedroom at the House of Wind, the same place you had accepted the bond centuries prior, and settled you onto the edge of the bed, kneeling before you and kissing your knuckles.

"I'm sorry that she did that to you," tears flowed down your face, landing on the backs of his hands, "I'm sorry that you had to do that to protect us."

Surprise settled onto his face at your words, like he wasn't expecting anything of that nature to leave your lips, "I'm sorry that she made you believe that I wouldn't love you because of it. I do love you, more than you'll ever know. Nothing would ever be able to take me from you."

Rhys picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and perching on the space where you had been seated only moments before; he peered up at you, his eyes the lightest shade of violet you had ever seen them, "Don't apologise for something that wasn't your doing," he wiped your tears, "I would do it all again if it meant that you would be safe, I'd endure the most wicked of punishments to keep you healthy and alive."

"I don't want you to ever feel like that again."

"I won't. I'll never leave you, not until death finds me and even then I will cling onto life with everything I have left so that I'll be able to find you in the next. It's always been you, and it'll always be you. There is nothing that can take me from you, I would burn the world to ash if anyone ever tried it, do you hear me?"

Rhys knew how hard it had been for you even if you hadn't told him yourself. It had been Azriel who had confided in Rhys about your mental state over the years, how you struggled to sleep and that when you did you were haunted by his loss, how you had travelled more often and for longer periods of time than before and how you always returned to them exhausted and little more broken than the last time. Rhys had been told how hard the entire Inner Circle had to work to contain you, to make sure that you didn't journey to Under The Mountain yourself and get yourself tortured and killed right before his eyes.

Desperate to hear your voice, Rhys continued on, "You and I are entwined for eternity, my love. Our life is going to be full of wonder and joy, that is what we fight for. In 100 years when we have our own babe and a life of serenity, I'll know that everything we went through was worth it, to have a chance to create the life we always dreamed of, the life we spoke of before the bond snapped and we were just Rhys and y/n dreaming about the future."

Rhys' fingers ran through your hair, pulling all of the tension from your body in the exact way he knew that you needed, "Tell me how much you love me."

Your palms rested flat on his chest, his heartbeat thumping through the skin to feel you, and he smiled softly, "I love the way your skin feels beneath mine," his arms pulled you closer into his chest, his chin rested atop your breastbone and his eyes bore into yours, "I love the little noises you make in the night when you're getting comfortable, and the little content sighs when I wrap my arms around you. I love the sound of your voice and your laugh. I love your truth and wisdom, and how you've never been afraid to do what is right despite the consequences. The world bores me - it bores me and irritates me when I'm away from you. You're the only thing that makes this life worth living. I love you, I love you more than our insanely irritating family," a gentle laugh passed through your lips, and you sniffled, "I love you more than this court or my power, I love you more than life itself, because what is the meaning of life if you aren't in it?"

"Rhys?" He hummed in question, still staring deep into your soul, "Love me. Please." It was a whisper, one you weren't quite sure he had heard, but he nodded gentle and placed you onto your back, ensuring that there were enough pillows beneath your head before he lowered his lips to meet yours.

Rhys made sure that he showed you how much he adored you and everything that you had given him, his lips covering every inch of your skin in a night filled with passion and the purest or adoration. And, unbeknownst to either of you in that moment, it seemed that your collective dreams were going to come true a lot sooner than you thought.

Author's Note

Brb crying x

(Also happy 1k followers besties, my first Rhysie fic is here for the occasion)

#acotar imagine #acotar #acotar fanfiction #maasverse #fanfiction #imagine #rhysand #rhys x reader #rhys acotar #rhys x you #rhys x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #cassian #azriel acotar #mor acotar #amren

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yuoimia · 1 year ago

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THE FIRST TIME I SAW YOU…

summary: their first impressions

ft: neuvillette, kazuha, xiao, cyno, kaeya, lyney, zhongli, kaveh, albedo, childe, alhaitham, diluc, wanderer, heizou.

...i was enchanted - neuvillette, kazuha, xiao, cyno, kaeya

people pass in a blur all the time, stored in memories in the back of their mind. faces vague, conversations hazy. they weren’t necessarily important, strangers after all. so, what would be different with you? a passer-by, another person saying a kind ‘hello’ as you momentarily cross paths, another person holding another conversation.

the conversation ends.

and how he wished he knew what was coming.

addicting or enchanting? or both, with a slight knowing smile?

so different and so interesting, he got lost within the words exchanged. mind whirling, holding a facade of utmost cool and tranquility onto dear life.

…i don’t want this to be a memory.

he wanted it to be more than that. he didn’t know what just yet, but he knew he didn’t want to forget you.

…i knew it wasn’t just a coincidence - lyney, zhongli, kaveh, albedo, childe

fate, he believes. such a blessing couldn’t have been a mere coincidence. coincidences can be suspicious; he knows all too well. besides, he’s positive you and the word ‘suspicious’ could never be mixed together. perhaps lightheartedly, but from first impressions, you were sunshine in human form, warming and lighting the atmosphere unknowingly. it’s deathly contagious, he notes. the smile hasn’t left his lips ever since you decided to sit beside him, draping the atmosphere in comforting silence, broken only occasionally by a spark of sudden ramblings he’d be more than delighted to engage in.

…i was dying to know more - alhaitham, diluc, wanderer, heizou.

though he’s the type of person to mind his own business, that doesn’t make him invulnerable to curiosity and its facets. it can be dull, something that could be quenched with a textbook, or something irritating, similar to an aggressive pull towards something. or specifically, someone.

it’s not you that he’s irked at. it’s what you’re doing to him. and what's worse, you’re not even doing anything wrong. plainly, he’s quite clueless. he wants to know why. why does he feel like all he wants is to know you? like, know know you. everything written on that pretty face that he’s so attached to. how effortlessly you grab his attention, how you flood his dreams like stormclouds in a drought, bringing back the life in him. explanations needed, asap.

#genshin fluff #genshin x reader #neuvillette x reader #kazuha x reader #xiao x reader #cyno x reader #kaeya x reader #lyney x reader #zhongli x reader #kaveh x reader #albedo x reader #childe x reader #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader #wanderer x reader #heizou x reader #anya writes ✧.*

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pompadourpink · 6 months ago

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Literal French expressions

À deux - at two

À la + n. - in the style of

À la carte - at the menu

À la mode - in fashion

Amateur - lover

Après-ski - after skying

À propos - about

Armoire - wardrobe

Art nouveau - new art

Au naturel - plain

Au pair - at the peer

Auteur - author

Avant-garde - before guard

Bête noire - black beast

Blasé - jaded

Bon appétit - good appetite

Bon voyage - good journey

Boutique - shop

Buffet - credenza

Bureau - office

Canapé - couch

Carte blanche - white card

C'est la vie - that's life

Chauffeur - warmer (n.)

Chef - leader

Cliché - picture

Clique - gang

Connaisseur - "knower"

Coup d'état - blow of state

Coup de grâce - blow of mercy

Coup de foudre - blow of lightning

Couture - sewing (n.)

Cul-de-sac - ass of the bag

Début - beginning

Débutante - beginner

Déjà-vu - already seen

Dénouement - untying

Dossier - file

Double entendre - double hear

... du jour - of the day

Eau de toilette - washing water

Eau de vie - life water

Encore - again

Ennui - boredom

En route - in road

Ensemble - together

Entourage - people surrounding you

Entrepreneur - starter (n.)

Essai - attempt

Esprit de l'escalier - spirit of the stairs

Étiquette - label

Exposé - exposed

Façade - frontage

Faux pas - fake step

Femme fatale - deadly woman

Film noir - black movie

Fin de siècle - end of century

Flâneur - "stroller"

Femme - woman

Folie à deux - madness at two

Foyer - fireplace, home

Gamine - female kid (casual)

Gauche - left

Gendarme - person of weapons

Je ne sais quoi - I don't know what

Laissez-faire - let (someone) do (imperative)

Laissez-passer - let (someone) pass

L'appel du vide - the call of the void

Lingerie - underwear

Maître d' - master o'

Mardi gras - fat Tuesday

Matinée - morning

Ménage à trois - household at three

Mon/ma chéri-e - my cherished

Montage - mounting

Motif - pattern

Mural - on the wall (adj.)

Né-e - born

Négligé - neglected

Nom de plume - feather name

Parole - word

Petite - small (adj.)

Pied-à-terre - foot on land

Poilu - hairy

Pot pourri - rotten pot

Pourboire - for drink

Première - first

Prêt-à-manger - ready to eat

Protégé - protected

Renaissance - rebirth

Rendez-vous - appointment

Répertoire - directory

Résumé - summary

Risqué - risked

Robe - dress

Rouge - red

RSVP - answer please

Sans-culottes - without pantaloons

Savant - "knower" (n.)

Savoir-faire - know how to do (v.)

Savoir-vivre - know how to live

Séance - session

Soirée - evening

Souvenir - memory

Suite - sequel, development

Surveillance - careful watching

Tête-à-tête - head to head

Touché - touched

Tour - circuit

Trompe-l'oeil - cheats the eye

Venue - came

Vignette - sticker, label

Vis-à-vis - face to face

Voyeur - "seer"

Ballet vocabulary:

Allongé - laid down

Balancé - swinged

Balançoire - swing (n.)

Battu - battered

Brisé - broken

Chassé - chased

Chaînés - chained

Ciseaux - scissors

Coupé - cut

Dégagé - cleared

Développé - developed

Échappé - escaped

En cloche - in bell

En croix - in cross

Entrechat - between braid

En pointe - in tip

Failli - almost did

Fouetté - whipped

Glissade - sliding

Plié - bent

Jeté - thrown

Manège - carousel

Pas de bourrée - drunk step

Pas de chat - cat step

Pas de cheval - horse step

Pas de deux - step of two

Pas de valse - waltz step

Penché - leaned

Piqué - pricked

Port de bras - carry of arms

Relevé - lifted back up

Renversé - titled, bent backwards

Retiré - removed

Rond de jambe - leg circle

Temps de flèche - arrow time Tendu - stretched

Temps lié - linked time

Tombé - fallen

Tour en l'air - turn in the air

Kitchen vocabulary:

Amuse-bouche - mouth entertainer

Bain-Marie - Mary bath

Café au lait - milky coffee

Casserole - pot

Cordon bleu - blue ribbon

Crème brûlée - burnt cream

Crème de la crème - cream of the cream

Crème fraîche - fresh cream

Croissant - crescent

Éclair - lightning

Entrée - entrance

Filet mignon - cute net

Flambé - blazed

Foie gras - fat liver

Fondant - melting

Fondue - melted

Gourmet - foodie

Hors d'oeuvre - out of the work

Légume - vegetable

Liqueur - liquid

Mille-feuille - thousand leaf

Mousse - foam

Pâté - pasted

Roux - redhead(ed)

Sauté - jumped

Sautoir - "jumper"

Soufflé - blown

Velouté - velvety

Fanmail - masterlist (2016-) - archives - hire me - reviews (2020-) - Drive

#vocabulary #expressions

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padfootagain · 1 month ago

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Love in Verses (XVIII)

Chapter 38: ‘They are elsewhere beyond the night way higher than day in the blinding brightness of their first love’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Time for an… eventful second date! Also, I couldn’t find a decent translation of that poem, so I made one myself… sorry if it sounds a little clumsy.

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3120

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Les enfants qui s’aiment

The children who love each other Kiss standing against the doors of the night And the passers-by who pass by point at them But the children who love each other Are not there for anyone

And it is only their shadows That shiver in the night Exciting the passers-by’s rage Their rage, their disdain Their laughter and their envy

The children who love each other Are not there for anyone They are elsewhere beyond the night Way higher than day In the blinding brightness Of their first love

Jacques Prévert

You looked at yourself in the mirror, considered your tenth outfit.

Yeah, that was the best one, you reckoned. You would settle for it. And even if it wasn’t the best one, you had already spent an hour getting ready and trying to pick your clothes for your second date with Andy, that was enough. He had literally seen you today at work, you had been friends for months, he had seen you naked at this point… your outfit was good enough. He knew what you looked like… you felt heat spread across your frame at the thought that he knew what you looked like under these clothes.

Better not think about that now, this activity was scheduled for later tonight. Now, you were ready to get going, head for the restaurant where you had booked a table for two. Andrew had planned the first date, you were the one to handle the second. Something much simpler, you hoped he wouldn’t mind. You had booked a table at a delicious Italian restaurant, knowing how much Andrew loved Italian food. You had bought him flowers, were planning on inviting him for the rest of the night. God, your body trembled at the memory of your previous weekend, of the pleasure that had spread throughout the night and morning following your first date. Andrew was definitely something else…

You cleared your throat, grabbed your purse and the flowers you had bought. You were the one to pick up Andrew tonight, you wanted to surprise him with the restaurant, he didn’t know where you were going.

So, you headed to his apartment, heart pounding, struggling to breathe, a strange mix of nerves and excitement. And love. So much love. What a lovesick fool you were…

You knocked, waiting for a reply that didn’t come. You frowned hard, rang the doorbell. Maybe he hadn’t heard you. You were starting to panic already, doubts about yourself and your own worth messing with your busy head.

But now the door was being unlocked, you relaxed again. He had simply not heard you knocking, everything was…

Andrew flung the door open, eyes wide with panic and fear. He was wearing sweatpants, hair messy, glasses lopsided on his nose. He looked at you with a puzzled expression. He blinked, eyes lingering on your body before settling on the flowers, which made his frown deepen. And then he looked into your eyes again and panic only grew, making his eyes impossibly round.

You had to admit that you were disappointed… you were going on a date, you had spent so much time getting ready… was he really going to wear sweatpants?

“Oh my God…” he let out in a breath.

“Hi!” you forced a smile, hiding your disappointment.

“Hi,” he answered automatically. “Christ… what time is it?”

“Erm… 7 p.m…”

“Christ! Holy shit…”

You raised a surprised eyebrow… but then the wave of disappointment that rushed against your heart could not be hidden.

He had forgotten about your date…

“I’m so sorry… I… I need to cancel for tonight.”

Cancel?

“What?” you mumbled, blinking tears away.

“I…”

But then you heard a whimper coming from inside his home, saw the look of terror in Andrew’s eyes.

“I was about to leave,” Andrew added, and he was frantic when he reached for his car keys, his jacket, his wallet, a cap…

“What’s happening?” you asked, voice fragile even though you didn’t want to look that way, even though you wanted to be strong and be mean and petty and go home to cry your heart out…

He stared at you for a moment, frozen in his movements.

“Are these for… ?” he trailed off, and you handed him the flowers.

“Yes, they’re for you.”

He blinked at you, stared at the bouquet as if he tried to understand the meaning behind your words, as if he couldn’t figure what it all meant.

He took the bouquet, you saw that he was blinking tears away.

“Oh… thanks, that’s very sweet,” he told you, voice soft and deep, making your heart melt.

But then the whimper came again, you noticed it was coming from the living room.

“What’s going on?” you asked again, but Andrew merely rushed to the room.

He let you follow him, put down the flowers on his coffee table.

Elwood was lying on his side on the carpet, eyes shining with tears, slightly panting.

“He’s sick,” Andrew mumbled, voice trembling with panic. “I don’t know… I don’t know what’s wrong. Everything was fine, and then we came back from our walk, I took a shower, I was about to get ready for our date when I heard him crying, and he was like this… I don’t know what’s going on…”

And then everything became clear. Instead of being disappointed, relief washed over you.

You weren’t the problem, he hadn’t forgotten you. Elwood was ill, he was about to head to the vet, Andrew was clearly panicking, he had not thought about warning you…

“We should take him to the vet,” you said, kneeling next to the dog and soothingly stroking his head to keep him calm, to reassure him.

“I was about to leave. Christ, I’m so sorry Y/N, I forgot to call to cancel for tonight…”

“That’s alright, it’s not your fault… Let’s take care of Elwood, yeah?”

Slowly, he nodded. You noticed the tears in his eyes, the way he was trying to remain calm, but he was clearly close to surrendering to panic.

“He’s gonna be alright, don’t worry.”

Your voice was soothing, reassuring, and when Andrew nodded, you noticed how his breathing became more regular, how he regained control of himself, for a part, at least.

“I’ve called the vet, they’re expecting us.”

“Okay, let’s get this good boy in the car, huh?” you cooed at the sick dog, and he closed his eyes as you stroked his head the way you knew he liked.

Andrew picked the dog in his arms, let you close the door of his home behind him. He had to slow down a couple of times on the way to the vet, fear making him drive above the speed limit. But your hand on his thigh seemed to help, you noticed how he let out long exhales whenever your rubbed circles there.

The vet was waiting, indeed. Andrew apologised for the late hour, but the vet was quick to reassure him. After a couple of minutes spent examining the dog, the conclusion was that Elwood must have eaten an object of some kind. An ultrasound scan revealed that he had indeed eaten a small screw. The vet was reassuring, there was no internal damage of any kind, but the form of the object and the relatively sharp edges were the cause for the dog’s pain. You were sent back in the waiting room while the vet was pumping Elwood’s stomach. You sat down in the chair next to Andrew, and he reached for your hand as soon as you were seated. Your hold on his fingers was as tight as his on your hand.

You were both quiet for a while, Andrew’s eyes fixed on the white ceiling, his expression unreadable. He seemed so big in the tiny waiting room, in a chair that seemed too small for him. A true giant.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

His voice was deeper than usual. Soft, gentle. You loved that about him. That he looked so big, so physically intimidating, but that the second he opened his mouth he was revealed as a gentle, kind soul. His voice was warm, reassuring. Quiet, most of the time. The sound always soothed you, anchored you, calmed you down. You felt safe whenever you could hear his voice, its softness wrapping around you like a cocoon.

“For coming here with me,” he clarified while giving your hand a squeeze. “I was… I was pretty scared for a moment.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, even if his eyes were still fixed on the ceiling, on the crack that ran through the white paint.

“You were about to shit your pants, you mean,” you teased, and it did make Andrew chuckle.

“Yeah, for a minute, I kind of was,” he admitted.

You studied the angle of his jaw, the length of his throat that extended like this, with his head tilted back. His hair was a messy bun, he took off his glasses to rub at his eyes with the back of his hand and didn’t put them back on just yet. He blinked a couple of times, looked up again, the back of his head resting against the wall behind his chair. Your eyes lingered on the freckle above his eye you could glimpse at from where you sat, on the corner of his lips that was still turned slightly upward after his laughter.

“I should have called you to cancel for tonight. I’m so sorry,” he went on, and the trace of his smile was gone for good.

“You should have,” you nodded. “But you were upset, you weren’t thinking straight. It’s okay.”

“Are you mad?”

“No, I’m not mad. I’m just relieved Elwood is going to be okay.”

“I still have no clue where that screw is coming from…”

“He’ll be okay.”

“I know… I know…”

“He’s going to deserve lots of treats and petting…”

“Like he doesn’t get lots of those already. I spoil him.”

You laughed.

“Yeah, I bet you do.”

A minute passed in silence. Andrew rubbed circles into the back of your hand.

“Can we still go on a date? Like… can we reschedule?”

“Of course.”

“Our real second date will be good, I promise.”

“I have to admit that I wasn’t expecting a vet appointment tonight,” you laughed again.

“Me neither,” he winced. “What had you planned?”

“Italian restaurant.”

“Fuck…”

As if on queue, his stomach let out a low rumble, and you both laughed at the sound.

“I love Italian food.”

“I know,” you nodded, and he finally turned to you.

You exchanged a tender smile, before he would lift your hand to his lips and kiss your knuckles. You grinned at the tender gesture.

“I mean… we could still order some pizza,” you offered. “Watch a movie or something.”

He seemed surprised by your offer.

“We’ll have to go to my place, I want to keep an eye on Elwood.”

“Of course.”

He nodded, clearly refraining a smile.

“I’ll make our real second date good. I promise.”

You heaved a sigh.

“Andy… I don’t care…”

You shook your head, tried to gather your words.

“I don’t care about what we do. I know what’s going on in your brain. I know you’re trying to convince me to stay or something… but you don’t have to. Not everything has to be perfect. It just needs to be us. I’m not going to leave simply because our date is not going according to plan, alright? Stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”

A tinge of playfulness lit up his gaze, tugged at the corner of his lips. He was about to become a cheeky, adorable menace, you knew he was. Still, you read in his eyes the gratefulness he felt at your words.

“So… I can come to our next date looking like a mess, like that? Sweatpants and disgusting hoodie?”

You couldn’t refrain a laugh.

“Forget what I said. Put pressure on yourself. So much pressure!”

You mumbled your next words, and he made you repeat them so he could understand them.

“Even like this, you look good,” you repeated, making him blush.

“You’re gorgeous, by the way,” he spoke tenderly, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

“Thanks,” you smiled.

“If we go back to my place, and have pizza and a movie, I’ll dress properly for you.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I feel foolish next to such a beauty.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was stammering.

“Right…”

Soon enough, Elwood was free to go home. He would need a lot of rest in the coming days, but all was well now. Andrew carried him to his car, and then to his apartment, even though the dog was able to walk on his own now. He spent a while with his dog, petting him, speaking reassuring words while Elwood was lying on his cushion on the floor, and Andrew was sitting beside him. He waited until the dog was asleep, and then he joined you on the couch. You had let him take care of Elwood, feeling that he needed a moment alone. You could hear the quiet snore as the pet slept, tucked in his bed, close to the wall of the living room.

“Alright, I’m gonna get changed,” said Andrew. “You can order whatever you want for tonight.”

“You’re sure?”

“Course.”

“Then… pineapple on pizza it is…”

He spun around, waved a disapproving finger at you.

“I draw the line at slaughtering Italian food, be careful.”

You laughed, ordered your meal while he was getting ready.

When he reappeared with his hair brushed and falling on his shoulders, wearing a turtleneck and some brown trousers, you were too stunned to speak for a second. You let your eyes roam across his frame, studied the way his outfit complimented his body.

Your mouth watered, and you struggled to regulate your breathing.

“So… when is the crime against humanity being delivered?” he joked, sitting by your side again.

“Not too long now.”

“Grand. I’m starving.”

You cleared your throat.

“You… you look amazing, by the way,” you mumbled, trying to hide your reaction to him.

He smirked, leaned closer.

“Can I kiss my gorgeous girlfriend then?”

You nodded with a giggle, letting him close the space between your lips and his. The scent of his cologne was driving you crazy, the brush of his thumb across your cheekbone made you tremble.

Your food arrived sooner rather than later, you settled on the sofa to watch a movie while you ate and talked. Once your pizza (without pineapple) had disappeared, you cuddled into his arms, feeling his lips pressed to your hair every now and then.

“Thank you again for the flowers,” Andrew broke the comfortable silence that had settled between the two of you while you watched the movie. “I had never been given flowers before. That’s nice.”

You watched the bouquet that rested there, on his coffee table. He had put the flowers in a vase after coming home from the vet, they were a little wilted after spending some time without water, but Andrew didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s a silly gendered norm.”

He hummed in agreement.

“Thank you.”

You stopped paying attention to the movie when Andrew reached for your chin, gently guided your head towards his so he could kiss you once more. He tasted of the tomato on the pizza, of the red wine you had been drinking with your meal. His hold on your waist and chin tightened as you deepened the kiss, reached up to run your fingers through his hair.

You weren’t sure how you had found yourself straddling his laps, but you were now, the movie still playing behind you but it went on unnoticed. Your back was to the TV, the voices were drowned by your laboured breaths, by the blood thumping in your ears, by Andrew’s soft noises, a mixture of sighs and small growls.

And God… he was such a good kisser…

You shuddered when his hand slipped under your clothes to touch the skin of your shoulder. You paused, took a minute to find back your breathing although you didn’t move out of his embrace, merely rested your forehead against his.

“You’re okay?” he asked in a whisper, voice so deep it made your head spin.

You nodded, hummed.

“Can I be honest?” you asked, and Andrew was quick to encourage you to speak again.

“I really want to stay the night,” you whispered, making Andrew chuckle and nod, his nose brushing against yours in the process.

“I was hoping you would stay,” he admitted, and your heart made a happy jump at his confession.

“Someone’s trying to get laid…” you joked, and Andrew exploded with laughter, throwing his head back in bliss when you ridiculously wiggled your eyebrows at him.

“I should defend my honour as a gentleman,” he answered, grinning from ear to ear and struggling to speak as he still laughed, “but I would then be lying through my teeth. And we can’t have that.”

You laughed too.

“What do you want then?” you asked, your tone still playful, while Andrew was struggling to calm down.

“Oh… terrible things. Very… sinful in nature, definitely.”

He was holding your waist, cradling your cheek. When he blinked up at you, you felt so loved…

“You know, I… I know I kind of… ruined our date, but…”

“It’s not your fault, I’m not mad.”

“I know. And I… I’m grateful for your understanding, and for helping me tonight, for still being here. But I… Actually, I’m spending a very nice evening with you, despite the chaos I’ve provoked.”

You chuckled at that.

“I’m having a very nice evening too,” you nodded in agreement.

He brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, you felt your breath get caught in your throat at the sweet gesture.

“I know it didn’t go according to your plans, but… I’m very happy right now,” he spoke in a quiet, deep voice that made you feel safe and warm.

“I’m happy too,” you nodded.

“Can this still count as our second date?”

You laughed in surprise.

“Hmmm… yeah, okay. Only I have a couple of conditions.”

“Conditions?”

“Yes! First, we go to the Italian restaurant I had planned on taking you to for our next date, cause you’re going to love it.”

He nodded with a grin, and your heart made a happy jump at the thought that he was excited for another date with you.

“And second… we move to your bedroom now. Because… there are things that I want to do with you… and I can’t do them with Elwood in the same room as us.”

You noticed how Andrew’s cheeks turned crimson, he laughed good-heartedly at your joke, but couldn’t disagree.

“Sounds like a plan,” he nodded, before letting his gaze fall to your lips. “God, I want you so bad… you have no idea what you do to me.”

You bit on your lip, wore a suave voice when you reached for his cheek, tilted his face towards yours slowly. You noticed how his breathing became more irregular.

You heard him audibly choking at your next words.

“Why don’t you show me then?”

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