#ah the grooming................ well. alas

[selfinflictedgunshotwound]

these two pictures are what got me into doll collecting as a hobby at the tender age of 12... i'm not that attached to the concept of "grails" bc i consider most everything i want of equal importance, to a degree, but these two are probably my biggest grails

[verinarin]

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞.

cw // contains 2.2 penacony quest spoilers

Angst | years after he vanished, you found solace in the path of trailblaze. the day you departed from the astral express, however was the day another version of him greets you.

Traversing through the stars as a nameless was never something you see for yourself, but alas after years of escaping the pain of loosing you have found peace.

You boarded the express with a bleeding wound, yet departed with a new sense of self. Blazing the path of traiblaze has given you precious memories.

Memories that have become the solace you yearn for and now you reside on a planet far away from your hometown, Penacony.

Your heart still burns for the spirit of trailblazing, spreading the tales you’ve theard upon these past years was your way of keeping the spirit of trailblazing alive.

There’s hundreds of letters you have sent to the nameless who still traverse the sky full of stars, while you blaze paths for the younger generations to yearn to reach the glimmering stars above.

“Miss, is it true that the astral express has two conductors?,” a young boy that perched up to your lap asked.

“Well now we only have one conductor which is pom-pom and a navigator ! The astral express’ current navigator is Miss Himeko,” you smiled softly as you stroked the boy’s hair.

This is a glimpse of your life now, as the local’s beloved storyteller. You could be easily found reading a book or writing at a cafe near your house.

You heard a motherly voice searching for her son, ��Now young man it seems that you mother is searching for you, better to go back to her alright,” you pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Alright ! Bye bye Miss Nameless,” he waved as he ran back towards his mother who offered you a thank you smile from afar.

Now you reside back at your table, a letter has found its way to you. Perhaps it was friends from the astral express, but there’s the ‘pom-pom’s signature’ stamp to be found after all.

With a smile you pressed the rim of your coffee filled cup to your lips, it’s been a while since you talked to them. As you place down your cup, a tinge of amberwood lingers in the air.

It was a scent that you found alluring years ago, it made you feel a little bit nostalgic. You close your eyes and let the tale of the past play inside your mind like a movie.

“Excuse me, Miss. Is this seat taken ?,” a voice greeted you, his voice has successfully awaken you from your daydream.

“The seat in front of me ?,” he asked as you flutter your eyes open, to reveal a man dressed in a white shirt.

The collar was unbuttoned slightly revealing a chest that harbours scars across the body, it took you seconds to tilt your head up.

You can’t really make out the man’s face, the sun that shines warmly behind him hinders you from doing so, “Yeah, the seat on your table” he chuckled, as he folded his arms.

His arms were proudly displayed against his chest, his sleeves were rolled up to display his strong arms, clean from any scars. In contrast with his chest.

“Well I’m not meeting anyone, so feel free,” you extend your hand towards the seat in front of you, letting him know that it’s alright for him to sit in front of you.

And so he did, now you could clearly study his face. He has kind eyes, rich brown in colour. His features were strong and rugged yet somehow gentle in nature. His face was decorated with salt and pepper stubble, signifying his old age.

His hair was parted in the middle, it was as long as his neck. You could tell that he cared a lot for his hair, it was well groomed, “Are you not going to ask who I am ?” he smiled as he saw you gazing through himself.

“Ah sorry for staring, you just feel familiar,” you stated honestly before brushing your hair back.

“How so ?” his eyes lingers at you, coaxing you to question more and more about him.

“Can’t tell really,” you’re not going to blabber upon the past that haunts you for so long now, would you ?

Not when you’ve grown this far.

“Heh, such a shame then,” the cadence of his voice, irks your mind. Scratches your heart in some way….

“A shame indeed,” you nodded, your fingers circling the rim of your cup as you await his reply.

“I heard you were once a nameless,” that’s a well known fact by now, at least in the area you live in.

“It was years ago but I'm glad my name still holds some fame, so do you need something from the astral express?” he will not be the first person who makes use of your past to contact the express.

“Nah, I’m just here for your audience,” he spoke, the tone was light yet somehow deep in context, shrouded in mystery.

“Who are you?” you asked the question he yearned the most, his face reflects it perfectly.

“Care to take an educated guess, Miss ?” he cocked his eyebrows as you ruminated through the possibilities.

“You still do the thing huh ?” he chuckled, his face now rested against his palm as he watches you picking apart the past and the future.

“What thing ?” you asked, he spoke those words like he knew you for years, which was odd. He’s a stranger after all.

“The thing where you’ll pout your lips slightly when you’re drowned by your thoughts,” he knew you, knew you well enough and long enough to notice these things.

“Let’s cut to the chase, don’t play games with me old man. Who are you ?” your eyes bore deep into his own, trying to pry the truth out of him.

“Funny, you used to call me that too,” he chuckles, his eyes bore no malice, just a sense of long and yearning.

You only called ‘old man' to a handful of people, but one strikes the most in this case, but it can’t be him.

You refuse it to be him.

You merely stared at him, not wanting to entertain his statement, “Fine, I’ll give out a little tip. I tend to amend things, which is why I am here now, sitting idly in front of you,”

“Amend things ? How could you amend things that are not broken ?” you questioned, the man before you was too relaxed and aloof to be talking in riddles.

“Well you’re not broken per say, but well I am,” the man merely chuckled as he looked down towards the concrete floor.

“So you want me to fix you ?” you ask, your endless pond of patience grew dry by the second.

“Close, but no,” you could see the evident smirk as he kept his gaze down.

“You’re speaking in riddles here sir, some might mistake you as a follower of the enigmata if you keep this up,” this time his eyes trained itself back to yours.

“Well aren’t you still sharp,” he mused, clearly happy that he didn’t need to elaborate on more.

“You’re not him, you can’t be him anymore,” this is a fact, even if this being was him, it is not him.

“Can’t be who ? I’ve been living countless lives before. Be specific would ya ?” the man now let his back rest against the chair, ain’t he comfortable now ?

“You know very well the life I’m talking about,” you sighed, he could be him or even a part of masked fools really.

The masked fools that’s notorious for transforming themselves into one’s beloved.

“Well say that name for old time’s sake, humour this ol�� hound,” never mind, it is him. A masked fool won’t replicate this current body that he made, he’s a stranger to you.

A foreign being.

“You’re not Gallagher, never will be him again as a matter of fact,” that type of wording was not your style to use, you felt bad for speaking those truths.

“Ouch that stings, I was him y’know,” he lips pouted, while his arms are folded against his chest. Yet his gaze still placed snugly into you.

“Past tense,” you quipped, well you felt bad about the cold demeanour, but still how would someone act in this situation ?

“Touché,” he laughed, now from his mannerisms. It reminds you of Gallagher, but he’s not him.

This man is well put, smells expensive, and it seems like he does not drink that much. When you think about it, the man before you resembles the qualities that you find attractive in a man.

As wouldn’t you know it, you told this list to Gallagher over a drink years ago.

“Let me ask you this once more, who are you ?” your stern voice was something he never listened to, but he welcomed it warmly.

“Whoever you want me to be,” he smiles, his voice sounds like he was teasing, but you know deep down that it is true.

“Why are you here ?” the question that has been clouding your mind since the reveal.

“To see through another fiction with you as my main muse,” his voice draws deeper than before.

The gravity of his statement was heavy, it made your heart stop for a mere second just to make sense of it all.

His eyes softened as he saw your shock ridden expression, your hands trembled, unsure with what to answer. He finds his way to hold them gently.

It felt nostalgic, even though the hand that held yours was not the same as before, it felt like home.

“To fabricate a new page in history, to make amends for the past, to see through another life. I’m here to live another life with you, to grow old by your side,” he continues, somehow the display of loyalty soothed your trembling hands.

“And even after death, I’ll wait for you to be reborn back into my arms, forever more,” his warmth left your hand as he stood up from his chair.

He walked towards your side, your hands now placed perfectly against your lap as he kneels before you.

“That is my reason,” he leaned down, bringing your fingertips towards his lips.

“Own my heart once more, dearest,” he begged.

The man begged for a chance once more.

[honeybeewhereartthee]

Crystal Hearts

Prequel Chapter 21

➽──PREV─CH21─NEXT──❥

Being engaged only last a few days. Alas, it's not because it's been revoke. Because those Oukawa just called the main family ( which is kohaku cousin, called tsukasa Suou ) those couple of days and now they can proceed to the wedding! It seems that your not leaving the estate unless it's official. Well at least in the traditions of humans.

Honestly it's too fast, your not even able to pass a day in the world of fae in comparison! Holy moly, your now wearing traditional wedding cloths. And your side that is invited in the wedding is only Niki and Rinne because they are the only one around.

Aira and your other friends won't come to the human world tell late this month. Your cousin probably somewhere in the crowd wearing disguise as you and kohaku were given a cute flower crown by a dove,

.

You look at the three cup of sake and take a sip of each of the cup, likewise your groom did so too.

.

Saying vows and such, and being bless and such. It happened so fast. Now your greetings to the guest.

...

Later that same day, you look at rinne and Niki who's jamming with the crowd.

"Omae..." You stared at the person who called you. "Hmm?" You hummed feeling a bit drowsy. The person beside you, softly made you lean against him. Leaning your head against his frame. He move his hand so, his oversized outer kimono put around the two of you.

"I honestly surprised your family tradition sure are too fast." You mumble." I thought it be for a year or so. Since we only know each other." You don't know till when you can freely do what you want, so you would want to enjoy each moment to the fullest.

"Ah... That's usually what happened... Well, except for my dad case. He pulled a marriage certificate when my mom win the fight as tradition. To sign in the spot." He chuckle as he remembers how his father often brags about it.

In his early memories his mother when she was with them before, she and his dad would would be like those love sick couple like they are not middle age adults. It's a sight for sore eyes' kohaku thought

" Ohhh! Your dad is smitten then. How nice! Love is very interesting! " You giggle. " Then what's up with your case then? I don't mind! It mean I get to spend more time with you! " You hummed as you look at him, asking silent permission to hug him. He nodded with a blush on his face, as you happily hugs him.

" My dad have a visitor, Few last night. I don't see em but when he finish chatting with the guy, almost beaming, he said the wedding would be in few days. Because the kid (tsukasa)needs to arrive here to attend too. If that's not the case he would say the wedding would be that night. " after a moment of silence. He start to speak why the case of the fast wedding happened, at least what he think the reason is.

" Wow... That's kinda weird. Did you ask who's the person? Don't you think it's sus? " you wonder why he don't think that suspicious.

" I dunno dad just said that he gaze upon my future and speak to em. Or whatnot. Weird huh.? " he pats your head, as he saw your silly face of disbelief.

" Well, your a core fae like the second one. I heard that they can turn back time. Ya know? So it's not weird if that's the case. " You told him why you have a face like you believe his silly theory.

"... Wait that's a thing? I can do that too? " His eyes widen.

" Yup yup! " You happily nodded." Well probably in the future you will. " You added.

"... Do I really go back in time to hurry up the wedding? What am I rushing it for? " he don't think that rushing things would be good. Beside won't it be better if the two of you spend more time...?

" I dunno. I'm not you. And I won't go back in time to do such thing. " you shrugged your shoulder, your not someone who would do such thing to understand the way of thoughts of time Traveller who wish to change the future.

"Ehhh.. ya can do that too?" Now he can't help but be amaze at you. How come your so cool and keep getting cooler in his eyes? Ah, my spouse is too OP, how do I make sure no one would steal em away? Suddenly kohaku inter a marriage life crisis.

"Hmm. But do I have too? Going back means it will change a sequence of event. That's such a worrisome thing you know! What if something good don't happened because of changing such scene?" You laugh, thinking that your not gonna do such thing.

After all people who wish to turn back time are those who don't know what's lies in the future. But you do. So why would you turn back time?

"... Ya don't want me to go back in time to ruined fate?" (Kohaku)

"Ah. It's fine. Since you have your reasons. For me, with all the things that bothers me. That I wish doesn't. I would not mind it. Changing your fate is something you know? I would want to change it too. But I'm full of worry! So I have to take precautions in ever move I do. Even so I don't need too. Im scared. Such burden is annoying but it's my life. "

you sigh as you thought of the troubles you put in the back of your mind, for you to enjoy the moment as it is and don't dwell what's comes right after.

" Ya don't need to burden everything. Just because ya are core fae or whatnot. " Kohaku stared at his 3rd sister who approaches the two of you to offer confectioners and she winked at him, signalling him about something before she left the two of them.

" Well, I dunno what to do if I don't think of it. Having nothing to think about makes the thought of my life being pointless comes in mind. That's more painful to think about. That even if I don't exist the world would been ok. I'm just here to be with you all. " You stared at the sweets and wonder what's the black dust on top of those. They look familiar for some reason.

"... Ya speaking weird again. Ya are here because ya are needed and to live among us. " Holding one of the sweets, he look at you as your gaze follow the confectioners. " Do you want some?" He ask you. You nodded without hesitation as your open for all type of sweets made others after all!

" Hmm. Okii! If you say so! " you give a thumbs up to his previous statement.

Kohaku rolled his eyes as he chuckle hopelessly, he soon reach out to held you close, he gaze into your eyes as the confectioners are being feed by him to you with such affection.

The strings glow bright red around you, almost as if it's pulsing.

"... Cant you have your own preceptive and thought? Why are you easily agreeing on what I say? "

" Well, it is my own thoughts to understand and agree what others believe in! So, to please them I'll agree because I don't know any better than they do about those stuff! " Nomming after telling him your point of view, you enjoy the sweet taste.

" ... " He really wonder why you grow up with such mentality and how your brain work so oddly and off putting.

You look at the crowd again as you yawn, feeling sleepy. You don't feel this sleepy yet as kohaku continue to spoonfeed you those confectioners, the sweet taste felt like drugs that pulling you in a deep good night slumber.

"I'm glad... I'm awake. I meet many people... I would like you to meet my best friend and friends when they'll come here... " Your droopy (color) eyes stared at him.

" Sure. I'll be glad to meet them... "

.

.

.

" Ai. This is my hubby, hanii!" In the end of the month your friend, aira finally able to come to the human world with his unit. "...what?" He drop his phone in shock at your words. He stared at the stranger with you who's your happily holding hands with. "Say what?" He repeated as if his deaf when he heard your words.

"You seems about to faint. Maybe I should shock you with the news the moment you come here." You notice how his gonna faint if you confirm his nightmare to be the truth. "In the traditions of humans. Kohaku is my hubby!" You quickly try to lessen the effect to your friend.

"AI/AIRA!!" He have fainted and you and his fellow unit who was watching the scene in worry as you all rush aira to put in rhe nearest bench. Mayoi who's fanning aira, hiiro who's holding ice as if the guy fainted from heat stroke or something.

"..." Kohaku who follow suit at your tail since earlier look at your friend and back at you. "Does Your friend likes you?" He directly ask you all. Mayoi almost join aira in the fainting gang when he heard the hubby of yours, frank question.

"Ehhh... Whyareyouaskingthatquestion... Ohgottwhatisthisdrama..." He mumble so fast as he look back at three of you.

" I dunno." You shrugged your shoulder." I get rejected by ai like more than this times." You raise your ten fingers. Shock cover his purple eyes when he hear your words, the fact you like your friend yet get rejected more than ten times. He don't know if he should be worried or be sad for you.

"He said we're just best friends. I'll respect that." You added. The three (more like two) friends of Aira want to smack aira in the head when they heard what you said.

Aira keep going to them about his own situation after all, they don't know this part. Why are those two so hopeless?!

"Why are you so open to say that to me? What if I get jealous?" Kohaku sighs as he look at your best friend and back to you. Clearly your friend also liked you back yet can't express or told you his own feelings.

"Ehh. Wwhhhyyy?" You tilt your head in confusion." Eheh your so silly, Your already my hubby why are you jealous? Beside I'm very loyal as it's something fae were taught! I'll offer my heart to you for exchange~ if you don't trust me eheh " you haft jested with soft chuckle.

" H-huh..!?" He turn bright red at your words as he remembers what it meant. YOU TWO JUST GOTTEN MARRIED NOT EVEN ONE MOON AGO AND YOU ASKING FOR ANOTHER ONE? n-not like he don't want it but it's too fast! Ah! Let him calm his heart first!!' he turn around as his head might explode from the bashful state he is in he silently screams internally as he held his warm cheeks.

"Hibiki-chan. Whatifwhafif... Aira likes you too?" Mayoi can't help but ask you in a barely inaudible tone.

"Hmm? " You look at Mayoi. "I do notice it... But I'm someone who need to be told by the person. What type of relationship they wanted to have with me. Silence and keeping your emotions will not help me understand what to interpret people emotions toward me... What if it's fools hope?..." You mumble your not oblivious but you rather not hope that much. Why can't people be honest what they wish to convey?

But then again, your not one to tell others how you felt. Unless the situation you have with your hubby. Because you trusted your cousin, and your cousin spell doesn't mean you no harm.

Making his silly cupid spell where you will be honest, open and close to the one that share the string of fate with you--kohaku, made you says what you felt and maybe your plan for the future quite often than you would like.

"What are you thinking of?" Kohaku stood beside you as he reach to held your hand, the strings glow bright red as your hands interlock with one another.

"Oh. I'm think about my cousin magic spell." You honestly says. "...cookies." he pull out a cookie from his bag of sweets and your eyes follow the sweets and you forgot the topic at hand.

"You want?" He smiles at you. You nodded as you eyed the cookie."yes." You happily says.

"Ahh." He proceeded to spoonfed you and you happiness nom the cookie.

"There there." He pats your head like your a puppy or a kid.

"Why you treating me like a kid. Hmmp." You pout but you once again swayed by another sweet, this time a mochi. "Ooh..mochi..." You fall in the same bait again and forget agreement with him. "Ahh. Open up " he once again smile as he made you forget what's on your current state of mind.

The scene repeated till you start yawning and fallen asleep against him. The other three watch the scene from the other bench but don't comment.

"...it's nice to meet other friends of my spouse.." kohaku who's holding your sleeping form stared at the three. His smile seems off putting...

"I hope ya all don't try to break someone marriage, even so it's not legal yet in ya ways..." His purple eyes stared at them dead in the eyes, almost felt they looking at a devil. Yet the add sensation of being around of an angel made them ( more like mayoi who's already shaking from everything, mostly from nervousness)

"Hey are you a dark angel?" Hiiro tilt his head as he question the off putting feeling of dread the stranger is giving him.

"... Who knows." Your spouse mumble as he no longer give a single glance at those three, through he give a side eyes at the unconscious best friend of yours before he rolled his eyes before looking back at your sleeping form, as thought comes in his mind.

.

.

.

➽───NOTE───❥

(if want to be tagged pls comment or Send mail) Tag List : @valeriele3 @yinenovica

[utsuboarchive]

jade follows him at a sedate pace as he speaks. watching and listening as the realization dawns on him. oh, he could have been upfront from the very beginning- but why make it that easy? this was better anyway, an amusing highlight of his day. and honestly, judging from his betrothed, there were many many more to come. elegant as he was, vil certainly seemed quite clumsy as well. perhaps it was unfair to judge him for it-- today was an intense and stressful one.

" well i'm just saying, since i am the groom, it might be a little strange. " slowing to a stop just as vil does. a hand is rest over his own chest, and he tilts his head. " don't you think so? " his smile close lipped to hide his teeth.

the apology comes swiftly. as if jade had not just suggested the two of them just run away together. an ironic twist on another trope he has read in fairy tales before.

" ah unfortunately, you're right. " he acquiesces.

his father would not take very long to notice something was amiss. mother too- they both fuss and worry over every little thing. vil continues to stammer; another apology and a half spoken question. did he what? want to be married? sure, eventually he may of liked to. but this? this was far far out of his hands. so no, he hadn't been too keen on following this through. alas, not much he can do for it. best to do as he has always done; and try to bend this in his favor. " i think i'd be fine with this match, now that i've met you in person. " spoken with a great deal of confidence.

yes, vil was much better than he thought, considering. the fact they got to meet at all before they practice what they're meant to do or say-- is quite lucky! " i'd merely said so to save us both quite a bit of embarrassment later on. "

after a beat, jade gestures with one gloved hand. now showing vil the slightly hidden gate that he'd used to meet him on this side. " should we go back then? i do think the rehearsal will start fairly soon. " a pleased lilt to his tone. was it because he was truly happy to go back? or because he'd just struck vil another blow? very hard to tell.

" and if anyone asks, you can say it was my fault you'd been away so long. i'd just been too eager to finally meet who i'm meant to spend my life with. "

Oh, he was a mess. Or at least, he felt like one. From making his escape out of the building to scaling the damned garden wall — it feels as though he's been on a series of embarrassing himself one way or another. To think, he made this escape somewhat clean only for the best man to foil everything. No doubt about it, he was set up and probably doing all of this to get a kick out of Vil's attempts. Terrible. The whole thing!

What's worse is that Vil couldn't quite read this guy like he'd be able to with most individuals he comes across. It's quite simple with most but this one ... there's no way of telling what he's even thinking or feeling from that look in his eyes. That's even more unnerving. Social cues are practically blurred with him but Vil was determined to see this through. He will get out of here. He'll get away from this guy and he'll vanish. Well, that was the plan...

Attempting to smooth his (what he assumes to be) wild hair, Vil's already trying to walk away — around the best man and onward. Except the best man follows in strides? Casting a suspicious glance at the other man, he tucks his bangs behind his ear. He felt obligated to say something? Oh, now he's stepping out of line.

Vil's determined to get going. However, his pace starts to slow almost immediately when the rehearsal is mentioned. "What? What do you mean ..." On his own? Is he not the best man? Now, Vil's taking a second to actually look this guy over. Only now noticing the slight differences. The best man he met earlier did indeed have a different aura; Wild and loud. Cocky. Unkept. His eyes were different from the one standing before him. The dark streak of hair, as well. This man was more ... tame, in comparison. Rather, well-mannered. He was more put together, that much was obvious. And kinder. Much kinder eyes. Then the outfit, obviously — what Vil had mistook as a remarkably quick costume change was actually not the case, at all.

He was feeling stupid again. This isn't how he runs his life but this whole day was proving to be backwards for him. Of course, how that he's getting a closer look — it's glaringly obvious. He could feel his shoulders burning, spreading the more embarrassed he became. "You're ..." The groom. Oh, he wanted the earth beneath him to open and swallow him whole, this was terrible.

"...I apologize, I didn't realize—" At this point, Vil had stopped walking. He's taken a few steps back, away from the groom as if he's thinking of running. He wants so desperately to cover his face but he can't bring himself to. Not with the humiliation he's facing now. At least the groom was handsome. Beautiful, even. And ... patient. Seven's, almost too patient.

He's intelligent, as well. It's as though the groom had read his mind (or his body language) and suggested they both ran off. Suddenly, the idea sounds terrible. It's one thing when it was only Vil fleeing the scene but ... "We can't. They'll notice too quickly." Defeated, Vil's glancing back at the garden wall and scanning the area. Now what... "I don't think we... Again, I apologize. Deeply. Seven's this is..." He's a bit spontaneous for a groom. Very different from what Vil had in mind. "You don't—? I mean..." he didn't want to marry him, either? Vil was both relieved and ... mildly offended. No, he'd be more offended if it weren't for how this whole day was going!

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 1/?)

Because nothing says ‘independence day’ like writing the participants in a French rebellion as members of the British upper class...

The Bridgerton AU that no one asked for. Will be at least 4 chapters, probably, to be published on a schedule only God herself can predict. Developing E/R, hijinks and shenanigans. All of the shenanigans.

One might recall when, not too long ago, the author of this paper hung up her pen and retired from reporting on the drama that each new season of fresh-faced debutantes and their endlessly anxious mothers brings. But alas, dear Reader, the excitement of this season has proven too much for this Author to suffer without company – which is why the pen has been passed to a new scribe.

But the fortuitous timing of the season has not been met with equally thrilling events for sharing here, as indeed, the most recent ball, hosted annually at the start of the season by the ever-insufferable Thénardiers, was positively under-attended. Not by the eager mothers that are the backbone of any season or their equally eager daughters, but by the young, eligible men who usually at least deign to make an appearance, dance a few dances, and exchange niceties as is expected for men of their station.

Instead, the only poor sap who wandered into the Thénardiers’ den of matchmaking was the Baron of Pontmercy, who was positively beset by hopeful ingénues, the most brazen of which was undoubtedly the Thénardiers’ eldest daughter, Éponine. While this Author notes that Miss Thénardier has had a patchy history with suitors and thus cannot be fully blamed for attempting to sink her claws into one as eligible as the baron, this Author must also sympathize with Baron Pontmercy, who seemed only to find himself with one moment to himself. 

Then again, rumor has it that his single moment was interrupted by an unknown young lady with an equally unknown chaperone who whisked her away posthaste. Her identity is one mystery both this Author and Baron Pontmercy are equally eager to discover, but the more pressing question is where the others of Baron Pontmercy’s gender were when they should have been equally beset by potential brides.

Never fear: Whatever answers I find, dear Reader, I shall certainly share with other enquiring minds. For a nominal fee, of course. While there are rumors of young men meeting in the backroom of a certain gentlemen’s club to discuss the overthrow of society, capitalism, and the King himself, this Author, being of the gentler sex, finds herself unable to obtain an invite, and as such, alas, cannot bring herself to comply with their lofty goals. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 20 MARCH 1831

The air in the backroom at the Musain Gentlemen’s Club was hazy with smoke and thick with plentiful conversation as its guests, all young men dressed in their dinner best, traded stories and jokes in between sips of their drinks.

At least one among them was not drinking, though – Enjolras, who sat in an overlarge armchair towards the back of the room, his back to one of the large windows that spanned almost the entire height of the wall. He alone was also not joining his friends in their merriment, his brow instead creased as he read over something.

When he had finished, he glanced up. “Combeferre,” he called, barely raising his voice despite the cacophony of the room. 

Not that he needed to: the moment he spoke, the room fell quiet as all eyes glanced at him as if waiting for him to continue. In return, he just arched an eyebrow at them. “Well, don’t let me put an end to your fun.”

A dark haired man sitting at a table in the far corner playing cards with two others raised his glass in a mocking toast. “Worry not,” he called in return. “You won’t.”

Laughter broke out yet again at that, and most of their number returned to their previous conversations as Combeferre pulled up a chair next to Enjolras’s. Enjolras pursed his lips, looking unamused. “Why is Grantaire even here?” he asked Combeferre, who, quite to the contrary, looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“I imagine because you have not yet told him that you wish for him to leave and never return,” Combeferre said evenly before giving Enjolras a rather assessing look. “Assuming, of course, that is what you wish.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “That’s not the point—”

Combeferre cleared his throat. “No, the point is that you had a comment, I assume, about the pamphlet I gave you to review.”

Enjolras still looked disgruntled, but seemed more than willing to allow the change in subject. “The pamphlet is fine, but I imagine you already knew that.” He handed the pamphlet draft back to Combeferre before asking, “What do you imagine the distribution schedule to look like? With Parliament sitting this week—”

He was interrupted by a thin, rather-nervous looking man appearing at his elbow, the doorman to the establishment who was paid a decent sum by each man inside the room to not interrupt them and to report nothing of their comings and going to any who might enquire. When Enjolras had made that arrangement, he had been thinking of the police; when his friends had followed his lead, most were thinking of their mothers.

“M’Lord Enjolras, I do beg your pardon—” he started, sounding almost as nervous as he looked.

Enjolras’s brow furrowed again. “It’s fine, what is it?” he asked, a touch impatiently.

The doorman bobbed his head and cleared his throat. “There is a, ah, a woman seeking entry.”

Bahorel, seated nearby, let out a wolf whistle. “The young ladies of the season are getting restless!” he crowed, to much laughter. 

“Restless, and bold, if they are coming into the city to seek their groom, and without a chaperone to boot,” Bossuet said with a grin.

“Leave to Enjolras to be the one to cause all tradition to break,” Jehan sniggered.

Enjolras could feel his ears burning red but he studiously ignored the jeers and catcalls from his friends, instead frowning at the doorman. “May I ask why are you telling me this?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice even. “Last I checked, it was your policy to restrict admittance to men, despite my protestations to the contrary.”

“Of course, M’Lord, it’s just…” The doorman quailed slightly at the look Enjolras gave him. “The woman in question claims to be your mother.”

Immediately, all jokes ceased as identical, horror-stricken looks crossed the faces of each of his friends. Enjolras blanched, all the blood draining from his face. “Did you confirm that I was inside?” he asked, a little desperately.

The doorman shook his head, his eyes widening. “No, of course not, m’lord’s discretion being of utmost importance to this establishment.” He hesitated. “That said, she did not appear to believe our denial, and is threatening to come inside and verify for yourself that you are not here.”

Enjolras groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course she is,” he sighed. He glanced at Combeferre as if considering asking for his assistance, but seemed to think better of it, instead standing and drawing himself up to his full height. “Right,” he said. “Well, I think you’ve got everything handled here, so I suppose I’ll just go, er, handle this situation.”

Combeferre again looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. “Of course,” he said. “And, if you do not return, I shall call upon you later this week, shall I?”

“Yes, but the question will be more whether you should call upon me at my house or at the hospital,” Enjolras muttered, and it was to Combeferre’s credit that he still somehow managed not to laugh.

The same could not be said for Grantaire, who started humming what Enjolras recognized vaguely as a funeral dirge as soon as he headed towards the door, and Enjolras gave him the nastiest glare he could muster. Of course, Grantaire was unaffected – if anything, it only caused his grin to widen, and he raised his cup in yet another mocking toast as Enjolras swept out of the room to go deal with his mother.

It was anyone’s guess whether his mother or Grantaire irritated him more.

He started to ask the doorman where his mother was, but found that he did not need to ask – her voice was echoing all the way from the entrance hall. “I am the Dowager Marchioness of Enjolras,” she was practically shrieking, and Enjolras winced, mentally calculating how much money it would take to smooth this particular incident over. Certainly less than when Courfeyrac almost burned the place down, but almost certainly more than when Bahorel and Grantaire had gotten into a fistfight and broken two statues and a chandelier.

He really needed better friends.

And a different mother.

“I demand to speak with my son!” his mother continued, her voice rising in both volume and pitch. “And do not give me this nonsense that he is not here, I know quite well where my son is!”

“M’lady, I apologize, but as I have said, we cannot confirm that your son—”

“I shall confirm it for myself,” Enjolras interrupted, saving the poor proprietor, who had never looked more relieved to see him. “Mother, kindly stop screeching at these gentlemen for doing their jobs.” His mother spluttered incoherently  but Enjolras knew better than to allow her the chance to regroup.

Instead, he grabbed her by the elbow and steered her to the door, glancing over his shoulder to nod his thanks at the proprietor. As soon as they were outside the building, Enjolras dropped any pretense at propriety. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, not releasing his mother from his grip. “Coming all the way into the city to find me? Pray tell what could possibly have been so important to cause such a scene!”

His mother yanked her arm from his grasp and glared up at him. “A scene?” she repeated, her voice deathly quiet. “My dear son, if you consider that a scene, you are ill-prepared for what is soon to follow.”

Enjolras sighed and tried not to roll his eyes. “There is no need for theatrics—”

Without warning, his mother slapped him across the face. “Theatrics?” she hissed. “When I have spent every waking moment these past several years trying to ensure your future and the future of our house!”

She made as if to hit him again but Enjolras caught her wrist, staying her hand. “Madam, you may be the Dowager Marchioness but I am the Marquess of Enjolras, and I will not permit you to assault me in the streets, my mother or not.” He released her arm before adding sardonically, “Besides, think of the gossip.”

Again his mother gave him no warning to gird himself, but this time, she burst into tears, sobbing into his shirt. “Oh, for the love of—” Enjolras took her again by the elbow, gentler this time, and led her to where her carriage waited. “Get a hold of yourself,” he snapped. “You have already made enough of a scene this evening.”

“Perhaps a scene is what it will take!” she half-shouted in return. “For you to finally listen to me, to hear what I have been telling you!” Enjolras rolled his eyes, holding out his hand to help her into her carriage, but she stubbornly refused to move. “Since you clearly don’t listen to me when I make arrangements solely for your benefit.”

“I assure you, you have never once done anything solely for my benefit,” Enjolras said tiredly. “But if it will stop your screaming then please, tell me the latest way in which I have ruined your plans for my future.”

“The Thénardier ball!” his mother wailed, crying again. “All those eligible young ladies, and you could not even deign to show your face! How am I to get you married at this rate?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes so hard he half-feared he would pull a muscle. “Hang the bloody Thénardier ball,” he ground out, hesitating for only a moment before picking his mother up and placing her inside the carriage, swinging up after her before she could protest. 

“What are you doing?” she cried as the carriage moved off at double speed, and Enjolras thanked whatever higher power there was that his mother’s driver also clearly did not wish to linger.

Enjolras sighed. “You wanted me attention,” he said tiredly. “So you have it, albeit not in public where you clearly wanted it.”

For one long moment, his mother just glared at him, tears shining on her cheeks. Then she sighed and sat upright, her pose turning almost prim as she drew a linen handkerchief from her sleeve and delicately dabbed the tears from her cheeks. “Very well,” she said calmly, all traces of earlier hysteria gone in an instant, and Enjolras realized immediately that he had been duped, that he had played directly into her hands.

She had anticipated that making a scene would be the easiest way to get him to leave with her.

And now she had him as a captive audience for however long it took for her driver to reach her house. And while he was not a betting man, he would wager all his money and lands that she had directed her driver to take the long way.

His mother was smiling at him, a cold, unpleasant smile, and Enjolras groaned, tipping his head back against the pillowed cushions. “Please don’t tell me that you really pulled all of that because you wished to discuss the Thénardier ball.”

“Don’t be foolish,” she said before tapping his knee. “And sit upright, you will cause your clothes to wrinkle.” Enjolras groaned and reluctantly sat upright, glaring balefully at her as he waited for her to continue. “No, I merely wished to discuss something and this seemed the easiest way.”

“Then by all means, please tell me: what do you want to discuss?”

“Why, what else?” she asked, a small smirk lifting the corners of her mouth. “Your marriage.”

----------

There were few things that Enjolras loathed more than being hoodwinked by his own mother into a conversation he’d been spending the past several years avoiding, but as he stood staring up at the rather imposing façade of a house he had been to only perhaps a handful of times, he thought this just might rank.

Still, his options were decidedly limited, and he hesitated only a moment more before climbing the stairs to the front door, knocking briskly. In telling of a house less used to visits during the season, it took a moment for the butler to answer the door, and Enjolras shifted uncomfortably on the stoop as he waited. 

“May I help you?” the butler asked as he opened the door. 

“Yes,” Enjolras said. “I’m here to see Grantaire.”

The butler eyed him warily. “And who should I tell Mr. Grantaire is here to see him?”

It took everything in Enjolras not to roll his eyes. “Tell him that the Marquess of Enjolras requests his presence,” he said dryly, hating the way the butler’s eyes widened when he realized just who was standing in the doorway.

“Of– of course, m’lord,” the butler said, immediately opening the door wider to usher Enjolras indoors. “Beg your pardon, m’lord. I’ll just, ah, go fetch Mr, Grantaire.”

He retreated up the stairs and Enjolras finally did roll his eyes, sighing heavily as he wandered a little further indoors. He had spent half his life, it seemed, going from one grand house to another, so very little surprised him, but he was intrigued by what he might find in Grantaire’s house. While his own park-adjoining manor had been in his family for generations, and was decorated accordingly, Grantaire came from new money, and this house had belonged to a different family entirely not even a decade before. 

He paused to examine a small portrait of two young children, a boy and a girl, when he heard footsteps clattering on the stairs and he turned to look up as Grantaire joined him, a jacket rather hastily thrown on and buttoned incorrectly.

“My Lord.”

Grantaire’s voice was pitched just slightly higher than usual, in a way that indicated genuine surprise at finding Enjolras standing in his foyer, but somehow still retained the telltale lilt that Enjolras had long since realized meant Grantaire was making fun of him. 

He scowled automatically. “Enjolras,” he corrected with an exasperated half-sigh.

Grantaire inclined his head, a smirk twisting his lips. “My lord Enjolras,” he said, and Enjolras’s scowl deepened.

“Just Enjolras,” he said flatly, not waiting for Grantaire to escort him into the house, instead crossing the foyer to peer into the front sitting room. 

“By all means, make yourself at home,” Grantaire said, following him.

Enjolras twisted his head to give Grantaire a smirk of his own. “As you seem so keen to remind me, I outrank you,” he said. “And believe me when I say this is one time I will feel no guilt using the trappings of the nobility to my advantage.”

Grantaire just snorted, brushing past him into the sitting room, ignoring the tea that had been set on the table and instead making his way over to the drink cart against the far wall. “Forgive me, but I can think of many instances where you undoubtedly used your title and your family to your advantage without any guilt,” he said dryly, pouring himself half a glass full of amber liquid before pausing, considering it, and adding another finger. “But let’s save that particular fight for a different time.” He turned back to Enjolras and raised his glass in a mock toast. “For now, before I forget my manners any further, let me say welcome to my home, and please, allow me to pour you a cup of tea.”

“I am capable of pouring my own tea, thanks,” Enjolras said, a little stiffly, and he sat down on one armchair before leaning forward to rather stubbornly do just that.

Grantaire did not join him, as if he thought keeping physical distance between them might keep things civil. “Only you would think that hospitality was an insult.”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “The way you said it, it was.”

“You underestimate my capacity for being genuinely polite,” Grantaire said dryly, taking a large sip of his whiskey.

“Do I?”

“Tell me, my Lord—” Enjolras gritted his teeth but chose not to interrupt him. “—if not to insult me to my face in my own home, what brings you here, and at tea time no less?”

His voice was calm, pleasant even, but Enjolras felt himself flush in realization that he had done exactly that. And no matter how frequently he might wish to throttle Grantaire with his own hands, that was offensive even for him. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking down at his tea as he stirred it. “I have been rude.

Grantaire looked briefly surprised, as if he had not expected an apology. But then his smirk was back in full force. “All is forgiven...my lord.” Enjolras really might shatter his teacup at this rate. “But you still didn’t answer my question as to why you are here.”

Enjolras set his teacup down and straightened, looking Grantaire in the eye. “I came to ask for your help.”

Grantaire laughed. “So you come to my home, uninvited, you insult me to my face, and you still have the audacity to ask for my help?” He drained half of his whiskey in one long gulp. “You are lucky you have been granted the face of a Greek god, Apollo.”

“Don’t call me that,” Enjolras sighed, though he knew it was a losing battle. Grantaire had called him that on the first day they met, when Grantaire was finishing college and Enjolras just beginning, and he had continued to call him that for all the years since. “Look, I am sorry, and not just because I need your help. I am ill suited to polite society and the longer the season drags on, the more foul my temper becomes.”

Grantaire made a small noise of agreement. “You and I both,” he murmured, draining his glass and pouring himself another before finally joining Enjolras, settling into the armchair across from him. “Very well. You have my attention.”

Enjolras leaned forward, sudden urgency in every line of his body. “Word has it that you were instrumental in helping Lord Joly and Mr. Lesgle avoid scandal last season when both were in love with Lady Musichetta.”

“Well, we avoided a big scandal at least,” Grantaire said, eyeing Enjolras carefully. “There must always be a little bit of a scandal or none would believe it.”

Enjolras waved a dismissive hand. “Either way, all three are happy, and living at Lord Joly’s estate, and not a word about them has been wasted in Lady Whistledown’s papers this season.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “I am astonished to learn you have read any of the newly-revived Lady Whistledown’s papers, let alone with enough frequency to speak with such authority on the subject.:

Enjolras flushed a mottled red and looked away. “It’s an easy conversation topic,” he muttered, “when I am forced to speak to those with whom I have nothing in common.”

“Such as the twittering nitwits your mother foists upon you at every turn?” Grantaire asked lightly.

Enjolras met his eyes evenly. “Exactly. And exactly why I am here.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “You’re here to better learn how to talk with women?” he asked, almost certainly purposefully obtuse. “I admit, I am an expert on the subject, but—”

“Of course not,” Enjolras snapped. “Not to mention if I did need help in that arena, you would be the last person I would turn to.”

Grantaire laughed. “Your loss, he said cheerfully. After all, to have bedded as many women as I with a face like mine requires quite the expert hand at wooing.” Enjolras rolled his eyes and Grantaire smirked before taking another sip of whiskey. “Very well. If you are not here for my help in speaking to young ladies to finally secure a marriage match, then why are you here?”

“Because I do need to marry someone,” Enjolras said, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. “But I need it not to be real.” Again he met Grantaire’s eyes. “And you are the only person I can think of who can help me pull that off.”

[seirosu]

@sanpatron​

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇       a wedding party. rhea had attended soirees celebration the union of twos for centuries, and she smiles at the blending memories of hundreds of vows of protection and kisses of love. it appears, however, she was too late to enjoy the most romantic parts, instead arriving once the deeds were done and the celebrations were partway had. the odious flashing lights burned her retinas, the fog filling her lungs with a cough... the party was quite something, and not one she could ever claim to imagine. but alas, it is not her concern how others enjoy themselves.

                                      congratulations, you who found eternal love.

with a wine glass between her fingers, pearly liquid sway as she tapped a finger once, twice against an unassuming table. with a quick scan of the room before her, she makes move to flip the table cloth, peering beneath for something unspoken of. what she had forgotten, however, was to secure her backside.

“wh--” ah, he looks tall, sturdy, and yet there is a familiar look in his eyes that tell a story of a night well had. ring on his finger, it’s bold of her to assume, but where lay the sin in assumption? “well, you caught me well.”

resetting the table cloth to its proper position draped across the table, the archbishop brings wine glass to lips, “and by the groom of all, may i presume?? i apologize for raising attention towards myself and stealing it from your lovely wife, i simply search for something i’ve lost. being one in the dawn of marriage, it is not important enough to worry yourself with.”

wine stains the lips with a sour flavor.

“what is important... is that i congratulate you. may the goddess bless your union.”

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Reflection of Beauty Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: Detailed spoilers for a date yet to be released in EN! 🍒

Phone call between Gavin and Mr Keller before the date: here

Candlelit Night Collection: Kiro // Lucien // Victor

Trivia regarding the name of the date: 

This date is called 惊鸿照影来, which is part of a couplet from “Shenyuan”, a poem by Lu You written in the Song Dynasty

Rough translation of the full couplet: Alas, the green water under the forlorn bridge / Once reflected the charming face of my beloved one!

It was inspired by the poet’s own love story, where he was forced to leave his wife because his mother didn’t like her. Even so, their love never ceased. Ten years later, they met again in Shenyuan Garden (which was also the place he first fell in love with her). Lu You inscribed a poem on a stone wall, conveying his anger and sorrow towards their separation. A few days after seeing the poem, she died from depression :’<

“Shenyuan” was written later on as a memorialisation of his undying love. It conveys how revisiting old places makes one remember past lovers and sentiments

-

[ CHAPTER ONE ]

The date begins with MC and Gavin having a rehearsal for the sequel of the “Three Lifetimes” play

The audience had a deep impression of them in “Three Lifetimes”, so Mr Keller wrote them into the sequel as second leads

In the play, the town looks forward to the marriage between Lady Su (the female lead) and Swordsman Bai (Gavin)

But Lady Su is in love with Swordsman Bai’s friend, a scholar (the male lead)

Meanwhile, Swordsman Bai is in love with the character MC is playing (a high-ranking palace maid and a close friend of Lady Su)

After the rehearsal, Mr Keller gives them suggestions on how to improve, and tells Gavin to gaze at MC and hold her hand during a particular scene:

Gavin: ...all right. 

-

[ CHAPTER TWO ]

Once the rehearsal is over, Gavin is a sweetheart as always, bringing water and a few bananas over to MC with this face:

Gavin: If it isn’t enough, I can get a few more? 

MC: There’s enough, there’s enough. 

Su Xuan, the actress playing Lady Su, tells them to change outfits for the photoshoot:

Su Xuan: I’ll help you put on some make-up first, then marry you off beautifully to your Mr Gavin. Come, close your eyes.

Without giving me a chance to explain or argue, she skilfully helps me with my make-up, as though she’s really helping a sister prepare for her wedding. 

Su Xuan: Mm, that’s more like it. 

She pulls me to my feet. After looking me over carefully, she tilts her head and smiles at something behind me.

Su Xuan: What does the groom think? 

Before I have time to react, Su Xuan pushes me lightly, and I fall into familiar arms.

Gavin: Pretty. 

Gavin, who has walked out of the changing room, is also wearing a matching set of red wedding attire.

The colour, which isn’t typically found on him, suits him unexpectedly well.

His easy-going independence has been toned down, replaced with fiery passion.

Gavin: What are you looking at? 

MC: This outfit really suits you.

MC: ...very handsome!

Gavin: [coughs] ...you look very pretty in red too. 

Gavin’s ears have a tinge of redness. He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes containing insuppressible surprise and warmth as he looks at me. 

Su Xuan: All right, you two “newlyweds” can appreciate each other after the shoot! The photographer this time is quite picky.

As she speaks, she pulls our hands together. 

The both of us stop talking, perhaps due to the dry air around us, or the warmth surfacing in our eyes. 

Gavin holds onto my hand tightly.

-

[ CHAPTER TWO: A flashback ]

Location: Outside Lynn’s Kitchen

By the time Minor and Gavin leave the noodle shop, the sky is mostly dark.

Only traces of the sunset glow faintly from behind the tall buildings. 

Minor: It’s so difficult to get tickets this Chinese New Year... I’m always struggling during this part of the year, and spending the New Year’s alone here is too cheerless. Gavin, what are your plans? Eh... why am I even asking - you’re definitely spending it with Boss.

Gavin is the same as always, letting Minor ramble on at his ear. 

Only when he hears the final sentence does a corner of his heart feel a light tug.

Gavin: Mm. I promised to help Mr Keller with her. 

Gavin smiles faintly without even realising it himself.

Minor: Huh? ...even though I find this method a little off, it’s not bad I guess! Boss has been asking everyone in the office what dishes they usually make for New Year’s. It made me curious... so you two are spending New Year’s together!

Minor’s words cause Gavin to recall the few memories of “spending the New Year’s” he has.

New Year’s should be a festival of celebration. There was a time when he looked forward to it.

It’s just that afterwards, this day gradually became no different from a normal one. 

That is, until the girl reappeared in his life, drawing the link between this day and warmth. 

It made him start looking forward to it again.

Minor: Bro Gavin? What are you thinking about? It’s rare to see this look on your face... I got it!

Minor makes an exaggerated expression, predictably receiving Gavin’s neither hard nor soft punch. 

Gavin: Minor, are there places selling New Year goods near her home? 

Minor: Bro Gavin, you want to... buy New Year goods?!

Gavin: What’s wrong with that?

Minor: Nothing nothing nothing...

Gavin: ...your smile is a little nauseating. 

Minor: I’m just happy! Then again, as compared to preparing in advance, there will be more of an atmosphere if you pick them out together!

Gavin: Makes sense. 

Gavin nods, quickening his pace slightly. 

Minor: Bro Gavin, where are you headed to next?

Several images flash across his mind - a warm light in the living room left on for him, a table with the home-cooked dishes he mentioned liking, and the girl waiting for him on the sofa, hugging a pillow. 

Gavin: Home. 

-

[ CHAPTER THREE ]

The photoshoot turns out to be more difficult than MC expected

Photographer: You must imagine - you two are about to elope, so it has to be dynamic! And yet have a tinge of... hesitation and worry! You’ve got to feel it! Change your pose!

MC and Gavin struggle to understand the photographer’s abstract descriptions

MC suggests they pretend to chat while sitting on the grass

MC: ...the weather is getting cold. Does Sparky need to be sent for maintenance? 

Once the words leave my mouth, I’m filled with a sense of regret. This topic is too forced...

Gavin seems to be stunned for a moment, then the corners of his lips lift gently.

Gavin: Mm, I have plans to do so. We can find a day to go together.  

MC: Ah, okay!

Gavin smiles, lifting his hand to tuck stray tendrils of hair behind my ear. 

His amber eyes, which are filled to the brim with smiles, hold my blinking and grinning expression within them.

Photographer: Very good! That’s the right feeling! Could the both of you try lying down? Girl, close your eyes and lift your head slightly.

MC: ...all right. Like this? 

I follow the photographer’s instructions and lie down at Gavin’s side, closing my eyes. 

In the darkness, a familiar warmth encases me tightly, allowing me to have a peace of mind and lean into his arms. 

We are very close to each other. His unique scent entwines with the reed grass that has been dried by the sun, reminding me of the summer we spent together. A breeze brushes past us. 

It makes one want to draw even nearer. 

Photographer: Very good very good. Can the man include some movements to add on to the idea of newlyweds interacting?

Gavin: ...uhm.

I hear Gavin’s breath halt for a moment, as though he’s deep in thought. 

After a while, he seems to have thought of something, and he laughs softly. 

Gavin: MC, don’t move. 

Right after he finishes speaking, I feel a lock of hair near my ear being lifted gently. 

I don’t dare to move a single inch, nor dare to open my eyes. I leave myself entirely to Gavin. 

The frequency of my heartbeat increases, and a numbness travels from the roots of my hair to my spine. My hair seems to be gently held in his palm.

Gavin: ...let me know if it hurts. I’ve never tried this before. 

Even though he says this, his actions are cautious and tender. 

All I can feel are the slight vibrations from my hair, the lock of hair ascending and descending along with his fingers, and then falling by my ear again. 

I purse my lips tightly, frantically trying to control my rapid breathing. I’m afraid that I might accidentally ruin this ambience. 

The shutter continuously sounds. The photographer seems to be saying something again, but I can no longer hear him clearly. 

Next to me, Gavin’s breathing brushes against my forehead and the tips of my hair. The breath, which carries a certain warmth, feels like a light kiss. 

Even though this is just a photoshoot, I wish time would give us this moment for a little while longer.

The words he said during the Qixi Festival last year surge from the depths of my heart, and once again gather in the centre.

I can’t help but feel that even if our destinies entangle and cross, and fate only allows for fleeting meetings, we will ultimately accompany each other at the very end. 

In my ear, the sound of his heartbeat is akin to him giving me a definite answer. One after the other, regular and resolute. 

Photographer:

Gavin: MC, we can get up now. 

I open my eyes slowly. The past few minutes have felt like a small, beautiful dream. 

In Gavin’s hand are locks of our hair tied together with a red string. 

Noticing my gaze, Gavin clear his throat unnaturally. 

Gavin: ...when the idea of “newlyweds” was brought up, I could only think of this. 

[Trivia: In Chinese culture, one’s hair represents one’s self. During a traditional Chinese wedding, the couple would each cut a lock of their hair and tie them together. This is called 结发 (”joining of hair”). It symbolises the couple becoming one flesh and blood, and how they would be connected forever... T^T]

I nod, not daring to meet his eyes. 

His short sentence channels layers of emotions in my heart, converging into unstoppable ripples. 

In a most straightforward way, his unembellished words leave a long and sweet aftertaste in my heart. 

MC: Let’s go over there so the next group can use this place...

Gavin: Hold on...

Without waiting for Gavin to finish, I’ve already sat up. Only when I feel a light tugging sensation do I realise that my hair is still tied to Gavin’s. 

MC: Ah-

Gavin: ...does it hurt? Don’t worry, I’ll untie the knot.

Gavin’s voice, which carries within it concern, is very close to the top of my head. In the next second, the strands of hair that are pulled are immersed in a tender warmth. 

Gavin: ...I might have tied it a little too tightly.

MC: Let me try...

Gavin agrees with a sound, cooperating by bending down slightly to make it easier to untie the red string. 

I try pulling at the end of the string, but the knot refuses to budge.

Gavin: ... 

MC: It does seem a little tight... could it be a dead knot? 

Gavin seems to have leaned in a little closer. Perhaps it’s just my misperception, but he seems even closer than he was during the photoshoot. 

His temperature and breath make my face feel increasingly flushed. I focus on the knot in my hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice my flustered state.

MC: N-next time, don't tie it so tightly! Or else I’ll leave it to you to untie. 

I pretend to be angry, wanting to break the atmosphere that makes my heart go into a frenzy. 

Gavin: All right, I got it. 

When I hear his voice in my ear, I know fully well that my attempts are futile.

When the red string is finally released and falls to the ground, I release a huge sigh, yet feel an inexplicable emptiness in my heart. 

It’s as though my fate with Gavin has become untied. 

They get called back to the rehearsal

MC: We should go over then.

Gavin: ...hold on. 

Gavin pauses, then takes the red string from my hand.

In a slightly clumsy manner, he uses the string to tie a knot at the end of my plait.

Gavin: This is also considered joining of the hair.

Gavin looks at me, his eyes clear, as though he has seen through all my emotions. 

Gavin: Let’s go.

While he speaks, he takes my hand and we leave. 

I hold onto Gavin firmly, the red string on my hair swaying gently along with our footsteps.

We will never miss each other again. 

-

[ CHAPTER FOUR ]

At 8pm, the play finally begins

On stage, MC is supposed to read a letter to Gavin

But when she opens it up, she realises there’s nothing on the letter even though her script is supposed to be on it

Gavin notices that something is amiss, so he steps in to calm her down while pretending everything is normal

MC starts reciting her lines based on memory, but starts panicking in fear of ruining the play

Gavin then takes the letter from her and pretends to read from it, reciting her lines perfectly

The First Act of the play comes to an end, and there’s an intermission

MC decides to thank Gavin properly after the play is over, but Su Xuan suddenly looks for her:

Su Xuan: MC, are you free now? Pass the silk ball to Gavin! I don’t know why, but the prop hasn’t been brought over yet.

MC: Okay! I’ll go now!

Thinking of the little time left, I grab the silk ball and run towards the other end without much thought. 

In the next scene, Gavin and I are supposed to enter the stage from different sides, which is why I have to cross through the entire backstage to reach him.

The silk ball is an indispensable prop in the next scene. Also... I have a “thank you” to say to him in person.

With this in mind, I quicken my pace, and find a familiar figure afar off in the busy backstage.

MC: Gavin! I’m over here!

I stand on my tiptoes and wave at him, thinking of ways to reach him even faster. 

Hearing this, Gavin raises his head. After seeing me, he immediately weaves through the crowd and walks towards me. 

People are moving to and fro. Our eyes only have each other, and we go against the flow of people, walking towards our only focus. 

Staff: Prepare for the second half!

When I’m only a few steps away from him, the countdown for the second half of the play resounds. 

MC: Gavin, this is for you!

In my desperation, I lift my hand. The silk ball flies in a slightly shaky arc, landing steadily in Gavin’s arms. 

[Trivia: In Chinese culture, the silk ball (绣球 - ”xiu qiu”) is used to symbolize love. Giving it to someone reflects the giving of one’s heart. If a woman is in search of a fated life partner, she will toss the ball high into the air in a crowd. The person who catches the silk ball would become the person’s husband]

MC: Gavin, about earlier...

Staff: MC? What are you doing here? Go back, we’re about to start soon. The snatching scene is next, and it’s very important. 

MC: Please wait! I haven’t finished what I wanted to say...

The staff doesn’t give me a chance to continue, and pulls me to the other end. 

I turn my head towards Gavin, and I have no choice but to swallow the words of gratitude I couldn’t say to him in time. 

Gavin: [unintentionally sexy whisper] Wait for me.

Gavin stands in place and looks at me, mouthing those words to me. 

The bell from the venue rings, and the noise from the audience gradually dissipates.

Staff: The Second Act! Begins!

-

[ CHAPTER FOUR: A flashback ]

Location: Gavin’s home

MC: “It’s good, and I doubt the lady would refuse, but...”

Gavin: Are you still looking at your lines?

MC: ...Gavin? Why are you here!

[Note: I have no idea why MC asks this since the backdrop is of his own house LOL]

Gavin walks over with a blanket in his hand. 

MC: The rehearsal is the day after tomorrow, so I’m trying to make use of my time to familiarise myself with the script, especially the scene where I’m reading the letter. Even though I should be able to read straight from the letter on the actual day, I think it’s better to memorise it just in case... Gavin, why don’t you accompany me in going through the lines!

Gavin nods and sits beside me. After covering me with the blanket, he takes the script from my hands. 

Gavin: From here? 

MC: Okay!

Gavin and I go through the dialogue. Places I usually get stuck at become miraculously smooth.

Without realising it, we’ve gone through the entire script.

I flip through the script, marking out places requiring additional attention. 

MC: I feel like Mr Keller has taken reference from the personalities of the actors when writing the lines. I keep thinking that the lines sound like what you would say.

While speaking, I let out a yawn.

Gavin: If you’re tired, rest. We can continue tomorrow. 

As the year draws to a close, there are more things than usual to settle at work. And when I come home, I’d have to familiarise myself with the script. It’s natural that I’d feel fatigued. 

MC: You don’t have anything on tomorrow? 

Gavin: I don’t have work tomorrow, so we can practice our lines.

MC: That’s great!

A warmth gushes out of my heart. I shift closer to Gavin, sharing half the blanket with him. We look at the script together. 

MC: This is so much warmer!

Gavin: ...do you still want to look at it? 

MC: Mm, let’s look through the letter scene again. “If you lack medical knowledge... attach some... scattered silver... I hope to do my best...”

The words in front of me gradually become blurry and distorted. After a certain line, I lean on Gavin’s shoulder in a dazed state, giving up on my fight against sleep.

Gavin: MC? Are you asleep? 

The girl, who loftily said they would look at the script together just a few minutes ago, is now leaning softly against his shoulder, sleeping peacefully. 

Gavin doesn’t wake her up, and simply covers her with a jacket. He flips to the first page of the script, quietly reading the girl’s lines, and memorising them. 

The city is asleep, but the room filled with the breath of two people is still illuminated with a tender light. 

The all-knowing stars in the night sky are silent, and will guard the small world belonging to these two people.

-

[ CHAPTER FIVE ] The curtains are drawn slowly. I once again step onto the stage, following the script. 

In this scene, Gavin will snatch the silk ball, and I will hand it to the male lead so he can bring his beloved home.

For the scene to be more realistic, the actors are allowed to walk around spontaneously. 

As such, I have to run past various settings, weave through the crowd, and finally reach the stipulated spot. 

MC: Swordsman Bai? 

Panting slightly, I stand underneath the embroidery building, looking for Gavin. 

[Trivia: In ancient times, women who were more socially well-to-do would do embroidery in embroidery buildings.]

The sense of deja vu blurs my perception of the boundaries between the play and reality. 

A strong wind arrives as promised. Following the glint of a sword, a path forms in the crowd, interrupting my thoughts.

Gavin is dressed in red. One hand holds onto the silk ball, and the other sheathes his sword. He walks straight towards me. 

Gavin: Trivial matters held me back, and I seek forgiveness from the lady. 

The corners of his lips are curled into an open smile. His eyes are wilful and tender. 

The setting of the blue sky, the red silk in the surroundings, and the startled magpie birds surround Gavin, who is donned in wedding attire. It makes one unable to look away. 

At this moment, he finally stands before me again. 

The crowd and the noise of the world - they no longer have anything to do with me. 

Gavin places the silk ball into my hands steadily. 

Even though I know this is a script, and that it’s part of the plot, I can’t help but feel that the red silk ball in my hands is akin to a solemn promise. 

A greedy thought even flits across my mind - maybe it’d be good if the story ends like this. 

On stage, the silk ball is finally handed to the scholar. The lady takes the silk ball and holds it with her lover.  

Under the embroidery building, Gavin suddenly takes my hand. 

Gavin: Perhaps this may be abrupt. MC, are you willing to marry me and become my wife? 

MC: ?!

Was there such a line in the script? 

I look at Gavin with confusion.

Gavin doesn’t say a word. He stares straight at me without a hint of evasion.

There are so many emotions within that pair of eyes, leaving me unable to make sense of them. I have no idea what to say. 

Off-stage, the audience erupt in thunderous cheers.

I glance to the side. Mr Keller, who has been watching the entire play, nods in my direction, signalling that I should continue in my role. 

My confusion dissipates when I see Gavin’s amber eyes, which are filled with deep, tender emotions and lingering affection. There is even an undercurrent of questioning and anticipation. 

It’s as though the answer I give would be an entrustment of the rest of my life. 

My heart beats loudly in my chest, feeling like it would leap out from my throat in the next second. 

MC: I... I accept. 

I blush and respond, not even sure if my words are loud enough to be heard by the audience off-stage. 

However, every single word is heard by Gavin, who has received my feelings. 

With a gentle laugh, he wraps an arm around my waist and lifts me up. 

Gavin brings me up the embroidery building to stand alongside the male and female leads.

At the end of the play, there is thunderous applause from off-stage. There are even a few audience members who are fully immersed in the story, sending us their blessings. 

In the midst of the applause, I tilt my head and lean towards Gavin’s ear, speaking softly. 

MC: Gavin, just now... I don’t remember seeing such a scene in the script?

Gavin: Mm, it was impromptu. 

MC: Why didn’t you tell me beforehand? I even thought...

Gavin doesn’t respond further, only smiling at me. 

Facing the cheering audience, the four of us bow and thank them for watching, as though worshipping the vast sea of people. 

After the play, everyone involved in the show gathers together to celebrate over dinner

MC: Gavin, thank you so much for today! It’s a good thing you saved the show! Back then... I really didn’t know what to do.

While I speak, I raise the drink in my hand, clinking it lightly against Gavin’s.

Gavin: You were looking for me just now to say this? 

He raises his drink, making up for the delayed clink. 

MC: Yeah. I wanted to thank you properly, but time was so tight that I couldn’t find the chance. Come to think of it, how did you know my lines...

Gavin: When we were rehearsing lines together, I just memorised them as well.

Gavin lowers his head and takes a mouthful of food, maintaining his usual casual attitude. Noticing that I’ve been watching him, he rubs his neck in slight confusion.

Gavin: Um... is there something on my face?

I immediately shake my head. A warm wave of emotions overflow from my heart. Countless words of gratitude are lodged in my throat, but I feel that no matter what I say, it would not be enough.

In the end, I silently fill a bowl of soup for him.

At the table, everyone is eating and drinking merrily, and the atmosphere is warm.

MC: After spending so many days with the crew, thinking of how we might not have the chance to get together like this again makes me feel quite reluctant to part with them.

I lean against Gavin, looking at the lively crew around us. 

MC: Gavin, I suddenly thought about something from my childhood. My dad used to be busy producing programs, and would bring me to the recording site to spend the New Year’s. The site was always busy, but no matter how pressed they were for time, everyone would sit down together and have an especially sumptuous dinner. Once I grew up, I also started spending my New Year’s working. I still remember that the warm ambience back then was the same as right now. 

Gavin: Mm, I can imagine. I used to spend New Year’s with my teammates, and it was very lively. 

MC: Even though it’s not at home, it’s still a different kind of fun!

Gavin: Since we’re on this topic, [coughs]...

Gavin seems to have something very important to say, but he takes another sip of his drink and stops. 

I blink, waiting for him quietly. I can vaguely guess what he wants to say.

In the end, he seems to become determined. He clears his throat and turns his head to look at me with a serious expression. 

Gavin: Over the next few days, if you don’t have anything else planned....

Gavin: Spend the New Year’s with me at home.

His tone is light, but the look in his eyes tells me just how solemn this invitation is. Even the tips of his ears turn an unnatural shade of red. 

I am very certain that, to the both of us, these words are the most precious and serious treasures from the deepest parts of his heart. 

MC: Okay. 

I nod heavily in response. Since a very long time ago, this answer has not changed.

The corners of Gavin’s lips turn up slightly. Those eyes, which always have an undercurrent of emotions, look like a glacier that has melted in spring, tenderly melting into a warm current. 

Gavin: I’ll pick you up then.

MC: Mm!!

The way his lips are curled upwards is as though all the uncertainties in his heart have found a most potent answer. 

I find myself smiling along with him.

MC: I recently learnt how to make a few New Year’s dishes, so we can try them. 

Gavin: All right, I can help. My skills... have improved. 

I freeze for a moment, making a sudden realisation. 

MC: Have you been practicing in secret? Looks like teaching you how to cook was a wise decision.

Gavin: ...I occasionally tried to.

MC: I’ll have to check the results of my teaching this year then!

Gavin: No problem. 

Gavin smiles, nodding his head with some measure of seriousness. He suddenly thinks of something.

Gavin: Oh yes, do we need to buy things like spring couplets?

MC: Mmhmm, we also have to buy the character “福”! It will only feel like New Year’s when we have these things pasted.

[Trivia: During the Chinese New Year, households paste an inverted red coloured square with the character 福 (“fu”, which means auspiciousness, blessing or happiness) on doors, walls, etc. to usher in such tidings]

I continue talking, listing on my fingers the items I want to purchase.

In my memory, my aunties’ fierce interrogations don’t seem that long ago. In just a blink of an eye, a new year has arrived. 

[Note: She’s making reference to the Spring Festival Date!]

This time, we can leave our time to each other. 

In a place belonging only to us, flipping open a new year’s calendar together.

The atmosphere at the dining table is just right. The sound of clinking glasses and celebration comes in waves. No one notices this small corner. 

We clasp each others’ fingers quietly. 

Our pulses, only separated by a layer of skin, call out to each other in the language of warmth.

I’m so lucky to have you by my side. 

[magioftheseas]

An Encounter Among Blossoms

Summary: Haru meets a young man who seems to have an affinity for her gardening neighbor. She's quite eager to scout him out before the two of them meet.

Rating: G

Warnings: Akechi sticks a rabbit in a bag, but the rabbit is fine.

Notes: It’s a Haru fic for Akechi’s birthday which is just a little strange but I really love the idea of her and Akechi as gardening neighbors. It’s super cute. Haru’s super cute. Shuake’s super cute. Cute!

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

It hadn’t been a particularly bright or warm day. The diluted sunshine was still pleasant in its own way, comfortable like room temperature and unassuming. Another fine day, she would think as she headed down the usual path, humming a little tune as she did. The insignificance of the weather preceded the encounter which was anything but.

When Haru rounded around the corner to her garden, there was an unfamiliar young man standing by. It wasn’t unusual for people to pass by, nor was it unusual for them to stop with alarm once they heard the string of colorful curses and irate grumbles. This young man, however, was not frozen in place with alarm. He stared out into her gardening neighbor’s domain and even without seeing his face, Haru knew the young man was transfixed.

“Excuse me,” Haru called out politely, making the young man jump. She wondered what sort of face she expected under that head of messy black curls, but—perhaps she was surprised by how striking this stranger looked.

Yes, this young man had almost delicate features. A smooth jaw and soft lips parted in surprise before pulling into a more neutral line. His eyes were dark like iron—one that held other colors in its embrace rather than swallowed them whole.

“Staring is rude,” Haru said, then, aware that she was staring. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, I...” The young man steps back, ducking his head as if to hide that gaze behind his fringe. A shame, really, Haru almost wanted to comb them back to catch another glimpse.

...but if he had stopped to stare, then it was at...

“I just,” the young man continues, pinching a curl between his long fingers. Elegant if not for how the nails had been bitten short. “I was just...passing by.”

“That’s fine,” Haru said sunnily. “Would you mind helping me out, then?”

“Oh.” This person made a very familiar face. The kind where it’s clear the person finds it difficult to say no. “Is that...alright?”

“I could always use a helper bee,” Haru chirped and when she came close, she murmured to him, “And Goro does as well, even if he’s too stubborn to admit it.”

The young man is silent, but there’s the slightest twitch of a smile at his lips.

“I’m Haru,” she says, blushing now that she realized she hadn’t yet introduced herself.

“Amamiya...Ren.” He nodded politely in return. “It’s nice to meet you, Haru-san.”

“Just Haru is fine, Amamiya-kun.”

“Then just Ren is fine.”

Goodness...he doesn’t know the effect he has on people, does he?

She was almost glad to swoop in before Goro could see or notice.

--

She was especially glad when it turned out Ren was a dutiful helper. He would do anything asked without complaint. Admittedly, he’d be so docile it uncomfortably reminded her of her past self. At the very least, it was less that Ren was eager to please and more that it just—didn’t occur to him to perform half-heartedly.

As he meticulously pulled out weeds, she did notice his posture wasn’t dissimilar to Goro’s.

A hard worker, one who doesn’t complain. With natural charm.

“Ren, ren,” she says in a lilting voice, smiling when he looks up to her attentively. Her smile broadens and she hands him one freshly washed tomato. “They’re ripe today. What do you think?”

Ren does smile mildly before biting into the tomato. He’s quick to lick its juices off his fingers. He nods in approval but is too busy eating to give any verbal compliments.­

“Good enough for Goro?” she asks, watching to see if he chokes. He does not, but he’s quieter. There’s a softer pink on his cheeks. Haru can’t help but grin. “Gather some up when you’re done. We’re going to visit him.”

Ren didn’t work half-heartedly, but it was only now that he worked eagerly and enthusiastically. He diligently picked, and painstakingly washed each one until it was spotless. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t envious.

Ren was a charming young man. Even if she already has a beautiful girlfriend, she wouldn’t mind dating him as well. Only if her girlfriend was into it as well, of course.

Alas, I don’t think he’s interested in me at all.

She’s not too bothered, not when Ren follows her like a puppy and carries the basket of tomatoes with great care. As if he’d do anything to avoid even the slightest bruise. As she crosses the border from her garden into her neighbor’s, it’s not long before she spots that neighbor. Specifically his sunhat and his ponytail. Kneeling down, staring at a squirming sack no doubt with a look of deep consternation.

“Goro, what are you doing?” she asks cheerfully. “Is there a rabbit in that bag?���

“This fucking pest,” he hisses, snapping to attention and spinning on his heel to face her. “Won’t leave my goddamn...ah.” His expression drops the second he sees that someone else is with her. His face scrunches up. “Amamiya? What the hell?”

“Oh!” Haru gasped, looking between them. “You two know each other?”

Ren simply stares at Goro intensely, and Goro’s mouth twitches into a forced smile.

“Goodness, what a surprise,” he says, slipping into a more pleasant front with the elegance of the stepsister shoving her foot into the glass slipper. “Amamiya-kun is the barista of the café I frequent. We’ve played chess a few times. We’re...acquaintances, you can say. I’m quite embarrassed you’ve seen me in such an...improper state.” He even tugs at his sunhat to hide his face. Specifically that cute splatter of freckles that Haru appreciated even if the general populace didn’t. “I apologize greatly.”

He gives a bow.

“Goro,” Haru reprimanded gently. “Enough of that. Ren-kun already saw you cursing out the grass earlier.”

“I sure did,” Ren agreed, and he hands Goro the basket. “Here you are, Akechi.”

“Happy birthday!” Haru exclaimed excitedly and shoved Ren forward for good measure. Ren did yelp, as did Goro, but no one managed to fall. Not yet anyway. “I know you said not to get you anything, but I had...a bootyful harvest! And to top it off, Ren-kun’s just your type!”

“Haru,” Goro hissed, red in the face.

“You look really nice in a ponytail,” Ren offered awkwardly. “But, uh, you’re not going to eat that rabbit, right? Like...the big bad wolf?”

“Goodness, no!” Haru exclaimed. “Goro just catches them and gives them to me to release elsewhere. Although I’m not sure...” She trails off when she sees just how covered in dirt Goro is. “Well. You can at least try not to frighten them so much.”

“For whatever reason this one avoided the usual traps,” Goro huffed, gesturing at the sack as if it were obscene. “I had to personally deal with it.”

“Is it really your birthday?” Ren asks. “I, uh...didn’t know. But if you want, I can treat you to curry and coffee on the house later this afternoon...”

“Doesn’t that sound lovely?” Haru asks, and she goes to gingerly pick up the sack. She does glance inside and yes, it’s quite the energetic black bunny. She wonders if she’d get away with taking it home instead. Probably not. “I’ll take care of this darling.”

“Haru,” Goro warned again. “I-It’s not...”

“Please enjoy your tomatoes and your birthday, Goro! Don’t feel the need to wait on me if you want to go somewhere!”

She’d leave with a skip in her step but she doesn’t want to jostle the rabbit too much. Either way, she ignores Goro calling after her in exasperation and unease. He quiets, and a quick glance back—she sees that Ren is patting Goro’s shoulder as he sullenly bites into a tomato.

--

“Here you are, darling!”

Strangely, the rabbit doesn’t dart away the second Haru releases it. It just sniffs around, grooming its ear, blinking up at her with beady eyes.

“Curious dear, aren’t you,” she cooed. “And mischievous. Should I give you a name? How about Loki?”

The rabbit turns away, seeming disinterested.

“Or Noir!” Haru exclaimed, and laughed. “Either way, caused quite a bit of trouble for Goro, didn’t you? But you must know that his bark is often worse than his bite. Despite that, the flowers he grows are quite beautiful, aren’t they? Do you think under those roses is where he buried our fathers?”

No answer of course, but when it glanced back, she couldn’t help but be reminded of Ren.

...they met already, huh...? Then...I think things will be very interesting from here on out.

She and Goro had been associates for quite some time now. She’d like to think she knew him quite well, and she thought she had scouted Ren out well enough to know that he was Goro’s type.

“He deserves to be happy,” she told the rabbit and left it at that.

--

When she returns, Ren and Goro are already deep in some strange debate. Goro even laughs, but he quickly scowls when Ren points out the juice on his cheek. Ren’s commenting, likely on Goro’s demeanor, and the conversation is serious now.

As curious as she is, it’s improper to eavesdrop. Haru crosses the border once more, returning to her garden. There’s still work to be done.

[antiloquist]

With Passion and Fervor

Lord help me, I’m back on my bullshit.

Hildibrand/female Viera Warrior of Light. Rated E. CW for heat cycles.

Summary: The Warrior of Light gets hit with an unexpected heat at what might be the worst time possible. The only person there to help her? Agent of Inquiry Extraordinaire, Hildibrand Manderville! It would probably be far less embarrassing if she didn't have a huge crush on him.

(Spice under the cut!)

You really shouldn’t have ignored the warning signs. The slight vertigo, the sudden full-body sensitivity, the hot flashes… they were all signs that your heat was bearing down on you. Foolishly, you’d simply figured you were coming down with something and decided to take it easy in Kugane for a few days to recover. But no… it couldn’t be this early, could it? You’d just had your last one a few months ago, which you’d managed to tamp down with the usual suppressants as you knew it was coming. But this time, you’d had nothing to curb it with and once it was in full swing, it was too late anyway. Maybe it was the stress of everything you’d been through over the past few months, running back and forth between Ala Mhigo and Doma for this and that. When things finally slowed down, when you finally had a chance to catch up with your friends that you had outside your circle as the Warrior of Light… boom. It had also picked the worst possible time to hit you. That time just happened to be in the middle of the day, right near the busy streets of Kugane, while you were walking with (of all people) your good friend Hildibrand. The two of you were investigating the possible merits of the recently captured Kugane Wolf Burglar when suddenly everything got far too intense for your liking. That was, it was suddenly too warm, too loud, too… smelly. Not to mention that deep inside you you had an ache you couldn’t deny. No, you were far past denial. You were in the middle of a raging heat in public. Twelve take you. You hit the ground before you even realized you were falling, sounds and sights a blur around you. For a moment, you laid on the pavement, spinning and aching. You were burning up, burning to a crisp. Hells, you’d take fighting Ifrit again over this. It was too hot and you were wearing too much and- Faintly you were aware of someone calling your name. You cracked open one eye to see a very concerned Hildibrand, crouched right above you. (Looming, powerful, ready to take-) “My friend!” he exclaimed when he saw that you were finally looking at him. “Are you alright? You suddenly collapsed!” Before you could respond, Hildibrand had whipped off one of his gloves and was pressing a bare hand to your forehead. The contact felt as if Ramuh himself had come down upon you with a Shock Strike, and you moaned softly. “Oh dear, this is not good at all! You’re burning up!” “H-Hildy…” you replied weakly, trying to sit up. When the act of moving made you dizzy all over again, you gave up, flopping back down and hoping the pavement would swallow you whole. This had gone far beyond embarrassing; this was downright mortifying. It was fortunate, at least, that you’d chosen a relatively quiet side street to collapse upon. The last thing you needed was a crowd of onlookers surrounding you. You turned to the side, curling up in a ball and shuddering as the feel of concrete against your skin was multiplied by your condition. “We must get you assistance immediately!” You nodded hazily. Yes, assistance. Assistance in the form of a strong mate to take you and take care of you was what you needed. Wait. No. You were in public, you couldn’t lose yourself here. “I-I need…” Thoughts were hard to come by, your mind swimming. You took a deep breath in through your mouth, careful not to breathe in the scent of everyone around you. “I just need to rest, Hildy. Give me a moment and I can get up and get back to the inn.” Hildibrand shook his head. “Nonsense! I shall carry you there myself!” “Wait, n-“ Any potential response was cut off by Hildibrand scooping you up into his arms bridal style. The shock of it combined by the disorientation of being moved so suddenly caused you to inhale in a gasp. The most prominent scent near you was, of course, Hildibrand. He gave off a powerful musk that was normally undetectable. During your heat, however, it was all you could perceive. Up until your collapse, it had been distracting but manageable. Now it was overwhelming. You groaned as Hildibrand cradled you against his chest. He felt so solid, so strong- “Yes, I know, you are capable of caring for yourself. You have told me this many times! However, I cannot in good conscience leave you to battle this illness alone on the streets of Kugane! What kind of gentleman would leave his comrade in such a state?” It seemed he’d mistaken your vocalization of lust for one of frustration. That… was probably for the better, as the last thing you wanted right now is for him to know in what manner he was currently occupying your thoughts. Hildibrand started off towards the inn at a brisk pace, taking care not to jostle you as he did. You buried your head in his chest so that the motion blur of people around you wouldn’t make you sick. Of course, this just made your scent problem worse. Lesser of two evils, you supposed.

By the time he’d gotten you up to your room door, you barely had the brainpower to undo the lock. Instead, you were consumed by thoughts of what it would be like for the man currently carrying you to pin you to the mattress and- “On the bed?” Yes, on the bed, over the table, against the wall- Wait. That wasn’t what he meant. “Yes, please,” you gasped. Hildibrand deposited you (somewhat unceremoniously) on the bed, and the soft surface was a welcome feel against your sensitive, overheated skin. He then stood over you, contemplating his next steps. (Again with the looming-) “Hildy…” Gods, he was so tall, and he looked so powerful standing above you like this. It would be so easy for him to just move forward and pin you down and- “Is there aught I can do for you, my friend?” You clamped your mouth shut before you could reply ‘breed me’. Instead, you took another deep breath through your mouth before you started talking. “I think all I need is some rest and-“ “Ah, I know! I shall procure you some soup! Mother dearest always did the same for me during my boyhood illnesses, and now I shall do so for you!” He gave you his signature flex and grin, and the heart flutter it usually incited in you was amplified to a full on shiver of desire. Hildibrand, of course, misinterpreted this. “My word, why didn’t you say you were cold!?” Before you could protest, he had shed his jacket and placed it gently on top of you. “There, that should help! Now where was I? Ah yes, soup! I shall procure you the heartiest of broths at once!” And just like that, he was off. Classic Hildibrand. You looked down at the jacket he had given you. It was only a few days old, his last one having been shredded in pursuit of the Kugane Wolf Burglar. Nonetheless, it had had plenty of time to accrue his scent, and he’d left it here with you... Oh gods, you couldn’t. That would be so weird! But you were aching so badly… In a flash, you’d stripped off your clothing. The feel of the soft sheets against you was like a gentle caress, and you moaned. You pressed your nose to the collar of Hildibrand’s jacket and inhaled, your head falling back with near delirium at the strong musk that lingered on the article of clothing. You’d always liked him. How could you not? He was such a kind and valiant man, giving his all to help others and expecting nothing in return. He was selfless and determined and everything you aspired to be. Despite the world seeming at odds with him on a daily basis, he faced every challenge with a flex and a smile. He treated everyone equally, even you who had felled gods and liberated nations. You were never the ‘Warrior of Light’ to dear Hildibrand, you were just… you. He was merely happy to have you along for the ride as a friend and confidant. Never once did he think of you as simply an asset or a weapon. And you loved that, you missed it when he wasn’t there. And that was just his personality. It didn’t hurt that he was also a very handsome man. It was easy for some to overlook, given his penchant for making silly expressions, but you never forgot it for a second. Tall, well-dressed, well-groomed (save for the odd explosion or other mishap)... gods, what a catch. With one hand pressing the fabric of Hildibrand’s jacket firmly to your nose, you slowly snaked the other down your body, each brush of your fingertips leaving a flame trail of sensation in its wake. Would that it could be his hand instead of yours. He’d always had such nice, big hands. Without hesitation, you slid two fingers inside yourself, meeting absolutely zero resistance. You were sure you were already making a mess of your sheets but that was something you would worry about later. Right now you needed to relieve this ache before it drove you mad. As you tended to yourself, you imagined Hildibrand standing above you, his russet eyes wide with lust and interest as he watched. What would he do? Would he lay his hands upon you at your request? Or would he be too bashful to do so? You could see it going either way. You’d seen him in (innocent) action, though, and gods, he was so strong… It would be so easy for him to move you this way and that as he took his pleasure and took care of yours. You envisioned him above you, pinning your wrists to the mattress as he roughly took you, heated kisses swallowing your cries of pleasure. But that really wasn’t his style, was it? Hildibrand was a lover, not a fighter. He frequently talked about how he eschewed roughness and violence and you figured that would likely extend to the bedroom as well. Would he take his time with you, then? Would he savor each caress, each curve of your body? As you inserted a third finger, you could almost feel the touch of his hands as they traced your form with reverence. Yes, he would be a gentleman throughout, wouldn’t he? You let a moan of his name slip from between your lips as you imagined his own slowly traveling down your body, planting heated kisses all over. He could still manhandle you as much as he wanted, of course. You wanted him to put that godlike strength of his to good use. In your mind’s eye, you could see the muscles in his arms flexing as he picked you up to carry you gods-know-where for a round whose number you’d long lost track of. “Hildy… Hildy,  please…” Finger number four made its entrance as you sped up your pace, pumping in and out and wishing all the while it was his thick cock instead. Your thumb worked at your clit as salacious wet sounds filled the room. Oh yes, you were close. This wouldn’t sate you, of course, but it would allow you a few scant moments of rest before your biology riled you up once more. You took in another deep breath of his scent as you imagined him flipping you onto your stomach and taking you from behind. The force would be enough to make the bedframe knock against the wall, and there wouldn’t be a soul in this inn that didn’t know what you were up to. “Hildy… I need you, Hildy… please, take me…” You imagined him finishing inside you, filling you to the brim with seed that was sure to take and grow and provide you with what your body so desperately craved. (Never mind that you were still under the effects of a long-term contraception spell you had refreshed every so often) Not only was he a strong mate, he would be a caring one too. You knew he’d pamper you through every step of what was inevitably to come of your coupling. Maybe that’s what attracted you to him, the promise of being treated well. As you neared your peak, your cries became louder and higher in pitch. You were being noisy but at this point you were far from caring, the only thing on your mind being the promise of temporary relief. “Hildyhildyhildyhildy please-“ And then there was a crash. The crash was both you toppling over your peak as well as an actual physical crash complete with a sound and all. Orgasm completed but ruined, you yanked your fingers out of yourself as you jerked back out of surprise. You removed Hildibrand’s jacket from your face and pulled yourself up into a sitting position to see no other than the man himself, standing among the ruins of what looked to be a soup tray with a hand clapped firmly over his eyes. Well, you were fucked, and not in the way you wanted to be. There was no way you were going to convince him this wasn’t what it looked like. In your temporary post-orgasm clarity, the mortification over what you had done finally began to set in. How loud had you been? He must have heard you, there was no way he didn’t. “Hildib-“ “My deepest, sincerest apologies!” he exclaimed, catching you off guard. Wait, what? He’d caught you using his jacket for untoward things and yet he was the one apologizing? You blinked at him for a moment. “Uh…” “If I had known you were taking some personal time, I would never have entered! I knocked but I thought you said..." He shook his head. "Do forgive me for such a horrid intrusion upon your privacy! I shall take my leave at once!” Hand still covering his eyes, he turned and fumbled for the door handle. If you let him go now then things would be awkward between you two for the rest of forever, if he could even look you in the eye ever again. “Wait! Hildy. Please… wait. I need to explain something to you.” To your surprise, he stopped. “I… I am listening, my dear lady.” He swallowed heavily, lump in his throat bobbing as he did so. You cursed yourself over how transfixed you were on it. You pulled the bedsheet so that it was at least over your lap and slipped the jacket on to cover your chest. His scent was now cloyingly close but you were able to push it to the back of your mind for the time being. “You can open your eyes.” He did so but only spared you a glance before averting his eyes again with a hearty blush. At least he kept them uncovered this time. He noticed a chair nearby and went to sit in it. You noticed he spread his legs wider than usual upon doing so and decided to stray your eyes away from the area lest your clarity of mind become short-lived. He sighed deeply, and you wondered what was going through that mind of his. “H-how familiar are you with Viera biology, Hildibrand?” “Not at all, I’ll admit. You are the first one I have ever met. Apologies once more for my faux pas upon our first meeting!” You chuckled softly as you remember how he’d complimented you on the craftsmanship of your ears on the way back through the Sagolii after returning him to his senses. The look of shock on his face when you informed him that they were your actual ears was priceless. “Water under the bridge.” You thought for a moment. “Okay... Are you familiar with Miqo’te biology, then?” This was more likely to have an affirmative answer, considering his best friend and most astute assistant was one. She must have told him a thing or two here or there. The two were far from the same, of course, but the principle you were applying was similar enough that comparisons could be drawn. There was a beat of silence, and you could practically hear the proverbial cogs in his brain whirring. “There were a few paragraphs in one of the textbooks I read in my childhood schooling. I must admit.. though my powers of deduction are strong indeed, I haven’t the foggiest what this would have to do with your sudden illne-“ “I’m in heat, Hildy!” you exclaimed, cutting to the chase. His eyes widened with understanding, and you breathed a sigh of relief upon realizing that he at least had been told about the birds and the bees at some point. (With Hildy, there was always that possibility that he hadn’t.) “Ah.” He coughed awkwardly. “So then… you would be feeling an intense desire to-“ "Yes.” The heat on your face was more from embarrassment than any lingering lust at this point. You wondered how much time you had left before another wave hit you. Hildibrand frowned, standing from his chair and beginning to pace. “Naturally occurring, I assume?” You nodded. “Very well, I do believe that solves the mystery of your mysterious ailment! There is one thing, however, that escapes me.” “What’s that?” “How did you know I was standing outside your door with soup? I heard you calling to me.” You blinked, unsure if he was joking or not. Surely he realized that you were- Well, this was Hildibrand after all. He was brilliant in some places and completely stupid in others. “Uh, I didn’t. I was, uh… I was actually…” Oh gods, were you going to have to spell out to this dense man that you were getting yourself off to the thought of him? (Probably) “You were…” “Thinking about you, Hildy! I was thinking about you, while I was…” Thankfully he didn’t need any elaboration from there judging by the way his practically non-existent eyebrows shot up to his hairline and his jaw dropped. You hung your head in shame. He probably thought you were a degenerate or something, and the thought of having earned the disdain of a man who thought so highly of most everyone was- He cleared his throat. “Well! I must certainly say I am surprised!” he finally said. “And somewhat flattered.” “Y-you aren’t angry” “Angry? Nonsense!” he replied with a shake of his head. “In fact, I apologize if I have caused you undue suffering due to my proximity!” You weren’t sure you followed. “Suffering…" “Why, yes! Considering you’ve spent the past few days with me and almost no one else, er, compatible, it stands to reason that you would pick me to, to, er…” It seems he was just as embarrassed about this as you were. Maybe this was something you could laugh about later. “And I must admit I myself have been feeling rather distracted as of late, and thinking more often than usual about-“ He stopped himself. “Er, that bit isn’t important!” Oh, he must have picked up on the mating pheromones you’d been unconsciously secreting. The purpose of those was to attract a suitable mate and therefore they adjusted to what was needed to bring a specific one in. And that meant that your biology had indeed latched onto the idea of copulating with the man who stood right in front of you, pacing. You felt a prickle of heat travel down your spine. Uh-oh. It looked like another wave was approaching. You had to get him out of here before you embarrassed yourself further. “Is there a… a treatment?” he asked, blushing further. “Er! I mean a-a potion, perhaps, that I could acquire for you at the market?” He clarified that last bit a touch too quickly for your liking, and you frowned at the implication that he was repulsed by all of this. The mortification mixed with the creeping heat threatened to overwhelm you once more, but you managed to keep it back for now. “Not once it’s started, no. Before, yes, there are things to suppress it, but it’s… too late now. I’ve got no choice but to, uh, endure it.” You were about to say ‘ride it out’, but that conjured up mental images of you riding something else entirely, something attached to a certain inspector. Hildibrand, true to form, was pondering away about how to help you despite his personal bashfulness. He continued to be as sweet and selfless as could be despite the touchy subject matter. (It wasn’t helping curb your desire for him. In fact, it was making it worse.) “Alright then, is there any way to make it less… unbearable? Clearly, you are in agony!” Oh. He’d asked the question you’d been dreading. There was indeed one way to alleviate the discomfort, but that would involve… “Uh. One way. But you probably won’t like it.” “I am open to suggestions! I could not in good conscience leave you like this.” You shook your head. “One of the ways to help a heat is to… fulfill it. And it’s best done by… the person chosen by the heat-bearer.” He blinked, turning redder than a Tomato Knight. “Ah. I see. Indeed.” He paced faster. “So in your case, that would be…” “You, yes.” You wanted to pull the sheets up over your head and hide for a good hundred years. “See, I told you you wouldn’t like it.” “That is most certainly untrue! I would find such a prospect to be most enti-“ It seems he’s realized what he’s said, and he clamps a hand over his mouth. So there was a chance. That was all you parsed out of what he’d just said. The desire trickling back into your core turned into a roiling boil at this point. “Y-you would?” “Er, that is, I meant to say… I could never!” Oh. And suddenly there was a layer of ice cold water poured on top of that roaring fire. “N-no?” Hiding in the sheets sounded better and better by the second. “O-of course not! You clearly are not in your right mind, your decisions clouded by your condition! I could never take advantage of you like that!” Oh? That was his problem? Did he seriously not realize that for the past few years, you had been- “I’ve always liked you, Hildy!” you blurted out. It was now or never, and there would never be a better opportunity to confess your feelings. It was his turn to blink in confusion. “Truly?” You nodded, hands each taking a fistful of sheet in front of you and balling up to give you the courage to push through your mortification. “Yes, since the day we met pretty much. H-how could I not? You’re so sweet and selfless and you never let anything get you down!” You buried your face in the balled sheet and tried not to wallow in how hopeless this was. Hildibrand just stood there for a moment, contemplating. “I never knew you felt that way about me.” “I thought I made it pretty obvious,” you said, peeking up at him. This was indeed true; you flirted with him very frequently and always made it a point to be touchy-feely and affectionate. It, of course, all went right over his head. “I was told frequently from a young age to never read too much into a woman’s kindness. My mother was insistent I learn that to prevent any social mishaps. I know that simply because a lady is kind does not necessarily mean she’s interested.” You nodded, conceding that that was indeed a fair point. “And your mother is a smart woman, I know. She’s right. Most times people are nice to be nice, or because they have to be because of something or another.” You pulled the sheet back down to look at him fully. “But me, I… I’m definitely interested!”

It was Hildibrand’s turn to look bashful. “I… I have always thought you were rather lovely…” Your heart skipped a beat. “Y-you’ve never said anything.” “Of course not! After what you did to that one Brass Blade when we were in Costa del Sol, I figured it quite prudent to keep my opinions quiet!” Oh yeah, you remembered that. After the man in question had grabbed your arse, you’d delivered him an ass-kicking so potent he’d needed to see a healer. “He shoulda watched his hands…” you muttered. “I quite agree, though as you know I eschew violence…” He coughed awkwardly again. “Anyway! What I am trying to say is that I know better than to make unsolicited advances on someone!” You sighed. This man was so dense. “T-this wouldn’t be unsolicited, Hildy…” “I-I suppose not, no…” “I want you. I need you.” You let the waves of heat you’d been holding back wash over you once more, and you bit your lip as you let your eyes wash over his form. Without his jacket, you could easily see the muscular forearms he possessed, left bare by the rolled-up sleeves of his dress shirt. As always, his undestroyed clothing was impeccably pressed, from the center of his bowtie down to the creases in his slacks. (Slacks that were, you now realized, looking unusually tight around the groin area) You licked your lips as you took him in, and you could see his face grow redder by the second. “F-far be it from me to deny you the relief you so desperately need,” he said. “You can say no, I promise. If you’re not comfortable with it, I don’t want to make you.” He shook his head. “I… I do apologize for my brazenness but I very much want to! I simply… never imagined it happening this way.” You tilted your head at him. “What did you imagine, Hildy?” “A lengthy, proper courtship! With dates and conversation and the wooing you so verily deserve!” “Hildy…” you said, breaking out into a fit of giggles. “Life’s too short for that sort of thing.” Well, too short for him. As a Viera, you still had many years to go, but he didn’t need to know that. He wrung his hands. “I must warn you… I don’t have much in the form of experience… well, that is to say, hands-on experience! I’ve read about this plenty from… novels.” Ah, so he had a guilty pleasure after all. “That’s okay. I can show you what to do if you’d like?” You were about two seconds away from throwing the sheet off your lap, you were overheating so much. He nodded, taking a step towards you. Your breath hitched in your throat as he fully turned his attention to you for the first time since he entered the room. “May I… may I gaze upon you, my lady?” he asked, clearing his throat. He tugged at his bowtie with one hand to loosen it while he took off his monocle with the other. His monocle as well as his gloves found their way on top of the chest of drawers behind him. He did not undress further than that. “Yes, of course!” You wanted to expedite this, so you tossed aside the sheet you’d been using for modesty’s sake, leaving his jacket as the only cover that sat between your bare form and Hildibrand’s russet eyes. His eyes immediately shot to your legs before quickly looking away. He then looked back when he remembered you’d given him permission to do so. “You’re stunning…” he murmured, taking another step forward. “You’re quite the looker yourself,” you shot back, using all your willpower to stop yourself from just jumping him. He swallowed thickly, taking yet another step that put him at the foot of your bed. You reflexively spread your legs for him. “Ah, first let me, er…” he made a conflicted face. “I would very much like to at least kiss you first!” You snickered, lifting a hand and crooking a finger at him in a ‘come hither’ motion. “Then do it, oh brave and valiant inspector.” As if under a spell, he did so, kicking off his shoes as he crawled onto the bed. You reached for him and your lips met in a heated kiss. He wasn’t as bad a kisser as you had feared. Maybe he’d had some practice somewhere. You pushed that thought to the back of your mind to prevent jealousy from springing forth, opting instead to deepen the kiss. It was everything you had wanted and more. With this, the floodgates burst open and all the passion you’d held for him came bursting forth. You nibbled his lip and slipped in a bit of tongue as your hands wandered down to explore his muscled chest. He groaned softly as you did so, the first noise of pleasure he’d given this whole time. The reciprocation spurred you onward and you grabbed at his shirt and pulled. Hildibrand gasped as suddenly buttons flew here and there, some clattering against the hardwood floor. He moved back just a little to assess the damage. It seemed you’d torn every button off his shirt in a fit of passionate strength. You covered your mouth with your hand, utterly embarrassed. “Oh Twelve, I am so sorry, Hildy!” Instead of being upset, however, he merely chuckled and shook his head. “Not to worry, my dear! I have many replacements.” With all the times you’d seen his clothing get ripped and torn and dirtied, this tracked. You couldn’t help but laugh along too. At the beginning, you’d been worried this would be awkward and stiff, but being with Hildibrand just felt so right. Your heart fluttered as you pulled him in for another kiss. When you next broke for air, you moved to shrug off his jacket and were a little surprised when he stopped you. “Ah, I was wondering if perhaps I could make a request?” He was incredibly bashful already, as if he were expecting you to refuse without even hearing him out. Instead of refusing, however, you tilted your head at him. “I’m all ears,” you joked, gesturing to your long ones. He laughed, feeling a little more at ease. “Ah, well! I was wondering if perhaps…” He flushed deeper. “Perhaps you could keep that on while we, ah… while we…” Oh, he was feeling a little possessive. You couldn’t help but moan softly as another wave of heat and lust rolled through you. The noise brought out one of his own, and you saw his blush travel from his face down his neck and settle in his chest. You followed it down, carding through the light dusting of brown hair he possessed. “Gladly,” you purred. He let you explore as you pleased, leaning back a little to give you better access. Under your fingertips, you could feel his racing heart, and you were sure yours was beating in time. “Is that what you want, Hildy?” you teased. When he looked at you quizzically you merely smirked. “Do you want to claim me as yours using your jacket? Mmm, that’s a little forward, don’t you think?” Hildibrand looked conflicted. “I-I would never purport to own you, my dear! You are your own person who-“ You placed a finger to his lips to silence his nervous rambling. “Relax, I’m just teasing you a little. I’m more than happy to wear this for you. In fact…” You bit your lip, wondering if you should confess this so readily. “It’s something I’ve definitely fantasized about before…” It was now your turn to be flustered. Hildibrand, however, was determined to outdo you, it seemed. “Ah, I see! That is…  that’s rather… I must say that is rather flattering!” You could probably reach out and physically shut Hildibrand’s jaw, he seemed so surprised. “Don’t act so shocked, Hildy,” you said with a giggle. “I’m sure you have more fans than you realize.” You leaned closer. “And besides… you can claim me any which way you want.” You nibbled his earlobe. This seemed to spur a reaction in him, as he turned and kissed you deeply. Yes, there was the power you knew he could display. His hands came to rest on your hips, politely awaiting instruction. “How would… how did you want to...” he tried to ask when you broke for air. Grinning, you turned so that your back was facing him, your rear up in the air. Doubtless he could see how soaked and desperate you were for him. “Take me, Hildy.” You wiggled at him for emphasis. (To your relief he did not ask you where you wanted him to take you.) “Ah, yes, let me just…” You could hear him fumbling with the fasteners on his slacks. When he audibly breathed a sigh of relief, you looked back to see he’d undone them enough to pull out- Well. That would be more than satisfying. And gods, he was thicker than you’d imagined. You wiggled even harder in anticipation of being filled. When he didn’t enter you immediately, you glanced back to make sure he was alright. “Hildy?” You weren’t sure you could take much more of this. “Are you certain about this, my dear? I know from my, er, research that consent is the most important part of any intimate encounter and-“ “Stop talking and fuck me before I go mad!” He did as he was told. With his large hands taking hold of your hips, he thrust forward with a surprising amount of force, burying himself to the hilt in you in one singular stroke. You practically screamed with relief as you felt him stretch you. Yes, this was exactly what you craved, what you needed. Relief and salvation were here and they had come in the form of the eccentric inspector you adored so much. “A-are you alright?” he called from behind you. Doubtless that had gone faster than he had intended and now he was concerned he’d hurt you. “Yes, I’m great, I’m wonderful, please move!” you urged, balling the sheets up in your hands once more. He did as he was told, slow and cautious. His hands on your hips tightened slightly, but not to bruising level. He was gentle, he was patient and utterly sweet. Ordinarily, this would be something you loved. But right now you needed more. “Hildy…” you whined. He paused, breath hitching in his throat. Clearly your cries affected him in some way. “Hildy, please, I need more…” You were this close to begging, but your pride wouldn’t let you break down just yet. You could practically feel the conflicting feelings of lust and hesitation dripping off of Hildibrand. “Are you su-" Growling, you slammed yourself back onto him, causing him to let out a low, pleasured groan. “Yes, I’m very sure. Now, are you going to fuck me into the mattress or am I going to have to do it myself?” This threw Hildibrand for a loop, causing him to sputter. The way you could feel him throb within you, however, told you he wasn’t averse to hearing it. “A-as you wish!” And so this time, he did. You were surprised at the sheer amount of force he put out with each thrust, but then again Hildibrand was never a man who did anything by half. With each thrust you blurted out something about how he was doing great, how wonderful it felt, how amazing he felt. Hildibrand seemed to thrive on praise, so you gave him all the praise he deserved, which was a lot.

The room soon filled with the lewd sounds of skin against skin. At your instruction (and about a dozen reassurances that no, he was not hurting you), you had Hildibrand pin you down to the mattress and take you roughly from above. He learned quickly how to use his weight to his advantage, dropping straight down to the hilt but catching himself before he could fully put his bulk on you. He was by far the largest you had taken in many years, and you knew you were most likely going to be very sore by the time this heat was over with. Was it worth it? Absolutely. You’d not felt bliss like this in ages. Previous heats were usually fulfilled with partners of convenience, those you’d had agreements with beforehand but had no true attachment to. But to be with someone you truly cared for? Nothing could compare. There was one more thing he could do for you, however… “H-Hildy… gods, I adore you, Hildy… Hildy, aah, please…” He slowed down just a touch, likely to gather enough brainpower to talk. “Y-yes?” You let go of the headboard with one hand and reached up to smooth your ears down so they were easier to reach. “P-pull my… my ears… gently…” It was an important part of a Viera mating ritual and something you were loath to disclose outside of intimate circles. A Viera’s ears were highly sensitive to touch, and oftentimes only mating pairs were allowed to touch one another’s ears.

(You had delivered many ass-kickings to numerous folks in Eorzea and surrounding areas who had thought it was okay to just reach up and cop a feel without asking.) This time he was willing to do so without confirming twenty times. He took one hand off the surface of the mattress where he was supporting himself and grabbed hold of your long ears with the other and pulled. The effect was instantaneous. If you hadn’t been close before, you were now. “Like this?” he asked, sounding close himself. He refused to squeeze them, but rather began stroking them softly as he tugged. Like he had been before with his thrusts, he was very gentle in this as well.

(This, you were perfectly okay with, as you weren't very keen on having your ears permanently stretched by any sudden feats of strength) “Y-yes, just like that!” He hit a very sensitive spot deep inside you that caused you to gasp. “H-Hildy, I’m going to…” You clenched hard around him in an attempt to savor the sensation. A deep groan was your only response as you felt him shudder above you. In that moment you knew you were being filled just how you wanted and that was enough to send you toppling over the edge, screaming his name. Your legs gave out and you collapsed, boneless, to the mattress below. Hildibrand followed suit, but at least had the good sense to roll slightly to the side. You whimpered at the loss of fullness as he pulled out of you to lay by your side. For a moment, there was nothing but you two and the afterglow. You laid there with him to catch your breath, your mind blissfully clear for the first time in a few days. It wouldn’t last, of course, but at least now you had someone to ride it out with. (Or on.) You were the first one to break the silence. “Are you doing alright, Hildy?” you asked, half expecting him to have fallen asleep by now. Instead of being asleep, however, he responded by reaching out an arm and pulling you close to him. His heart was still racing, but in a way that showed he was slowly calming. “I… I have never had an experience like that before in my life,” he admits. “How exhilarating!” You giggled. “I suppose that’s a good thing?” He nodded vigorously. “But more importantly! How are you feeling?” he shot back. You stretched out on the large bed, feeling the first ghosts of aches to come settling into your bones. “Amazing. More clear-headed than I’ve been since this mess started. Thank you, Hildy.” You kissed him on the cheek. “Happy to serve, my lady!” He gave you a twinkling grin which just made you giggle even more as you buried your face in his muscular chest, basking in his warmth. For a while, you laid there with him, drawing shapeless patterns on his bare skin. The heat would be back, but with Hildibrand’s efforts, it would be a few bells rather than a few moments before it became a problem again. As you were just starting to drift off, Hildibrand sat up suddenly, jerking you back to full awareness. “I almost forgot!” he exclaimed. “We must needs begin planning!” You blinked in confusion. “Huh? For the investigation?” He genuinely had you confused here. “For the wedding!” Okay, somewhere along the line you two must have had some sort of miscommunication. “W-wedding? What wedding?” Hildibrand looked at you incredulously. “Why, ours of course! If you are to be with child, we must be wed immediately!” You looked at him for a solid ten seconds before you burst out into laughter. This only confused the poor man more. “I fail to see the joke here. I am a man of commitment, my dear!” “Hildy…” you said after composing yourself. “You are sweet, so very sweet.” You took his hands in yours. “But there’s no marriage needed.” He didn’t quite seem to follow, and his confused expression just made you burst out into more giggles. “I have a spell done on me every few moons by a healer. It prevents… accidental conception but sadly doesn’t stop heats.” Hildibrand nods. “So this was more of a, uh…”

“Psychological heat, yes. Hurts just as bad even if it isn’t going to result in anything.” You made a face but the expression quickly softened. “I should have probably told you that first off. Sorry about that.” “I see. That is… a relief, actually! I don’t know the first thing about planning a wedding! And my mother would kill me!” You grinned, pressing your forehead into his. “She probably would.” “Nonetheless, I am very heartened to see that I was valiantly able to cure your condition!” Oh. He thought you were done. Oh-no…

“Actually… that was just one wave. A true fulfilled heat takes about… half a dozen waves to subside.”

“Because that increases the chances of…” He seemed to be getting it now. You nodded. “Exactly! So, even though that bit isn’t a factor, I would still need your, uh, help.” You smiled bashfully at him. “If you want to, of course!” “Of course I do! It would be horrid to leave you to suffer if I am the only one with the cure!” He blushed. “And besides… I… I very much enjoyed that!” “I enjoyed it too, Hildy,” you said, laughing as you pulled him in for another kiss. “Get some rest. It won’t come for a few hours yet.” You laid down and shut off the aetherial lamp. It was still daytime, but with the blinds shut it was dim enough for sleep. Hildibrand, however, was still sitting up, seemingly contemplating something. “Hildy?” you asked, cracking one eye open. “I suppose this is why Nashu told me she likely wouldn’t see me until tomorrow at the earliest…” Fuck. Of course she would know.

[btxtreads]

whispers || min yoongi

CHAPTER ONE

➳ Fate is such a fickle thing. So easy to tamper with. 

↳ Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Based off of the Daechwita MV)

↳ word count: 1.5k words

↳ rating: PG-13

↳ genre: fluff, angst, historical AU

↳ Warnings: Swords, Death, A gun, Battle Scenes, Forced Engagement, Failed Execution, Assassination

↳Trigger warning note: PLEASE BE CAREFUL IN READING THIS FIC. IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY THE THINGS LISTED ABOVE–PLEASE DO NOT PROCEED UNDER THE KEEP READING SIGN.

↳ a/n: i wrote this for like three days until i realized oh maybe it should be a series so enjoy this first chapter lol also!!!!! i put a lil final fantasy thing here and its kind of a central point to the story lmaooooOoO guys send me some asks im like really bored bls

Empress Y/N

Empress Y/N (1384 – 1461) was the second emperor of the Baekje kingdom during the early Joseon era and one of the best-known queens of the Joseon dynasty. Born to a consort, the ongju only became the heir to the throne when Gongju Sun, only child of the Baekje emperor and the late empress Shin, became the empress of Goguryeo after her marriage with the Emperor—father of the late crown prince Geum—after his queen’s untimely death. Y/N became the first empress to rule without a king in 1413, until her marriage to her royal guard Park Jimin in 1420. The empress was then succeeded by her son, Park Il-Guk, after she and her husband stepped down the throne in 1446. She died of natural causes in 1461.

It was a normal day at the temple when the empress suddenly visited. It was dark and silent—the time of the pig[1].

The heavily pregnant empress of Goguryeo, ever the superstitious, approaches the oracle with a careful bow as she cradled her swollen belly. She was due to birth any time.

“Your highness,” greeted the oracle.

“Priestess Cho,” the empress nodded back. “Apologies for having barged in at such an inconvenient time,”

“None-sense, your majesty.” The priestess replied. “The stars have called you here. Who am I to disagree?”

The queen nodded solemnly before setting her hand on her stomach. “I am to birth at any time. I would like you to tell me about my child.”

And tell her she did.

The priestess whispered a prayer as she lit an incense, then closed her eyes.

As if magic, a prophecy tumbled out of her mouth.

A family of greatness

Birthing a child of weakness

As one approaches his end,

A brother prepares to reign.

The queen gasped as tears welled up in her eyes.

She touched her stomach as she felt her child respond to his mother’s touch.

The stars have spoken.

The unborn child will not reach his seventh year, and he will not see his brother crowned as the heir to the throne.

It had been seven years since then.The country prospered and was better than ever.

The crown prince, Geum, grew up to be a cheerful, kind and intelligent boy. He had an affinity for diplomacy and is exceptionally skilled in warfare and battle strategy. The kingdom loved him.

Prince Yunki, however, was a sad child. Perhaps that was because he was constantly ill and born with a death sentence.

The boy was born with snow white hair, which the queen supposed was the result of his illnesses—though quite unheard of. Despite his affinity for swordsmanship and politics, the boy could barely even wield one.

The queen was disheartened.

Agitated by her son’s fate, the empress once again visits the temple. Once again, she sits across the same oracle.

“Your highness,” greeted the oracle. “You have returned.”

“Priestess Cho. I came for my son,” The queen replied with urgency, no time for pleasantries, “The fates have told you that he will die as his brother ages for the throne.”

“They have.”

“Geum will be groomed for the throne soon,” The queen rushed. “Is the death of Yunki really mapped by the gods?”

“No gods, your grace. Stars—the planet. Destiny. Fate. Whatever it is called.”

“Fate dictates the death of my son?”

“Alas, the stars have changed course.” The oracle whispers. “The spirits whisper.”

“What do they say?”

“That your son will be the fiercest king Goguryeo will meet.” The oracle tells. “The emperor that defies fate and destiny.”

“Priestess Cho, forgive me. I was not talking about Geum.”

“Neither am I.” The priestess replied, shocking the queen into silence as she continued. “He will not die tonight, my queen. Not yet. Not for a long while.”

Perhaps the mistake the queen did that night was not to ask what this entailed.

For the following year, the queen was delighted at what she saw.

Yunki loses his illness, recovering at a fast pace. He grew up a strong prince with fair skin, maintaining his white hair, and a sharp gaze. He became strong and fierce.

The queen perished happily that year, joyed at the fact that her son will live. She returned to the planet as her country mourned.

For years to follow, all was well in the kingdom—they had a crown prince who would rule kindly and another who defied fate.

It wasn’t until years later that it all crashed down.

Prince Geum fell in battle, and the emperor died from grief. Prince Yunki immediately ascended to the throne.

The bitter child that he grew up to be, Emperor Yunki became the mad king. All he did was pillage and burn.

That’s what he did to terrorize nearby cities, that’s what he did to eliminate rebels, and that’s what he did to conquer the Kingdom of Silla.

It was because this that fate finally fixed itself—the planet called the whispers[2].

Min Yoongi was simply… Yoongi.

He didn’t think anything was special about him—well, except for the fact that he was a time-travelling assassin sent to different moments of history to fix details that would change the course of destiny.

It would be nice to see an ancient Korea after the mess I made in America, Yoongi thought as he headed to his mission.

He shuddered at the thought of his previous mission—Yoongi spent two whole years egging Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton’s rivalry to end in a duel rather than amicable terms.

Never again.

Shaking his head, Yoongi stepped through time and landed where he needed to, Joseon era—the year 1411.

Yoongi gazed around at the busy street and the lively Goguryeo culture—but that really wasn’t what he’s here for.

Yoongi breathed and nodded to himself.

He was back here to do his mission: assassinate Emperor Yunki and restore the timeline.

Securing his straw hat on his head, Yoongi started to walk through the busy marketplace.

While he did feel weirdly out-of-place, he found that didn’t actually care as long as his cover wasn’t blown.

Three loud bangs on a drum and airy horns were suddenly heard, making him feel alive—Yoongi came at the same time they were playing the Daechwita [3].

Yoongi has always liked music. He liked to play, to listen, to sing and dance and rap. He liked it modern, classical, and traditional—and the Daechwita was one of his favorites. Perhaps it was the ties to his culture.

Intrigued, Yoongi went to watch the captivating performance.

“You really like music, don’t you?” A soft voice hummed next to him. “Obviously, right? A person wouldn’t smile that big while watching the Daechwita if they didn’t like music.”

He turned to see a girl, donned in a plain-looking blue and purple hanbok, tilting her head at him.

Yoongi blinked and turned to leave. “Hey, wait!”

The girl ran after him. “Hello!”

“Goodbye,”

“What’s your name?” The girl persisted, as Yoongi turned to another pathway, his hands in his pockets.

“None of your business.” Yoongi quipped, shooting the girl an irritated gaze.

“Sorry, I just found it really sweet that you were so happy, watching the Daechwita,” the girl continued. “While I do like music too, I really don’t listen to the Daechwita much.”

Yoongi sighed, deciding to humor the girl.

“You’re a commoner, what business do you have listening to the Daechwita?”

“You’re right, nothing!” She smiled.

“Right.”

Yoongi continued walking, vaguely aware of the footsteps following behind him.

“So, what’s your name?”

Yoongi glared at the happy girl, who only smiled back.

“If you refuse tell me, I will call you Daechwita until you do.”

Yoongi huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Listen, don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

The girl shrugged. “Not really. Besides, everybody in the country is busy these days.”

At this, Yoongi snapped into attention, turning to the girl to gather intel on his mission. “Why? What’s happening?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The girl snorted before shrugging. “The emperor of Baekje and his… ah… daughters have arrived. The gongju[4] is going to marry the emperor.”

“Emperor Yunki? A wedding?” Yoongi asked. That bastard is getting married?

“Yes.” The girl nodded, smiling.

“Have you seen the emperor yet?” Yoongi asked curiously, taking note of possible locations.

The girl slowly shook her head. “No, I’ve never seen him. I’m just a visitor.”

“From where?” Yoongi asked.

The girl gulped. “Baekje.”

“Ah,” Yoongi nodded. “What was your name again?”

“…Y/N?” The girl replied hesitantly.

So, this is Empress Y/N of Baekje, Yoongi noted before he shrugged. Didn’t know she was this annoying.

“Okay, then.”

He turned to leave.

“Wait, that’s it? That’s your response? To what I just told you?”

He turned his head and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, was I supposed to say anything else?”

The girl’s eyes lighted up. “No!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and turned to leave when the girl bounded up next to him.

“So, where are you from?”

Yoongi let out an exasperated sigh.

This was going to be a very long day.

LORE GUIDE:

[1] In the Joseon era, people told time via sundials and water clocks. As they did not follow the modern format of time yet, they based off of animals. The time of the pig means 9:00 – 11:00 PM.

[2] Based off of the Final Fantasy 7 remake, Whispers were entities that were meant to keep destiny in line. They appear at instances where destiny could possibly change course and make sure that whatever needs to happen, happens. However, this can be broken as Cloud and his team destroys all entities and changes the past, present and future—altering the timeline and creating a new one.

[3] Daechwita is a genre of Korean tradition music played with snares and woodwind instruments. This is usually performed during marching or when the king is out.

[4] Ongju and Gongju are both princesses. Gongju, however is the daughter of the king and queen—a crown princess. An ongju is the daughter of the king and a consort.

For other questions DM me,,,, also i just really want people to talk to u

[hookedonapirate]

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cabin on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.  

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd​ for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld​ as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

There was originally supposed to be more to this chapter but it ended up being really long so I split it up into two chapters. Hope you enjoy!

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Catch up: Pro I Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3 I Ch 4

Also available on: AO3 I FF.N

Chapter 5

Emma surveys the crowded sanctuary, feeling out of the loop and out of place as she is escorted down the aisle by a young usher. It’s been so long since she’s seen family in this capacity, she feels like an outsider. Being distant is her modus operandi. And being a surgeon makes it far too easy for her to use work as an excuse, because then she doesn’t have to socialize or express her feelings or discuss uneasy topics, such as a social life she doesn’t have. Talking about Graham used to be her social lubricant. When she talked about him, it took the focus off her, which she usually prefers, because she hates being in the spotlight; she hates having to talk about herself. While she is always in the literal spotlight of the operating room, she’s able to tune out that fact by focusing on her patients and the procedures. One of the many perks of being a doctor is that her job is to focus on her patients, and she’s good at that. The hospital is her comfort zone because nothing she does there is about her—it’s about her patients; it’s about helping them get better. 

  But that feeling of uneasiness had crept up inside her the instant she had entered the church with her adoptive mother. Ingrid had insisted Emma ride with her to the church since Emma's house was on the way. She was reluctant at first because she knew she wouldn’t be able to escape the reception early this way. Or if she ended up getting called into the hospital, she’d have to ask someone to leave and take her. But she also knew she couldn’t say no because it might hurt her adoptive mother’s feelings. 

  After Ingrid assured Emma she could use her vehicle if she got called in and that she would be able to hitch a ride home from Elsa, Emma couldn’t really think of any other excuses that wouldn’t make her intentions transparent. Besides, riding to the wedding with Ingrid gave them the opportunity to catch up. But it also gave Ingrid the opportunity to ask Emma how she was doing since her colleague had passed. And suddenly, what was once a social lubricant became an encumberment. It made Emma sad and teary-eyed and not want to be around people. Suddenly, talking about herself didn’t seem so bad after all.

  They found Anna in her dressing room, which was pervaded with many laughs, a few tears and a bride who had worked herself into a frenzy of emotions. Nevertheless, Anna and Elsa expressed their deepest condolences for Graham and made a fuss over her and how she is dealing with his death. It’s a painful topic, but knowing the attention aimed at her would be short-lived, given that it's Anna and Kristoff's wedding day, gave Emma a bit of comfort. She'd returned to the sanctuary without Ingrid since her adoptive mother will be the one giving Anna away. After Anna and Elsa’s parents died, Ingrid raised them by herself. The younger sister was only eight at the time and lived under Ingrid’s roof before leaving for college. So Anna saw fit to be given away by the woman who had been more like her mother and father for ten years, rather than her aunt.

  As Emma nears the front row of the sanctuary, her smile falters when her eyes stumble upon him. That damn detective, David Nolan.

  When their eyes connect, she suddenly wants to disappear into a cloud of smoke or run away. 

  What the hell is he doing here? 

  Oh right, he was Elsa's late husband's best friend and work partner. Thankfully, when he interviewed her about Graham’s murder, he had skipped the pleasantries and had plunged right into the questions. He had seemed to be all business, which she appreciated, she really did. In fact, he reminded her of... well, herself. Very polite, but at the same time asking unpleasant questions. He was only trying to do his job, even if that meant making others feel exposed. Like homicide cases, surgeries are sometimes a lengthy, unpleasant process, but they’re an essential part of the job. So she understands David’s persistence and his need to get down to the nitty-gritty. But to make her a suspect for murder is preposterous! No, they had never met before Graham's murder, but David knew her family, and for him to point his finger at her, for him to think she could collaborate with a murderer left an unsavory taste in her mouth. She supposes his job requires him to separate personal feelings from work-related agendas—her job requires the same—but still, what he has on her is flimsy and pretty damn pathetic. 

  Emma drops down in the front pew with a humph. Normally she'd be opposed to sitting in the front, but since Ingrid will be seated next to her after she walks Anna down the aisle, and since Emma's not forced to look at the back of David's head like she would be if she sat in the back, she’s glad to sit in front.

  After Kristoff’s parents are seated on the groom’s side of the sanctuary, Kristoff, the groomsmen and the ushers make their way to the front. Next comes the bridesmaids. Emma looks over to see Elsa, the maid of honor, walking down the aisle in her plum-colored gown, holding a matching bouquet and a big smile, her long, silver-blonde hair French braided in the back. Elsa takes her place next to a bridesmaid as her daughter trails after her, scattering purple rose petals along the bridal path. Emma smiles at Camila, who’s brown curls bounce around her shoulders as she walks. Her miniature ball gown makes her look like a princess as she makes her way toward her mother. When she reaches her, Elsa kisses her daughter’s forehead and prompts her to sit by her Aunt Emma.

  The bridal procession song begins, and everyone stands for the bride’s grand entrance as she’s escorted by Ingrid, who has a proud smile on her face. Anna proceeds down the aisle in an elegant, off the shoulder gown with a wide neckline as she flashes a big grin, showing off her pearly white teeth. She looks every bit the blushing bride. 

  Emma still feels guilty for not attending Elsa’s wedding, even though it was several years ago. Or Liam’s funeral, even though her husband died three years ago. Actually, his death made her feel even more guilty. And she wishes she would’ve known him more, but alas, she had strayed away from family gatherings. She’s a terrible cousin. She’s always had trouble connecting with people, probably because when she was a kid, she never stayed anywhere long enough to connect with anyone. That is until Ingrid adopted her. 

  It took Emma a long time to fully feel accepted by Ingrid—to know she wouldn’t be sent off to another foster home. But Ingrid was a very kind and caring mother to her. Even so, Emma failed to develop the social skills her cousins had, even when they moved in with her and Ingrid three years later. Elsa is a little shier than her sister but still less so than Emma. The sisters had done their best to include her in activities and outings, and even though Emma had a close bond with Ingrid, she always felt like an outsider of the group. And the gap between her and the sisters gradually widened over the years.

  After the conclusion of the ceremony, the front row is dismissed, and as Emma and Ingrid head down the aisle, she sees David once again, those familiar unpleasant feelings returning. Being the polite gentleman he is, David nods courteously at her, but she only scowls in return. 

  “Everything okay, Emma?” Ingrid asks, sensing how tense she is. Probably from the way Emma's jaw twitches as she glares at the detective. 

  Emma nods. “Yeah, I just recognize Mr. Nolan as the detective assigned to the case of Graham's murder. He questioned me and my other colleagues who were at the Rabbit Hole that night.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, he's a good man. He and Liam worked together at the SBPD.”

  “Yeah, that's what I've heard.”

  “Speaking of Liam, I wonder if his brother is here,” Ingrid says, scanning the pews for him.

  Emma averts her eyes from David, trying to rid the negative thoughts of the detective and the case and that creep, Neal Gold. She had thought about calling the police after the phone call Neal made. But she couldn’t get over the fact that David actually thought she, Elsa and Anna’s cousin and a doctor for Christ’s sake, could possibly be capable of murder, even if he didn’t think she had been the one wielding the knife. 

  She knew she should've driven her own car in case she felt the need to escape. Hopefully, David won't stoop so low to question her at her cousin's wedding.

  “Oh, there he is,” Ingrid says, pulling Emma from her thoughts. 

  She looks over to see who Ingrid is waving to. And she guesses the man whose eyes light up as he looks their way and shoots up his hand in the center of the back pew, is him.

  Emma loses a breath as she catches a glimpse of him, then quickly looks ahead and keeps moving. Two words come to mind as she makes her way to Ingrid's car.

  Fucking gorgeous.

  If only she had her phone in her hand when she saw him, because pulling it out of her clutch purse and stopping to point her phone at him would've been too obvious. It would've been just as bad as snapping a photo of him without knowing the flash was on. Like when Elsa had snapped a photo of Liam the night they met. Emma wasn't there, but she's heard the story several times over the years to know she doesn’t want to be caught in that type of situation.

   ~*~

  Killian thought she was lovely when he saw her on the video footage of the interrogation room with its dim, unpleasant lighting, but bloody hell, she's much more gorgeous in person. He had shown up to the ceremony as late as he could possibly get away with and sat in the back to avoid attracting too much attention from the people who knew him—at least until Emma and Ingrid had left and headed for the country club.  

  He could only see the back of her head during the ceremony, but he’d seen enough to know she’s wearing a short, royal blue mermaid style dress that’s sleeveless and shows off her soft curves and bronzed shoulders and arms. Her hair is parted to the left and swept loosely into a swirl bun embellished with a blue flower, and her skin looks tanned, a contrast to the pale, creamy complexion on the video; she must've used a tanning bed or sunbathed on the beach. But he couldn’t get a good enough look to figure out which tanning method she’d used. 

  He'd been jealous of the usher who had the pleasure of escorting her down the aisle—had the pleasure of being so close to her, the young lad could probably smell whatever perfume she was wearing. Then Killian had chastised himself for having those thoughts. Emma's a subject of an investigation, regardless of whether or not he thinks she did anything wrong, and he has to think of her as such. He's not allowed to be jealous of ushers or anyone else who comes in contact with her. He has to admit he was very pleased she didn’t show up to the wedding with a date though.

  When he arrives at the country club, he parks his truck and grabs the gift he got for Anna and Kristoff. He carries it in with him and leaves it on the table draped with white cloth. He signs the guest book and sees Emma Swan and Ingrid Swan's names above his. He hadn't expected Emma to ride with her adoptive mother. At first he worried it would interfere with his plans, but actually, if he plays his cards right, Emma not having a car to escape early in and unexpectedly might be to his advantage. 

  Killian sits with the Nolans, just as he would if he weren't helping David with the case. They don't dare breathe a word about work; they share some laughs and after the bridal party makes their entrance, the tables are dismissed one by one and Killian helps his nephews fill their plates with food from the buffet. He tries not to stare at Emma, but he can't help himself. Every now and then he steals a peek as she sits at a table across the room, conversing with Ingrid and other guests. She’s not facing him, but he has an excellent view of her toned, sexy legs, one crossed over the other. 

  The normal traditions are carried out through the reception—the speeches and toasts, the bride and groom’s first dance as husband and wife and the cake cutting, where Anna and Kristoff smash a piece in each other's face. While Killian chuckles along with the audience, he takes a sip of his water, nonchalantly glancing over at Emma once more. He can’t hear her laughing, but he can see her showing off those pearly white teeth, her cheeks swollen as she watches the scene unfold at the three-tiered cake. 

  After Emma finishes a slice, she grabs her glass of clear liquid and makes her way through the room, chatting with people he doesn't recognize, and that's when he decides to make his move.

  He drains the rest of his water in one gulp before setting down his glass and rising from the empty table. 

  David had brought the boys each a slice of cake to keep them occupied while Killian planned his escape. And it worked like a charm. It didn't take long for Liam's hands to get covered in cake and frosting so Mary Margaret took him and his brother to the ladies' room to clean up. David is now off chatting with Anna, Kristoff and Elsa, keeping them distracted while Killian makes his way across the room. He sticks to the fringes of the crowd on the side opposite of the head table, lest someone from the bridal party wave him over, call out for him or approach him. 

  Killian hears the tail end of a conversation Emma is having with a couple before she backs away from them. He casually darts into her path as she's turning around and they crash into each other, her drink splashing over the front of her dress.

  “Bloody hell, lass, I'm so sorry.” 

  She peers down at herself assessing the damage. When she looks up at him, at first she is stunned, as though he'd literally knocked the wind out of her. He’s pretty certain he has the same awestruck expression on his face because she’s even more beautiful up close. Her emerald green eyes sparkle under dark, elongated lashes that are framed by black eyeliner, and her lips are coated with shiny, rose pink lip gloss. And she smells incredible, like floral, citrus and cinnamon; all of his senses are tingling from her scent. 

  The only difference between their reactions is she recovers quickly and he can’t quite seem to. 

  “You got me all wet,” she mutters, her lovely facial features forming a scowl. 

  Killian flashes his flirtiest grin. “If I had a penny for every time a woman has said that to me…”

  Just when he thought she couldn't glare at him any harder, she does. She glares at him so hard, he thinks she might burn a hole through his head.

  “Here, let me get you another drink,” he says, taking the glass from her hand. When his fingers brush hers, his breath snags in his throat. 

  After recovering from that and the way his heart skips a beat, he raises his hand to signal a waitress who gives Emma a napkin and takes the glass away. 

  “What were you drinking, love?”

  “Ice water, thank God,” she grumbles. “This dress is brand new.”

  As she scrubs at the wet spot on her dress, he can’t help but notice the pale tan lines on her skin in the shape of a bikini top. The kind that ties around the back of the neck. And her tan looks too perfect and even to have been caused by the limited angle of the sun. He had envisioned Emma in only a bikini bottom while laying in a tanning bed, but he has to admit, the tan lines look pretty damn good on her. Now he’s wondering what the rest of her looks like.

  Stop thinking of her like that, you wanker! he chides himself.

  He clears his throat… and his thoughts. “Would you like something else, love?”

  When she looks up again, she's still glaring at him. “No, just water. And I’m not your love.”

  Killian arches a brow. “There's an open bar and a devilishly handsome gentleman offering to buy you a drink and that's what you choose?”

  He's expecting her to laugh or even crack a smile like most women do when he comments on his own looks, but instead, she rolls her eyes. “I'm on call tonight. I don't even have a champagne toast when I'm on call.”

  “A tall glass of water on the rocks it is then.” He'd been drinking water too, but for different reasons. 

  They walk to the bar together and he orders ice water for her and a rum for himself. As the bartender pours their drinks, Killian turns toward Emma, leaning an elbow on the bar counter. “So you're on call? What kind of work do you do?”

  “I'm a doctor,” she answers simply as she crosses her arms and looks away like she's searching for the exit doors.

  “Really? What kind of doctor?”

  She reverts her gaze to his. “Medical.”

  Killian shakes his head and snaps his fingers, disappointment clouding his features. “That's just my rotten luck.”

  She arches a brow. “Oh? And why's that?”

  “Because I'm as healthy as a horse.”

  Killian can actually see the walls erecting around her like a fortress guarding a territory in warfare. He scratches behind his ear, thinking this might be more difficult than he thought. He only met her a couple of minutes ago but he can already tell she's a tough nut to crack. Which is fine. He loves a challenge.

  When the bartender slides their drinks toward him, he grabs both glasses and hands Emma her water. 

  “Thanks.” She takes the proffered drink with a slight smile and he clinks his glass against hers.

  “My pleasure,” he flashes a cheeky grin and imbibes his rum.

  “Enjoy the rest of your evening.” As she brings the glass to her lips to take a sip, she turns and walks away so other guests can get to the bar. 

  He pretends not to recognize a brush-off when he receives one; he tries not to let it sting, but it kind of does. He quickly shakes it off and falls into step beside her. “Do you specialize?”

  She sighs, most likely realizing she won't be able to get rid of him so easily. “I'm a general surgeon.”

  He throws on his most charming smile. “Well, I have to say, I haven’t met a lot of surgeons—like I said, healthy as a horse—but you are the prettiest surgeon I’ve ever seen. In fact, I’m surprised the bride hasn’t kicked you out by now.”

  She looks offended. “Kick me out? For what?”

  “For being prettier than her.”

  Emma’s cheeks turn as red as a tomato. And is that a hint of a smile he can detect? No, it can’t be. “You’re the cockiest, most self-assured man I’ve ever met. And believe me, I’ve met some doozies.” Oh, her smile is authentic all right.

  He shrugs in disagreement. “I prefer dashing rapscallion.” He sticks out his hand. “Killian Jones. I’m the maid of honor’s—”

  “Brother-in-law. I know.” She stares at his extended hand, leaving it hanging in the air, and he doubts she’ll shake it… until she finally does, clasping it firmly. Her skin is cold from the drink she was gripping tightly with both hands, but her skin is soft and he doesn’t want to let her hand go. But she releases his grip after a few seconds, leaving the ghost of her touch on his palm.

  He steps into her space, his eyes scrolling down her body and up again before locking eyes with hers and tilting his head to the side, his voice low and husky as he speaks. “So you know who I am, and here you haven’t even told me your name, love.”

  She scowls. “I told you not to call me that.”

  “My apologies,” he says sincerely. “What should I call you, then?”

  “Emma.” 

  His eyes light up with recognition, even though he already knows who she is. She doesn’t know that though. “Emma Swan?”

  She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “That’s correct. So, you’ve heard of me, too?”

  He nods. “You’re Anna and Elsa’s cousin.”

  She lifts her brows, prompting him to expand.

  “Your name has come up once or twice in conversation.”

  “Really, and what have you heard?”

  “Nothing much, only that we’ve almost met about a handful of times.”

  Emma nods, biting her bottom lip, which he finds extremely adorable. “It’s one of the downfalls of being a surgeon. My profession makes it hard to have a social life.” 

  His eyes light up and a big smile lights up his face, though he doubts not having a social life is something she’s bitter about. There is a reason her cousins have referred to her as distant and aloof more than once. “So you’re saying missing out on the opportunity to meet me is a downfall?”

  She shakes her head. “Actually no, I was just being polite. I’m kind of anti-social. But I’m guessing you already knew that.”

  He nods, trying to hide the disappointment he feels after her blunt admission. “You’re right, I did. You’re quite perceptive,” he remarks before slugging down the last of his rum.

  She shrugs. “I’m a doctor. I have to be able to sense when a patient isn't telling me something I should know before I go cutting them open.” 

  He nods in understanding, and they’re both silent as she looks around the room and slowly nurses her drink. After a moment, her eyes return to his, a solemn expression on her face. 

  “I’m sorry about your brother by the way. I didn’t know him well but I know he was a good man to Elsa.”

  His features cloud with sadness, eyes darkening at the mention of Liam. “Thank you. He was a very good man.”

  Emma suddenly narrows her eyes at him. “Aren’t you a detective like him?”

  Killian nods and scratches behind his ear. “I was, but not anymore.” He hates lying to her, but he has to. At least for now. “After he died, I moved to Port Lavaca and got a job as a dockhand.”

  She lifts a brow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You went from being a detective to making ten dollars an hour scrubbing fish guts off of boats?”

  "It's twelve dollars an hour, and I do more than clean boats," he corrects defensively. 

  She scoffs. "Oh sorry, I didn't mean to belittle a job a ten-year-old kid could do."

  He frowns. “The pay may not be great but I get to live on the beach and inhale the salty sea air all day. It’s not a bad tradeoff, actually. Besides, if you think about it, cleaning up fish crap is not much different from the crap I cleaned up by working for the SBPD.”

  She shrugs, unconvinced. “If you say so.” She takes another sip from her ice water, staring vacantly across the room as the dance floor fills up.

  “Would you care to dance?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t dance.”

  He nods, accepting another one of her brush-offs as his eyes circle the reception hall in search of his niece. “That’s okay, I’m sure my date will dance with me.”

  When she whirls her head around to look at him and cock a brow, he can’t help but notice how much her face clouds with disappointment. “You came here with a date?”

“Is that so hard to believe, love?” He also doesn’t fail to notice she doesn’t correct her pet name this time.

  “No, I’m sure there’s some poor woman out there either naive or desperate enough to fall for your charm.”

  Killian brings his hand to his chest like he’d just been wounded. “Ouch, that hurts.” He spots his niece dancing with the bride and sets his glass on a vacant table. “I assure you, she is as smart as a whip. In fact, she’s probably smarter than anyone else her age.” He waves at Camila, getting her attention, and she happily rushes to him through the crowd. With a sidelong glance, he witnesses Emma’s eyes following his gaze to see who his date is.

  She laughs upon realizing he was referring to Camila. 

  And it’s the first time he’s heard her laugh. Even though a crowd-pleasing song is pouring from the speakers, Emma’s laugh is music to his ears. 

  “Your niece is your date?”

  “Aye.”

  “Uncle Killy! Auntie Emma!” Camila chants, rushing over to them. 

  He extends his hand to her. “Would you care to dance, little love?”

  She grins and nods, slipping her hand in his. He escorts her to the dancefloor, and she steps on each of his feet and takes her uncle’s offered hands as they move to the music.

  As he dances with Camila, he does his best to avoid glancing over at Emma—he genuinely wants to spend time with his niece—but every now and then, his eyes make their way across the room.

  ~*~

  Emma returns to the bar for a refill and plops down on a stool with a heavy sigh, her feet killing her from wearing these damn high heels. She really wishes she could drink alcohol right now because then she wouldn’t feel so nervous. She orders another water, and the bartender takes away her empty glass, giving her a fresh one. Her stomach is full of butterflies as she nurses her water and gazes over at Killian on the dance floor with Camila. 

  Emma doesn't know much about him, but she has learned a few things. One, his British accent does things to her when he speaks, and two, he’s much more handsome up close. She also knows he’s cocky and kind of obnoxious. Oh, and he’s ridiculously adorable with his five-year-old niece. If this weren’t her cousin's wedding and if she had her own vehicle, she would escape. Because he’s exactly the type of guy she tries to avoid at all costs—good looking and well aware of the effect he has on women. But there's also something very genuine about him. He’s honest and not afraid to say what he thinks. She appreciates that more than she’s afraid to admit.

  After they had bumped into each other, she'd been apprehensive to talk to him because she'd seen him sitting with David and she knew through the grapevine he was a detective like Liam. She was afraid he was going to interrogate her about Graham's murder. But her guard lowered when he told her was no longer working for the SBPD and moved to Port Lavaca after his brother died. She knew he was telling the truth because she'd also heard through the grapevine he moved.

  She sighs and averts her gaze from the dance floor and the ridiculously handsome man to take a sip of her drink. She thinks about throwing caution to the wind, carpe diem as they say, and going over to dance with him. But the thing is, she doesn't know how to dance.

  Before she can ponder the thought any further, she sees out of the corner of her eye a figure claiming the stool next to her. She can feel their stare burning into her skin, and that overwhelming sense of paranoia that’s been eating away at her insides ever since the phone call from Gold takes over and she glances over to see who is sitting next to her. She exhales a deep breath of relief when she recognizes the man she thinks is one of Kristoff’s friends as he looks away from her to order a drink from the bartender.  

  Emma rests her elbows on the counter and buries her face in her hands, berating herself for being so paranoid. She keeps expecting Gold to show up at every turn; she keeps expecting to hear his voice on the other end of the line when she answers the phone, regardless of the number on her caller id, or lack thereof. She’s even afraid of being alone in her own freaking house! 

  She really needs to get a grip and stop letting that creep get to her, but at the same time she has good reason for being scared. In medical school, she had studied enough required psychology to know Gold is the most dangerous kind of criminal. He believes himself invincible and therefore will dare to do anything.

  Emma lifts her head and looks over to catch the man next to her giving her a once over, his lips stretching into a coy grin. “Hi there. You’re Anna's cousin, right?”

  Emma has to refrain from rolling her eyes as she steers her gaze away from him. “That’s right,” she mumbles, running a finger around the rim of her glass.

  “I’m Hans.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him extending his hand to her. She doesn’t move to shake it though.

  “And you are?”

  She turns her head, flashing him a fake smile. “Not interested.”

  He chuckles as the bartender hands him his drink. “That’s an interesting name, Not Interested. You from around here?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Hmmm, okay,” he says as he takes a swig of his drink.

  At least he knows how to take a hint. She sighs in relief and continues sipping her water in silence.

  “Well, Not Interested, I’m from out of town. I’m staying in a hotel room around the corner from here. If you get a little too tipsy from your drink, you’re more than welcome to crash in my room for the night.”

  Emma clenches her jaw and is two seconds away from getting up from her seat and either giving him a piece of her mind or throwing her drink in his face. Just as she shifts to rise from her stool, a hand on her back makes her jump out of her skin and when she spins her head around to see whose hand she has to cut off, she loses her train of thought. And her breath.

  “There you are, darling. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Killian leans in to kiss her cheek, and her breath catches when she feels those warm, luscious lips on her skin. “I should have known you’d be at the bar,” he chuckles playfully and glances at Hans while his thumb is idly stroking her back. “I can’t take her anywhere.” His spicy cologne hits her senses intensely, crippling her from head to toe when he reaches over her, extending his other hand to the stranger. “Killian Jones, Emma’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.”

Tagging some people who have shown interest so far. If you would like to be tagged or untagged, please let me know.

@itsfabianadocarmo​​ @snowbellewells​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​ @nikkiemms​​ @teamhook​​ @xhookswenchx​​ @nikkiemms​​ @xsajx​​ @julesep3026​​ @hookedmom​​ @biefaless​​ @cluttermind​​ @yasbio2015​​ @kmomof4​​ @lfh1226-linda​​ @harshini01 @noensnaringnet​​ @xarandomdreamx @onceuponaprincessworld​​ @annastasiarinaldiva​​ @royalswan​​ @brustudyblog​​ @officerrogers​​ @gingerchangeling​​ @melly326​​ @singersdd @mzbossyboots​​ @unworried-corsair​​ @iamemmaswanjones​​ @authorarsinoe​​ @kingofmyheart14​​ @nightskylover​​ @jamif​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​​​ @iam2307​​​ @winterbaby89​​​ @chinawoodfan​​ @mormonkryptonite @ultraluckycatnd​​ @captainswan-shipper88​​ @killianswanjones @bethdacattfm @andiirivera​​

[killem-all-if-they-wont-eat-cake]

Image: Freja och Svipdag (1911) by John Bauer

My text "Freyja en Svipdag" published in Covidnine-zine, a magazine edited by the wonderful Winnie Sluis, idealized by Winnie and Lisa @oppergod, with collaboration of several amazing artists.

“With her eyes closed and very sleepy, she could feel the sea breeze on her face and hear the sound of the tide breaking in nine waves, one after the other, until she finally managed to open her eyelids.

At first, she discerned arches and pillars through the blurred image, which she later identified as the ruins of an old cathedral. The stone foundations of this structure immediately reminded her of Glastonbury Abbey. The sound of the violin came to her, as well as the seagulls’ song and the gallop of a gray horse mounted by a masked young man, who headed in her direction. On the beach, an old lady recited the stanzas of ancient poems. Coffins swept across the sand, such as fragments of a shipwreck. The corpse of the violinist, who once was Yorick, the court jester, suddenly stopped the music, marveling at the horizon and contemplating his next song, as follows:

'Oh  Páter if I only knew who she was...  I swear I would have sought her earlier!  Oh Páter, here comes Gwena, who traces  This plot, full of diminished chords...

Tis  fire, aye, ‘tis pipe’s ember,  Burning slow and steady, steaming  And if I inhale, choke and clear my throat  Bitter-sweet is her surrender, such a delight  This woman...

Yet  I think she keeps  Something restrained  For the One of the strings...

She  dares not look but only glimpse

Her  bearing ever so high,  Still entrapped in a gilded cage  From which one tries to break  With a treble clef... Egnis! Egnis!

Aye,  see as it burns strong,

It is painful for Gaius,  Her way of walking and fluttering  Always a promise of the foreign

 Though  beware not to cut yourself;  For she is like As-Sirāt,  Even if broken, she remains sharp.

More  so she is intricate and complex,  Full of ardor and nothing else,  And seems entirely anti-flustered  Ah! ... but if there is a breach...

 “Tis  for sure the apple-tree”  I answer myself.  Since when I wandered haphazardly,  Wandering, wondering, though not seeing  If there was indeed an olive tree...

 Thus,  if the fire she already brought;  And I always have some cider;  Only the gold is wrought...

What  fire is that?  Mighty and aristocratic,  Convoluted and anti-pragmatic.

Alas,  we get to the story’s end,

If  you expected me to be light-hearted

To  speak of her beauty or noble

character,

 You  don’t see me for who I really am

For  only the sublime pain of a burn

Compares  to shall be required

To  conquer her troublesome

Spirit.

 Nevertheless,  if I allow myself

A  final indulgence, I think it goes

Without  saying.. that she’s beautiful,

Dignified,  and a relief to the eyes,

(Though  quite difficult to contain)

That’s  why I have fallen...O Páter!”

The rider dismounted and removed his mask, revealing a quite familiar face.

Then he burst into tears, moans, and screams, calling out the name “Sophie! Sophie!” A cacophony of chimes and carillon began at an Episcopal belfry, the imposing figure of a castle appeared behind the mist. Brísingamen, the fiery torque, sparkled around her neck as she rose, entirely dressed in white. The young man, who wore black garments, offered her his hand, and spoke:

 “Dear Sophie, your father awaits us.”

 The strangest thing happened; she felt her lips moving without having ordered so. “My darling Joris, at last you have come for me.”

 Although she did not know exactly how, she remembered the young man in front of her was her betrothed, and that they referred to each other by the names of the saints which the ephemeris fell on their respective birthdays. His on the feast day of Sint-Joris van Cappadocië, and hers on that of St. Sophie van Rome.

 “Sophie, the owl told me the baker shall hold a banquet in our honour!”

 “O, here, have a daisy” she said, taking a flower from the garland adorning her long blonde hair. “I would give you give you some violets, but they all withered when the fishmonger sailed to Crete.”

 “Indeed, Aerope told me that Catreus’ ashes are still warm.”

 They walked side by side, with hands intertwined, wearing wicked smiles as they climbed the hill where the castle's Tor stood. Upon arriving, they were received by the King of Guilder and the rest of his progeny.

 “Welcome, my children, to Kasteel Groninger! Our earthly paradise. Pray, remember the road ahead is still long. Fredegund anxiously awaits Siegbert's return, in deep sleep at the Mountain of Obstacles. Do not forget that: Fafnir must yet perish and Sigrdrífa still needs to be stripped of her armour” King Aegir affectionately warned, embracing both Sophie, whom he recognized as his youngest daughter, and Joris, his future son-in-law.

 "Your majesty, I assure you I shall be worthy enough to wed Lady Menglöð" replied Joris, referring to Sophie, the princess of Guilder, by her true name.

 “Heer Valentijn,” asked King Aegir, also calling Joris by his birth name “I believe the sacrifice of Galswintha will not have been in vain: Faith, Hope and Charity shall be glorified, but do not forget to greet your new sisters.”

 With their faces veiled and sitting on the stairs of an old church, the nine daughters of Aegir, presented themselves one by one. The oldest was called Schnecke, “Bloody-hair”, thus called in virtue of her red hair; the second went by the name of Mimi, the “Billow”, therefore known due to her being prone to fits of nervousness; the third was called Caroline, the “Comber”, because of her explosive temper; the fourth answered by Lily, “Pearl-transparent”, on the account of her translucent complexion; the fifth was named Henriette, the “Small-Wave”, due to her short height; the sixth answered by Olga, the “Lifting”, on account of her extraordinary intelligence; the seventh was called Hannah, the “Great-Wave”, thus known for her bulkiness;  the eighth daughter was Jeannette, called the “Well of Origin” for having the habit of reciting prophetic riddles every time somebody asked her something; the last of them, Friederike, the “Cool-Wave”, was therefore called on account of her cold manners.

 Each of them, as Joris approached, answered him with witty sentences related to each of their epithets. At the end of these parables, King Aegir once again addressed him:

 “Valentijn van Florin, I give you my word as sovereign of Guilder that the most beautiful flower in my garden is your dear Sophie, who at this very hour tomorrow you shall take as your wife. Such a marriage will unite our two rival kingdoms under a single crown, as intended your kinsman, Prince Humperdinck, though in far less auspicious circumstances.”

 The bride and the groom waltzed through the castle, covering the walls of each room with snow. Whenever Joris asked if she wanted to be his wife, Sophie burst into hysterical laughing, which echoed throughout the stairs. Sometimes she replied she first owed vassalage to another lord, who was certainly sterner and bonier. This ‘danse macabre’ continued until they faced the stained windows of the cathedral, when the black priest signaled them to stop. For this reason, the nine waves blew out the candles on the candelabrum, one by one, forming a fairy-ring around the two of them and joining their dance wildly.

 Joris mused for a moment and said:

 “Three times nine girls, but one girl rode ahead,

white-skinned under her helmet;

the horses were trembling, from their manes

dew fell into the deep valleys,

hail in the high woods;

good fortune comes to men from there;

all that I saw was hateful to me.”

 For the celebrations to continue Sophie was taken to the hall of Suttungr, while Joris was given the task of finding the severed head of Mimir. Locked up in the chamber of Invitation to Battle, Sophie was punished for exercising her prerogative in choosing differently from what the All-father had commanded. There, Huginn and Muninn, her liege's crows, whispered bad omens at her ears as she repeatedly painted a Byzantine icon of the Virgin of Mercy.

 “Torture me all you want,” she said to her tormentors “a tearing joy overwhelms my soul. Plato's aesthetic dictates the beauty of forms is equivalent to the greater good and that which is purer. I merely follow the example of Paris in his preference for the ‘kallistei’; the beloved is always chosen for blind love, and only love. I admit I may be wrong, but I still believe that his heart is as good and generous as I sensed on our first meeting. The world is sustained by hope, we believe in what we want to believe and how we want to believe; it does not matter if nature and experience tell us otherwise. My dreams have never betrayed me, my heart has never lied to me: it is necessary to follow one’s deepest desires, for they are ordained by the Norns.”

 In retaliation, the crows of the one-eyed king pecked at her ears until her neck was covered in blood. Ignoring the pangs of pain, Sophie continued to draw the icon that depicted a beautiful sleeping maiden, whose closed eyes showed an expression of tenderness and parted lips outlined a tenuous, albeit provocative smile, as though she was caught in a sensuous dream.

 Hence, Sophie chanted in low voice:

“What sort of dream is that, Odin?

I dreamed I rose up before dawn

to clear up Valhöll for slain people.

I aroused the Einheriar,

bade them get up to strew the benches,

clean the beer-cups,

the valkyries to serve wine

for the arrival of a prince.”

At the same time, Joris rode up to the Mountain of Obstacles, where the earth shook and a pit of flames reaching the sky surrounded the red gold of the gods. In this desolate place, the guardian at the gate, who was also the chieftain of the dwarves, gave Joris the sword of anger and the shield of wisdom with which he was able to defeat the horrible serpent, Jörmungandr.

After licking a drop of the creature’s blood on his finger, Joris was given the gift of understanding the crows’ language, which then instigated him to come to the chamber of Invitation to Battle. As soon as he entered the room, he blew on the horn he carried on his neck by a chain. The Virgin awoke from her feverish dream.

Sitting on a golden throne, the queen-like Sophie gladly received him in her father's hall:

“For nine lives I have awaited you, and for nine days you have hanged on the Sefirotic Tree. To you I give my gray horse, so you can ride to Gamla Uppsala; for Memory can only be restored when Gjallahorn descends to the well of origin. There, Heidr will offer you one of her full tits. Drink patiently, but steadily.”

“Frigga, my dear wife, all I ask is for you to grant me knowledge of the nine worlds.”

Before proceeding with her husband’s request, Sophie prayed for eloquence and intelligence, taking her lute in her hand, singing the most beautiful song of shadow and dawn. She praised the day, the night, the gods and goddesses, and the Holy Land where the Nazarene was crucified. After prayer, she harvested liquid from three of her father’s most precious cauldrons and prepared the elixir of life and death, stating it contained enchantments, blessings, songs and runes of power, manliness and pleasure of the flesh and soul.

Sophie told Joris that in the beginning there was nothing, and this nothing was called Njörun. When Njörun became aware of herself, she begot Njöðr. From the union between these two, Mardöll was born. The latter was self-suficient, loving herself and being therefore happy. However, curiosity caused the goddess to create a mirror from her own breath, and when she contemplated her own reflection, she fell madly in love with it. Since then, she divided herself in two: Mardöll of Fire, who saw the image, and Mardöll of Ice, the image seen. After tracing a runic symbol on her body and whispering over it, her reflection became Yngve, her twin brother. The two of them began a frantic dance that culminated in intercourse, from where emerged the rest of the runic spirits.

Sophie then told him how Mardöll first taught the runes to the All-father, how he held the head of Mimir and uttered wise words; and that from them flowed the worlds of the Æsir, Vanir, giants, elves, and humanity. She went on to count all the kinds of runes that Joris needed to know and how to use them. At last asking him if he would like speech or silence from her. To which Joris replied he was not afraid of knowing his fate, even if that meant death.

Shortly after, she took his horn, in which she poured the Mead of Poetry, while rambling: “The beautiful should not perish; the fair should not perish. Eternal love of immortal soul, glittering through my skin like fins. Drop by drop, your spirit will return to me, the first drop will be heavenly!”

The moment Joris took the last sip of this precious drink, the walls opened, and the drums played. King Aegir and the nine waves were finally welcomed to the wedding feast. Circling an oath-ring on a trunk, the sovereign of Guilder joined the hands of his daughter and son-in-law, making a cut on each of their palms so that their blood could mix. Joris and Sophie intertwined their fingers and together declared:

“Ubi tu Askr

Ego Embla;

Ubi tu Embla,

Ego Askr.”

“When thou art the Ash

I shall be the Elm;

When thou art the Elm

I shall be the Ash.”

“Grímnir, the greatest of all gods, is here, he proclaims you to be one flesh, consecrated to him” decreed King Aegir as the newlyweds resumed their bridal dance, accompanied by the nine waves, who happily sang:

“Stampa hårt i marken,

Låt säden flyta  runt,

Ta emot den unga  flickan,

Frej i älskog,

Freja i älskog.”

“Step hard on the ground,

Let the seed fly,

Welcome the Young Maiden,

Freyr in lovemaking,

Freyja in lovemaking.”

Joris enveloped Sophie in a lustful embrace, with each whirl more ardent than before, ‘til they both lost their balance and fell backwards in the hay. At this moment, Thanatos, the black priest showed up uninvited:

“I am a polar bear who has floated here from Greenland on an iceberg. May the gods bless your matrimony with such perennial beauty as that from the coupling of Zeus and Leda. As a wedding gift, I bring you a veil made for an Arabian princess. Please, accept it. O Vanadís, daughter of the king of kings.”

Upon hearing this, Sophie let out a long shriek. She understood what those words meant. For three nights, she and Joris made love at moonlight, in the presence of the court of Guilder and all the creatures of the universe. On the morning of the fourth day, he had to leave her side to wander the nine worlds, bringing the sacred knowledge he acquired to whichever mortals he found. Weeping, Sophie bade adieu to her husband with the following greeting:

“My will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom as great. My sisters receive the heroes at Fólkvangr, serving mead to those slain in battle. When the ash commune with the elm, you shall return to me. Not a second after, not a second before.”

The black priest then proceeded to lead them to the calvary, placing two wreaths of thorns on their heads. “I crown thee, Freyja and Óðr.”

For nine days and nights, Sophie bitterly mourned her lost husband, crying tears of gold for his sake. Once again trapped in the Mountain of Obstacles, she cried out for mercy to the one who was older than time itself:

“That man hon fólkvig fyrst í heimi,

er Gullveig geiru studdu

ok i hǫll Hárs hana brendu;

thrysvar brendu thrysvar borna,

opt, ósjaldan, tho hon enn lifir!

Heidi hana hétu, hvars til húsa kom,

vǫlu velspá,  vitti hon ganda

seid hon hvars hon kunni,

seid hon hugleikin,

æ var hon angan illrar brudar.”

“She remembers the first war in the world,

when Gullveig was hoist on the spears

in the High-One’s hall they burned her;

three times they burned the three times born

often, not seldom; yet she lives! 

She was called Heidr at the village,

the wise völva knew how to cast spells

she practiced seiðr whenever she could

with ravished soul, she performed seiðr,

She was always sought by wicked women.”

As she asked for divine intervention, Sophie devoted herself to the hard work required by the spinning wheel. As though passing in a trance through Psyche's trials, she was accompanied by her sisters, who danced around her, hand in hand. The first branches of the elm emerged from her heart, which enwrapped her in just a few minutes. From her withered body, the most majestic tree of Fensalir was formed. Three times she was struck by lightning, three times she burned; only to be three times reborn the next dawn.

When Joris at last returned from his travels around the world, finding her in such a state he declared:

“Nu em ec aptr kominn,

fát gat ec thegiandi thar;

margom orthom melta ec i minn frama i Suttungs sǫlom.

Gunnlad mer um gaf gunom stóli á

drycc ins dyra miathar; ill ithgiold

let ec hana eptir hafa

sins ins heila hugar

sins ins  svara seva.”

“Now I have come again,

I’d have hardly made it so far;

without speaking great words to my advantage in the hall  of Suttungr.

Gunnlöð gave me, from her golden throne

The precious drink of mead; a poor payment

I gave her in return

for her whole soul

for her  burdened spirit.”

With these sorrowful words he also became an ash tree, his roots becoming entangled with hers. From their union emerged a magnificent swan egg which cracked in two beautiful girls. The Æsir called them Hnoss and Gersemi, the Twin Treasures.’

[jilljoycearts]

YOU MADE ME DO IT I'M IN AGONY AND MIGHT NOT READ YOUR RESPONSE BECAUSE I'M SCAAAAAAARED

Feel free to skip a few I'm overenthusiastic thinking of trios in Enderal

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

9. Snug, marry, kill

-> The Forgotten Stories Trio

Tharaêl, Dijaam, Esme

-> The Main platonic and/or romantic Relationships (imho)

Tharaêl, Jespar, Calia

-> Easy peasy maybe? The Emissaries besides the Prophetess (asking you about Siri feels wrong lol)

Tealor, Coarek, Yuslan

-> Iconic Vendors

Fresh and Tasty Bread, huh no I just place them out for you to look at, my wares it is you want to see I promise you they bring you glee

-> Dust pit adversaries (I want to write Tharaêl again because technically true hngpf)

The Twins (double trouble with two handed hammerss), Tamas Sha'Gar (first fight with the 4 people free for all, he was the one with bow and fire arrows), Raga Shadowclaw (lycanthrope)

-> more "cuddle once, have as a pet, abandon (give to a loving person to take care of)"

Whirlwind (Donkey), Standard Brown horse (not Svart), Cuthbert (the dead (& kinky) mini pig of Maxus Tabaccus, the summoned form not alive one of him)

-> The Big Baddies

The Father, Daddy, Ketaron Dal'Geyss (Rynéus' Father)

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

I'm a big indecisive softy so I couldn't answer any of those. Last one clearly indicates a certain **theme** in the game 🤔

Long ask - long answer! Like, very long.  The following is based on my personal opinions, visions of characters, marriage, human behaviour etc etc, and I’m fine if you disagree with me. Also, warning - adult topics.

Okay, the input info: 

- I think for myself, not for my prophetess (what I am: mid twenties female who values personal space in a relationship the most).  - I don’t turn it into modern au.  - This is “fuck/marry/kill”, not “snug/marry/kill” (I believe it’s implied, but still, ADULT TOPICS AHEAD) - For me(for this game) marriage is a combo of the first of our wonderful three-positions list, the lack of wish to implement the third and commitment. If optimistic – even fruitful coexistence. I keep in mind marriage is stability and all. - “Kill” is mostly “off the table” for those characters I can’t see fitting for any of the first two positions. That doesn’t mean I want to kill them, except I specifically state so. 

1. Tharaêl, Jespar, Calia Starting with the hardest one.I’m telling bye to Calia, alas. She’s too lawful, and I’d be very grey morality-wise if put to their realities. Besides, she has these sub vibes and I agree with opinions she might be very dom when it comes to intimacy, but her whole sadness aura is not for me. I don’t want to deal with it if I don’t have to.  Jespar: we know what he thinks of any relationship - “as long as I feel like it - I’m here for it, else - adiós” and it’s pretty common for our world, but as we’re in a medieval and religious community, I believe open relationship is not common at all. I am thinking about marriage possibilities here, yes. He wouldn’t like the idea – it involves commitment. And I assume he’s the closest to me personality-wise, so we could be close friends, but I *want* commitment. Whether the relationship hits low or we’re doing pretty good – I want my spouse to be with me. Jespar is known for running away when things get bad. So yeah, he stays just for one night. And it seems I have to marry Tharael. Well… He’s very ESTJ, but I don’t mind if he takes care of, welp, everything. Pros: his understanding of “family” is quite classic to our world as well. Remember what he says in the Refuge - “no one will have to mourn me - no widow, no children, no friends”. So in his head he tried to fit the roles of a husband and a father(still can’t see how he’s capable of it, but he definitely gave it some thinking). Family for him = wife and kids. He acknowledges and accepts the commitment. Besides, he seems to be very responsible and reliable. He also tries to be rational, sometimes he even manages. And, as I see the Rhalata as a military formation, having spent 8 years there, he is very straightforward and strict/precise/exact (pick the right word). If something’s being said – rarely hidden context is implied. It makes communication much easier. Cons: he is explosive and I have strong suspicions he might be of jealous type. It is manageable, though. Especially if you set a list of rules together what is acceptable and what needs further explanations. He’s used to living following rules, so give him new ones and he’ll feel more confident. But careful, as it may play against you. Been there done that. Rules are cool as long as they’re acceptably flexible and you’re not trying to find how to cheat and break them. 

But out of these three, he is the husband material, at least for me. I’m not mentioning any intimacy above, as it would break the game for Tharael at all. But if elaborating – I don’t even know how you would drag him to your bedroom when he’s aware what he is and absolutely not aware what this new “shell” may produce as kids, if it is capable of it at all. So I politely ignore this fact. (In my otp it works as I headcanon the prophet can’t have children)

2. Tharaêl, Dijaam, Esme Why I would marry Esme: she *is* commitment. She cares a lot for a person she’s close to. She cares even after their relationship is not a thing anymore. I love this personality trait, and I’d like to see it in a potential spouse. I’m not sure what kind of relationship she prefers tho, if it’s open like Jespar wants them to be, I start doubting and think of picking Tharael again(not telling Tharael doesn’t care as much; in fact, he cares more). If not an open relationship – Esme is “lighter” than him, but also much more naive. But it’s okay, I can be oversuspicious for the both of us. So, marry Esme. And sorry, Dijaam, I have to kill you as I like Tharael more 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

3. Tealor, Coarek, Yuslan Ah, tricky. Yuslan once had a family – he’s capable of it, they were happy, so I’d pick him for marriage. I know how Qyranian people handle families and marriage, and poly relationships are definitely not my thing, but what he had was very “classy”, so I’m good.Tealor failed to have a family. He barely tried at all. Taranor – the lore never mentioned anything about any love interests. I guess not much difference here picking who to fuck and who to kill. I just pick what looks better, so… kill Tealor.

4. “Iconic Vendors Fresh and Tasty Bread, huh no I just place them out for you to look at, my wares it is you want to see I promise you they bring you glee” I barely trade in the game, I hoard everything😅 I know the first one is Marita, the second phrase is not unique to just one character and the last one I simply can’t remember. But I don’t want to do anything with the mean trader, so I kill him. Marita will be my friend.

5. “Dust pit adversaries (I want to write Tharaêl again because technically true hngpf)The Twins (double trouble with two handed hammerss), Tamas Sha'Gar (first fight with the 4 people free for all, he was the one with bow and fire arrows), Raga Shadowclaw (lycanthrope)” Ehhhh we don’t have any personalities here, so I can’t really pick anyone. KILL ALL! 

6. “more "cuddle once, have as a pet, abandon (give to a loving person to take care of)"Whirlwind (Donkey), Standard Brown horse (not Svart), Cuthbert (the dead (& kinky) mini pig of Maxus Tabaccus, the summoned form not alive one of him)” I’m keeping the ghost pig as it’s somewhat intelligent, doesn’t need food and grooming and takes care of itself in general. If given the choice, I wouldn’t pick anything. Commitment, commitment… As for the other two hoofed frens, no difference really. I’d patpat both, but I don’t want to own a pet.

7. The Father, Daddy, Ketaron Dal'Geyss (Rynéus' Father) Ahh yess daddy issues :D It’s actually simple for me. Daddy I would kill. Huge no. No-no-no. Firstly, he’s a father figure (and you associate yourself with the prophet), so no “snug”, no marriage, no anything. Kill him and that’s all. Ketaron I have to pick for just one night as I don’t see it possible for me to survive under the same roof with this shitty person… So I marry the Father. Nothing physical and it won’t be much I would have to contribute to this relationship but it would be interesting to learn new things, at least. Still, I can see it as “I don’t bother you with your business, you don’t bother me, we just coexist without hate and sometimes I ask dumb questions” That’s all. And no, I won’t try to change anything about the Father. I’d better prefer to avoid any contacts. Serious questions here, being put into a position of spouse would make me shave my head or not 🤔 

[inviouswriting]

Abanian Nights.

Aymeric x Kiya Middle-East AU!

I got an idea for this and well I hope it works out nicely. Try to remain respectful naturally to cultures.

Under a lovely trope of enemies to lovers.

Featuring @maiden-born-in-snow​ ‘s Shuri

Gyr Abania is a hard land to live in, and through the different people. The structures were different between poor and rich. Those in the land believed between the different deities, some of Lakshmi, some of Shiva, and of Garuda. The primal deities holding reign over different regions.

In the heart of Gyr Abania in Ala Mhigo, in the main castle lives a king and his family. Ysayle and her brother Aymeric, under the rule of Thordan. Guarded by many guards. This house was protected under Shiva, and had many assassination attempts by those under Garuda. 

The son of Thordan learned well how to hold himself in fights. He was well groomed in his status, his skills in both bow and sword, and how to bargain and reason with peddlers. He did not fancy the way that other princes would bed many women, or put notches in bedposts. It didn’t stop others from trying to persuade him.

He preferred the company of Estinien, his hand guard most of the time, letting him escape some of the castle walls to a little ways away where he trains in private from time to time.

“I’m fine for the time being, Estinien. Take a break for a bit.” Aymeric needed to breathe himself from all the ways people guide his hand everywhere. From how he is suppose to act, to who he should marry. He was arranged to someone he didn’t know, while his guard has his eye for the Princess of Lakshmi.

He has seen their guards, how most of Lakshmi’s region are all women. Strong women, surely he’d love to have one of them over someone from Garuda. The empress of Garuda, Yotsuyu had demanded him as an arranged marriage, and he rather not. 

Aymeric’s thoughts are drawn out by what sounds like a hiss in the air. His head snaps up in time to see a sword in front of him. He parries it, and jumps back to see a shadow dart around him, aiming for his side. 

He parries the sword and grits his teeth a little at how powerful the sword strike is. The figure jumps back, and he is met with a small miqo woman. Green eyes glaring at him, and sword poised to strike already.

“Wait a minute!” He fends her off from another attack on him, and they both start trading blows of sword to sword. Aymeric actually finds himself enjoying it if it weren’t for the fact she wanted to kill him.

The woman tires and jumps back a bit, breathing a bit harder as she glares at him. Aymeric was kept on his toes, but impressed, her dress was one he recognized as a Lakshmi follower. 

“What is your name?” Aymeric asks, keeping an eye on her for any further attacks. 

“Why do you care? Prince! You’re not going to live long enough to really know it.” She spits out, and takes her stance a bit more. Aymeric raises his hand up to keep her from attacking.

“I’d love to know the name of the woman who bested me. At least.” He tries to buy himself time. The woman lifts her sword towards his face.

“Kiya, of Lakshmi. Second hand guard to princess Shuri.” Aymeric places his palm on the flat of her sword, and pushes it away from himself, he then quickly grabs his own sword and slams it against the flat of her blade causing a shock in her. Aymeric is quick to round himself and slip behind her grabbing her from behind trapping her arms to her sides as she kicks her feet. He lifts her with ease even feels her kick at his thigh as he holds her in such a way.

“Let me go!” Kiya squirms in his grasp, Aymeric keeps hold of her for his life knowing she’ll attempt to use her sword on him if he lets her loose.

“Not until you stop trying to attack me!” Her tail wriggles against his leg, and she growls under her breath. Kiya narrows her eyes, and flattens her ears to her head. Aymeric feels her stop resisting so much.

“Are we good then?” Aymeric asks, not letting his grip loose on her at all. She is light.

“I have no choice in the matter. I’ll be good.” She hisses out.

“Who sent you.” He asks.

“Secret.” She retorts, and Aymeric lets her on her feet but keeps her arms trapped to her sides still.

“You are in no position to keep a secret. I could have you executed here. Now, who sent you.” He orders her.

“Matoya. Lakshmi’s advisor. Said the best time to attack would be tonight.”  Kiya tests her pull away, and Aymeric tightens his hold again. She doesn’t resist much, he is stronger than her.

“I’ll have to change my habits then. As for you. I don’t meet many women who can hold a sword the way you do. Where did you learn?” Aymeric feels her shrug him off, and he lets go, staying on his guard as she goes to retrieve her sword.

“I train with the Ananta. Your hand is impressive yourself, but you leave yourself open it is laughable.” Aymeric raises an eyebrow to this.

“Yet you did not strike me in those open spots. Why is that if you aimed to kill me.” 

“Your friend is still around. Be careless of me if I killed you while the spearman can attack.” She narrows her eyes, Aymeric sees her take her stance more for defense. He bends to inspect her form a bit. She is stunning under the moonlight, tanned in skin, bright green eyes, hair tied up, and a scar on the left side of her face.

“I see.” Amusement in his voice, Aymeric hears the footsteps in the distance of Estinien returning soon. He keeps his gaze on Kiya.

“I could keep you in this palace here. We could use a strong woman around like you.” Kiya laughs at his words.

“I’d only go with you, if you’d win my hand.” Kiya takes a few steps back towards the other way out of the spot. 

“Who are you talking to, Aymeric?” Estinien gets his attention off of Kiya, and when Aymeric turns to look back he sees Kiya had vanished almost. 

“The wind.” He answers absentminded. 

“So you converse with the wind now?” Estinien teases him, and Aymeric gives a wry grin. 

“Apparently I do. It is late, we should get back before anyone important notices I am gone.” Aymeric glances over his shoulder to see Kiya peek her head from the doorframe of the other archway. He raises an eyebrow to her, then turns his attention in front of him, before Estinien presses question further.

Kiya before he turned away sticks her tongue out, then runs off back to a base camp that was set up for her group. 

“How did it go?” Came a ask, Matoya sees Kiya stiffen at her voice, and look her way.

“He’s skilled in the sword.” Kiya answers brisk, the sway of her tail shows agitation in her returning empty handed.

“The night is still young, go again!” 

“That is suicide! He’s already on alert!”

“But not of the same face! Go!” She demands, and Kiya turns on her heel to head back. She hisses under her breath.

Kiya sighs to herself, she grabs another item to use instead, a small dagger. Racing back to find a way into the structure. 

Aymeric had resigned himself to his chambers, his mind already full of thoughts of the fiery woman he had encountered. How she danced around him with ease, if she had truly meant to harm him. If she was to assassinate him why didn’t she kill him.

He thought he felt the sensation of the end of his bed dip, his mind alert, he shifts a foot and feels weight. Aymeric jolts upright, only to be shoved down and pinned by a body stradling his waist, and Kiya aiming a dagger at his head, he moves his head to the side in time to avoid it. He shoves her and flips her over and underneath him.

A hand clasps over Kiya’s mouth to keep her from yelling. She is met with a stare from Aymeric and he eyes the dagger embedded in the pillow where his head was.

“You have alot of bravery to attack me twice in the same night. Ah!” He pulls his hand back after feeling her teeth dig into his palm. She struggles against him to wriggle out from underneath him. Kiya kicks her feet out, while Aymeric wrests her hands above her head, and pins her legs with his waist.

“Enough!” He grabs the dagger she had used and holds it at her neck. Her eyes only glare and she turns her head.

“Why are you so intent on having mine head tonight? Speak!” 

“I am just ordered to do it! And I obey it!” Kiya shifts away from the blade, and Aymeric moves it away sitting up. He notes she isn’t fighting him like earlier. Probably not to draw attention to her location. 

“You should leave before you’re caught.”

“Why are you sparing me twice? I’m trying to kill you.” 

“If I had to, I rather fight you on equal footing than like this.” He keeps her dagger.

“I’ll be holding onto this however, to ensure you don’t try again tonight.” Kiya glowers up at him from her spot, he keeps her wrists together. If he had been any other kind of man. He does lean over her when she tries to get up and claims a quick kiss on her. The act baffles her and causes her to make a noise in protest to it.

She with her feet free, she kicks his side, and scrambles out. Aymeric is given a powerful slap that has him touching the right side of his face. He eyes her with a bit of pride in his eyes at finding such a fiery woman. Nothing like the women in Ala Mhigo, or Ala Ghiri. She held her own, she is strong, and could prove to be a powerful ally if he could earn her.

“Why did you!?!”

“For trying to kill me.”

“So you kiss me?!”

“A promise.”

“A promise for what!?!”

“I think I’ll chase after you. So to accept your challenge to win your hand.” Kiya is dumbfounded at his words.

“Ha! It will be a difficult challenge! You would have to take on the challenge most foreigners take in Lakshmi’s region.” Kiya holds her own pride in her eyes.

“Oh? And what challenge is that? Tell me.”

“It’s an archer’s contest. If you really want to know, find your way to the banquet there.” She quirks an eyebrow at him, and he feels a sense of wild in his nature.

“Aye then, I’ll be there and do it. What would be the prize?”

“Any of the women under Lakshmi’s region. From Princess to peasant. Yet there hasn’t been a person able to do it yet.” Kiya folds her arms across her chest seeing the way he stares at her.

“Then I will be the first.” Aymeric takes the challenge. Kiya beams a taunting smirk at him.

“Challenge accepted then. Don’t die to anyone then.” Aymeric sees her run towards his open window, and sees her climb out of it. He touches the back of his hand to his face and winces at the slap that was still there.

Kiya returned back to the encampment and informed Matoya of the conditions, in how perceptive the prince is. 

“You sure he wants to take that on?” Matoya wonders why a prince no less would even want to. She then laughs.

“Seems you caught his eye well. Can’t say I blame him, you are a catch.” She earns Kiya glaring at her.

“I don’t have time for marriage.” Kiya can already see the wheels turning in the old woman. 

“Whatever you are planning, I don’t want anything of it. I’m going to report to Shuri, the to bed.” She leaves Matoya, who talks with other servants around her to begin preparations for a custom they have had.

Lakshmi’s trial is one for those trained in bows, with a special ring of targets to shoot arrows through and to be done a certain way that all three rings get pierced at the same time. 

Kiya has seen many men try it, and only a few succeed that were actually skillful and have claimed women for their hands in marriage. 

“How did it go?” Kiya raises her head to see Shuri, dressed in fine silks, and interested in hearing any stories.

“He was too swift to kill.” Kiya answers. Earning a raised eyebrow from the au ra.

“That’s a shame, how was fighting with the prince?” Shuri sits upright wanting to know. Her other hand guard Ardbert looks between them, one of the only men of the guard keep. 

“He fights so well that I almost didn’t want to stop. It’d be a shame to kill such a fine man.” Kiya felt the words leave her, and sees the white haired woman grin a bit.

“Oh? Is he good looking as they rumor him?” Kiya feels her face heat up at the memory she had with the man in question. 

“He is. I should tell you more tomorrow. More in private.” She looks to Ardbert, who eyes her weary about secrecy. 

“Tomorrow then.” She looked forward to stories of different lands Kiya is sent to.

Once by herself, Kiya feels her nerves on fire, the kiss she had from the prince left her with a sensation she wasn’t sure she liked or not.

“Let’s see you pass that trial then.” She murmurs under her breath.

[royalstorm]

✨ chara. study #1 — keqing & her first kiss .

Keqing had her first and only kiss when she was fourteen.

Picture this: it was a Tuesday night. Her father was out, meeting with Snezhnayan financiers to take shots and talk business. Her mother was two rooms over, gossiping with the wife of another businessman hailing from another prestigious Liyuean family. Based on previous findings — all garnered by way of prompting and eavesdropping — this family was successful, second only to her own flesh and blood. It was likely that her parents wished to forge some sort of partnership with them, hence their rapidly increasing visitations. But for once in her life, Keqing couldn’t care less about that.

What she cared about was soft, sincere — blue-eyed and brown-skinned, ringlets of blonde hair enshrouding her like a waterfall ... or perhaps a halo. She couldn’t help but stare every time they were in each other’s company. It didn’t matter what they were doing, either. Whether it be folding clothes or spinning fabric or destemming flower bouquets, the focal point of Keqing’s attention remained there and true.

On that day, they were seated beside one another facing a too-big desk in Keqing’s too-big bedroom. Cradled in each of their arms was a book detailing Liyue’s social customs, namely the Flower Ball. Both sets of parents had suggested they study its contents together. “After all, it’s befitting for a proper woman to be versed in social etiquette,” Keqing’s mother had perked up, much to her chagrin. She would much rather be reading about Roald the Adventurer, or perhaps about the ruins scattered across their country ... something more becoming than the proper way to smile and wave before casting a glorified paper weight off a cliff.

So, naturally, Keqing had untrained her eyes from the book and, instead, kept them trained on the subject of her care. It was strangely calming to observe her leaf through page after page, forehead crinkling in concentration as she attempted to make sense of every word.

She pursed her lips. Keqing made note of how plump they were.

“Jia.” Despite the intensity of her stare, she addressed the other girl plainly. And although it took a moment, Jia eventually acknowledged her companion, closing her book and gingerly placing it on the desk. 

“Hey, thanks for that,” she chirped. Her plump lips fixed themselves into a smile. Something tightened in Keqing’s chest. It was the same way a clenched fist felt but somehow ... different. Somehow ... better. 

“Did you lose track of time again?” Keqing moved to discard of her own book. She then extended both of her arms upward in a lazy stretch. “You tend to do that ... not that there’s anything wrong with it. Diligence is a good trait to have.” 

Jia let out a laugh. “Okay, okay! If you say so!” She mimicked Keqing’s pose, allowing her legs to go slack, as well. “I liked what was in that book, though. I felt all grown-up reading about what it means to be a lady.” 

“Is that so?” Keqing lowered her arms, opting to fold them over her chest. “I guess I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t really paying attention.” 

Another laugh. That tight sensation seized Keqing’s chest again. “Hehe! It’s okay. I can give you notes! That way, you don’t get in trouble with your parents.” 

At that point, Keqing swore her heart would explode. Aside from just looking nice, Jia also always did nice things for her: drawing her pictures, picking flowers for her, and of course, handwriting study notes for her. She couldn’t help but wonder what drove Jia to act in such a way and so constantly at that. Was this behavior reminiscent of something relayed to them in that book? Or perhaps the other books she refused to touch?

“No, it’s alright,” Keqing dismissed with a wave of her hand. “But thank you. I really appreciate it.”

Jia nodded, adjusting her posture so that her heels were planted on the seat of her chair, her lean brown arms hugging her legs to her chest. A few beats of silence swept over both girls. Truth be told, Keqing imagined that the other would revert to continue reading her book, seeing as she enjoyed it so much...

...Until —

“Keqing, how do you feel about love?”

Had she actually obeyed her parents and done her share of reading, the question wouldn’t have jostled her as much as it did, but alas ... there Keqing sat in stupefied ignorance, chills coursing down her spine and chest tormented with the prospect of a heart palpitation.

“Like —” Jia continued. Looks like Keqing had been unresponsive for too long. “ — What are your thoughts on kissing?” She rocked back and forth all the while, forearms flushing a pale red thanks to the friction of her movements. Keqing found herself wanting to run her fingers through those very spots — to gently quell the reddening flesh.

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought much of it,” she finally chose to answer, if to just distract her wayfaring mind. Violet eyes dropped to behold the suddenly interesting marble tile of her floor. She then pretended to be captivated by her own hands, twiddling her thumbs in vain. “How about you?”

Ever oblivious, Jia giggled. “I guess I’m the same way ... but you know what my mommy said? She said that you only kiss someone you really like ...” Keqing considered that, mid-thumb twiddle. “ ...And the book said that, too! When the bride and groom make their vows and swear to live happily ever after, they seal the deal by smooching!”

Keqing considered that, too, humming in thought. On the other hand, her parents had taught her that marriages were but a strategic maneuver — orchestrated like some grand scheme for the sake of maintaining power and financial prosperity. They were transactional arrangements, not arrangements founded in an intimate respect and understanding of each other. 

So, naturally, Keqing was speechless. And she remained that way — quiet, contemplative — for a moment before she at last dared her eyes to glaze over and meet Jia’s.

“Well ... ” she simpered. “Isn’t that nice?”

The pair then spent the next half hour or so in an amiable silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. Jia unsurprisingly continued to read her book. Keqing, on the other hand, was thinking up a storm. 

As their time bordered an hour, they transitioned from sitting casually a few inches from each other, to Jia scooting her chair closer to Keqing’s, to Jia laying her head on Keqing’s lap, to a beet red Keqing resting her legs on Jia’s lap. They stayed like that for ... archons know how long. It was a miracle that it hadn’t been time for Jia and her family to leave yet.

By this point, exactly one hour and fifty-five minutes had passed. Jia’s book now lay abandoned at the foot of her chair. She instead intertwined her fingers with Keqing’s, whose head was perched comfortably on the crook of her shoulder.

The physical contact was a pleasant surprise. Keqing acknowledged this by squeezing the other girl’s hand. It’s funny because, well, Keqing had never been the affectionate type, let alone really had a friend before. There had been her parents’ servants and the occasional child of business partners from abroad, otherwise Keqing had always been a pretty lonely kid. 

That being said, she wasn’t particularly sure if the tightening that had been seizing and releasing the organ in her chest was from the contentment of having someone genuinely appreciate her ... or if she was just severely allergic to intimacy. 

Either way, when Jia turned slightly to look at her, probably to tell her some joke, Keqing moved up from her shoulder and pressed their lips together. Their teeth clinked and their noses mashed, which, well, ow ... and Jia tasted like the giant fried shrimp balls they gorged on for dinner which wasn’t bad as a dish, but tasted a little funny coming from someone else’s mouth. Not that Keqing’s breath reeked of anything better ...

... But all in all, no, that was ... not good. That was far from the most romantic first kiss in existence. It couldn’t even be considered romantic, really. Keqing recoiled as if she had been scorched, her entire face lit aflame. She searched Jia’s doe eyes and was on the brink of mumbling out an apology when, in that instant, Jia seized her face between her hands, an unreadable expression contrasting that of Keqing’s.

Without further hesitation, Jia drew her closer for another kiss — one that was soft and sincere just like her. 

It lasted for all of a couple of seconds. When Jia pulled back, it had been her face’s turn to heat up, its hue shy of scarlet.

Having lost all composure, Keqing dragged both hands through her once neatly plaited pigtails. “I apologize for, uh, attacking your face.”

Jia beamed, but not before flushing an even more telling shade of red ... ah yes, now she was scarlet. “No, uh ...” A girlish giggle leaked out from her awkward grin. “ ... Don’t worry about it.” It then dawned on her that Keqing’s lips were still but a hairsbreadth from hers. Jia quickly uncupped Keqing’s face and sat on her hands. 

“Sorry,” she mouthed.

Keqing tilted her head, picking at the nape of her neck in confusion. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who kissed you first.”

And it was as if saying that word aloud is what made it real. Kissed. Keqing kissed Jia. Her friend. Her only friend.

She was tempted to completely shield her face with her hands, but she decided against it, in the off-chance that the gesture would traumatize Jia and inhibit her from ever talking to any guys (or girls ...) ever again, let alone getting wed to one.

The once amiable silence between them had descended into something tiptoeing the fine line between “awkward” and “grave”. Fortune seemed to favor both girls that fateful night, however, and it only took another minute or so before Jia’s mom had swung the door open, calling for her to say her goodbyes and head home with her.

And here was the awkward part: should Keqing see her out? And bid her a proper goodbye at the front door?

Alas, her body settled on a decision before her mind could, coercing her legs into walking down, down, down the spiraling staircase alongside Jia. It was only when both girls stood face-to-face at the door that Keqing was able to wrestle herself out of autopilot.

Jia’s mom had already begun her trek down the path leading to their home. Jia, however, hadn’t made any effort to budge from her place. She continued to stand there with both hands clasped behind her back, her aura an interesting mix of stalwart and shy.

Keqing smiled slightly in spite of herself, her own gaze glued to the floor. Only then was when ...

“Uh, good night!” Jia’s voice rung in the air an entire octave higher, causing Keqing’s eyes to lock onto hers like a magnet. The former flicked her fingers stiffly in a sort of cursory wave.

That wave. It was the wave that did it. Keqing inched forward and dipped her head to press a quick kiss to the corner of Jia’s mouth. She then guided her closer to the door, coaxing it further open.

“Good night,” she finally murmured in return, closing the door before Jia could muster a response. Oh, if only Keqing had stayed just a moment longer.

Because then, she would have caught the dopey look on Jia’s face. She would have seen Jia fondly graze her lips with the pads of her fingers. 

Keqing should not have shut that door so quickly.

Because they didn’t talk about it after that.

In fact, they didn’t talk at all.

[serendipityjxmn]

I Hate You, Park Jimin!

Chapter 4

Words Count: 1.9k

TW: None

Link to Chapter 3

Link to Chapter 5

I glanced at the clock on the edge of my table. It was almost 2 AM. I buried my head into my notes, mentally cursing in my head for bringing this onto myself. I had been spending the last five hours planning the so-called study plan for Jimin. It was extremely time-consuming because I had no idea which level he was at. I kept on rewriting my plan over and over again, constantly having a war on whether it would be too easy for him because that means he would laugh at me and placing the bar high would also not mean a thing. Alas, I gave up. I decided to just go on with my plan and whatever criticism he would have for me, I would just take it. Without realizing, I fell asleep on my study table. I woke up the next morning with eyebags, dark circles around my eyes and a painful neck.

I think I looked like a mess when I went to college the next day and Ah Young confirmed my thoughts when her eyes widened at my sight. She was about to say something but our professor entered the class so she was forced to shut her mouth. When the class ended though, she didn’t hesitate.

“You look like zombie!” She examined me at arms length. “What happened to you?”

“I slept late.” I answered simply and we both made our way to our locker. As soon as I was done filling my bag with the next subject’s books, I leaned against my own locker as I wait for Ah Young to finish whatever she was doing.

I sighed.

“What’s up with you?”

“I said yes to the study partner thing but now I’m not sure whether it was the right decision.” My feet kicked the air.

Her eyes widened at this. “What?!” She almost half screamed.

“Yah!” I glanced around. Thank God no one was paying attention.

“Oh my god-“ she clasped her hands onto her mouth dramatically. Her voice dropped low. “This is your chance, girl. The time has finally come. Lord- I would like to thank you for not letting my best friend die a virgin.” Her palms were now clasped together in a praying manner.

What the heck? “Yah!” I pushed her shoulder and she laughed.

“So when are you meeting him?”

“In two hours.” I said poutily as I looked at my watch.

Her eyes went round. “What?! You’re meeting him today and you’re wearing this?”

I threw a look at her in disbelief. “What is wrong with my outfit?”

“Oh God- girl.” She buried her hands in her face. At that moment, her phone rang. She groaned when she saw the caller ID. I peeked and immediately understood. “Yes- Dad. Yes.. I’ll be there. I won’t be late. I’m going now.” She rolled her eyes as she hung up.

I threw a sympathetic look at her. It had to be one of those formal lunches with her family again.

“I have lunch with my parents. And I’m pretty sure they’re going to bring someone again.” She made an annoyed expression. Her parents had been trying to set her up with a friend’s son and she had been suffering a lot these days. Then she narrowed her eyes at me. “You. You’re lucky that you’re off the hook today. But next time you’re meeting him, I’ll be there to groom you from head to toe. Let’s go shopping soon!” She said and with that she left me.

I shuddered at her words grooming me from head to toe. If Ah Young says that, she literally meant that. I slowly dragged my feet to the library.

JIMIN POV

I ran my hands through my hair as I sigh. Why the fuck do I have to go through this shit again?

“Jimin-sshi.” A voice called me. I glanced at the girl sitting in front of me. She has medium-short brown hair, sharp and defined facial features. Her dress looked expensive. Her nails were shiny. Definitely groomed.

“Do you not like the food here?” She asked in her low voice. She slowly put down her own cutleries elegantly.

I shook my head. This had got to be the hundredth date that my parents set with some of their friends or business partners or clients’ daughters. I was starting to get tired of it but I wasn’t creative enough to think of ways to rebel. It was strange that none of these meetings ever fluttered the heartless hole in me. Sure I’ve fucked around but never with the girls my parents set me up with. No particular reason why although I know most of them thirst for me. I just happened to draw the line there.

But that was just it. My encounters with girls were either family business or personal pleasure. None of it ever tapped the hole in my heart. Not until recently- a small voice in my head said. I frowned but I brushed it off quickly.

Kim Hana. The name inevitably popped into my mind. She had a very beautiful name. It sounded just right whenever it came off from my mouth although I rarely had the chance to call out her name. The image of her laughing whenever she was with her best friend crept into my mind. She never flashed a single smile to me. Well, maybe you can try being less of a jerk to her, Park Jimin. I shook my head thinking about the way I rejected her when I knew that she mustered so much courage to come and talk to me. I noticed she doesn’t talk much with guys. I barely see her interacting with boys. The thought seemed to please me.

Wait. Am I forgetting something? I glanced at my watch. It was already 4 PM. My eyes widened. Shit! How could I forget about Kim Hana? I stood up immediately and the girl in front of me seemed taken aback.

“Jimin?” She called softly.

“I’m- I’m sorry I have to go.” I ran my hands through my hair, feeling exasperated at myself. I quickly fished out my card and called for bills. “I’m sorry. I’ll send someone to pick you up.”

I said and within seconds I was in my car, flooring the gas and headed towards the campus. Meanwhile, I called Taehyung.

“Hey.” He answered within a second.

“Taehyung, I need your help.” I said and he didn’t question when I asked her to fetch the girl I was meeting just now. He knew me and my sad life story well. Although I was sure their meeting wouldn’t end then and there. Taehyung had a very high sex appeal and he can be extremely seductive. I can attest to that. I shook my head. Although not that I was in any place to judge his sexual life.

I had no idea how long it took me to arrive at the campus but I sure did break a lot of traffic rules to get here as soon as I can. Could she still be waiting for me? I doubt so but my guilty conscience told me that she might just do so. She was that innocent. Mentally, I rolled my eyes.

I was going to head to the library but I kept my eyes peeled while on my way, scanning for any sight of her. I didn’t see her anywhere so I entered the library. I searched every corner. There was none. Maybe she did go back? Now it does kind of seemed stupid if she were to wait for me. Almost two hours passed. But I climbed the staircase anyway just in case she was at the upper floors. A large lake area slash park where most students enjoyed studying on the grass can be seen through the large glass windows accompanying the staircases. I stopped in my tracks. I saw a familiar back sitting at one of the bench. Her long black hair waving softly from the wind. Is that Kim Hana? I wasn’t entirely sure but I went down anyway.

Soon I arrived at the bench near the park. The place was practically empty perhaps because it was Friday, the start of weekend. I glanced around searching for the familiar figure.

Almost as if she sensed my presence, she looked up and her eyes met mine. She looked pretty in her short white dress. No words seemed to come out from my mouth.

Her expression turned cold. I could clearly see that she was angry. Her face was red. Her eyes pierced at me but why does she look cuter to me that way?

I resigned to what was coming. I went nearer to her.

She crossed her arms. “Thought you got killed or something on the way here.” She said sarcastically.

I didn’t reply anything.

“Did you know that I waited for you for 2 hours like a fool?” Her furious expression tickled something in my heart. It didn’t seem right at her innocent face.

“You’re such a jerk. I have no idea why I trusted you in the first place.” Her ranting continued on and on.

She was getting a bit too lengthy with her words and without me realizing it, I leaned in and crashed my lips to hers. I did it without much thought as I was just trying to shut her up. To my pleasant surprise, her mouth tasted sweet and it felt so right on mine that I was tempted to deepen it but I held myself back.

I broke the kiss - except that it was barely a kiss. Our lips merely touched. I regarded her expression. She was obviously stunned but her expression unfathomable for me.

HANA POV

I was mentally cursing Jimin for the past hour that I even ran out of any other curse words to use. I felt a presence near me so I looked up and guess what- he showed up, obviously way past our meeting time. He dressed smartly - white shirt and black slacks. I wondered if he was from some important event briefly but anger consumed me quickly.

When he went near me with his nonchalant look, I stood up immediately. I crossed my arms. “Thought you got killed or something on the way here.” I started with sarcasm.

My anger boiled further when he made no attempt to reply. I crossed my arms. “Did you know that I waited for you for 2 hours like a fool? You’re such a jerk. I have no idea why I trusted you in the first place.” His eyes were on me but I wasn’t sure if he was even listening to me.

He leaned into me and in a fraction of seconds, his lips were on mine. I should be pushing him away but I was too stunned to do anything. His lips went away as quick as it met mine. Even when he released me, my mind still seemed unable to function properly. Our lips met for a brief moment but it was enough to suck all the air from my lungs.

When my brain finally had the capacity to process the heart-stopping (apparently) event, I glared at him. That was my fucking first kiss! How dare he! I raised my hands to slap him but he was quicker. He took hold of my wrist. “What do you think you’re doing?” I snapped at him.

“What? Don’t tell me that was your first kiss.”

I went red. Then I looked away. How does he even know?

He regarded me for a moment. “Are you for real?” He threw an incredulous look at me.

I glared at him as I tried to pull my hands away but he still held it firmly. “Let go of me!”

“Is that Park Jimin? And Kim Hana...?” A voice was heard and we both stood frozen.

Link to Chapter 5

Posted on 200508 11:25PM