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sluttywonwoo · 1 year ago

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instead of you [part twenty-two] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex (mdni)

word count: 3.8k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

Shanghai was only an hour behind Tokyo so you were able to hit the ground running as soon as you landed. Unlike Japan, the itinerary didn’t allow for a day to rest and reset. Check-in at the new hotel wasn’t until later in the afternoon, but they let you drop off your luggage with them so you wouldn’t have to lug it around the city with you.

You passed your bags off to a woman who promised you they’d be safe in the closet behind the desk- not that you were too worried about your collection of t-shirts and Vera Bradley duffle bag that was nearly two decades old- before joining the Hans by the seating area a few paces away. The lobby was dressed with dark woods and jade tiles, accented with plush white furniture and expensive-looking plants. It was easily the most sophisticated place you’d ever been, and that was saying something considering you’d been on a fucking yacht a few weeks ago.

You felt extremely out of place in your travel sweats and beat-up sneakers. Even looking at the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling made you feel like you didn’t belong. You knew the Hans had a reservation under their names, you knew that you were being paid for, but you still felt like you could get kicked out for loitering at any minute.

“First things first we need to find a currency exchange place and then we can grab a bite to eat,” Dom explained. You tried not to wince as his voice echoed around the room. You were still getting used to these ‘family meetings’. “Are you guys hungry?”

There was a collective nod and then you all followed Mr. Han out of the hotel onto the bustling street. He used his phone’s GPS to navigate through the twists and turns of the city. Jisung grabbed your hand instinctively, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles like he always did.

Guilt bubbled up in your chest as soon as the warmth from his palm spread to yours. You hated the way you couldn’t even enjoy a simple gesture, something that was so commonplace for your friendship, without feeling like your stomach was turning itself inside out.

Jisung noticed, of course he did, your hand tensed as soon as he took it and even if it was barely perceptible he was too observant, too in tune with you to miss it.

“You okay?” he asked, eyebrows creasing together in worry.

“Just feeling a little sick is all,” you replied. It wasn’t a lie, you did feel nauseous. You just hoped Jisung couldn’t tell there was something else you were holding back.

“Do you need to sit? We can stop for a bit and meet the others later.”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you assured him. “I don’t want to get lost.”

“We have our phones, we won’t lose them,” he pressed.

“I probably just need something to eat, and we’re stopping for lunch soon. I’m ok, I promise.”

He looked like he didn’t quite believe you, but dropped it anyway.

You waited in line behind the rest of Jisung’s family at the currency exchange place where you traded your yen for yuan. You didn’t have much on you, since most travel sites warned against carrying a lot of cash on your person when in a new place. The Hans always insisted on paying for you too so it wasn’t like you needed it either.

After everyone had gone through the queue, you stopped for lunch in a square with about a dozen street vendors peddling different kinds of food. They were all swamped with customers, businessmen and women dressed in suits waiting to get their meals before inevitably having to return to the office. There were families wandering around too. Mothers struggled to wrangle their small children in strollers or their arms as they stood in line at the various stalls, calling for the older kids who were playing in the fountain.

You and Jisung chose a kabob cart to try while the other members of his family split off to get their own thing. You let your best friend order for the both of you as always while you scouted a spot to sit. The square was full of tables and benches scattered about. Some were shaded by trees, others offered unobstructed views of the skyline across the water. You opted for one that was surrounded by a couple of other close tables so everyone could sit somewhat together.

“Thanks for finding a place to sit, y/n!” Dom exclaimed as he approached you with Minho right on his heels. “Perfect amount of shade and sun.”

“I had to fight off some pigeons for it,” you joked, earning a laugh from the older man.

“I commend you for your bravery, pigeons can be quite brutal.”

“Especially city pigeons,” Minho added, coughing awkwardly when you made eye contact with him.

“Minho was attacked by pigeons once,” Dom said suddenly. You didn’t have time to ask any further questions before Jisung was returning with your food, giving you an apologetic look.

“You weren’t boring her, were you?” He shot an accusatory glance at his father.

“No more than you usually do,” Minho answered smugly.

“Minho, please don’t start. We just got here, and since we’ll all be staying together I’d rather not have to listen to the three of you bickering all week.”

“What do you mean we’ll be staying together?” your best friend asked worriedly, voicing exactly what you were thinking. “Did you mess up the reservations again?”

Minho’s smile had also fallen and he was wearing an expression of concern similar to his brother’s. Dom sighed, running a hand across his forehead.

“I was going to wait until your mother returned with Felix to explain, but no. We’re all staying together in the penthouse of the hotel for the week. You all will get your own rooms and such, but we figured that since we’re on a family vacation we should spend time together as a family. We can have meals together, we can cook- or rather, Jisung can cook for us, and we’ll all be sleeping under the same roof.”

The two boys nodded in understanding, though neither looked thrilled. You knew that if Felix were around he’d have some smart comment to make, but since he wasn’t, there was just silence.

“Don’t look so thrilled,” Dom chided. “Minho, you’ll get your own room and so will Felix. That should be exciting to you at the very least.”

“Wait, really?” he asked, eyes much brighter than they had been a moment earlier.

His father nodded with a hum, just as Felix walked back up to your group with Nikki trailing a few paces behind him. Both of them had their hands full of food that they dumped on one of the empty tables and started dividing between each other.

Felix looked up when he noticed the silence and tilted his head in confusion. “What’d I miss?”

After lunch, you traveled together to the Oriental Pearl Tower. The number of fucking landmark towers in the world was… too goddamn many in your opinion. There seemed to be one in every city you’d been to, and you thought it was a little excessive.

You debated going to the top of this one just so you wouldn’t be a downer, but both Jisung and Minho were quick to shut it down.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Minho grumbled under his breath, still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“He’s right,” Jisung agreed. “It’s not worth it to make yourself miserable. I’ll stay down here with you, baby.”

You pouted, but didn’t put up much of a fight. You knew Jisung didn’t give a fuck about the tower so you let him keep you company at the bottom.

“We should stay in tonight,” he suggested, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. “Since you’re not feeling well and everything. I can cook you dinner back at the apartment and we can watch a movie or something.”

“Do we not have plans tonight?”

“Do you ever look at the itinerary?”

“I think you already know the answer to that,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

Jisung just chuckled. “Brat. But no, we don’t really have plans. They’re kind of up in the air. Everyone can do their own thing if they want to. I think I heard Felix and Minho talk about going out, but I don’t think we should.”

“If you want to, you should!” you urged. “Don’t stay in because of me.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’d much rather spend time with you than those idiots?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Ji...”

“I’m just being honest! We can go out with them tomorrow night, or the night after that! I just don’t want you to overdo it. Especially since we’re going to be out all day tomorrow.”

“Fine, you win,” you gave in. “Promise you’re not just staying in because you feel like you have to?”

“I promise.” He held out his pinky as if to seal it. You looped your own pinky with his despite the gesture being a dramatic formality and grinned. “I don’t really feel like being a wingman anyway.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, they’re trying to pick up girls tonight?”

“Emphasis on the word ‘trying’,” Jisung scoffed.

“Come on, they’re handsome guys,” you said, though you didn’t quite know why you were defending them.

“Sure, but it’s their personalities that are their downfalls.”

“You’re so mean!”

“You’ve met them!”

You opened your mouth to respond but came up short. Jisung smirked knowingly and you both burst into laughter.

“Well, what are your parents doing tonight?” you asked once you caught your breath. “Are they also going out on the town?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I can cook dinner for the four of us if they decide to stay in.”

“That sounds nice,” you mused, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder.

“It could be… my mom would love the opportunity to get us alone. I’m sure she has loads of questions for you.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing!”

“It is a bad thing! It’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not. My mom would do the same thing if the roles were switched.”

“Okay, but that’d be easy. Your mum already knows me and she loves me.”

“She wouldn’t if we were dating.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because she knows you’re a whore.”

“What the fuck? No, I’m not.” You gave him a look. “Okay, well does she know her own daughter is a whore too? Arguably a bigger one than me.”

“Weird way to say I get more bitches than you, but alright.” Jisung rolled his eyes at you and gave you the finger, but you just laughed. “I don’t think she knows that I’m a little slutty-”

“A little!?”

You ignored him. “But even if she did, she still wouldn’t like me dating you. She’s very protective of me.”

Your best friend stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. “I feel kind of betrayed. I thought your mom and I were pals.”

“You are. As long as you keep it in your pants around me.”

The penthouse at the hotel you were staying at was even bigger than you imagined it would be. There were four bedrooms, the primary and three guest rooms on the other side of the apartment. Your luggage was already waiting for you in the foyer along with some toiletries and towels.

“Y/n and Jisung should have to stay in the middle room,” Felix had exclaimed as he claimed the room at the very end of the hallway.

“What, why?” Jisung demanded.

“Because it wouldn’t be fair if only one of us had to share a wall with the two of you, that’s why.”

Jisung clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. His parents were right across the living room and they could probably hear every word. Not for the first time, you were mortified by Felix’s inability to keep his mouth shut.

“What the fuck, bro,” Jisung muttered.

“You asked.”

You and Jisung did end up taking the middle room. It turned out to be the biggest of the three so you lucked out. You’d still have to share a bathroom between the four of you, but it was nice to have your own space to get away. It wouldn’t be like Tokyo where you could never let your guard down.

Jisung took you with him to the market to shop for ingredients for dinner. The market was overwhelming but beautiful. It was full of life and vibrant color. The stalls were pushed so closely together under an array of tents that it was difficult to tell who was selling what, but somehow Jisung figured it out. He led you by the hand through the crowd, being sure not to lose you. Watching him speak to the vendors, asking questions about the cuts of the meats and getting advice on what was in season… watching his fingers linger over the different fruits and vegetables, trying to gauge which was the ripest and best for the dish he was planning in his head. It was refreshing to see your best friend in his element. He hadn’t had the chance to cook in forever, and you could tell he was excited to.

It was a chance to show off in front of his parents too, you realized. You could tell he wanted to impress them. He’d cooked for you at least a hundred times, but this was an opportunity to show his parents everything he’d learned in school and prove to them that the degree they were paying for was worth it.

By the time you got back to the hotel, Minho and Felix had already gone out for the night. You had no idea when they’d be back, but that was the least of your worries right now. You were much more concerned about the questions from Nikki that Jisung had warned you about.

Should you study? You still had the stack of flashcards in your backpack. You might be able to squeeze in some last-minute cramming before dinner.

“She’s not going to quiz you,” Jisung said in the elevator on the way up to the room as if he could read your mind.

“How’d you-”

“You’re biting your lip like you do when you get nervous.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

You shrugged. “I just don’t want you to be worrying about me when you’re trying to focus on dinner.”

“I always worry about you,” he said casually. “But I know how to multitask.”

You helped Jisung carry the groceries inside and put them away. He’d gotten a lot of food for the rest of the week in addition to what he needed for the night.

“Do you need help cooking?” you asked, suppressing a smile.

Jisung whipped his head in your direction, panic in his eyes, before realizing you were joking. “Hilarious.”

“Who said I wasn’t serious? I could be your sous chef!”

Aware of his parents in the next room over, Jisung smiled weakly and shook his head at you. “You’re very cute, but we both know you’d set this kitchen on fire.”

“Whatever, I’ll just sit over here and watch.”

You seated yourself at one of the barstools tucked underneath the island and rested your head in your palms, watching Jisung do his thing.

He finished sorting the groceries and then washed his hands before searching the kitchen for a cutting board and various cooking utensils that he’d need. Back at home, your best friend had a collection of ridiculous aprons that he’d don as he cooked. Your favorite was one that you’d gotten him for his birthday one year. It had your face on it and said “she loves my meat”. One of his roommates had spit his drink all over their rug when Jisung opened it at his party, and you considered that a job well done. It was the apron Jisung wore the most, and you knew it was secretly his favorite, even though he’d never admit it.

He hadn’t packed any aprons for this trip, though, so he was stuck with the t-shirt he was wearing with nothing to protect it- not that he’d need one. He wasn’t very messy in the kitchen. The aprons were more for show than anything else.

Jisung filled a pot with water and set it on the stove to boil while he chopped vegetables. He was so fast that you could barely see the blade moving.

He’d whipped up a meal in under an hour and served it to you and his parents like you were in a restaurant. He circled the table with a bottle of wine, offering it to each of you as if he were your server.

“How about a nice red for you, miss,” he suggested, holding the bottle out to you so that you could read the label.

You giggled. “Do you recommend it?”

“I’ve never had it,” he admitted, not breaking character. “But the chef says that it pairs perfectly with beef.”

“The chef that looks just like you?”

Jisung winked. “That’s the one.”

“Well, in that case, I trust his judgment. I’ll take a glass.”

“Excellent choice.”

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Nikki said once he’d poured you a glass. She was smiling warmly at her son, completely enamored with you and Jisung’s little display. Your heart swelled with pride at the realization. Maybe you weren’t so bad at acting.

“Excellent choice,” Jisung repeated as he filled his mother’s glass. “And for you, sir?” he asked, addressing his father.

“Do you have whiskey?”

“I believe I do,” he answered thoughtfully. “Let me go check.”

You already knew he did. He’d stopped in a liquor store on the way back to pick some bourbons that he thought his dad and brother would like.

You watched him disappear back into the kitchen and went back to your meal, smiling to yourself in satisfaction.

“I know I’ve mentioned this before,” Nikki whispered quietly, “but I’m so glad you were able to join us on this trip. It’s been so lovely to get to know you, and I’ve never seen Jisung so happy.”

Your cheeks grew warm at her comment. The feeling of pride in your chest threatened to be replaced with guilt as it bubbled up in your stomach, but you pushed it down.

“Thank you for inviting me,” was all you could muster.

“We’re happy to have you,” she assured you, grabbing your hand firmly.

“What are we talking about?” Jisung asked loudly as he reentered the room, handing his father a glass of whiskey, neat.

He shot you a look that asked if you were ok and you nodded minutely.

“We were just talking about your wonderful girlfriend,” Nikki explained, “and how happy we are to have her with us on vacation!”

“Mom,” Jisung groaned.

“She didn’t embarrass you entirely,” Dom interjected, coming to the defense of his wife. “She didn’t even mention airplane stickers!”

“Wha- airplane stickers?” You looked to your best friend for an explanation, but he had his head in his hands.

“I cook you all a nice dinner and this is how you repay me!” he cried.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused. What are airplane stickers?”

“They’re what Jisung thought menstrual pads were when he was little.” Dom clapped his son on the back affectionately as Jisung groaned even louder.

You brought your hand to your mouth. “You didn’t.”

“I’d never seen one before!”

“We came home and there were ‘airplane stickers’ all over our windows,” his father continued.

“Aw, babe,” you rubbed his thigh comfortingly, but you knew he didn’t miss the devilish glint in your eye that told him you’d never be letting this go. “That’s kind of cute.”

“It’s kind of humiliating,” he corrected you.

“That too, but you didn’t know any better. I’m sure lots of kids do that.”

Jisung ignored you and stood from the table, collecting your plate along with his. “Anyway, I’m going to start the dishes. Does anyone have any for me to take?”

Jisung’s parents invited you to watch a movie with them after dinner, but you politely declined, retiring to your bedroom instead. Jisung flopped on the bed as soon as the door was shut behind you and screamed into a pillow.

You chuckled as you unclipped your bra and pulled it off from beneath your shirt, joining him on the bed moments later.

“And they wonder why I never bring anyone home!” he hissed.

You rubbed his back soothingly. “It could’ve been worse.”

“How?”

You paused. “I don’t know.”

“Oh my god.”

“Come on, it’s not so bad. I could’ve told one of my stories about you.”

“Half of those are illegal.”

“Exactly.”

You managed to coax your fake boyfriend out of sulking and took turns getting ready for bed and showering in the bathroom before settling in your room together for the night. You flipped through channels on the tv together, but nothing good was on, so you decided to spend time reading your books instead.

You didn’t even realize how late it had gotten until you heard the front door open, signaling Minho and Felix’s return. You traded looks with Jisung who then checked the time on his phone and showed you that it was past one a.m.

His parents had likely gone to bed hours ago, but you could still hear them talking like everyone wasn’t trying to sleep.

They’re drunk, you and Jisung mouthed at each other at the same time. He rolled his eyes but you just smirked.

“That’s gonna bite them in the ass come morning.”

“Yeah, and we’re going to have to be the ones to deal with it,” he muttered.

He had a point. You hadn’t thought about that. And you didn’t think a hungover Minho or Felix would be pleasant to deal with.

You tried going back to the page you were on in your book, but were distracted again when you heard their voices approaching. They were in the hallway now, saying goodnight to each other.

Then, you finally thought it had gone quiet when you heard a third voice. A female voice. You couldn’t make out what she was saying but you could tell immediately who responded.

“Yeah, this is my room.”

It was Minho. He’d brought a girl home with him.

“No fucking way,” Jisung whispered, verbalizing what you both had to be thinking. “He actually did it.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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amberlynnmurdock · 1 year ago

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College Series (Part 1)

Part 1: Moving In

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Series Summary: Matt Murdock scarcely ever let himself get too comfortable with people because comfort was always followed by chaos, or worse, abandonment. But when you move into the co-ed apartment off campus, Matt thinks that maybe this time things will be different. At least, he really hopes so. And that might be the most naive thing he would do in his time studying law at Columbia University. Soon, his nights are filled with red wine, learning about Greek mythology and barely using his own bed to sleep in because yours is right down the hall.

A/N: This is basically me revamping what I always wanted "Library Series" to be, so I hope no one minds another college!Matt Murdock fic. I don't know if this will have a real plot yet, but I'll figure it out along the way. I hope you guys enjoy! :) This chapter is entirely in Matt's POV!

Ao3 Link

Matt Murdock walked down the sidewalk slowly, counting each step as he did until he could sense that he reached his supposed destination. He stopped with his cane in front of him and listened to his surroundings: rustling leaves, a woman walking her dog, and cars turning onto the narrow street in upper Manhattan.

The building he stood in front of was what he would be calling home for the next semester. Although he couldn’t see it, he knew it was a tall brownstone building with iron rails and large, wide steps. He could hear the creak in the old wood of the front door and the lock attached to it inside. He could hear the people inside the building moving boxes around and adjusting furniture. Strangers that he would be calling neighbors—for the time being, because people never stayed around forever.

Matt heavily sighs as he adjusts his shoulder bag and lugs his suitcase behind him, which isn’t filled with much: sweaters, shirts, jeans, underwear, sheets, toiletries, his Bible, and Orbit Reader. When he was packing at St. Agnes’ he didn’t think much about what he would need to bring. While some college students made lists and packed, and overpacked, Matt thought nothing more of it than just a new place to stay. Maybe it was because he was so used to packing the same suitcase and moving from destination to destination, that he’d become accustomed to moving around a lot. After all, he truly never had a home since his dad died. That was the only home he’d known. St. Agnes was just a place to stay.

With heavy shoulders, he walked up the steps one by one and shuffled in his duffle bag for the keys to the building. It was easy for him to pick it out. It was an old-fashioned skeleton key with an intricate gothic design he could trace with his fingertips. Once inside, he shut the heavy door behind him and stood once more before the long flight of stairs that would lead to his temporary apartment. Unfortunately, an elevator wasn’t an option.

He slowly trekked up the steps, passing each floor and the shut doors of other people moving in. Some were college kids, some weren’t, but he heard each and every conversation as he passed. It reminded him of when he was younger when he would sit in Clinton Church before mass and hear people praying to God. It was uncomfortable to hear personal things, but he’s gotten used to drowning out the noise and moving on.

After a few more flights, he finally reached the top floor of the building, which led to the apartment. It turned out to be the biggest one in the building. He pulled out the other key to the apartment and let himself inside, immediately hit with the smell of dust and old wood. He couldn’t sense any furniture in the living room, except for a small kitchen island with a marble countertop and an old wooden kitchen table set.

Matt traced his fingers along the wall as he slowly made his way to the hall that led to the bedrooms. First come, first serve he thought. There were two rooms closer to the front of the apartment with large windows—he could feel the cold draft coming in through them—and two rooms tucked towards the back. He immediately gravitated to the room furthest in the back. He didn’t like hearing the city at night, and he knew if he chose one of the rooms up front he’d never get a good night’s sleep. Then again, he seldom ever did.

When he opened the room’s door, he dropped his bags and held his hands out to feel for the bed. It was in the center of the room, which he didn’t like, so he moved it to fit right in one of the corners. He pressed his hands on the mattress—brand new as the apartment listing said. And he knew it wasn’t a lie because he could smell the fresh, factory smell of the brand-new mattress. In fact, all the beds in the rooms had new mattresses, now that he could smell it in the air.

There was a dresser against the other wall and a small closet. He didn’t have much to fill both up. In the other corner was a small work desk for homework. He began to unpack his books from his duffle bag and stacked them neatly on the desk. He ran his fingers over one of the titles in braille: Criminal Law & Procedure.

The second year of law school is allegedly easier than the first. At least, this second year comes with more freedom, such as the option to live off campus rather than in one of the small dorms. At least his first year he got to meet his best friend: Foggy Nelson.

Which, speaking of, he was bounding up the steps already with three bags he could barely carry by himself.

“Matt!” He heard his friend shout from the steps, “Hey, Matt! You here yet?”

Matt met Foggy at the top of the stairs and laughed—he could hear the struggle in his friend’s voice.

“Why don’t you stop laughin’ at me and grab a bag?!”

After what felt like hours of going up and down the steps helping Foggy with his bags, and carrying a couch up into the living room, followed by a long goodbye from Foggy’s mom, Matt and Foggy plopped themselves on the couch in exhaustion.

“Man,” Foggy groaned, “I didn’t know the apartment was on the top floor. I’m beat.”

“Maybe that’s why it was so cheap,” Matt thought, “no one wants to walk up those stairs.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Foggy answered. “Welp, guess I gotta pick a room. You don't think whoever we’re rooming with will mind we chose first, right?”

“Nah,” Matt shrugged, “the apartment listing said whoever gets here first picks. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Alright. Where’s your room? I’ll pick the one next to it.”

“I opted for the one farthest in the back,” Matt said, leaning over as Foggy got up to pick a room. He listened as Foggy shuffled between the rooms and moved his bags into his chosen space.

Matt stayed on the couch, his hearing strayed to the noise that was outside the front windows. Naturally cocking his head, he could hear a local deli closing up for the evening. He could even smell the lingering scent of stale coffee. He heard people closer to Columbia University laughing and getting ready to go out to whatever frat party was going on that night. In the distance, he heard sirens wailing—for what reason, he didn’t know. He didn’t understand the ache that grew in his chest the longer he continued to listen to them.

“Matt?” Foggy called for him, “You good?”

“Yeah,” Matt stammered. “What did you say?”

“I said let’s get dressed and find a local bar to hang at!”

That didn’t take much convincing.

✣✣✣✣

If Matt thought lugging suitcases up the flight of stairs was tough, he wasn’t prepared to walk up the stairs intoxicated.

“Man, that was a terrible idea. Terrible idea you had,” Foggy slurred as he bumped into Matt on the stairs. Matt let out a laugh as he pushed Foggy back.

“My idea? It was your idea, you asshole,” Matt shot back playfully.

“Was it?” Foggy questioned, “Oh yeah, it was. God, how many stairs are there?”

Everything was spinning inside Matt’s head. He looked up behind his dark glasses and sensed the number of steps.

“We have four flights left,” Matt said, pausing at the second floor and leaning against the wall.

“Jesus,” Foggy groaned. “Terrible, terrible idea, Matt.”

After fifteen minutes of an agonizingly drunk walk up the stairs, both Matt and Foggy finally made it to their new temporary home and collapsed on the couch at opposite ends. Matt let his head dip back on the couch while Foggy attempted to lift his legs on a spare moving box in front of him. Matt laughed at his attempts; he didn’t have to see to know his friend was struggling.

“Hopefully our roommates will join us on future bar crawls,” Foggy said aloud.

“Hopefully they don’t suck.”

“That too,” Foggy agreed. “I think—I think I’m going to call it a night, Matt. I’ll…I’ll talk to you…” and just like that, Foggy Nelson was snoring on the couch with his legs half-propped on a box. Matt forced himself to get up and move to his bed, not before putting a blanket over Foggy and turning the lights off.

When Matt reached his room, his equilibrium was still making things seem spinning. He stumbled over his suitcase and duffle bag and caught himself on his bed, where he landed on his back. He threw his dark glasses on his desk and shut his eyes, using all his might to avoid listening to the sounds that lay outside the window. Putting himself in the back room was a good idea because it was much easier to ignore what he heard—more importantly, ignore how it made him feel. The liquor in him only swirled those feelings away.

Matt turned on his side and reached for the Bible he kept under his pillow. He ran his fingers over the braille until he found a particular prayer he was looking for:

“Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen. Because of it the ancients were well attested. By faith we understand that the universe was ordered by the word of God, so that what is visible came into being through the invisible.” Hebrews 11:1-3.

Matt rested the Bible on his chest, mind drifting to things of his past, things he only kept hidden and locked away until he was completely alone with himself like he was now. It was heavy. Not the suitcase, not the way his legs felt walking up the steps inebriated, but the weight of the past, creeping up on him when he was alone.

He fell heavily into a deep sleep.

✣✣✣✣

Morning came, and so did his hangover.

Matt was awakened by a knock on his door. Not his door, but the front door. A knock he would not have heard if not for his heightened senses. Throwing his dark glasses on, he rolled out of bed and walked into the living room. On the couch, Foggy still lay asleep, snoring. Matt’s head was pounding and his feet felt like cement as he stalked to the door, the knocking growing more erratic.

When he opened the door, he was met with an overwhelming waft of sweet beery perfume and bubblegum. The person who stood in front of him—a young woman, he sensed—popped a bubble and clicked the gum inside her mouth.

“Oh,” a squeaky voice said. “Are you a roomie?”

“Uh…“

“I’m Marci,” the young woman introduced herself. She held out her hand, but Matt made no move to shake it.

“I’m—I’m Matt,” Matt said. He could sense the young woman’s candor by the way she pulled her hand back immediately and placed it on her hip.

“Are you blind or are you hungover?” She clicked her gum again, taking note he was wearing dark glasses inside.

Matt’s mouth twitched upwards. He wasn’t offended by her bluntness, only amused.

“Both,” he simply said.

“Hm,” she said, “well, I’m your new roomie.” she peered inside to see Foggy sleeping on the couch. “I’ll need help with my suitcases.”

And yet again, Matt was subjected to the torture of helping people bring their suitcases up the long flight of stairs. But if this was someone he was going to be living with for the next year, he thought it better to make friends and help than make enemies and refuse. Even if she was a little brash.

“Matt?” Foggy groggily opened his eyes to the movement of boxes being lugged around. “Jesus!” Foggy said in the startling realization that Matt was no longer the only one he shared a space with. When he saw the beautiful blonde with her arms crossed and a look of judgment on her face, Foggy thought he might’ve woken up to an angel.

“I’m Marci Stahl,” she popped her gum again. “Are you going to help bring my stuff up?”

“Absolutely,” Foggy stumbled to his feet, ignoring the spins he felt. Matt suppressed a chuckle as he placed the final box (he decided it was the final box for him now that Foggy was awake) on the ground. Now, it was up to Foggy.

Well, Foggy couldn’t completely help Marci yet before making a trip to the bathroom and yakking up the previous night’s regrets. Marci waited in the hall with her arms crossed. When Foggy met her outside again, he smiled awkwardly as Marci told him where her remaining boxes were. She had her mother waiting outside as well, who couldn’t be bothered to help bring up boxes.

Matt took this as an opportunity to lock himself in his room and boot up his Orbit Reader to learn of his new schedule, starting Monday. He scrolled to find his classes and their descriptions, and what books he would need for class. With one earplug in, he listened as it read it to him. But not even the Orbit could help drown out Foggy’s attempts at flirting with Marci.

✣✣✣✣

“You’re not so bad, aren’t you?” Marci asked with suspicious eyes at Foggy. Foggy offered a hearty laugh and sat down on a pink velvet love cushion that belonged to Marci. She took a seat at the end of the couch, closest to Foggy.

“What do you mean?” Foggy shrugged his shoulders, a goofy grin on his face. His long blonde hair peeked out under his green beanie. He had a terrible goatee, but for some reason, made him all the more endearing.

“Well, we’re all going to be living together this year. Glad the co-ed space I chose has someone willing to carry all my boxes up the steps without complaint. And you’re not an asshole,” Marci rested her elbow on the arm of the couch, studying Foggy carefully.

“What can I say? I’m pretty charming,” Foggy smiled.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Marci smirked.

Matt sat at his desk laughing to himself as he listened to their conversation.

“What are you studying? You’re a grad student?” Foggy asked, ignoring her retort.

Marci looked at him like it was an obvious question. “I’m in the law school.”

“Really?! No way!” Foggy exclaimed. “That’s what we’re here for, too. 2L?”

“Of course,” Marci said. “I wouldn’t be here if it were my first year.”

“Hey, maybe it was your third. I don’t know. What kind of law do you want to do?”

“IP, corporate, civil rights,” Marci shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll let it find me.”

“Badass,” Foggy nodded his head in amusement. Marci chuckled and rolled her eyes.

“What’s up with your friend in there? Why hasn’t he joined us?”

“You’re right,” Foggy agreed. “Matt! Get your ass outta there and come bond with your roommates!”

Matt sighed and leaned back in his uncomfortable wooden chair. It was only a matter of time before he was summoned to socialize. He shut down his Orbit Reader and joined them in the living room, reaching in front of him to find the other end of the couch.

“Well, I’m here,” Matt simply said with a small smile. He wasn’t really sure what to say.

“You’re the moody one, aren’t you?” Marci said with slight amusement, resting her chin in her hand. Matt chuckled.

“I wouldn’t say moody,” Matt scratched the back of his neck. “Uhh. Maybe I would, actually.”

“Every friendship duo has to have one. Clearly, your friend Foggy here is the opposite,” Marci teased. “My friend is like you, too. Quite type. Locks herself in her room. She should be here soon,” Marci thought aloud.

Matt quirked an eyebrow in curiosity, “Is she our fourth roommate?”

“Sure is. Let me call her real quick.” Marci got up and into her chosen room, the one in the front with the largest windows.

Now that it was just Foggy and Matt, Foggy immediately bounded over to sit next to Matt on the couch and squeezed his arm.

“Dude, did we get lucky or what?!” Foggy shout whispered. “Rooming with two chicks?!”

Matt pushed his friend away with a laugh, “Foggy, don’t be like that, that’s gross. We’re supposed to be roommates.”

Foggy held his hands up in defense, “I’m just sayin’ man, let things run their course. Oh man, she’s beautiful. Blonde, has sharp features and—“

“Shh,” Matt hushed his friend. “She just got off the phone.”

“She’ll be here in ten minutes,” Marci announced as she walked back into the living. She paused as she noticed how close Matt and Foggy were sitting. “What were you guys talking about?”

“Nothing,” they said in unison, feigning innocence.

✣✣✣✣

While Foggy and Marci were exchanging life stories and their experiences studying to get into law school, Matt let his senses drift to focus on what else was going on in the building. He didn't want to engage in conversation, especially if the topic was backstories. He wasn’t ashamed of his upbringing at all, nor was he ashamed of where he grew up after his dad died, but he couldn’t deal with the reactions or sympathy his story inevitably brought out of people. He just didn’t feel like dealing with it with Marci, especially given how well her and Foggy’s conversation was already going. What did he have to add to it other than a tragic accident?

A cool draft floated through the stairs, finding its way in any open creak or door in the building. Some of their downstairs neighbors were still moving in. In another room, someone was twisting a bottle of white wine open. Another attempted to hang a picture frame. Matt could hear the banging of the hammer on the second floor, the vibrations against the wall. He had to hide his grimace when he heard a chair squeak on the hardwood floor.

Despite these sounds that no one else could hear, Matt had high hopes for the near future. He imagined late-night studying and sleeping in on weekends. He imagined sneaking into frat parties with Foggy and ending the night at local dive bars.

When he heard the front door open, something shifted in the entire building. Something that caused Matt to move forward on the couch ever so slightly to hear better. The cold draft was replaced by a warmth in the air, followed by the ever-so-faint scent of lavender. Accompanied by the smell was an equally faint heartbeat. This person wasn’t nervous, they were content. He heard them sigh, and at this sound, Matt confirmed he was listening to a young woman. She too had a shoulder bag and suitcase she was lugging around, nothing else. No boxes filled with decorations or other extra things. No family dropped her off.

Just her.

She walked up the steps, one by one, and Matt could hear the pauses she took from the amount of stairs. His mouth twitched into a smile, fascinated that she was equally surpassed by the amount of stairs. It was clear that she was their fourth roommate, and it was confirmed when Matt heard her dial a number in her phone and Marci’s began to vibrate.

“Are you here?” Marci asked through the phone immediately.

“Yeah,” her friend breathed, “but I didn’t realize how many stairs there were! I’ll be up in five minutes if I’m lucky.”

“Do you need help with your bags? We luckily have two strong, burly men to do any heavy lifting we need,” Marci winked at Foggy.

“No, I’m okay. I just have two bags. I’ll be right up.”

Marci squealed when she hung up the phone. “She’s here! Let me get the door for her.”

As Marci walked over to open the front door, both Matt and Foggy stood up from their seats and awaited their fourth roommate’s arrival. Foggy waited like an excited puppy as he watched Marci lean in the doorway for her friend. Matt stood awkwardly, terrible at first encounters. He kept his hands in his pockets and tilted his head low, feeling more comfortable behind his dark glasses and chocolate brown hair that fell right over his eyes. The scent of lavender grew stronger the closer she made it to the apartment.

And when she walked in, no longer did Matt hear the creak in the wood, the downstairs neighbors’ chatter, the outside city noises. No longer did he feel the cool draft from outside, or his own nervous heart beating in his chest. All of his senses, and all of his focus, were on her. The one other roommate who showed up alone, with no family, with nothing but two bags, and possibly an equally lonely heart.

TAGS: @marvelcinematiquniverse

#matt murdock x reader #college!matt murdock #college!matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #charlie cox #daredevil #foggy nelson #marci stahl #college series

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isimchi · 10 months ago

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Downtown revamp: Lucky Shack Cards and Drink

Everyone assumed the "cards" at Lucky's was the old video poker machine collecting dust in the corner, until they got invited to a private game in the back.

floor plan and more:

I wanted to make the casino pub into a local dive bar with a risque gambling option. So I used a bunch of posters and photos to give it a more homey feel, with more humble furniture.

#tw: suggestive #downtown #ts2 #sims 2 #sims 2 build #sims 2 gameplay #sims 2 screenshots #ts2 build #Lucky Shack Cards and Drink

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proseka-headcanons · 8 months ago

Note

I think Mizuki and rui sometimes spend time going into second hand stores to buy vintage clothes and furniture and general thingamabobs to revamp over the weekend.

Its probably where they both got more comfortable with making more wild and out there designs for their respective hobbies,

mizuki with more extravagant clothes and rui with more externally polished robots.

But it started out as simple “oh! I could probably patch this hole and its good as new!” Or “oh! I just need to revarnish this and it’ll be perfect!” And it gradually got bigger and bigger and the projects got bigger and more experimental and now both of them have just a section of clothings that are wildly in the wrong era and chairs and tables that look like they’ve been stolen from a medieval castle just randomly in their homes.

Imagine a sub modern house and then just some random chair at the dinner table with extravagant wood carvings and lined with the most pristine of silk next to ikea seating.

It has started to leak into their friends homes aswell,

mizuki accidentally the leaving victorian handkerchiefs at places and the other nightcord members picking it up and forgeting to return it,

or rui just straight up leaving chairs and bookshelves as props at the wonderstage that nene has to drag back to their places just to notice the furniture is way too big to fit through his door so she just has to hold onto it until he can pick it up (he doesn’t pick it up its hers now)

nene would never admit it but she loves the old furniture — 🎈

#proseka headcanons #project sekai #pjsk #prsk #project sekai colorful stage #prosekai #project sekai headcanons #mod rui #mizuki akiyama #akiyama mizuki #rui kamishiro #kamishiro rui #nene kusanagi

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goodluckclove · 2 months ago

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New Migration Patterns Prologue

I am revamping what I have so far of book two (which is currently 160k), which starts with a new prologue. It's four prologues, actually. The first is from the perspective of a sixteen year old Eddie Gallows.

TW for implied parental abuse. Thank you to @mercuryytheraven for writing a perfect angsty poem on Eddie's behalf.

I FORGOT I HAD A TAGLIST HAHA. let me know if you want on or off, or if you want a picture of my cat Bob.

@inadequetecowboy @kuebiko-writing

@cartoonghosts @atlasthecactus

@aroaceghosties @booksntea6982

@xarrixii @mushroommanchanterelle

@whoevenknowswhatimwriting @fukurouonthesea

Prologue

A week before his seventeenth birthday, Eddie Gallows sat at his desk and stared at the open page in his poetry journal. He had a chewed ballpoint pen held loosely in one hand and the ghost of David Byrne singing into his ears from the chocolate-brown confines of his first-generation Zune.

There was other work he was supposed to be doing, he reminded himself. He had to finish his slides for a presentation in Chemistry.He also was days behind in finishing Albert Camus’ The Stranger – a short enough book that, for some reason, made him sick to his stomach every time he read more than a few pages at a time. And on top of all that there was his admissions essay, the 600 words Eddie had to use to pitch his value as a member of the Communications undergraduate program at his local, Academy-approved university.

Of course, he’d have to remind himself what a communications major even did.

Inspired suddenly by a keyboard riff in the music he’d heard a dozen times before, Eddie pressed pen to paper and began to write.

There is a bird in the woods

Its wings are broken and its voice is raw

still, it sings

for it does not know silence.

Eddie paused, staring at the stanza. Briefly, he was pleased with himself. The feeling faded quickly. Eddie let out a soft sigh and turned to stare out of the bay window of his bedroom. Even though the oak tree he grew up watching had been cut down for years, he still wasn’t used to the view it left behind. It felt slightly too open in a way that unnerved him, like a sudden silence in the woods.

For some reason at this point in the year, all he could ever think to write about were birds.

He crossed out bird and replaced it with child. He turned it sings to he sings, then replaced it with they sing before suddenly feeling even weirder and forcing himself to move on.

It remembers traces of a time Before,

(He had one of those dreams again last night that was mostly feelings and color and a voice.)

When the world was warm and soft and new,

(It wasn’t bad. The feelings were warm and bubbly. The voice was comforting and spoke lovingly to him, though he now couldn’t make out the words it said.)

and Spring would sing it to sleep every night.

(The color was blue. Always blue – a particular shade of blue that haunted him for as long as he cared to remember.)

Behind him there was a knock at the door. Eddie quickly snapped to attention – straightening his posture and fumbling off his headphones.

“Come in,” he said.

Genevieve, his mother, opened the door. She clung to the doorway as a cobweb might, head cocked to the side and a bleary look in her eyes. In the few moments of silence between them he caught a whiff of sickly, rotting flowers.

“Did you burn something in the kitchen?” She asked him.

He looked down at the half-finished grilled cheese on the plate beside his notebook. One side was just past perfectly golden-brown, and the other was black in a way that made the cheddar inside taste like something fished out of the fireplace. He looked back at his mother and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry.”

Part of him thought – or maybe hoped – that would be the end of the conversation. It wasn’t. She lingered there, eyes grazing his bedroom before settling back on him with the same reverence she treated any other piece of furniture.

“Halfway through the year,” Genevieve remarked.

“Um – yeah. Just about.”

“I hope you’re taking it seriously. I’ve heard this is the point in one’s education where you really have to...take things seriously.”

Eddie tightened his jaw and nodded again. “Uh-huh,” he said.

Genevieve’s attention drifted. Her eyes looked a little bloodshot. She seemed in that moment to be a great distance away. Eddie resisted the urge to fidget in his seat.

“You know you won’t always have me to take care of you,” she said.

A low murmur of confusion rose up in Eddie’s chest. It shifted briefly into something else, something stronger and potentially more effective, but it couldn’t quite get there. It just stayed weak. Just stayed uncertain.

“What do you mean?” He said, his best attempt at a protest.

Her focus returned and she looked at him. Actually looked at him, which was an increasing rarity these days. Eddie felt the muscles in his forearm clench and pressed his lips tight to keep from grimacing at the feeling it gave him.

“I don’t know,” she said, her tone a little too casual for his own comfort. “I guess I don’t know why I said that.”

She stayed there for a few moments longer, wavering slightly. Then she left. Once she was alone again Eddie allowed himself a deep breath, and he slumped forward and put his head in his hands. He gave his uneven, half-arched curls an anxious scratch and huffed again.

He missed the bruises. The physical aggression. It made more sense than this.

Looking back at the fragment of poetry in front of him Eddie was gradually weighed down with shame.

What a disgusting thing to think, he told himself.

He closed the book then and put it in the drawer of his desk. It stayed there, unopened, for years afterwards.

#writeblr #writing community #writing excerpt #songbird elegies #novel excerpt #indie author

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separatist-apologist · 2 years ago

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Straight To My Head

I want to be where you are

Summary: All Nesta wants is to live outside of London in peace. She would like nothing more than days filled with books and quiet- a dream made impossible by the Scotsman determined to relive past battle glories on her front lawn

Big thanks to @dustjacketmusings who gave me the idea of LARP-ing Cassian, and @the-lonelybarricade for being my UK consultant once again.

Part 1/2: I Want To Be Where You Are | Read AO3

Six months before:

“Your Uncle Rupert has died.”

Nesta didn’t bother looking up from her book, despite how terribly rude it was to read at the dinner table. Beside her, Feyre was scrolling through her phone, a frown pinching her face. It left only Elain to set her spoon neatly against a folded napkin and ask, “Uncle Rupert?”

“He was your mothers uncle,” their father replied, drawing both Nesta and Feyre’s attention toward him. He looked absurd in his polo get up, an aging man trying desperately hard to fit in. He reminded her of the girls from school and their lack of personality outside of whatever the latest trend was. It was all terribly boring.

And so was he.

“Oh. How terribly tragic,” Elain, ever dutiful, waited to see if there was anything else expected of her. Nesta knew Elain well, and though she was far too polite to ever show it, she cared just as little as Feyre and Nesta did.

“He’s left you girls an inheritance,” their father continued, drawing a soft sigh of annoyance from Feyre.

“Oh?” Elain questioned, examining her immaculate nails that held the garishly ugly diamond Graysen had given her. Nesta was biding her time, certain her younger sister would realize was a dull, preening asshole he was and call it off…but just in case, Nesta also intended to throw Elain an intervention under the guise of a bachelorette party.

She had time. At least a year.

Maybe more, depending on what this inheritance was.

“Castles. Three castles—one for each of you.”

“Why would he do that?” Feyre asked bluntly, echoing both Nesta and Elain’s thoughts. Their father only shrugged.

“Perhaps he was hoping to elevate the three of you.”

Nesta scoffed. Of course their father would think so. All he cared about was more. More money, more power—more than they could ever need, could ever use. Nesta wanted no part of it.

“Where are these castles, exactly?” Nesta asked, finally setting her book down to look him dead in the face.

“I think I’ll turn mine into a bed and breakfast,” Elain murmured, eyes shining as she mentally began planning.

“You don’t even know where it is,” Feyre interrupted. “What if it's crumbling? What if it’s in the middle of nowhere or what if it’s filled with ghosts. What if—”

“Feyre,” Elain interrupted, eyes wide. “It’ll be fine. I’m sure we weren’t given the crumbling wreckage of some haunted estate.”

Now:

Famous last words.

Nesta often thought of Elain’s certainty. While Feyre and Elain began remodeling, Nesta hadn’t needed to. Of the three, hers was in the best condition, though it needed a heating source outside of fireplaces, and she’d used the money their uncle had also left for renovations to revamp the electric.

After that, Nesta had wasted all of the rest of that obscene allowance on furniture and art, furnishings for the bedrooms, the bathrooms, the kitchen—and the library. Nesta had poured so much time and attention into her library that some nights she fell asleep in the oversized white chair just beside the window.

She’d never imagined herself anywhere but London.

Now she was certain she’d never go back. She’d fallen in love with the solitude, with the Scottish Highlands and the town that existed at the base of the hillside her castle had been built upon. It was as old as the stones themselves, and the people were far nicer than anyone in London on their best day.

Nesta would often walk down the steep pathway where she’d have lunch in the little tavern and buy a book at the shop, which was well-stocked with romance, before making her way to the loch where she’d fall asleep on a blanket, reading the new book she’d purchased.

It was exactly like one of her stories.

Save for him, of course.

All books needed a romantic hero. A man who was both handsome and interesting. Cassian MacDougall was certainly the first—at least six foot five and built like a warrior of old, with dark brown hair that hung against broad shoulders, and hazel eyes that were more brown than green.

Not that Nesta was paying that much attention. Not of the closely trimmed beard against the sharp cut of his jaw. Certainly not of his tattooed arms and chest, which were often bare, his golden brown skin gleaming with sweat given he so often forewent a shirt. He did wear a kilt—a red and blue plaid that offered a rather nice view of his muscled knees.

The problem with Cassian was his personality. Before she’d moved in, Cassian had taken to staging loud battles on her front lawn—it was, apparently, the sight of a very famous Scottish victory in some long forgotten battle against the English.

Nesta had merely asked him to stop doing it so close to her window. She wasn’t even unreasonable the first time.

Could you move further down the hill? She’d asked him, intimidated by his largeness, by how obscenely handsome he was.

He’d shot her a grin, and then turned to his friends. “Did ye hear that, lads?! The Englishwoman wants us to clear out!”Everyone had laughed, and Nesta had been humiliated.

Now it was a battle of the wills between them. The nearby town of Killin was swarmed with tourists during the Spring and Summer months, and Cassian made some of his money by taking tourists on a trip through Scottish history—or so Emerie, the woman who owned the local grocery store, had told Nesta. Spring had officially arrived just that morning, and Nesta was wholly unprepared for the sounds of violence wafting through the open windows.

She was going to kill him. It wasn’t even eight in the morning. Rising from her chair in the empty dining room table, Nesta marched through the quiet halls of her castle. Had her uncle known about this when he’d given her this cursed place? Had she angered him once when she’d been a child?

Nesta didn’t know how to reconcile her love of her home with her hatred of Cassian. He was just as willful, just as stubborn, and perhaps worst of all, determined to push her out.

She’d embarrass him right back. She swore she would. If he’d taken money from people and led them up here, she’d ruin his reputation on Yelp, too. She’d read them—just to know how best to ruin him—and everyone liked Cassian.

Everyone but her.

He was there, in his kilt and a sword and, mercifully, a breezy white shirt. He’d brought all his friends with him, some dressed in the stuffy red and white uniforms that had once belonged to the English. They had bayonets attached to guns, none of it sharp enough to wound, and somehow, someone had managed to roll a replica cannon onto the immaculate grass.

She froze, heart hammering at the sheer scale of what was happening—it was fake, and yet her brain and body reacted as though it were real. Not far from her, an Englishman fell to the ground with a groan, clutching at this chest before going utterly silent.

Nesta couldn’t take her eyes off him. Memories of her mothers death flooded through her, as vivid as the battle raging around her. No one else had been in the room when her mother took those last, rattling breaths but Nesta, who had been only eleven. Nesta had spent those six months caring for their mother while she fell victim to aggressive, incurable cancer. Back then, she hadn’t understood that it would take far more than her love and devotion to save her mother.

Elain and Feyre had been too young to take on that burden, and their father too buried and work and grief. It left only Nesta to witness death, to be there in the final last moments.

She’d refused to speak about it, and rarely allowed herself to even think about death. Something had solidified that day, had become hard and Nesta’s will was unbreakable.

And right then, in the early morning sun, she felt it fracture. Just a little, just enough to empty out her mind. Nesta forgot why she’d gone out in the first place, or what she was doing until warm, strong hands lifted her up in the air and began moving her.

A breath of fear wooshed out of her, palms slapping against a muscular back. Cassian—his shirt plastered to his sweat soaked skin—was carrying her across the grounds as he announced, “And we’d take any English lass for our own!”

Revulsion flooded through her.

“Put me down!” she ordered, afraid he was going to accidentally flash a crowd of tourists with her underwear.

Cassian did as he was told, grinning ear to ear. “Everyone applaud for Lady Nesta. She’s a good sport, playing the part of stuffy English broad.”

Tourists in fanny packs, Hawaiian shirts, and thick socks to their knees, offered her a round of polite clapping. She’d come here to humiliate him, and as he so often did, it was Cassian who’d gained the upper hand. Nesta tried to turn, to leave him there, but his hand shot around her waist, holding her firmly against him.

He rattled off battle facts for a solid ten minutes, fingers digging against the fabric of her blue maxi dress. It was only when he finished, and one of his friends began herding people toward the path that Cassian turned to face her.

Nesta’s heart raced. “What do ye think ye’re doing?” he demanded, dropping his hand as though she disgusted him.

“Me?” she replied, adopting an imperiously cold tone in order to mask her own fear. “This is my home, Cassian.”

He scoffed. “For how long, Nes?”

She hated when he called her that. Hated the familiar, intimate nickname of the fact he’d given her one at all. No one had ever dared.

“Excuse me?” she demanded.

He flinched as if she’d slapped him. “How long,” he repeated, enunciating his words with that faux British accent she hated. He was forever mocking her. “How long before you pack up and move out? Another couple months?”

“I’ll be here forever,” Nesta hissed, hoping he believed her. “I’ll be chasing your children off this lawn one day.”

Cassian’s laugh was humorless. “Oh, I believe ye will. I hope ye’re ready for that. I intend tae be prolific.”

“You’d have to find a willing woman, first,” she replied, holding his stare. “And from what I’ve seen, they don’t find you charming. I wonder why that is?”

“So concerned about my bedroom habits, are ye?”

She’d kill him. “What’s to be concerned about? A man in love with his hand is terribly common.”

Cassian took a step toward her, staring down his nose. He was terribly handsome, a brutal prince with that scar slashed over his thick eyebrow and those eyes that she swore saw right through her.

“If ye want to know what I’m like in bed, ye only have to ask.”

“I don’t fuck animals,” Nesta snapped, praying he couldn’t tell how quickly her heart was beating. She turned, not daring to continue this conversation. It was far too dangerous.

Nesta made it all of two steps before his fingers curled around her wrist, turning her so roughly she stumbled into his chest. Nesta inhaled without thinking, drinking the scent of snow capped wind and cedar and the way the sun smelled against the salt of his skin.

She reached with her free hand and slapped him as hard as she could, right against his jaw.

“Don’t ever touch me again,” she ordered. Cassian’s eyes widened, dropping her as he reached for the blooming mark of red against his skin.

Nesta marched off, though it hardly felt like victory. She was certain she’d lost far more than just her side of that argument. Cassian’s booming laughter chased her back in doors, where Nesta remained even after he returned that afternoon.

She couldn’t face him.

And she certainly couldn’t face herself—or her memories.

-*-

“I heard a rumor about ye,” Emerie called as Nesta browsed the shelves of her shop.

“Oh?” Nesta replied, putting a bag of pasta in her little shopping basket.

“I heard Cassian made ye part of his reenactment last week.”

A groan slipped from Nesta before she could stifle it. “Bragging, is he?”

Emerie’s laugh was a pretty sound. “Of course. He’s tae stupid to realize the reason ye bother him so much is because he has a crush on ye. Like a schoolboy tugging on yer braids.”

“Gross,” Nesta responded. Though, Emerie had grown up with Cassian. Surely she could shed light on why he was so…so…Cassian? “Why is he single?”

Emerie’s brown eyes danced with delight. “Thinking about him, tae?”

“Nope. Just curious, that’s all.”

“Of course. Who wouldn’t be curious? Maybe ye should ask him. I’m sure he’d tell ye all about it…maybe over candlelight and—”

“Okay, that’s quite enough,” Nesta grumbled to more laughter. She collected the rest of her groceries while Emerie filled her in on gossip that didn’t center around Cassian, before bidding her a good day. Nesta had never had true friends, and wasn’t sure if Emerie could even be counted as one. She might have, if Nesta could muster the courage to ask her to do something—anything.

But she couldn’t. So Nesta left knowing a little more about the people of Killin and the sense that some of her loneliness was self-imposed. She couldn’t even pretend it was her mothers death that had made her cold. Even as a child, no one had wanted to play with her. None of the other children liked her.

“Ah, mo chridhe,” Cassian called, jogging up the path that led from the edge of the village toward the castle. “I’ve been looking for ye.”

“I can’t see why,” Nesta sniffed, even as Cassian pulled her heavy canvas bag filled with her groceries and slung it over his broad shoulder. “Do you intend to hold my groceries hostage, too?”

“I’ve come to talk with ye,” he replied, one hand thrown up in defense. “About business.”

“I have no business with you.”

“C’mon, Nes,” he pleaded, drawing her attention toward him. “I’ve been staging battles at Killin Castle for five years now.”

“There is land all around you, Cassian. Surely you can move it.”

“Aye, I could, but the castle adds a certain majesty. And it allows me tae charge more—hold on, don’t look at me like that. I’ll give ye a percentage for your trouble.”

“Fifty percent.”

“Take my fucking balls too,” he grumbled. “Thirty.”

“Thirty percent of your total profits just so you can pretend to kill the English on my lawn?” Nesta asked, arching a brow.

“Forty if ye let me haul you off again.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine. Thirty it is, then. In exchange, ye’ll leave me be while I’m working—”

“And you’ll stay further away from the windows,” Nesta replied, pausing to both catch her breath and stare him down. Cassian didn’t seem winded at all, lovely beneath a waning sun.

“Fine.”

“And I want a schedule,” she said, hands on her hips.

“Anything else? My fucking cock and balls on a silver tray, tae?”

“You can keep those,” she sniffed, not wanting to think of either. Cassian didn’t protest, didn’t offer her a filthy remark. He was grinning, as if he’d gotten everything he wanted. Nesta hated to see him so happy.

“This is time limited, Cassian. Just until the summer is over. And then I want you gone. Out of my life.”

“It’s a small town, Nes,” he replied with mock solemnity. “I cannae leave.”

“You can avoid me.”

“What makes ye think I’d want that?”

Having reached the top of the hill, and the end of her patience, Nesta reached for her bag. Cassian pulled just out of reach, eyes searching her own. She didn’t like the look of contemplation on his face, or how serious he’d suddenly become.

“What about what I want, Cassian? Which is peace, and a moment free of the chaos you drag with you.”

“Ye might like it, mo chridhe.”

Nesta glared. “We could have had an amicable relationship months ago. This is all we have now, Cassian. Give me my things.”

He handed her the bag with a rueful smile. “It’s a pleasure working with ye.”

“If only I could say the same, Cassian.”

He merely grinned, which annoyed her more. She took off, daring only once to glance over her shoulder. Cassian remained at the top of the hill, his dark hair blowing around his face while he watched her. He raised a hand in a wave, one Nesta did not return. She didn’t trust this new, helpful Cassian.

Whatever angle he was working would only hurt her if she chose to believe it.

Nesta had learned that lesson with Tomas not a year before.

Nesta wasn’t going to learn it again.

-*-

The thing about Cassian, Nesta learned, was that he woke early. He scheduled his mock battles every day at nine am like clockwork. Nesta was rarely up that early and no matter how she tried, could not fall back asleep. He’d taped his schedule to her front door rather than knock and wake her up, which detailed a seven day schedule in which he reenacted two battles monday through friday, and four on saturday and sunday. It seemed brutal, and yet when he came by, sweaty and grinning that Sunday night with a check, Nesta stopped complaining.

If that was thirty percent, no wonder Cassian had been adamant about continuing. Nesta tucked it away, strangely uncomfortable with taking his money. All through spring, Cassian faithfully left money in the little mailbox, and from April to June, Nesta did her very best to avoid him entirely.

She was avoiding everyone. Even herself. Most days, Nesta left her phone uncharged so she didn’t have to see the incoming messages from Elain. Elain, planning her wedding and somehow managing to deal with what seemed like an incredibly irritable tenant of the castle she’d been left, still checked in. Still asked after her—still wanted to know what had happened to chase Nesta out of London so abruptly.

The joke about becoming a bog witch had never meant to shape her reality. Sometimes she wondered if Elain hadn’t heard. If she didn’t know about Tomas, what he’d said.

What he’d tried to do.

As the weather warmed, and more people flooded into the town, Nesta retreated further into the castle where no one could see her. The mere idea of going out filled Nesta with trembling fear. There was too much left to chance, too much chaos and in response, Nesta found herself practically eating in the library. It was the only place that felt safe anymore.

That. And somehow, Cassian, who’d begun knocking on the front door to offer her up money.

She made her way through the open grand hall, eyeing cobwebs clinging to the overhead chandelier. She needed to find someone who could do some cleaning for her.

Nesta pulled open the old, iron handle to find Cassian, his hair half pulled off his head in a messy bun. He was in his kilt, a stable given how often he played the battle warrior, though it was paired with a plain black t-shirt that showed off both his bulging biceps and his collarbone, teased by the little vee just in the front.

“For ye,” he said, holding out an envelope. As she reached for it, Cassian ducked around her, stepping onto the stone floor. He whistled with appreciation.

“I’ve always wondered what this place looked like.” “It looks like a castle,” Nesta replied, the door still open. “Get out.”

Cassian looked her over. “Are ye eating up here?”

“How is that any of your concern?” she asked, hating how her cheeks warmed under his appraisal.

“Emerie said ye aren’t coming down as often. She’s worried about ye, asked me tae check in. I’m checking, Nes. You look tired.”

“You wake me up early,” she replied, though they both knew that wasn’t it.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Did something happen?”

“Nope. I’m perfectly fine. I’ll see Emerie—”

“Why not let me buy ye something tae eat?” he suggested. “At tae Ensnaring Snake. A pint and something else? Whatever ye want.”

“I don’t need your charity, Cassian. I can have a drink without your leering presence.”

“Ah, but what fun would it be without me?” he asked, a roguish grin on his face. “Come down. Even if ye ignore me the entire time.”

There was no way.

“Unless,” he added casually, unaware of how her heart thudded in her throat. “Ye’re scared.”

“I’m not scared!” Nesta snapped. “Now get out, Cassian!”

“Anything, mo chridhe,” he replied, all but sauntering out. She might have believed his swaggering, male bravado, had he not turned to look at her with those worried eyes. It prompted her, once the door was slammed shut in his face, to go up to the bathroom. She supposed she had gotten a little thinner…and the circles beneath her eyes had become far more pronounced. She was paler, too, though she could blame that on avoiding the sun. Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she’d drank any water.

Or eaten a vegetable.

She showered, braiding her hair in a crown around her head like she so often did. Her hands shook as she buttoned up a pale purple dress and laced up her shoes. She couldn’t bring herself to put on make-up, or do anything else that might draw attention to herself.

You’re so fuckint hot, Nesta. You know it, don’t you, with those eyes—those tits—

Nesta wanted to scream. Hand frozen on the handle, she almost turned around. Tomas’s voice, the feel of him pressed against her, how he’d—no. She took a breath, cleared her throat, and marched out into the waning sunlight. There was no way Nesta would let Cassian think she was afraid of going outside.

Even if he was right.

It wasn’t the outdoors that made her nervous. It was all the people, it was the things she couldn’t control.

By the time she made it down the hill and into the center of the village, Emerie had closed up for the day. A little handwritten note told Nesta exactly where she was.

The Ensnaring Snake.

It had Cassian written all over it. Still, despite how it made her palms sweat, Nesta very carefully made her way toward the tavern she’d once enjoyed eating in. Back when there was no one but familiar faces and the streets were mostly empty.

Now it was packed. Nesta pushed the door open just enough to see Cassian at the far end of he room, head thrown back with laughter at something someone at the table had said. His hair was loose, and he’d foregone the kilt for a pair of regular jeans. He looked so normal—and of course he had friends. She didn’t know why that surprised her. She didn’t know why the sight of a rather pretty blonde running her finger over his bare arm made Nesta back out of the doorway.

Why she suddenly felt so stupid. She hadn’t come for him.

She didn’t care about him.

“Hey!”

Nesta ignored the male voices behind her—and the jarring, American accents that seemed so wildly out of place. Arms wrapped around her body, she meant to trudge back home and pretend none of this had happened.

“Hey,” that voice called, dragging the sound of heavy steps over cobblestone with it. A moment later, a hand was on Nesta’s shoulder. She jumped nearly out of her skin, twisting to look at three unfamiliar faces. Each of them reeked of whiskey, and were likely looking for more fun than the village had to offer. “Where are you going?”

“Don’t touch me,” she ordered, earning snickering laughs.

“Or what?” the first, a bleach blonde with a pair of sunglasses clipped to his t-shirt, asked. “We’re just being nice.”

“Oh? Is this considered polite, where you’re from?”

More laughter. Nesta’s heart raced even as she told herself nothing was going to happen. They were having a laugh at her expense but they’d slink off when they realized they were getting nowhere.

“We could be much more polite,” that first step, lunging forward. Nesta stumbled back, falling to the ground and bashing her elbow against the rough cobblestone. Pain ricocheted through her while her eyes smarted. More humiliation, brought low by men she hated.

Nesta scrambled back to her feet, turning without looking at any of them.

“Aw, sweetheart, come back,” they called, laughing loudly. Nesta started to turn for the castle, thinking she’d race up the hill and lock herself up until morning came.

But they were still behind her, trailing after her while whistling and making other little sounds with their tongues and teeth. Cassian could crest that hill without breaking a sweat, but Nesta was slow—they’d catch her.

She sped up, trying to think of where she could go. Panic was making her clumsy, was making her stupid. She should have turned around and gone back into the tavern where anyone could see. Emerie was in there, she would have helped.

Instead, Nesta picked up her steps, hoping they’d get tired of following her when they realized she was heading out of the village. And when they didn’t—when they tried to get closer—Nesta took off running.

They followed, their shadows jumping ahead even as the sun vanished over the hillside. Nesta could only hear her pounding feet and her nervous heart. She was heading for the loch, the absolute worst place to be given there was unlikely to be anywhere out there. Just her, a body of water, and three very drunk tourists looking to have fun at her expense.

Nesta slowed, trying to figure out her next move.

“Tired, babe?” One of them called.

“I can think of something else that’ll tire her out,” another replied. Nesta was inching closer and closer to the dock, wondering if she could swim far enough out that they’d finally leave. Or if that was stupid, and they’d just jump in after her where she’d be well and truly fucked.

She couldn’t go past them. Glancing over her shoulder saw the three of them walking in a solid line. They’d catch her.

“Please stop,” one of them called, jogging after her. Nesta surged forward, her feet touching the dock before she felt those fingers on her arm again. “Why are you running?”

She wanted to die. “You’re chasing me.”

“You don’t have to run. We don’t want to hurt you,” he lied, his eyes absolutely betraying him. She’d seen that look before, had watched another man’s gaze dip below her chin, taking in her body, wondering what it would feel like to just have her, regardless of her own feelings on the matter.

“Take your hands off me.”

The other two laughed and laughed. “Or what?”

“Or—”

“Or I’ll kill ye,” came another, familiar voice. Nesta could have sobbed at the sound, had never been happier than she was just then to see Cassian strolling up, deceptively casual. He cocked his head, dark hair spilling around him as he waited.

That first man looked from Cassian to Nesta and then, with a smile that clearly said he thought Cassian was outmatched, replied, “Oh? She’s yours?”

Cassian didn’t smile. “Find out.”

Nesta was so busy watching Cassian that she’d stopped watching the others. She didn’t see that hand shove toward her, didn’t realize he’d decided to call Cassian’s bluff until she stumbled backwards.

She hit the water with a choked scream. She flailed for a moment, twisting around before pushing upward. The water was dark, was colder than she’d expected, though not so cold she couldn’t still think straight.

She broke the surface a moment before she heard a splash, and then felt him, arms around her.

“Don’t hit me,” Cassian warned breathlessly.

“Where did they go?” Nesta demanded, letting Cassian drag her back to the dock. He hoisted her up effortlessly before joining her. Water sluiced off him, though he hardly seemed to notice. His eyes burned, and when he reached for her, she saw his knuckles were bloody and had begun to swell and bruise.

“They’re gone,” he said tightly. He swallowed some unnamed emotion, looking her over.

“Unharmed,” she said, resisting the urge to draw her knees up to her chest. Instead, Nesta gingerly rose to her feet, weighed down by the heavy fabric of her dress and her wounded pride.

“I saw ye,” he said, following her up. “In the tavern. I saw ye come in and I—”

He’d followed her. Nesta might have asked him why another night. Might have berated him for thinking she’d want his attention. Instead, Nesta forced herself to take a breath.

“Will you walk me home?”

Cassian swallowed again. “Yeah. I—is this my fault, Nes?”

“No, Cassian,” she said, suddenly exhausted.

“I was trying to rile ye up. Get ye out of that castle. I feel like…”

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated.

It’s mine, she nearly added, though she kept it behind her teeth.

“Why didnae ye run home, mo chridhe? Why’d ye come out here?”

“The hill,” she whispered, trying so hard not to let him see how rattled she was. Cassian looked down, eyebrows raised with surprise.

“Can I show ye something?”

And right then, Nesta would have let Cassian do anything he liked so long as he didn’t leave her.

“Sure.”

“Cassian,” Nesta began when he opened the door to the Ensnaring Snake.

“Trust me,” he replied, placing a careful hand on her bruised elbow. Inside, music and laughter flooded Nesta’s senses, and for a moment she expected him to lead her back to his table. She almost wanted him to, though she was in no mood to make conversation. It might have been nice to hear him introduce her to his friends, to sit her down and buy her that pint like he’d promised.

He wove in and out of the tables, nodding when people called his name. His touch was light—careful. Like he knew better than to do any more.

Like he knew what she didn’t like about it.

There was no way to explain to him that his touch had never bothered her. She’d have to tell him that she noticed his eyes, how they stayed on her face. How even when he’d been surveying her that morning, he’d been looking with concern—not desire. Not lewd appreciation. And how even when Cassian was manhandling her, his hands never went anywhere inappropriate, though it would have been all too easy for him to cop a feel and play it off like an accident.

She wondered if he even realized it.

Cassian took her around the back of the bar, pulling open an old, wooden door that clearly led to a cellar.

“Cassian,” Nesta tried again.

“Trust me,” he repeated. Nesta opened her mouth to tell him she didn’t trust him at all. But she could see his swollen knuckles from the corner of her eye, and thought of how quick he must have been to hit them hard enough to hurt himself and jump into the water after her. He hadn’t had to do either. He could have left her. Could have walked away.

So Nesta followed him down into the musty dark, wishing she could grab his arm.

“I used tae come here when I was wee,” Cassian explained, leading her around packing boxes and crates toward another, sturdier door. “You’ll still have to go uphill, but it takes ye right to the castle.”

Nesta was still sopping wet, exhausted and wrung out. She looked up at him, wanting him to go with her. She couldn’t ask.

“Thank you,” she said instead, turning toward that dark.

“I’ll see ye up,” Cassian said gruffly.

And together, they plunged into that darkness.

-*-

“What do you mean, married?” Nesta demanded, phone to her ear as she stomped out of the bookshop. “How can she marry a fictional man?” “He’s not fictional,” came Elain’s patient voice. “I looked him up. Rhysand Campbell is a Duke. I guess that’s why she kept such a tight lid on him back home.”“A Duke? For Feyre?!” Nesta spluttered, trying to imagine wild, carefree Feyre marrying into ancient, outdated royalty. She’d always expected that of Elain, if anyone.

“I’m going to meet him next week, so I’ll let you know. But he seems very accomplished, and he’s quite handsome.”

“Is she sure?” Nesta asked, not thinking about her path until she was already on it. “Marriage is just so…”

She trailed off, remembering that Elain was engaged. Hell. She hadn’t meant to insult her, though the tense, following silence made Nesta think she had. “How er…how is that going?”

“I called it off,” Elain finally said, her voice strange and small. “Just yesterday.”

“Did he do something?” Nesta demanded, readjusting the blanket she was caring beneath her arm. “Because I’ll kill him—”

“It’s all handled,” Elain assured her quickly. “I don’t expect him to give me any trouble.”

“What does that mean? Handled how?” Nesta demanded. Elain was so nice it practically made her a doormat. Nesta didn’t believe for a single second that Elain had truly handled anything, and wondered if the engagement had been called off for infidelity. Graysen wouldn’t give her trouble because he’d already moved on.

“Drop it, Nesta,” Elain replied firmly.

“Fine. But if you need help—”

“I don’t. Everything here is fine. How are you doing? Did you ever get rid of that guy role playing on your lawn?”

Nesta started to say that she and Cassian had reached a truce of sorts, which wasn’t quite the truth and not exactly a lie, either. Instead, Nesta said, “Erm…let me call you back.” Because there, in the middle of the glittering water, stood a very shirtless, possibly naked Cassian. Gleaming in the sunlight, his head tipped back so the rays might warm his face. He didn’t look real and Nesta didn’t know what to do.

He wasn’t alone. Along the shore, children splashed and kicked up water while others floated around him, oblivious to what Nesta was seeing. She wondered what the whorling, inked tattoos on his shoulders and chest meant.

And as she wondered, her eyes drifted down the packed muscles against his ribs, toward the carved vee of his hips. Nesta could scarcely breathe, had forgotten what she was supposed to be doing until her eyes came back to his face.

He was looking at her, too. Shit eating grin etched over his handsome face, one hand raised upward to beckon her to join him.

Hell.

Nesta turned, embarrassed she’d been caught ogling him. She would not submit to any of his humiliating taunts or those burning eyes that promised far more than Nesta thought she wanted. Of course, Cassian couldn’t bask in his victory, of knowing some diseased part of her was attracted to him, despite their strange push-pull between animosity and friendship. He was behind her in a pair of bright red swim trunks and nothing else, jogging up the path while Nesta tried desperately to escape him.

“Why are ye leaving?” he asked, running a hand through his still wet hair. “Come swim.”

“No, thank you,” she replied. “I just remembered—”

“Oh, bullshit, mo chridhe,” he replied. “There is nothing to do but sit up at that miserable stack of rocks. Swim with me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Okay, then do something else with me,” he replied.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, rounding on him. That was a mistake. Cassian was far closer than she thought, and when she stopped, he kept going. He kept her from tumbling backward, wrapping a slick around her and pressing her into his chest.

She hated how good it felt to touch him. To feel him hold her, to keep her close for a moment before he let her go.

“Why not?” he asked, strangely breathless. “Ye’ve been here half a year—don’t ye want friends?”

“Is that what we are?” she asked, distracted by how close he was, by how nearly naked he was. It took no effort to try and picture what the rest of him might be like…and it would have been a lie to say she wasn’t curious if all of him was large.

“Yes?” he asked, clearly frustrated. “I thought so.”

“I don’t want to swim,” she repeated, though in truth, Nesta didn’t want to do anything with him right now. It was too risky to be alone with him. She’d touch him, she’d get on her knees and do any number of terrible, filthy things to him. Nesta couldn’t breathe. She needed to escape him.

“Something else?” he asked, not moving an inch. His eyes were glazed over, staring right through her. Nesta blinked.

“I er…another day, Cass.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “I should—” he turned abruptly. Had she upset him? Nesta watched him for a moment before she turned, too, unwilling to get caught staring at him again. Nesta didn’t allow herself to think of him at all. For the rest of the day, every time the image of him standing in the water, Nesta banished it quickly and busied herself in some other task.

Right up until night fell, and she could crawl into bed.

Only then did Nesta allow herself to think about Cassian.

-*-

“Rhysand is missing,” Elain whispered to Nesta. Nesta, still guarding the door where Feyre was speaking with a Duke, turned to look at her sister, eyes wide.

“I’ll kill him,” Nesta hissed, biting her bottom lip.

“His friends are here,” Elain said, running through a mental list of guests. “I’ll see if they know where he is. Don’t move,” Elain added, finger in the air.

“This whole thing is a disaster,” Nesta grumbled, hating the pitying look Elain threw her. Nesta knew, realistically, that Elain had done her best with the guest list and she was terrible at telling their father no. And Elain had called ahead of time to warn Nesta that the Mandray’s had secured an invitation.

Everyone wanted to see Feyre Archeron marry a Duke. Social parasites and other hanger-oners had flooded into the lovely castle all day, marveling over the architecture and hoping to rub elbows with real royalty.

Nesta didn’t think Elain had managed to get anyone but Duke Campbell, just as she didn’t think Feyre was aware her wedding had turned into the event of the year. Nesta was desperate to avoid the majority of London, and planned to catch a ride back with Elain in the morning. Just to the train station—she’d make the rest of the way back on her own, even if she had to walk.

There was no way she was spending a weekend with Tomas Mandray.

Elain returned, accompanied by a familiar, grinning face. “Well, well, well,” Cassian said, running his hand down a buttoned down, black shirt. He wore that red and blue kilt and black socks that came up over his knees, a sporran around his hips.

“Do you two know each other?” Elain asked.

“This is the gentleman roleplaying on my lawn,” Nesta said. The man beside him, dressed identically, though his kilt was primarily blue plaid.

“Role-playing, Cass?” he asked.

“This is Cassian?” Elain replied, eyebrows raised to the sky.

“Have ye been talking about me?” Cassian asked Nesta with a lopsided smile. “What else does she say?”

“That you’re exceptionally obnoxious,” Elain replied, earning a laugh from the other man.

“All true,” he murmured, before adding, “Azriel.”

They were given no more time for pleasantries before Feyre emerged, flushed and practically glowing. She didn’t seem concerned that her fiancé was missing—only annoyed. Elain ordered them to split up, which Azriel did without complaint—but Cassian did not.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said just as soon as Elain and Azriel were out of earshot. “I didnae know Feyre was yer sister. I should have guessed, I supposed, given what a hard time she’s given my brother.”

“Good for her,” Nesta replied before adding, “Brother?”

“Not in tae biblical sense. Rhys and I met when he was at a posh boarding school and trying to buy whiskey on the weekend.”

“Let me guess—you sold him the whiskey.”

“Ye know me so well, mo chridhe,” he said with a grin. “Been inseparable ever since.”

“Then why is he missing?” she demanded. Cassian pulled open a closet door, revealing a mop that fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

There was no humor on Cassian’s face as he knelt to pick it up. “He doesn’t think he’s worthy.”

Nesta didn’t know how to take that, how to possibly respond. She didn’t know any man that had ever put a woman above himself. The idea that Rhysand would have left because he thought her sister could do? better was an anomaly. Unheard of.

“I’ll bet they’re outside,” Nesta said after a moment. Cassian caught her by the arm, holding her still.

“Maybe they don’t want tae be found just yet,” he murmured, that burning back in his eyes.

“Cass—”

“Nesta?”

She wanted to die at the sound of that voice. Those brown eyes, that sharp, sneering face and that lean body pressed into an elegant suit. Cassian turned, looking Tomas up and down with such keen awareness on his face. She could read his every expression, the oh, I understand now.

But he didn’t.

Nesta started to inch closer to Cassian, who, of course, immediately noticed. He took her hand in his, raising it to his lips, and ghosted a kiss against her knuckles. It was so obviously a claiming and a threat, all at once.

“Hi, Tomas.”

“I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“For my sister's wedding?” she asked archly. “I’m surprised you’re here.”

Cassian raised his brows.

“Of course I am,” he replied, staring her down with those dead, soulless eyes. “Your father said I was the son he never had.”

Cassian started to take a step forward, stopped only by Nesta’s vicious squeeze of his hand.

“He’s still so terribly disappointed by how things happened. What, exactly, did you tell him?”

Nesta wanted to die. “Nothing,” she managed, her heart pounding in her throat. Cassian watched this power struggle—did he understand what was happening?

“We should get together the next time you’re in London,” Tomas said, eyes flicking to Cassian with distaste. As if Cassian couldn’t have broken him clean in two. As if Cassian was someone beneath him. “Carter.”

Cassian offered an edged smile. “Hackit.”

Nesta snorted, pressing her hand against her lips. Tomas narrowed his eyes, but kept moving without insulting her. Nesta imagined he, too, realized the danger Cassian presented. Even without those swollen, bloodied knuckles, Cassian looked like a man who could fight.

“Want tae tell me what that was about?” Cassian asked the second Tomas slipped down the hall.

“Of course not,” she snapped, wrenching her hand from his. “Don’t kiss me again.”

“No? Are ye sure about that? Because I saw ye at the loch—”

“You didn’t see anything,” Nesta insisted, heart hammering. Her two worlds were colliding unforgivably. Cassian and Tomas were not supposed to exist together, and seeing Cassian, in his kilt, call Tomas ugly in his suit, had managed to tie Nesta up in knots.

“Don’t go out there,” Cassian complained when Nesta stepped onto the lawn, still rain soaked from a recent storm. “Yer gonna ruin yer dress!”

“FEYRE!” she yelled, mostly to convince Cassian to stop talking.

“Ye cannae end every conversation ye don’t like by running off. I’m not going anywhere, mo chridhe come back—”

Cassian hauled Nesta up over his shoulder before she could take another step.

“Cassian! Put me down!”

“No,” he replied easily, walking her back to the house. “They’ll return when they’re ready.”

“Cassian,” she pleaded. He set her back to her feet, catching that note of desperation in her voice before she had to beg, though his body blocked her path further into the castle.

“What did he do to ye, Nes?” he asked, his fingers curling to fists at his side.

“Why do you care?” she demanded, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Of course I care!” Cassian hissed, stepping closer, until Nesta was pressed against the stone wall.

“I don’t understand you,” Nesta breathed, swallowing hard as he drew nearer.

“Trust me, I don’t either,” he whispered. “Will ye tell me what he did to ye?”

“Why? So you can hit him, too?”

“Oh, mo chridhe, I will do far, far worse,” he murmured, his eyes dropping to her mouth. Nesta had lost control of the situation, of this man who she didn’t even like. Who would go back to reenacting battles on her lawn, who was beloved by the town and the son of a Duke and—

“If ye won’t tell me that, tell me something else.”

Nesta’s eyes went back to his. More brown than green. “What?”

“Tell me the truth, Nesta Archeron. Tell me ye want me just as much as I want ye.”

“I—” he caught her lips before the lie could tumble out of them, kissing her softly. One hand cupped her cheek while the other braced the wall she was pressed against. His eyes fluttered shut but Nesta kept hers open, drinking him in. He looked so wrecked, like he’d been thinking about this for a long, long time and was finally realizing it was nothing like he imagined.

And so she kissed him back, hands at her sides while she waited for the inevitable disappointment. The realization that whatever he’d imagined didn’t live up to reality. One kiss became two, became a third and yet Cassian didn’t pull back like they so often did. He didn’t sharpen. If anything, he became softer, more desperate with each passing kiss between them. The softness of his closely trimmed beard brushed over her jaw while his thumb rubbed a soft circle over her cheek.

Give in, she swore she heard him say. Nesta wanted to—oh, she wanted to take everything he was offering so badly it made her legs shake. If he didn’t know now, he’d figure it out soon enough. Nesta was not the kind of woman men fell in love with. She’d never been that woman, and never would be. No matter how badly she wanted to be, no matter how much she wanted to believe Cassian could push through walls made of iron and find the trembling softness beneath, he was still a man.

And at some point, she’d become a game for him. Something to conquer, regardless of the tactics it took. It was that thought that convinced Nesta to finally pull back, hands planted on his chest as she shoved.

“That’s enough,” she said, another lie he immediately caught.

Cassian pressed a kiss to her cheek. “It’s not,” he rumbled, reaching for the back of her neck. “Ye want me to think yer made of ice, but I know better.”

“Oh? And what am I made of, Cassian?” she demanded in that hard, imperious tone. The sort that pissed men off, that sent them running.

His eyes flashes.

“Fire.”

When he kissed her again, Nesta’s eyes slammed shut before she even realized what she was doing. This time, Nesta’s fingers raked through his neat hair, pulling him closer. She wasn’t gentle, thinking it would push him off her. She misjudged him—Nesta pulled at the strands and Cassian groaned, pressing his body hard against her. He liked this.

Which was a fucking tragedy, because she did, too. Cassian moaned again, loud enough anyone with ears in the vicinity knew what was happening in the back hall, and Nesta, for just this once, did not care.

Her tongue swept into his mouth, tasting him like she’d wanted to the day at the loch. He tasted like whiskey and warmth and like she needed to get him out of his clothes as fast as she could, before she changed her mind.

“Slow down, slow down,” he breathed, catching her wrist when she trailed down his chest. “Have ye done this before?”

“Does it matter?” she replied, certain it didn’t.

He huffed out a soft breath. “Of course it fucking matters.”

“I—” He was going to ruin her. He was already making a mess of things. Nesta needed the upper hand, needed a way to get what she wanted without getting hurt. If that was even possible.

There was no way to have him and remain unscathed. The smart thing to do was walk away. “This can’t mean anything, Cassian.”

His brows furrowed. “Ye don’t mean that.”

“You don’t know me–”

“Because ye make it impossible!” he replied, raking his fingers through his hair. “People care about ye, and it’s like…”

“Like what?” she asked, her throat rough and dry. She never should have stopped kissing him. She shouldn’t have said anything at all. Cassian looked down the hall, sighing a breath.

“Like ye expect us all tae leave ye, so ye leave first.”

“You don’t like me,” she said. It was a question.

No one likes me. Why should you?

“At first,” he admitted. “I thought ye’d be like yer uncle. Stuffy…arrogant…and ye were, ye know ye were. I thought ye’d leave—hoped, I suppose. Until I started liking the sight of ye, storming out with yer braid and yer book. Fuming mad and all of it directed at me. I wanted to get tae know ye and I’ve been trying. And not just me. Emerie, tae. She thinks the world of ye. Yer sisters, tae, and probably everyone else if ye let them.”

Nesta shook her head, swallowing the wave of emotion rising. “This is all wrong. You hate me–”

“Hate,” he said, pressing both palms against the wall, caging her between his body, “is the last thing I feel for ye.”

“I wish you did,” she said.

“If all ye want is something unserious,” he began, eyes searching her own. She swore he could read her every word for the truth, that he didn’t need to hear her speak to know all the things wrong. All the secrets she held. “Then I’ll take what yer offering. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck ye in the hall.”

“Cassian—”

“Ye said, ‘I don’t fuck animals,’” he began mimicking an absurd British accent. “And I believe ye. At least, for now.”

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered, certain she was going to be picking her shattered heart up off the floor by the time they were done. Cassian brushed his lips over her own.

“When it comes tae ye, mo chridhe, I have no defenses.”

#nesssian #nesta x cassian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian acotar #dont let part 1 fool you #like oh theyre going to talk about their feelings LOL youll see #also im in hell because i want to write elucien so bad and instead im just teasing it in the background

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themournwatcher · 1 year ago

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Caspian's Inquisition Mod List

For his transmasc Trevelyan

Not even gonna lie to you guys, I probably could handle more mods but my computer is a little old. He's trucking along though and I am so proud of him. I'm gonna include all of the mods I have downloaded for my Trevelyan playthrough (with a link) and a brief description of what they do/why I picked it. I'll try to update it because I usually end up adding more as I go.

Any Voice - Mod that allows you to choose any voice during character creation (male or female/British or American). I don't know how well this portion of the mod works because I opted for the optional file: Flipped Pronouns. This causes your character to be referred to by the opposite pronouns of the gender presentation you selected at character creation. (For me, this allows my male Trevelyan to be played on a feminine model). Player's Note: This does not apply to text in game. Missions, notes, and letters will still refer to the default gender for your selection.

Divine Armor for Lady Trevelyan - Mod that allows the Divine Armor (normally bestowed to a Divine Cassandra or Vivienne in the Trespasser DLC) to be acquired early and equipped on a female Trevelyan model.

War Table (No Waiting) - A classic. I'm an impatient little bastard when it comes to those missions.

More Banter - Make those companions talk a little more often! Guaranteed chatter about every fifteen minutes so they're not just silently following you around for hours on end.

Skills Revamped (Warrior) - I think Warrior is (sadly) one of the weakest classes in Inquisition. I chose to revamp the sword&board and the battlemaster lines, but there are files for all of them. The mod creator has also done a revamp for mages and rogues as well.

Party at the Winter Palace - Allows for ALL of your companions to join you at Halamshiral! Bit lengthy on the introductions, but I think it's worth it to interact with everyone and hear all of the dialogue. Optional file that I think is a MUST is one that cuts out the sexual harassment dialogue concerning Cullen.

Actually Alistair - Another must have. They butchered my boy in Inquisition. This doesn't restore him quite to his Origins glory, but it's much better...

Blackwall, Warden of the North - I just couldn't stand his beard. I'm sorry.

Lady Josephine's Outfit Retextures & Lady Josephine Complexion - I picked blush for the outfit and gold for the headband and jewelry under her complexion. It gives her soft brown eyes and a much more fun and romantic outfit detailing!

Dark Knight Cullen - The outfits are fun but I really appreciated the complexion retextures here! I liked it best with the scars and the DA2 beard.

The Wolf - Darker Solas Retexture - Self-explanatory, and it's a gorgeous labor of love.

Refined Varric - He just looked a little too grungy for me. Sorry grungy Varric lovers, the vanilla complexions in this game are too oily.

Refined Vivienne - Fell in love with this mod the second I saw it; I love the makeup and contours it adds to her face, very striking and very VIV!

DA2 Cassandra - Very close to her default Inquisition complexion, I just wanted something a little more familiar.

C.A.R.P. Concept Art Sera Overhaul - New complexions and face textures + hairstyle that causes Sera to more closely resemble her concept art design.

Royal Retextures - Retextured outfits for Celene, Florianne, Gaspard, and Briala at the Winter Ball. (BTW if anyone can send me the link for the Briala mod that overhauls her whole design. Throw it my way)

New Outfits for Human Female - Wanted a mod that overhauls the default Skyhold PJs and found one that didn't make my poor Trevelyan stand around with his tits out or in lacy lingerie. Features some mixed armor between Vivienne and Cassandra and Flemeth's outfit.

LL Inquisition Faction - Mod that recolors all of the Inquisition heraldry into a green/black/gold scheme. Includes optional files for retextured furniture and Halamshiral finery.

Inquisition Branded Finery - I opted NOT to use the finery from the above mod and selected the white/emerald one here. There are other cute color options too!

Anto Hairstyles for DAI - I picked the Elena mesh for Veremund's hair. I will say this was the only mod that I could get to load (AND PLEASE READ THE REQUIRED MODS ON THIS ONE).

DAI Frosty Texture Glitch Fixes - Fixes a bunch of things that I broke :)

Sprint Key - Another must-have. Enables you to sprint at any time by holding down left shift.

Winter/Autumn in Thedas - I have only linked the winter one here as that's the one I'm using, but I LOVE both of these retextures! If you love autumn leaves or crisp snow, check these out. You do not need reshaders to play with these.

Winter Fog ReShade - But if you'd LIKE a reshade to complement the mod above, this is the one the creator recommends! I'm giving it a whirl, too.

Always Night in Skyhold - It's always night in Skyhold! I think it makes cutscenes more dramatic.

**Other recommendations:

Gender-Neutral Pronouns for the Inquisitor - Similar to the first mod I listed, except it removes any mention of "Lord/Lady" and strives to be an entirely neutral mod. (You can find the original tumblr post explaining the mod in more detail here).

Custom Body Models - Adds more variety to the Inquisitor's physical appearance. Only works on the Skyhold PJs and the various meshes you can find thereof.

As I said, I'll be adding more as I go! If you have any recommendations, please send them my way as well :)

#dragon age #dragon age mods #my mod list #dragon age inquisition #casposting #cas plays

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imaginedreamwrite · 2 years ago

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Taste Of Honey: Part 13 (Epilogue)

As fast as winter had seemed to settle in with the dip in temperatures, the blistering winds that ushered in heaps of snow and bone-chilling frost that hung to spindly limbs, old man winter had taken its time in recalling its touch.

There was no real rush in the season to stop the perpetual snow and the frosty clutch it held on branches, there was no stoppable attempt to warm the earth as it should’ve.

Despite its attempt to hold on until the last minute, spring had come with a soft caress that had heralded intense hope for the coming seasons wherein Ari and yourself could enjoy nature without feeling frisked by the chill.

It was getting to the point where you could start spending more time outside than you had spent inside and everything new and bright that had come with the warmer weather.

It was the slow reduction of winter and the welcomed return of life that hid from the clutches of ice and snow, that had stirred even deeper within the house.

Ari and yourself had spent the remainder of the winter, since the attack, refortifying some outlying buildings that had taken some damage that had been inflicted by himself or one of the other bears.

You had repaired and fixed what needed to be, spending the time necessary to reshape this place where it needed to be. It hadn’t been singled out to the exterior of the cabin or the outlying buildings but the need to rearrange and revamp the inside had come with an internal urge that couldn’t have possibly been ignored.

Ari was patient, he was kind and willing to help you move things around from the point you started in the living room. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger, not when he was able to do any task you wanted when you informed him where you wanted things.

It was as if you were controlled by some inner flex that wouldn’t allow you to find any kind of rest until things were suited to you.

You started with the living room, changing the way the couches were arranged before Ari had moved on to the coffee and side tables. He had moved furniture by inches or feet, he had entertained you when you wanted them angled or straightened, doing every task with growing smiles and deepening hopefulness.

He had known something you hadn’t, some secret within your body that was making the werebear act like a newborn fawn with excitement unbound, and yet he hadn’t told you a thing. Ari hadn’t once informed you of any kind of sense he got from you nor had he given you any indication why you were fidgeting and unhappy with the furniture placement.

“It’s something that happens, Honeybee.” Ari’s grin hadn’t faltered for a moment, not even when you apologized again for asking him to turn the couch again. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“The bedroom next?” You asked him while already pulling him up the staircase, tugging on his hand while he followed you faithfully.

When you had stepped foot in the bedroom you paused and hummed, one hand resting on your hip while the other had grabbed the front of your shirt and began twisting it, your hum becoming silent when you had bitten down on your bottom lip.

You had pensively glanced from one side of the room to the next while Ari had watched you with anticipation, hope and longing but never urgent. He had waited until you mumbled a comment about wanting to see the sunrise in the morning and sunset at night but didn’t want the light to directly pierce your eyes.

You hadn’t known if you were making any kind of sense to Ari, debating whether it could have even been possible and yet when he had gently ushered you out of the way and began moving the bed, you were surprised.

It wasn’t just his strength that had taken you by a surprise, but the way he dissected what you were trying to say and without a single doubt, had translated that into the perfect position for your bed. It happened within a span of fewer than ten minutes and without all the moving you’d asked of him downstairs you expected him to be tired, however not only he did not tire but he was eager to do more.

“I’ll rebuild this entire bedroom if you ask me to,” Ari spoke softly into your ear, humming pleasantly, “whatever or whenever you want me to help you-“

“I was thinking that the room beside ours…we don’t use it and I was thinking we could move that bed into the room down the hall?”

Your fingers curled and relaxed against your belly, the material trapped in your palm was almost acting as a stress ball or a fidget toy, something you used to occupy yourself. “And then maybe…leave it empty for now?”

“Are you okay, honeybee?” Ari cupped your cheeks, questioning you for the first time, his eyes searching yours with increasing tenderness. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Ri,” you responded with a soft scoff, a half laugh hanging off the edge, “of course. I just…I want to arrange some things.”

He placed a kiss against your forehead, the soft fluttering of his plump lips against your skin producing warmth that radiated from your head to your toes, the electric buzz that made you want to be completely enveloped in his entire being.

“Okay, honey.” He rest his hands on your shoulders and gently pushed you back out of the room until you were back in the hallway. “Why don’t you go sit, and have something to eat?”

“Ari I can help-“ You whined, your hand now laying flat against your belly. “I want to help.”

“I can hear your stomach grumbling. Go eat, I’ll empty the room and then you can come see it. Deal?”

You sighed giving in almost immediately. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Put your feet up, relax. Read a book-“

“Ari, I want to help.” Your voice took on a whine, a soft drawl as you relayed your need to help him for the second time.

“You can help with the furniture, honey.” Ari denied you with gentility, standing his ground with another slow building smile. “Trust me, I’ll be fine.”

With no room for argument you had given in and stepped away from him, starting down the stairs with a soft huff at your lips. You took the stairs slowly while listening to Ari closing one door and opening another.

He had to take a moment and compose himself when he stood on the edge of the room to study the single piece of furniture nestled against the wall. The weight of what it meant to him, the inanimate object that had represented so much of what he had wanted and desired in his life, was unfolding every single moment that he stared at the dark hand-carved walls.

“It’s happening.” Ari had drawn his hand over his chin before he cleared his throat and stepped out of the room, and headed toward the stairs.

He had descended the staircase one step at a time, his hand on the railing to stabilize himself before he found you and the secret was out.

At this point, he knew you weren’t aware of what this was. Ari knew you hadn’t once suspected anything other than being curious about wanting to rearrange everything. It was mildly curious to you and something you could have easily blamed and explained on spring cleaning however he had known the truth.

He knew that you were willing and wanting to change things up without having an explanation, and Ari was more than happy to help. He couldn’t have denied you this.

“Honeybee,” he found you bundled up on the couch, your hands tucked under your cheek and a blanket bunched between your legs, pillow discarded onto the floor, “baby, I have to show you something.”

He shook you lightly, being gentle and trying not to scare you though when you had opened your eyes, it was futile to resist the urge to kiss you. He was inexplicably drawn to brush his lips upon your own, kissing you into consciousness while helping you sit up.

He had caressed your cheeks, studying and searching your face while you sat on the cushions for a brief moment before you finally stood. Ari’s hand settled on the small of your back, leaning you against him as he escorted you back toward the bedroom you wanted to have cleaned out.

He could tell you were in a daze of sorts, not quite yourself in any frame of mind although there was clarity settling in where exhaustion once was.

“Let me know what you think.” Ari turned the handle and pushed the door in, exposing the bare room save for the single piece of furniture set against the wall.

“A crib,” even as you spoke the words your hands fell to your stomach, “Ari…”

“You’re nesting, honeybee.” He spoke with pride, immense happiness at the prospect. “That’s why you want to rearrange everything.”

“But I don’t feel…different.” At first you were confused, puzzled by the news that hadn’t felt right. “I don’t feel-“

“Y/N,” Ari grasped your hand, lifting it to kiss your knuckles before he dropped to his knees and rest his ear against your belly, “I can hear our baby. I hear our cub, I can smell them. Its…alive.”

“A baby,” you ran your fingers through his hair, stroking your nails across his scalp and then your voice shook, “Ari, we’re having a baby!”

He turned his head and placed soft kissed against your stomach, lifting your shirt with every kiss until his skin met yours. “Thank you, mate. This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

“A baby,” you hiccuped through tears, “we’re having a baby.”

Permanent Tags List: @jennmurawski13-writes @beardburnsupersoldiers @rebekahdawkins @supraveng @bookfrog242 @old-enough-to-know-better73 @loveitorleaveit20 @alexakeyloveloki @socalgem1124 @mogaruke @dreamlessinparis @frisky975 @dispatchvampire @hereforbuckyandsteve @jesgisborne @fairybnha3 @hallecarey1 @tang082646 @mrslokibarnesrogers @deputy-videogamer @posionivy0061 @loving-life-my-way @kaylamcd2000 @mercyy98 @undecidedsworld @rootcrop @whatinthestyles @slutforsteve @cornmousequeen @rededfoxy @yagurl-snow @glimmering-darling-dolly @patzammit @buckymydarlingangel @missusbarnes-rogers @andy-is-gay @nervousfandom @rileyloves5 @emi11ie @carelessreadersstuff @readingandwritingandreading @cynic-spirit @inkedaztec @gh0stgurl @cats-and-sheep @pono-pura-vida @seitmai @teambarnes72 @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @miss-rebel-without-applause

#werebear!ari levinson x reader smut #werebear!ari levinson imagines #werebear!ari levinson x reader angst #werebear!ari levinson x reader #werebear!ari levinson #Ari Levinson x reader #ari levinson imagines fluff #ari levinson imagines angst #ari levinson imagines smut #ari levinson imagine #taste of honey #taste of honey series #taste of honey masterlist #taste of honey part 13

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noctivague · 1 year ago

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Revamping my altar - Part 01🙃

Let's ingnore the fact that I ghosted my blog for the most part of this year and jump right in as if nothing happened....

Starting point

I'm a very aesthetically driven person and I'm bored with my current altar, which has been remained the same for a long time. (I thought I had a picture but I don't and it's gone now so oops...)

I want to create something that puts me in an inspired mood just by looking at it. That looks inviting and beautiful and brings me delight and motivation. A little sanctuary nook kinda.

I want to revitalize things and symbolize the new era i'm in, due to the fact that i recently moved into a new flat, got a new job, and overall my life is very different than it was last year.

So here is the journey of making my new altar :) At the moment it's far from done but here is the first part of the process!

Part 02 will follow once I've received the things I ordered, probably at the end of November or early December.

Inspirations

So i went on a quest to find inspirations on pinterest that would sort of align with what i wanted to make.

ngl I dislike most of what I see because I find them too cluttered for my personal taste. The main issue is that i'm clumsy and i hate the idea of my hand having to slither through a forest of objects to be able to grab what i want lol

Still managed to find a few cool examples, here they are:

I love the rough, folk-esque, natural aspects of them, the blend of stone, marble and wood. The branches, the sculptures, the iconic symbols and the fact that there is a variety of heights of things, if that makes sense. I also like having a strong art piece in the middle, which i prefer over having a mirror like many examples i found. Idk i just find the idea of having to stare at myself at my altar a bit uncomfortable lol

But it's still different from what would be authentic for me and also i gotta do with what i have or what i can buy.

The thing is that my altar is not dedicated to a single deity so i can't go with one strong themed vibe but i have to put them all together. Currently, Apollo, Artemis, Hekate, Dionysos, Hermes and Demeter share the same space.

Furniture

Thankfully the new book shelf I got is quite wide and has three levels, which is plenty enough space to give everyone their own space and even host my incense, tarot cards and spiritual books.

I almost sold a kidney to get an antique cabinet, which looked really cool but was not going to fit in with the interior style of my living room, where my altar is located.

So I went in with a more modern yet slightly organic-shaped one:

Not 100% what I was looking for but at least the space is there. Love the curves an the contrast of the two colors, but I wish the wood was darker. I could sand and re-varnish but who's got time for that.

Current state of the sculptures

I've been collecting sculptures and hand painting them for a while now (you can check out my pinned post for pictures of some of them), and although I love what I made, I really want to get some new ones that are higher and I'm even wondering if I should just keep them white and gold instead of colorful.

Also, for the life of me, I can't find a sculpture of Hekate that I like. They either look too bland or too new-agey for my taste. At the moment, I have the classic three women holding torches and stuff that I hand painted in blue, yellow and silver, but idk it's not what I have in mind and I think I'm just going to resort to do clay modelling myself. I'll probably do a separate post for the process!

Btw I'll do a free giveaway in the future to re-home my old sculptures so stay tuned for that!

What I have in mind

Sooo I'm not sure of the exact height and width of the things that I have coming in, and I'm still looking for a strong art piece or relief to go at the center back so I'm not sure if my disgusting mouse-drawn photoshop sketch is going to be accurate at all lol

The more I stare at it the more I think it makes no sense 🙃

So basically, from left to right; Apollo (new statue incoming); Artemis (old statue at the moment but need to upgrade); Hekate in the center (need to craft that); Dionysos (new bust incoming); Hermes (new bust incoming); and on the lower lever Demeter (still love the statue as I think it's my best one so it will stay this way).

Still missing:

one or two candles i use during worship, preferably gold

art piece in the center, either a plaster relief or canva print of something

plant with long falling ''arms'' (idk the word in english)

dried branches to go in the left vase

a way to fix the antlers to the wall

an old key for hekate (need to go to a thrift store)

maybeee a bigger box to store my incense and ritualistic plates and glasses

I don't think I want a table cloth simply because I had one in the past and it was always a mess to clean. Having the bare table is much easier, especially considering that I will burn incense and candles and that gets messy.

---------------------------------

Okay that's it for this long ass post, see ya in a few weeks for part 02!!!

#altar #hellenic polythiest #hellenism #helpol #altar for the gods #greek gods #paganism #pagan altar #hellenic altar

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caelwynn · 7 months ago

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Caelwynn's Mod List for Stardew 1.6 - Aesthetics

Diverse Stardew Valley — allows you to introduce a multitude of diversity into the vanilla NPCs with regards to ethnicity, sexuality, gender, and disabilities. I adore this mod, and use a different set of combos on each save, as many NPCs have multiple options.

Elle's Seasonal Buildings — changes the look of farm buildings. It has multiple looks to choose from that slot in nicely/cleanly with various overhauls such as Starblue Valley or DaisyNiko's Earthy Recolour.

A Cleaner Sewer — revamps the decor of the sewer and Krobus's spouse room.

Seasonal Outfits for Ridgeside — adds seasonal outfits for Ridgeside characters.

Seasonal Outfits for SVE Vanilla Style — adds seasonal outfits for SVE characters.

Dynamic Reflections — allows the sky to be reflected in the water. A huge resource hog if you're on a low-end computer, but I played with it anyways because SO PRETTY.

Visible Fish — makes fish visible in different bodies of water. Also another potential resource hog.

SH's Wild Animals — adds in a ton of additional critters that run around the map. Again, may make your game stutter/slow.

Crab Monster Recolors — has several options to recolor rock/lava crabs so that they're easier to spot.

No More Pile of Bug Meat — changes Willy's special order event so that the bait is all in a container instead of an eldritch mass on the beach.

Elle's Cuter Barn Animals — retextures the barn animals to, indeed, make them cuter.

Elle's Cuter Cats — adds 155 different breeds/skins to pick from for your feline companion.

Elle's Cuter Coop Animals — yep, makes your coop animals cuter too.

Elle's Cuter Dogs — adds 340+ breeds of dogs to pick from.

Elle's Town Buildings — redoes the buildings around the valley to match one of four different palettes: vanilla, earthy, Starblue, and wittily.

DSV Flower Queen's Crown - Always Raining in the Valley — allows Sterling, Mia, and Henry to have a chance at winning the Flower Crown.

DSV Flower Queen's Crown - Ridgeside Village — gives RSV NPVs the chance to win the Flower Crown.

DaisyNiko's Earthy Interface — a warm, earth-toned palette for the user interface.

DaisyNiko's Earthy Interiors — same as above except for interiors.

DaisyNiko's Earthy Recolour — same as above except for the whole map.

DaisyNiko's Earthy Map for East Scarp — same as above for East Scarp.

DaisyNiko's Earthy Map for Visit Mt. Vapius — same as above for Mt. Vapius.

DaisyNiko's Earthy Map for RSV — same as above for Ridgeside Village.

DaisyNiko's Earthy Map for SVE — same as above for Stardew Valley Expanded.

Simple Foilage — retexture for trees.

Aimon's Fancy Farmhouse — a fancier farmhouse map. I've only played with the starter house thus far.

Aimon's Fancy Shed — a fancier shed.

Jen's Cozy Cellar — gives the cellar a little basement den in addition to space for casks.

Pookachu's Medium Greenhouse — a mid-sized greenhouse with lots of areas for trees.

Gwen's Paths — retextures/recolors craftable paths and flooring.

Lovely Kitchen — retextures/recolors the kitchen you purchase.

Farmhouse Fixes — adds a bunch of fixes useful with custom farmhouse maps.

Skell's Misc. Furniture — adds some random furniture pieces. I downloaded it for the computer desk and the motorcycles.

Old Wallpapers and Flooring — adds a bunch of new wallpapers/flooring if you're going for a more aged/retro look.

H&W Bathroom Furniture — adds bathroom furniture/fixtures to craft a bahtroom with.

HxW Fairy Fountain Furniture — pretty fountains in a range of sizes.

H&W Fairy Garden Furniture — very whimsical outdoor furniture set, including a metric-ton of garden gnomes.

H&W Outdoor Furniture — more traditional style of outdoor furniture.

Nostalgic Old Furniture Collection — adds dozens of older/retro style furniture and clutter.

Retro Style Furniture — more retro style furniture in case you want the house to feel like Grandpa actually left the contents to you.

Nano's Decorative Tree Furniture — outdoor furniture, including a swing hanging from a tree.

A Better-Looking Plasma TV — I liked the console tables.

Alternative Textures — allows you to easily add in retextures for various furniture/objects.

Alternative Texture Packs

Connect Your Fence (AT)

DustBeauty's Industrial Furniture

H&W Fairly Garden Gurniture Recolor Mega Pack

Fence Lamps

Furnicolor (Recolors and Reinterpretations of Furniture)

Muski's Recolor of H&W Greenhouse Furniture

Muski's Recolor of H&W Outdoor Furniture Pack

Hearth and Home Furniture

Hearth and Home - Walls and Floor

Nano's Retro Style Furniture

H&W Greenhouse Furniture Recolors for AT

Antique TV Sets

Hanging Flower Baskets

Lovely Kitchen Islands and Extras

Pirate Furniture and Decorations

Quilted Blue Pinstripe Bed

Too Many Swatches II

The Masterpost for all of the mods is located here.

#caelwynn's mod list #stardew valley #sdv #stardew valley mods #stardew mods #sdv mods #modded stardew valley #stardew 1.6 #stardew aesthetic mods #stardew alternative textures

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dropbear-sims · 1 year ago

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Welcome to Mt. Cavaro! Pt. 1

This mountain plateau was once nothing but a small seasonal hunting town. Over the last 50 years however, developers took notice of the potential of this location and now, it is a bustling upcoming town. Families and sims have moved in droves to start business opportunities or to take advantage of those who are. Some however, are just enjoying the quiet scenic views and good people.

Simply explaining and showing the Community lots in each of my districts. Business, Entertainment & Residential. I will be showing the Families in Detail in Pt. 2

The Business District

Businesses:

Flast Luxury Dealership | The dealership for those who want to impress their neighbours. Fancy, reliable and with the Flast signature of quality. The Luxury Dealership is for those who only want the very best automotives.

'New You' Salon & Spa | The luxurious Salon & Spa on the edge of Byrn Street. Need a haircut? A new makeup look? A massage? Maybe you just want to spend some time relaxing in the sauna, It's here at the 'New You' Salon & Spa

Gemstone Gallery Jewellery | Need a gift for a lover? Want to buy yourself something nice? Gemstone Gallery has a wide selection of the top-quality jewellery, with options to fit any budget.

Great Times Party Supplies | Everything you need for your next big bash of a party! Weddings, birthdays or when the parents are out for the weekend!

Polar Caps Creamery | In need of a tasty cold treat on a hot day? Or a cold treat on a cold day? (We wont judge). Come down to Polar Caps to get a delicious gourmet icecream! Or serve yourself to a nice, overly processed soft serve!

Mt. Cavaro Real Estate | The main (and only) spot to purchase your new home in the lovely Mt. Cavaro. Owned by Mr. Rodney Flast, its where many suspect the majority of his fortune originated.

Mountain Rescue Pet Centre | A sanctuary for all pets in need of a loving home and Sims who need supplies for their furry friends! Opened and funded solely by Velma Aster.

Hobby Land | Muhammad and Siti Saad love their creative endeavours, and thought they should share that with the rest of Mt. Cavaro. There's a large variety of hobby items ready for purchase!

Health Plus Pharmacy | Dr. Sato's very own pharmacy that has everything you need for your ailments.

Flast Furniture | This massive warehouse holds every new and in-style piece of furniture you could ever want. Come take a stroll through our kitchen and bathroom sets, you'll leave wishing it was your home! Have a chat with our friendly staff and discuss possible home renovations.

Cavaro Family Grocery | A new development built by Ahan and Navya Bhatt, a massive gamble that paid off- its now the 'One Stop Shop' for all things your household needs regularly!… to the dismay of the local monopoly, Rodney Flast.

Speedway Motors | Ahan and Navya Bhatt's first dip into the world of business owning, buying an old rundown shed and turning it into a Car Dealership! It only has cheaper locomotives but they still run fine!… most of the time.

Spark Electronics | Need a Phone? Computer? Speaker? Spark Electronics has everything a Sim in need of a good electronic item!

'The Look' Clothing Superstore | The most popular department store for clothing in Mt. Cavaro! So popular it's run all of the small indie boutiques and rival brands out of town. I guess having great prices and a wide selection does that!

Reel N' Sons Fish Market | For the past 20 years the Reel family have been catching and selling their fresh fish here every Sunday.

Cavaro Natural Arrangements | A small shutdown florist that has been recently revamped by Velma Aster, her once buried love for plants and flowers reignited.

Bub N' Co Children's Superstore | The absolute hub for all essential baby, toddler and children's items. Everything you could need is right here!

Misc:

Community Lots that aren't a business inside the business district:

Cavaro Community Centre | The newly renovated community centre is now open! The once old and dingy town library is stocked with new books, a new computer lab has been opened and with government funding, the employment office has been revamped. All with a new cafeteria on the second floor!

Fit & Fast | Fit & Fast is the best spot to get your workout on! There's a wide variety of machines and amenities.

Cavaro Garden & Parklands | This quaint little park has a community garden run by the local gardening association, if you ever want to grab some delicious fresh veggies and fruit it's all completely free! Too the side theres also a quaint wedding area, the perfect setting to say 'I do'.

The Entertainment District

Activities:

The Colosseum Casino | Feeling lucky? The Colleseum Casino is for both the casual evening and the (habitual) high rollers, try a game of cards, or perhaps the slots?

Cavaro Performance Lounge | Think you've got the guts to go on stage? This cozy lounge is for anyone who wants to watch or be a local talent! No need to bring your own equipment, the lounge is already stocked with all instruments and microphones!

Valley Fine Dining | The Valley is newly revamped! Don't worry however, we still keep our 5 star rating for quality, cuisine and service! The dining spot for sims with cash to spare! I downloaded this lot from:

I changed quite a bit about this lot to make it fit the vibe and aesthetic of my hood, but this is a great remodel!

Cavaro National Museum | Have a love for history? Want a day out activity? The National Museum is full of historic relics from the past. Current open exhibits: Ancient Sculptures & Fossils

Cavaro National Gallery | An Extension of the National Museum, this location has Art Pieces from all over the globe, featuring some of the best and upcoming artists of the past 5 years!

Bowling Time! | Who doesn't love a game of bowling? This colourful alley is great for a night out or afterschool activity! Competitions each Sunday!

Boxing Roo | Go the Roos! Go the Roos! Want to have a drink, watch the game and show your sporting pride? Boxing Roo is a cozy little bar for all sport lovers!

Cavaro Community Pool | For all those hot summer days or practicing for that big competition coming up. Free entry on weekends and toddler swimming lessons available all week.

In Motion Dance Studio | Dance lessons on wednesday and thursday from 5pm. Recruitments for the dance troop on Saturday 10am. The best spot to practice or perfect your next routine.

Game On! Internet Cafe | Internet being shoddy? Want to group up with some friends, drink some coffee, eat snacks and play your favourite games? This is the place! PC's loaded with SSX3, The Sims: Bustin Out, FIFA 08 and Spore!

Film House Cinema | Watch the biggest current blockbusters on the big screen! Help yourself to the concessions (for a horribly expensive price) and relax in the comfy new recliner seats!

8-bit Arcade | Nerd sims unite! The best spot to play games until your curfew, all new arcade and pinball machines have been installed, all machines set to 1 simoleon!

District Basketball Court | The best spot to shoot some hoops and vs your friends.

The Hare's Foot | I wouldn't exactly call the Hare's Foot the fanciest (or cleanest) Bar in town. Happy hour is 8pm! Also… make sure to wipe down the photobooth seats before sitting.

Lil' Putter Minigolf | Wanna Impress 'The Boss'? Wanna 'impress' your friends? 6 Holes included each with their own theme and decor!

The Drip - Retro Beanclub | Are you an absolute coffee snob? An alternative music snob? Well The Drip is for 'real fans', no normies allowed! Now selling our own Beans!

Svensson Homestyle Bistro | Opened by Lars Svensson, this bistro is for all those casual nights out with the family or a modest meal with the one you love. Featuring homely recipes you'll remember without having ever tasted! 'Homestyle' is in the name!

The Rhythm - Disco Skating | The Rhytm is the best spot for a nice family activity, or a cute date idea. Listen to the 70's disco and skate away! New Skaters welcome aswell, classes each tuesday!

The Pink Flamingo | The Pink Flamingo is the hottest spot in Mt. Cavaro, new music, good drinks and open pretty much 24/7. If you want to dance and drink the night (or day) away, the pink flamingo is your spot.

Sky High Park | A VERY normal park… for very unsuspicious bubble blowing- Nothing else, juuuust "bubble blowing".

School of Art Creative Studio | Want to practice your creative skills with a bunch of like-minded sims? The SOA Creative Studio is the spot to be, there are pottery, music and painting classes!

Lasting Connections Courthouse | If the weather isn't on your side, or you just want an indoor wedding: the Lasting Connections Courthouse will be your first choice. Stocked with everything you need to throw an awesome wedding party.

Misc:

Community lots that aren't entertainment/activities in the Entertainment District:

Empty Lot | Simply an Empty lot I have no idea what to fill with, will put in something when I get an idea.

The Residential District

Cavaro Residential Sports Oval | Soccer games each Friday at 5pm! Ages 6+ teams available!

Lil' Ones Family Playground | Simply a small playground for children.

Misc Lots

(Lots that are not in any district)

Mt. Cavaro Fishing Club | The Mt. Cavaro Fishing Club has been around since this place was simply a small hunting town. There's also a cozy little campsite if you want to spend the night outdoors! Or a cabin if you do not.

'The Tip' | Simply the garbage tip for all of Cavaro. No trespassing!.. Unless you're good at tresspassing. (Who knows, there might be some good stuff to scavenge).

(I dont know why the ground is pink, it is normal grass lol)

Cavaro Memorial Cemetary | A place to remember the Sims of the past. You may not want to visit after dark, there have been rumors of people seeing the sims who should've been long gone. I downloaded this lot from:

I changed a few things, such as swapping out the trees and adding more pavement.

Apologies for not taking Screenshots of the exterior/Interior of each lot, I didn't want to bog down this post TO much (Even though I believe its already pretty beefy. I simply wanted to share what community lots are in my hood. I will be playing this town rotationally and posting what happens, if that interests you I'd love for you to follow this blog and join me on this journey :)

#sims 2 #sims 2 custom hood #sims 2 lots #sims 2 screenshots #sims 2 gameplay #sims 2 storytelling #sims 2 cc

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rupesnigra · 9 months ago

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hello, dears! thank you to everyone in our dms for your patience with us the last few months! we're posting this long-awaited update to inform you that due to the issues we have consistently had with tumblr, we will be password protecting our future blog in about a week for two months time, after which we will begin again! this blog is our main blog, so it will remain here unharmed until we're ready to use it once more! for those who may be unaware, either due to our tumblr messages not passing, or for the inconsistency of our replies to private asks, tumblr has been causing various problems for krp blogs both new and old since mid-october of last year. for us, starting around december, this has included things like dms glitching so that entire conversations go missing at random intervals ( only to magically reappear weeks later before disappearing again ), various coding issues with tumblr not allowing us to transfer blogs for posterity, posts getting eaten and queues saving only to disappear when we log out. in the recent months this has escalated to one admin being unable to see anything on our dash, to the point where tumblr will not save their visit to the account in their data.

we originally thought this was because of the flooding, power outage issues, and general internet instability in our area, but we have seen reports of other admins having similar and worse issues, though none to our degree with a blog still standing. whether we are all encountering such issues due to reporting claims or tumblr's rule changes, these issues have interfered greatly in our conversations with our members across all platforms for months and has halted our revamp as we have focused efforts on troubleshooting instead of updating in our spare time.

in the interest of not getting our tumblr blog taken down we will converse with tumblr support about the issues we have been experiencing! we have been in contact with them intermittently so far with good results, so rest assured, we are not shutting rupes down! our aff will still remain up and we will accept dms regarding any questions about this decision there!

we've gone through two volumes of rupesnigra since 2020, and each has brought the most illuminating muns and stories to our footsteps. we love the safe haven we have built here, and are always amazed when it manages to withstand the trials of the world and krp. we hope to finalize our revamp to bring you all a third volume safely, soon!

to those seeking to join rupesnigra, consider our home yours already! please wait for us to dust the furniture, brighten the rooms, plump the pillows, and make this space all the more welcoming for you. we will have jasmine tea, and many stories, and little strawberry cookies waiting for you when you finally come home ♡

have a happy spring, lovely creatures! write many things, so that you can show us everything when you return (or grace us for the first time)! :)

all our love, — k&&d.

#u.

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rom-e-o · 1 year ago

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My Dearest (Ebenezer/Constance)

Constance finds forgotten love letters from Ebenezer in an old keepsake box. The only catch? He never sent them.

Story below cut. Rated PG-13.

The hall closet was close to overflowing.

Between housing an entire household full of bed linens and spare towels, the small storage unit was also filled with old ledgers and paperwork that had long since become irrelevant.

Staring at the mess was daunting at first, but Constance was nothing if not determined.

The woman donned a loose, wide-collard dress with worn boots to tackle the task. Magda, the house maid, was out running errands and Ebenezer was meeting with Tom Jenkins to discuss a loan necessary for an expansion for his ever-growing toy store.

While the house was empty, sans her and Prudence, Constance had decided to try and organize the chaotic space.

Ever since she and her husband had married, they’d set about revamping the house into a space that was more homey by filling the halls (formerly only adorned with stacks of bankbooks and filled ledgers) with actual furniture. Fresh paintings were hung, actual tables were put in the halls (“This is a credenza, and this is a folio cabinet, and this is a…”) and the towers of old office supplies had to be relocated somewhere new.

Until Scrooge could filter through all the documents and books that he had and determine what was okay to keep and what had to be burned, they had to be housed somewhere.

However, since beginning the process of trying for a baby, Constance felt the need to…organize. To sort. To create a nice, less chaotic space. Magda, who had lived through multiple pregnancies of her own, had said she was ‘nesting’, but Constance found the term oddly primal. She was a woman, not a bird (regardless of what the neighborhood boys who catcalled her said.)

Did her desire to make a closet pretty make her no better than a magpie searching through twigs for shiny objects?

“Hm…is this a waste of time?” she mused aloud.

Prudence, who sat beside her before the closet, turned her large head and huffed. The reply was nondescript and offered no tangible feedback, but it comforted her, nonetheless.

“I think it’ll be helpful!” Constance supplied, flashing the pup a bright grin. “Yes! Of course, cleaning a space is always a good use of time! You’re right! Thank you, Prudence.”

Not entirely sure what she’d done, but never one to refuse praise, the mastiff barked happily and thumped her tail against the walnut floors.

“Okay,” Constance said, taking a piece of lace from her pocket and using it to move her hair up and out of her face. She pulled the ends of the elegant fabric taut until her hair was secured in a high ponytail. “Let’s got to work.”

And get to work, she did.

By the time the home’s grandfather clock struck noon, she’d amassed all of the items from the closet into three main piles; paperwork, linens, and miscellaneous. The last and largest category was the most worrisome. It included an array of things from broken candlesticks (“Why did he keep these?”) to old shoeboxes filled with dice, jacks and an old flier for some performer named Lottie Milligan. Perhaps a friend of his? She shrugged and put it back for safe keeping. There was even a set of blackened paintbrushes that reeked of turpentine, and a golden hair ribbon that Constance quickly folded up and stored away safely.

“I never would have pegged a man with so little furniture to be a hoarder of knickknacks,” Constance told Prudence, who sniffed each and every item with intrigue. “Hmmm…are these things sentimental, Prudence? They were buried pretty deep in the closet…and the box was covered in dust. I wonder if he even remembers that he has these things.”

The mastiff sniffed said box, then sneezed up an impressive cloud of dust.

“Perhaps I should let him go through the rest of this,” she realized. “I’m not about to throw anything away. Well, except the actual trash.”

Ripped curtains and broken vases that she assumed his frugal self had stored away with the intention to fix and obviously never had.

“Well, we made a little progress,” Constance said, picking up one of the piles of linens. “Let’s get these washed, and then I’ll make us some lunch, okay?”

Prudence let out an excited bark.

“Haha, right, then! Let me just—”

As she carried the hefty pile down the hall to a washing tub, she heard the fluttering of something fall and land on the floor behind her. Upon turning around, she discovered that a small scrap of paper had fluttered free from the pile of fabric. Thinking it was an old bank note or receipt, she sat down the laundry to get it and discard it. Right before she could crumple the paper up and put it with the remainder of the trash, she noticed a familiar script on the front.

It was Ebenezer’s handwriting.

In that script, an even more familiar name was written.

To: Constance DoGoode

The woman blinked. “Is this…a letter to me?”

Prudence walked up and sniffed the note briefly, an inquisitive sound burbling in her throat. She lifted her ears slightly, as if to tell the redhead, “Beats me, gal. Give it a look!”

Should she?

Had he given her a sweet note, and her clumsiness or ditziness had resulted in her missing it? Or, had he written something for her and misplaced it? Perhaps he’d even forgotten about it. Hell’s bells, she was more than guilty of that. She’d lost everything from grocery lists to entire tea bags sometimes depending on how many pockets she had.

The note was unsealed, so it was easy to unfold and read.

Dear Constance, Although I know you’ll likely never read this note, I feel compelled to address you with the respect a fine woman such as yourself deserves. Perhaps, in a way, writing to you will help siphon out some of these sentiments that keep rattling like chains in my head. Even as I write this, you’re just a few halls away, but I swear I can feel you. Hear you. I want to do both. Please forgive me for thinking such perverse things. I do hope this mood will soon pass, for I would be remorse to be such a disappointment to you. You deserve more than that. You deserve more than me. Sincerely, Ebenezer January, 1856

Once the initial wave of awe-induced shock passed, she noted the date at the bottom.

He’d written the note about a month after she’d moved to London. A month after he’d offered her a job, rescued her from living off the streets, and helped her escape her marriage to her abusive ex-husband.

During that time in their budding romance, they’d shared many kisses. On what they’d thought would be their last night together, they laid together chastely. Clothes had been removed and skin had been touched, but…nothing more. Even so, she blushed at the memory. The tension in the air as he kissed down the valley of her breasts, the roar of his heart as he rolled beneath her and hauled her into a manly embrace that nearly seared her nerves numb. The intimate feeling of parting her legs and allowing him to lay in-between them, wrapping her body around him and trying to hold back her tears as she committed as many details about him as possible into memory. They had both thought that night would be the last time they ever saw each other.

“Did he…”

The sound of another bark lured her from the daydream. Looking over to Prudence, she found the lady had produced two more pieces of paper from one of the shoeboxes. The familiar balsam cologne had led her to the small discoveries, which Ebenezer had clearly shoved out of sight.

My dear Constance, I find myself at a loss for words as I sit down to pen this letter. I have cherished our time together, every moment, every conversation, every smile, and every shared laughter. Even the simple brush of our hands is pure euphoria; addiction in a caress. It is here that I confess something that I have been hiding from you, a secret that has been eating away at me from within. I am deeply and irrevocably in love with you. You are the sun that brightens my darkest days, and the stars that guide me through the night. Your kindness, your intelligence, and your beauty have ensnared my heart in a way I never thought possible. Yet, with this confession comes a heavy burden of guilt. I cannot help but feel that I am not worthy of your love. I am a man with a past riddled with mistakes and regrets, and I fear that my presence in your life will only bring you pain and sorrow. You deserve better than me, someone who can offer you the love and happiness you truly deserve. My heart longs to be yours, to hold you close and cherish you for all eternity. But I know that I must find the strength to let go of these feelings, for they can only lead to heartache for us both. I must strive to be the friend you need, the confidante you can trust, and nothing more. Constance, please understand that writing this letter is not an easy task for me. My feelings for you are so overwhelming that I find it hard to put them into coherent words. Yet, I hope that by sharing this with you, I can find the courage to move on and accept that my love for you is not meant to be. You are a treasure, Constance, a rare and precious gem. Please do not let my inability to reciprocate these feelings tarnish the beauty of what we have. I will always cherish our friendship, and I will be by your side, supporting and cheering you on in all your endeavors. May your life be filled with love, happiness, and all the blessings that you deserve. Yours sincerely, Ebenezer

Had he…never intended to reveal his feelings? She stared at the note, dumbstruck temporarily as her eyes focused and unfocused, trying to keep a wave of impromptu tears at bay.

My dearest Connie, I’m still in shock that I can address you as such. The fact that you accepted my love…and that I am courting you, it still feels like a dream. As I sit here, pen in hand, listening to you and Magda laugh away in the kitchen, I’m…stuck trying to find the words to express the depths of my feelings for you, I realize that no mere ink on paper could ever do justice, but I must try. Forgive my lack of poetic instinct or practice. You have brought a light into my life that I never knew was possible, and each day spent with you is a treasure I cherish more than words can say. Constance, you have become the center of my universe. You bring joy to every room you enter, and your smile is a beacon of hope in even the darkest of times. With you, I have found a love that knows no bounds, a love that fills my days with warmth and my nights with dreams of a future spent together. I have purchased a ring, a symbol of the love and commitment I wish to offer you. My heart beats with excitement and nerves, for I plan to ask you the most important question of my life: Will you marry me, Constance? Asking for your hand in marriage is a moment I have envisioned countless times, and with each thought, my heart races with anticipation. The thought of spending my days with you as my wife, building a life together, and growing old side by side fills me with an overwhelming sense of joy. Constance, you have brought so much love and happiness into my life, and I want nothing more than to give you all the love and care that you deserve. I promise to cherish you, to support you, and to be your steadfast partner in all the joys and challenges that life may bring. I eagerly await the moment when I can see the joy in your eyes as I offer you my heart and this ring, a symbol of my commitment and devotion. With all the love in my heart, Ebenezer

“Constance?”

Tears she hadn’t realized she’d started crying fell from her eyes and spotted the paper in her hands.

Looking up, she saw Ebenezer standing just a few feet from her, having just crested the top of the entryway stairs. In the midst of her reading, she hadn’t heard her husband come in.

He stared at her in concern, clutching mail in one still-gloved hand, while his opposite arm curled at an angle to hold the coat draped over his forearm. His eyes, warm like freshly thawed dew, immediately noted the odd expression on her face.

“Are you alright?” he asked, then saw her tears. Mail forgotten, he discarded in and his coat on the hall table and advanced toward her, arms open in gentle invitation.

Constance darted toward with without another word, hugging him with ferocious tightness. Her arms circled his torso, and her face found a notch between his cravat and waistcoat lapel.

“Now, now…come here,” he cooed softly, skilled hands rubbing up and down her back, as if her tears could be massaged away by his touch. In this instant, he couldn’t have been more correct, and she sank into his body with the willingness of a snake being charmed by a flute.

“S-Sorry…” she apologized, sniffling despite her embarrassment. “I-I just…”

A quick glance over her shoulder revealed that Prudence had nudged the discarded note back into the pile she’d created for Ebenezer to sort through. Things that might be too precious or important for the man to throw away.

Sucking in a quick breath, she turned back to Ebenezer and met his gaze with renewed love.

“Just what, love?” he asked, cocking his head, eyes boring into her with a comforting curiosity. “Talk to me, dearest Connie. Tell me what ails you.”

Dearest Connie.

“I…just was organizing some things,” she said, fingertips rising to sweep tears from her darkened lashes. Once her eyes were dry, she angled her gaze back up at him. “Nothing ails me. These are happy tears.”

“Happy tears?” he asked, not skeptical but not convinced either. “But, love, why are you crying?”

“Because I love you,” Constance said, then broke down and rushed into his arms again. “I love you so, so much…I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Oh.” His voice cracked at the admission, and she felt his chest decompress as a rush of air left his lungs. He almost felt as if he was decompressing around her.

Then, she felt a cocoon of warmth and lemony cologne as his embrace surrounded her, its sultry effects only amplified by the pressure of his taller, wider frame, and the warmth of his familiar form that she could feel even with layers of fabric dividing them.

His next words came out as dreamy sighs. “Oh, Connie.”

“Promise me you’ll never leave me.”

He tightened his grip.

“Never, dearest.”

Thank you supporters! <3

@quill-pen @ray-painter @crimson-phantom-designs

#scrooge 2022 #scrooge netflix #scrooge x oc #oc constance dogoode

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