#am I crying at the ballroom dancing again?

[madlyn5ever]

It’s the way Villanelle sends Eve away mid dance to keep her out of the situation bc they’re having a soft moment and she doesn’t want anything to happen to her

[azsazz]

Anywhere

Tamlin x Reader

Summary: Anon Request: Ooooo I’d literally love it so much if you’d write for Tamlin again😩 I feel like I’ve been seeing so much hate for him recently and I really just need more people doing my sweet misunderstood boy some justice :((( honestly anything that just has him being sweet and soft… hurt comfort is always a solid winner.

Warnings: Angst, foreplay.

Word Count: 1,712

Notes: Of course this would turn into something steamy, that's just who I am.

_________________________________________

“Tam?” you call softly, pushing the cracked door to his office open further. The room is dark, moonlight shining through the large windows. You spot him right away, and the warmth of the bond in your chest would tell you that he’s here even if you weren’t able to make out his form, slumped in his chair, elbows resting on knees and head in his hands.

He doesn’t answer but doesn’t turn you away either. Stepping into the room, you make your way towards him. His home is silent, almost eerie with lack of Tamlin practicing his fiddle, without the chatter of the chefs, courtiers, and handmaidens. It’s late, and they’ve all vacated the property. It’s only you and him now, and Tamlin hadn’t sought you out once the sun dipped behind the grassy knolls of the Spring Court.

Your footsteps patter softly against the wooden floors, the only sound in the manor besides your shallow breathing. Your heart kick starts along with your nerves, worry wracking your mind as you move closer and he doesn’t answer or shift. You can see the way his broad back heaves.

Timidly, you reach out your hand, brushing some of his long, blond hair from where it’s falling around his downturned head. Again, Tamlin doesn’t move as you tuck it gently behind his pointed ear.

“Tamlin?” you ask, running your hand down the back of his head. He’s starting to worry you, all silent and brooding like this. Lowering yourself beside him to your knees, you crane your neck to see his face, solemn with worry, usually bright green eyes dark. “Tam, are you okay, honey? What’s going on?”

Your mate doesn’t respond for a long while, and you don’t ask again. He reaches out, taking your hand in his. His fingers are cold, but his cheek is warm when he presses it against his skin, needing to be touched by you.

You stroke your thumb along his smooth skin, and his sigh startles the quiet of the midnight painted room. The moon paints his rosy, sun-kissed cheeks, his skin glowing with it, and for a male born for spring, he surely looks ethereal basked in the night.

His green eyes are piercing as he finally looks up at you, drinking you in. The soft look of concern on your face, knitting your brows together. That look in your eyes, the one that tells him that you will do anything for him, even if it means doing something you may regret. The downturn of your mouth, he can see your teeth nibbling at the inside of your mouth with worry, can feel that niggling down the bond too.

You remind him so much of her sometimes. When you’re reading up in the library in your favorite chair in your favorite spot in the manor, pushed right in front of the windows so you can look out into the garden and at the fountain while you lose yourself in your book. In fleeting moments when he’s playing his instrument and you wander your way into the ballroom, lured by the fantastical sounds drifting throughout the house. The way you fist your skirts and let the music consume you, twirling about the room with your head thrown back, laughing, until eventually you force him from his chair and plant his hands on your hips, the both of you dancing to the music of your bond, the push and pull of loving emotions shared between you.

Or when you strip your pastel dresses away and beckon him into the moonlight pond with your bare body. The silver water slipping against your skin like beads of the Mother’s tears. Only your envious beauty could make her cry. The way he can’t resist himself, eager to have his hands on you.

“I don’t deserve you.” 

His admission is a whisper that, if you were outside, would be whisked away on the breath of the wind. But you’re not, and Tamlin damns the silence, for being so weak, so fucking comfortable in your presence that his mouth has unleashed this secret without his permission. 

Your heart falters, and he feels it, splintering in his own chest. The burn reverberates in his bones, branding his soul with the flash of sadness you release down the bond before pulling those weaving vines taught so no more of your emotion can slip through the tight knit.

“What do you mean?” You ask, and you hate how your voice shakes. Your hand slackens against Tamlin’s cheek and he tightens his grip on the hand he’s holding as if he’s afraid you may pull away from him.

You’d never pull away from your mate. Instead, you move closer, parting his knees and sliding between them, staring up into those beautiful emerald eyes of his. They remind you so much of the plains that make up his court, the grasses taller than your knees, ones you had to wade through to pull him out of his self-loathing rut after Spring had fallen to shambles, making him see the sun shining again.

Tamlin drops your hand in favor of cradling your face in both of his hands. They’re shaking, as is his voice when he speaks answers. “You’re too good for me, petal, too good for this court. You are so bright, so caring and loving and you deserve so much more than to be trapped here—” His voice breaks a little, and you understand exactly what’s happening. Today is the anniversary of the downfall of Spring. The final day of the High Lady of Night’s plan to ruin everything Tamlin has never wanted but was bestowed by his bloodline. “You can go anywhere, do anything, you’re destined for so much better, so much better than me…” 

Tears prick your eyes and you squeeze his wrists, hard. “Stop it right now, Tamlin. Don’t—don’t do this because you think it’s right. Don’t dismiss our love because of the past. You deserve to love and to be loved, to cherish and to live life freely and without dwelling on what happened because some illiterate little female got a taste of power. I will love you until every flower in this court shrivels and until the Mother returns us to the earth. You are mine and I am yours, forever. Is that not what we committed to by accepting this bond?”

“It is,” he hisses painfully, tugging you up. His movements are effortless, lifting you into his lap with an ease that makes your stomach twist. You’d clench your thighs together but Tamlin is spreading them on either side of his thighs so he can pull you as close to his body as he can. Now isn’t really the time to be acting like this, but your body reacts to the slightest thought of your wolfish mate, and with the way his large hands soothe up the sides of your thighs to settle on your waist, he can smell it on you too. “I love you so much that it makes me question everything. How can I head a court when all I want to do is steal you away into the night and force you somewhere no one can find us?” His teeth are sharp at the juncture of your throat and shoulder, making you shiver. 

Tamlin couldn’t have admitted something like this long ago, hadn’t wanted to. He thought he might love the human female the way she’d initially loved him, but it was nothing compared to the burning passion he feels for you. The raw and unyielding power that sears his body when you’re near. He would give up this court in an instant if it meant saving you, keeping you for himself. He needs you like his gardens need the rain, the sunlight, the air. All of the best moments in his life don’t even compare to any of those you’ve given him. You are it, from dusk until dawn, from flesh to ash.

“Do it,” you gasp, fingering the hair at the nape of his neck. You tug on it, throwing your head back at his words, the sheer truth of them. You rock your hips against his, feeling his hard length pressing up to meet your cunt. “Take me Tamlin, whisk me away or bend me over this desk and take me right here. It doesn’t matter where we go or who we’re with as long as we’re together.”

“Fuck, petal,” he growls against your skin. He’s leaving marks but you don’t care, neither of you will be leaving your bed for days, not while Tamlin allows himself this freedom. His subordinates will keep the court running, and they know better than to disturb their High Lord. “This is what I’m talking about. The way that you move, that you love…this can’t all be for me.”

“It is,” you whine as he roughly grabs a fistful of your ass. He lifts his lips, grinding into you as your fingers scrabble against the fabric covering his muscular chest. “Gods, Tam. Take me upstairs, please!”

“Thought you wanted me to take you right here,” his breath is hot against your lips. He bites at your lower lip, pulling on it and causing you to gasp. “What happened to that?”

“Anywhere,” you’re all but babbling now. Tamlin’s fingers slide between your thighs, brushing across your panty-covered cunt. “Anywhere, take me anywhere.” 

He pulls back and you want to whimper but the fire in his piercing eyes makes it catch in your throat. His lips are swollen, glistening from your kisses and his rough tongue on your skin. The way he’s staring up at you…it’s consuming. You slacked the tight reins on your barriers and are hit with his feelings full force. It almost feels like you’ve been struck, the way you rock back and Tamlin has to catch you, tuck you closer to his chest with those possessive hands you adore so much.

“Let me take you anywhere, then,” he whispers and you nod against his heated skin, forehead pressed to his. “Anywhere, Tamlin,” you agree, brushing your mouth sensually against his, pairing it with a swift roll of your hips that makes you both groan and his hands tighten on your skin. “I will love you everywhere.”

[faeskiss]

LONGING ༉‧₊˚.

synopsis: reader misses zaros on their birthday! a sad fic

The ballroom is alive and thriving with guests, music is blaring and reverberating throughout the hall, rampant sound of laughter and revelry is dancing in the air, the smell of wine and strawberries is thick and inviting

it’s my birthday, but I am cooped up in this absurd corner,next to the fondue table, a glass of switchel in my hand, I would go for a more riveting drink, but I really shouldn’t have alcohol, it’s very easy for me to lose myself if I have too much, and I am determined to not give these people an unwanted show and fuel their zeal for drama and gossip.

I certainly don’t want Zaros to have any reason to laugh or look down on me……even if he isn’t here physically, news travels fast, and if I make a spectacle of myself, there’s no way he wouldn’t hear about it.

My mother, the Queen, gives a long speech in my honour, it’s warm and wholesome, and I certainly don’t deserve to be praised the way she does, she paints me in such a way that I seem tenfold the incredible and dutiful person I am, when that’s far from reality, I dread the day people of my kingdom realise that I’m a fraud, that I hide behind my intelligence and wit, that I haven’t the slightest clue of what I’m doing, this fear, it eats me alive, every single day.

I’m not exactly the best person you’ll ever come across, I know that, and I know if Zaros were here he’d remind of the same every five minutes, even on my birthday

Nobles come and go, bringing in gifts and fake smiles, giving me their half hearted good wishes, all my fair weather friends are here too, this entire ordeal feels more like a desperate attempt to prove who is more loyal and dutiful to the future ruler rather than a birthday party, it all feels so very disingenuous.

No matter how rocky things were between me and Zaros, he had always been a veritable person, one of the very few people who truly saw me for who I was, no matter how unpleasant the “real me” is…

I still remember my 17th birthday, right before everything went wrong, back when he still had some amount of love for me in his soul, he had given me a heart shaped necklace with my initials, in his handwriting, engraved on it, it was custom made for me, he told me that as long as I had that necklace, I would have a piece of him with me at all times

we weren’t always incredibly affectionate with each other,but when we were it was real and almost intoxicating…

I’ve had uncountable pieces of jewellery gifted to me in the past, but none have meant so much to me as that necklace, I have it locked away, safely, my heart still aches every single time I accidentally come across it in my closet

it’s a reminder of how much he really loved and cared for me, and how he’ll never love me the way he used to, ever again, not even if I prayed to the heavens with every single speck of hope and optimism my body can muster…

tears start bubbling in my eyes, “oh god, I don’t want to cry on my birthday, especially not because of him” I think to myself ,I hurry out of the ballroom, leading my way to the balcony before anyone can see me in this state.

I quickly hang on to the railing for support as I feel the sadness seep into my knees making them go weak, I want to breakdown, I want to scream and cry, I want to feel the warmth of his embrace once more, just one more time, it’s the only birthday wish no one in the land can grant me.

A huge pit of longing starts to form in my stomach, as if it’s a black hole ready to engulf my very being right here and now, no matter how hard I try to deny it, I can’t anymore, I miss him so much it hurts, I miss Zaros SO much, he was everything to me, no matter how much we brawled, no matter the poisonous words that spewed out of our mouths when we fought, I still loved him and I know he loved me.

I haven’t seen his face or heard his voice in almost 3 years, my eyes and ears are starved, everything that went down between us, I regret it every day.

A sharp shooting pain stabs me in the chest, as his stupidly charming smile flashes before my eyes, I took it for granted, I still remember the last time he smiled at me like that, teeth and all, warm and comforting, little did I know it’d be the last time I’d ever see it.

Our relationship was always complicated but the one thing that none of us could deny was that we could share anything we wanted with each other, no matter how much he disapproved of my actions, he knew he could be himself around me, he had a way of seeing through my every word, every movement , every look, he knew me better than anyone, even my own mother….even my own self, I had never felt so alive as I did when I was with him, now I feel like an empty shell of a person, existing in vain, bitter and incomplete.

My tired gaze travels outside the balcony, the city looks beautiful, fireworks are ablaze in the sky, I can hear the excitement and chatter of the people outside as they relish the beautiful sight with their loved ones, I haven’t gotten to hear much about Zaros since he left, but I do know that he’s in town, and I know that right now we share the same twilight sky, I don’t care for the expensive clothing, the jewels, the meaningless luxuries that I have received tonight, the only thing I truly want is for him to look up at the sky, and think of me, of every single smile, every thoughtful glance we shared, all the times our laughter echoed through the walls of this palace, and smile, even if it is for a split second. ༉‧₊˚.

[lilisgardensblog]

🎀Only you, mon amour~🎀

{ You were silently crying in the garden when a familiar voice calls out your name... }

Neuvillette x reader

genre: fluff , comfort

song: swan song by lana del rey

Left all alone in the middle of the ballroom, what a faith for the Archon's favorite Diamond that was. Everyone's gaze was shifting towards you as you heard the faint gossiping turn louder and louder as you, the so called Diamond of the Season, were left all alone. In the great wave of couples dancing, you were the still stone that stood out, that froze at the shock of being ditched for someone else. You could hear a vague laugh in the background that brought you back to your senses. Panicked filled your lungs as you turned and dramatically ran for the moonlit garden.

You found a hidden bench somewhere in this flowery maze and sat, admiring the lake in front of you. The moonlight was reflecting and the whole scene could be oh so romantic if you weren't hurt by your "partner's" actions. Trying to hold in your tears, you play with a strain of grass you ripped but instantly felt bad for the grass. You sigh and let the little green stripe fall back where it belongs, hoping a new one will grow stronger and greener than before. Turning your gaze back to the moon you thought to yourself "Where did I do wrong? I'm the prettiest,smartest and most graceful of them all and yet...here I am alone..." Warm tears were streaming down your cheeks as you tried to hide your soft sobs.

"Pardon me, Mademoiselle" a soothing voice was calling you from somewhere in the garden. You heard steps coming closer and closer as the moonlight finally shined on him and you saw the Chief of Justice, the most powerful being in Fontaine. Not only was his power determined by his wealth, but you heard gossip that there's more to him than the authority he possessed. To all that, his firm and stoic demeanour in addition with his cold and unfazed gaze made him an intimating person to be around.

Quickly wiping away your tears you try to salute him "Monsieur!" your voice goes up in surprise, unsure if you should get up and do a curtsy. A gesture of his hand told you to relax and stay in place as Neuvillette joined you on the bench. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" you try to break the silence. He looked you in the eyes and whispered "Beautiful indeed..." a little smile appeared on his face before you tried to get up again. "We shouldn't be seen together, Monsieur. If they see us all alone-" The sound of a giggle stopped you mid sentence as you saw Neuvillette laughing. "May I ask what you find so amusing, Monsieur?" you were genuinely confused about what he was laughing about. " I just remember you in that ballroom-" Before he could finish you interrupt him rudely, not wanting to hear the rest "Pardon me, Monsieur but if you're here to laugh at me for that you could've done it in the ballroom with the other guests and there was no need to come out here to laugh in my face!" you affirm angrily and are ready to leave.

He catches your wrist and says "Attendez s'il vous plaît!" with your French studies you knew he said 'wait, please' and so once again he locked his gaze with yours. Being so close you can see that the so intimating appearance that everyone feared was just that, an appearance. His genuine feelings reflected in his eyes as he silently begged you to stay, but was ready to let go if you refused to. "I'm listening..." you nod, encouraging him to speak up. You were still somewhat reticent about what he was going to say, but decided it might be wiser to listen. "Mademoiselle, I'm not by any means here to amuse myself with your situation. I was about to say that I remembered you in the ballroom and I was laughing at how much of a fool I could've been to not invite you to dance. If I would've done so, maybe you wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. My apologies for upsetting you...ma cherie..."

You were awestruck by his confession. 'He wanted to dance with you? That practically meant the Chief of Justice wanted to make public the intention of dating someone! No, he wanted to announce the whole Teyvat of his interest in YOU.' All these thoughts filled your brain as you tried to form the next sentence. What was one expected to answer when none other than The Monsieur Neuvillette confesses as such? "Are you interested in my self, Monsieur?" Not even thinking he whispered "Only you,mon amour." As you stood on that bench, you looked over at the swans waltzing in the lake and spoke: "What if, Monsieur, you will get your dance of tonight?" He nodded in agreement "It would be my pleasure" and offered his hand for you to take. This dance could make everyone forget the embarrassing situation and instantly repair your reputation. Not only that but you get to have Neuvillette's attention all on yourself.

Now, hand in hand, you were ready to cause more gossip than ever before. Ready to face Fontaine's people and announce that from now on you're under the most powerful protection ever. But most importantly, ready to have the perfect dance and show everyone what the Diamond of the Season was really all about.

[colleybri]

Together, on this beach

(Rebelcaptain appreciation week day 1 prompt: Significant Moments)

I would have loved to cook for you, on a beach like this.

Freshly caught fish, perhaps, cooked simply on a fire in a pit in the sand. No salt required as the sea lingers on their skins. Maybe a little pepper if we had some. The scent of the cooking brings you near and you watch as I turn the fish on their skewers, the skin blackening and popping a little with the moisture. I see the need in your eyes as you ask: “Is it ready yet?”. That same hunger in your eyes that first held me in their tight grip made literal here - and I catch a child-like gleam in them now as you bend nearer to look and to allow the sound and smells of my cooking to entice you. “You’re a man of hidden talents, Captain Andor,” you flirt, unashamedly, and I have to shoo you away as the need to just keep looking at you is too strong and I don’t want this meal to be anything other than perfectly cooked. But you keep coming back to where I kneel before the fire, distracting me by embracing me from behind and watching on, your chin resting on my shoulder, until the meal is finally ready. Then I watch you try to guzzle like a child, and you yelp when a bone pricks your mouth. And you also burn your tongue and your fingers too because you are so impatient and impetuous and run headlong into eating as you do into many things. And afterwards you start to lick the juices from your fingers and at the sight of that my own hunger becomes too much. We clean each other’s fingers, then each other’s lips.

We have strong appetites.

I would have loved to dance with you, on a beach like this.

To music of our own imagining, or drifting in from the distance because we are alone, together, as we dance on the shoreline. The water laps around our bare feet. The sun sets and the first stars emerge. The air stays warm, and we dance on. You like to lead, sometimes. I let you guide me, feeling your gentle but insistent support. I am strong and whole again, and your fingers feel good against the muscles of my arms as we dip and sway, and you trust me absolutely now. It ‘goes both ways’ - and so do we. Our movements are graceful, balanced, organic and united. We are like one being, perhaps some strange yet beautiful creature from the sea, come to shore this quiet night to flirt a little with the land. Who needs a ballroom on Coruscant or Chandrila and who needs fine clothes; your combat gear is as beautiful to me as any flowing gown, and far more real. And when we finally tire of dancing I will enjoy unwrapping you like a present I thought I could not possibly ever deserve again.

I would have loved to lie with you, on a beach like this.

Our only blanket, the warm night sky. Our bed, the sand: soft courseness, tactile, getting everywhere. You grumble “This will be shedding every time I shower for weeks,” and we laugh, easily, as if we have known each other for years. Enough phosphorence in the gently lapping waters to allow us to see each other, clearly. The softness of your skin, soothing on my scars. The softness of your eyes, soothing on my soul. Like the tide, we rise and fall - the rhythm of the waves in each movement. Sometimes a gentle sea. Sometimes a storm. Always in motion as one.

And we cry as we make love. Happy or heartbroken or both. I kiss the salt warmth of your tears as your body stiffens with another sweet climax, and your cries on each crashing wave of pleasure pull at my heart all over again and I weep too because all sex like this is built on the knowledge that this time, this most clear and beautiful ‘now’, might be the last. I had always had trouble, before, saying ‘goodbye’. As if never saying goodbye would keep goodbyes at bay, somehow. But now I know our final goodbye gives life meaning, and true beauty has sadness too amidst the pleasure. So we relish the before, and the after too, and each moment in between of the long warm night. The next moment and the next until the moments run out. And soon enough I don’t think, for each of those nows, of everything I’ve lost - but concentrate on what I’ve gained instead: the knowledge that I tried my best. Hope.

You.

I would have loved to sit with you, on a beach like this, and watch a sunrise.

And that, I have. We have.

Your arms are strong and supportive, and you have supported my soul as well as my broken body. In the elevator, you realised you were losing me and I wanted to comfort you, but I could hardly breathe for the agony and it was only the sight of you that kept me from fainting. But I wanted to see you without your own pain on your beautiful face and I could hardly stand it and almost wanted to look away, but I couldn’t and I didn’t. Feeling the life draining away I wanted the light of your face shining on me through the coming darkness. But I didn’t want to give you the pain of seeing my pain and I’m sorry that you did.

So in a way, seeing the blast and our clean, painless and mutual death coming… gives me strength again. I can comfort you, and myself, knowing this. I can rally myself one last time and give you what I know I would have wanted. The same message I needed, and didn’t get, on the beach at Niamos.

I give you the love of your father. My final gift of words.

You take it so gratefully, and gift me in turn with your hand, taking mine, and then the warmth of your embrace. And you hold me and support me again as you have held and supported me throughout this last vital mission, when I realised I could recommit to everything I believe and learn to love again through you and with you - side by side and heart in heart.

The Rebellion came first. We took what was left.

In this life, we couldn’t have more than this. But we have had this. We will always have had it.

So in my mind and in my heart, and in this universe and in much kinder ones… we will eat, dance, make love… and die in each other’s arms. It is what’s left. It’s ours, forever.

Together, on this beach, we have what might have been.

[dreaming-medium]

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Twenty One - Mend

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Masterlist

Hours. The three of you have been at it for hours . You all worked on this all day, entirely through dinner, and now it must be around midnight. 

Slipping a fork into their pocket? Easy. 

Finding which pocket the key is in? You can do that. 

Taking it out without them noticing? Not easy at all. 

You haven’t felt this frustrated in many, many moons. The anger bubbling deep within your chest makes each failure that much worse. It makes each muscle tighten and your jaw clench so hard your teeth might shatter.

And to top it all off, the more you dance on your leg, the worse the pain aches through the muscle. 

There’s so much riding on your ability to do this properly, it’s weighing on your shoulders more with each moment. 

While reaching inside Minho’s jacket pocket, he snatches your wrist tightly. 

“No,” he hissed between clenched teeth. “Try again. That attempt was clumsier than the last.”

You clearly weren’t the only one getting frustrated with this. 

A cry of anger tears from your throat and you push away from the advisor, wrenching your wrist from his grasp. 

“Enough! Enough, already. This is hopeless! ”

Seungmin takes a step towards you and you hold up your hand at him, your brows pulling together. 

“No,” you state firmly. “I would like to see either one of you try and learn how to become a successful pickpocket while also trying to somehow pick up the art of seduction and simultaneously learning a new dance while nursing a near death injury.”

At the mention of your leg, both men freeze. 

“The both of you are waiting for me to attempt something. How is that ever going to help? If you are searching for my touch, of course you are going to know when I try to take the key!”

You spin on your leg to leave the room and a shooting pain goes through the appendage. 

Crying out in pain, your knees buckle a bit and you grab onto a nearby chair to steady yourself. 

Minho is next to you in a flash, his hands reaching out to steady you. 

You hold your hand up to keep him away from you, eyes squinting shut in pain. You don’t even realize you're holding your breath until the pain begins to subside a bit and you release the air stored in your lungs. 

Shifting your weight to your good leg, you hold onto the back of the chair tighter, knuckles turning white. 

“Y/N,” Minho tries to grab your attention. His voice is gentle and soft. It does nothing to quell your anger. 

“I am going to sleep,” you hiss between your teeth. “We will try again tomorrow.”

Minho’s hands twitch, he watches you carefully, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He seems to weigh something in his mind, his mouth opens to say something, but he quickly shuts it.

With a deep breath, you slowly release the back of the chair and ease your weight back onto your injured leg. Once you’re sure your knee won’t buckle, you make your way towards the door.

“Goodnight, boys.”

Neither of them stop you as you leave the ballroom, slamming the door shut after you.

The cool air of the hallway washes over your sweaty skin; the back of your shirt clinging to you.

You stand still for a few moments just outside the door to catch your breath. Normally, you don’t lose your cool that easily. The combination of everything was just too much to handle. 

Yes, you’ve only been at it for two days, but now you only have two more to become somewhat of a master at pickpocketing. You and Seungmin are set to leave Miroh at sunrise three days from now. 

Through the door, you can hear Seungmin and Minho’s voices talking back and forth. You’re not able to make out what they’re saying through the wood.

You don’t want to be here when they leave.

After another moment of catching your breath, you walk away from the ballroom and towards your room.

Life was much easier when all you had to worry about was battle. Dancing and pickpocketing was an entirely different side of the war that was completely out of your wheelhouse. 

But, at the same time, just a month ago, you said the same thing about war. The idea of being on the front lines used to freeze the blood in your veins.

Now you would give anything to be back at Fort Mire.

Jeongin’s smiling face flashes through your mind. How is he doing? They successfully captured Fort Burnside, they’re probably preparing for the next advance.

Is he commanding his battalion well? You can still remember his apprehension the night before you both left for the enemy fort.

“Changbin seems to believe I am fit to lead my own legion.” Jeongin shook his head and paced around the room in front of you.

You took a bite full of stew, eyes following his nervous movements closely.

“Because you are,” you said simply.

Jeongin’s head whipped around and looked at you incredulously. “What makes you believe that?”

“I see the way the men respect you,” you picked up your tankard and took a long swig of ale. “If anyone in this army is fit to lead their own legion, it is you, Jeongin.”

He sighed and sat in the chair next to yours, his head cradled in his hands.

“What if they do not follow my orders?”

“They will.”

“How do you know?”

You leaned forward and grabbed his hand tightly, his head picking up off his palm and looking straight at you. 

“I just know, Jeongin.”

Jeongin stared at you for a long moment, eyes flickered back and forth between yours, uncertainty shining through his dark irises. He shook his head and squeezed your hand tightly.

“We will just have to see then, won’t we?”

You laughed and released his hand to take another bite of your food. “If anyone disrespects you, you tell me and I will give them a stern talking to, aye?”

He laughed. His genuine smile never failed to make one pull at your own lips.

Leaning over, he stole a potato off your plate and plopped it in his mouth. 

“I will make sure that all bullies are reported straight to you.”

The days aren’t filled with as much laughter now that you don’t see him every day. Your heart squeezes in your chest.

A sad smile appears on your face.

“I sure hope the bullies are not giving you too much trouble, Jeongin,” you whisper to yourself in the empty halls of the keep.

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

You’re only in your room for about twenty minutes before there’s a knock on your door. 

Raising an eyebrow, you shuffle across your room and open the door warily.

Felix looks down at you with a slightly concerned expression. In his hands he has a tray that looks like it has both food and medical supplies.

“Felix?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. 

“I heard that you had a small incident with your leg,” he says with a slightly shaky voice. “Can I please check on it?”

Seungmin or Minho must have gone to him about it. 

After a moment, you nod and step aside for Felix to come in, closing the door behind him. 

“It is most likely just sore from overuse,” you say to him. He places the tray of various items on the table and turns to you with a pinched expression.

“I believe I will be the judge of that.”

His stern stubbornness gives you pause. Never in the time that you’ve spent with Felix have you heard him take this tone of voice.

Both of you stare at each other for a few moments,your mouth opening and closing, but no words come out.

Wind whistles outside your window.

“Let me see your wound.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you nod, walking towards your bed. Felix watches you like a hawk.

You know he sees you limping. What you don’t know is that it feels like an arrow is shot through his chest at the sight, his bottom lip pulls between his teeth and his eyebrows furrow even more. 

His throat constricts, he tries so hard to keep himself together.

You look down at your pants for a moment, they’re not as loose as the ones you wore yesterday.

“Do I need to take–?” 

“Aye.”

Again, your mouth snaps shut. You hesitate for a split second before hooking your thumbs on your waistband and tugging your slacks off.

Felix watches closely, his mouth going dry when he sees the blood soaked bandage. His breath catches in his throat.

Your heart stutters for a moment at the sight.

“I did not–”

He cuts you off again. “Sit.”

“Felix, I swear I did not know–”

“ Sit , Y/N.”

Your heart skips a beat at his tone, you plop on the bed, ignoring the way your thigh throbs. You swivel and sit against the headboard, your leg extended out in front of you. 

Felix picks up the tray and brings it over to your bed, placing it down on the sheets.

His brow is furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line. His jaw clenches and unclenches over and over again; his throat bobs with a few swallows.

You can’t tell if he’s angry, disappointed, upset, sad, or a combination of all of them. It’s probably all of them.

He reaches forward and undoes the soiled bandage, gingerly unwinding it.

When he sees the wound, he sucks in air through his teeth.

“Did it…?” you ask nervously. 

“Aye.” His answer is monotone and devoid of emotion.

It reopened. 

He fiddles around on the tray, getting a new needle and thread ready to suture your wound closed. Again.

Before he does that, he wipes the blood off, cleaning the area with alcohol. It burns but you swallow the reaction.

You stare up at his face, watching every single muscle twitch as he tries to conceal his cocktail of negative emotions.

Felix’s eyes aren’t shining the way they usually do. They’re glaring down at your ugly wound as if it’s insulting him. Like your injury is the root cause to everything that has ever gone wrong in his life.

His expression screws up painfully and then drops again. His lips pull into a sneer to bare his teeth for a split second. 

The silence that settles in your room is thick and uncomfortable. So many unsaid words are communicated through his stiff actions.

It’s not until he picks up the needle again do you realize his hands are shaking.

His throat bobs again.

A deep, shaky breath enters his lungs and he makes the first puncture into your leg.

You wince and a small pained noise comes from your throat. 

Felix does not react, he continues to sew the wound closed. Each stitch hurts a little more than the last. The pain slowly goes from a tiny prick to painful, mini stabs.

His nose scrunches and he gulps again.

“Felix,” you whisper after he makes a stab-like stitch. “It hurts.”

“Good.” His voice is deep and it sends a shiver down your spine. “Maybe you will finally remember this pain and recognize you cannot keep doing this to yourself.”

His voice wavers and breaks.

A tear slides down his face. 

It feels like a crack goes through your heart. 

With no small amount of effort, you try to defend yourself. “I did not realize it was reopening.”

Felix sniffles and shakes his head, he’s trying so hard to keep himself together, but you can see his emotions start puncturing through the surface. His eyes begin to glisten, cheeks and ears turning red.

“Why do you insist on pushing yourself, Y/N?” It comes out low and under his breath. 

You watch his face and say nothing.

“You hurt yourself over and over. And each time you tell me you did not realize it, or how the gravity of the injury snuck up on you, or that it is nothing. But it is not nothing. ”

His voice gets louder and louder with each word. The tears begin flowing freely down his cheeks. Felix keeps his head down as he stitches the wound shut.

“You are not on your own anymore. There are people in this Keep that care about you and your well being. When you continue to hurt yourself over and over, you are hurting us too. And the blatant disregard for your health feels like a wound to my own soul!”

The last stitch hurts the most.

Maybe it’s because his words are rattling around your brain and adding to the hurt in more ways than just physical. 

“I cannot continue to put your pieces back together like this when you do not even seem to care about losing them in the first place. It is weighing on me like a demon. Each time someone knocks on the healing ward door I fear that it is a guard telling me that you are dying again.”

Felix tosses the needle back onto the tray and places his hands down on the bed sheets. He can’t meet your eyes with his own teary ones.

All of his limbs are shaking. 

“Imagine how it feels when you work yourself to the bone to assure that someone you love is alive and healthy, just to have Minho knock on your door to tell you that they had to limp back to their room. And do they come to you for help? No. They do not come to anyone for help and I do not understand it, Y/N.”

Love?

Finally, he looks over at you and you feel your heart shatter.

“Why will you not let us help you?”

Your lips quiver, your own tears forming in your eyes. 

Drawing your legs up in on yourself, your soul aches.

“Minho said you did not eat and that you almost collapsed. My room is directly next to yours, Y/N, why? Why? ”

A hiccup shakes your chest. “I am sorry, Felix.”

His face twists even more. He sits on the edge of your bed and grabs your face with both of his hands tightly. 

“Do not apologize to me; apologizing does nothing. Tell me you will stop this madness. Stop hurting yourself over and over and shoving us away when all we want to do is nurse you back to health.”

You sob and your eyes shut to try and stop the tears. Felix shakes your head a bit.

When you open them once more, he’s right in front of you, his own bloodshot eyes desperately searching yours. 

“Every time I find you in pieces, a small part of my heart is taken to sew you back up.”

“Felix, please, I am so sorry.” You sob in his hands. Both of your hands come up and cover his. “I am not–” your own sobs cut you off and you close your eyes once more.

How do you possibly explain that you’ve never had people to rely on? Not since your parents died? 

“Please, Y/N,” he whispers, thumbs brushing your tears away gently. “I just need to hear you say that you will begin to rely on us. If the roles were reversed, would you not want one of us to tell you when we are hurting?”

All you can manage is a nod.

“You are not alone anymore.”

Opening your eyes, you see his blue ones watching you closely. Nothing but love and care is seen in them.

“We are all here to support you, every single one of us. Chan, Hyunijn, Changbin– all of us, Y/N. We want you to thrive.”

You suck in a shaky breath.

“I promise,” you whisper.

“You promise what?” His face comes closer to yours.

“I promise I will come to you when I need help.”

“Not just me,” he adds, his face even closer.

“I will come to the court when I need help.”

“Good.”

He brings your face to his, locking your lips together in a searing, emotion filled kiss. Your hands move from his to cup his cheeks, mirroring the way he’s holding you. 

Both of your lips slide over one another, the tears no longer flowing, but your hearts are still connected. 

Immediately, Felix deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip and dancing with yours when your lips part. One of his hands slides down from your cheek to hold the side of your neck, bringing your face impossibly closer.

He smells so good, the earthiness wraps around you and invades your senses. Everywhere he’s touching ignites.

Your skin heats up and flushes, your heartbeat speeds up and thuds against your ribcage. 

“By The Six,” Felix murmurs against your lips. The gravellyness of it gives you the chills. “Why does it feel like your kisses can heal anything?”

A small smile crosses your face and you bring him back in for another heated kiss.

“Any wound that causes my heart to bleed is sealed with your lips on mine,” he hushes.

Careful to avoid the tray of supplies, Felix crawls onto the bed and hovers over you. The heat from his body radiates down and cages you in.

Slowly, Felix’s kisses turn desperate, small grunts and heavy exhales come from his as his lips slide over yours. Each passing moment gets steamier and steamier in your room.

He leans his weight on his elbows next to your head, every inch of your bodies touching. Long legs slot between yours. 

Your fingers travel up his face into his hair, threading into the soft strands and pulling slightly. Felix grunts and his kisses stutter for a moment before continuing with more fervor. 

Emotions still running high, Felix trails one hand down your face, down the side of your neck, over the side of your chest, down your ribcage to grab your waist with a tight grip.

Tongues dancing with one another, both of you pant and moan through the kisses. 

“Y/N,” he pants against your lips.

“Felix,” you answer him just as breathlessly. 

The Elf pulls away from your lips just a hair, his wet, spit-covered plush lips hovering just above yours. His eyes are barely open, and they’re still staring directly at your mouth.

“If we do not stop, I will not be able to control myself,” he whispers down to you. His tone is so low.

His blue eyes flick up to yours and your breath catches in your throat. Something about the way he stared down at you, his blonde bangs hanging over his face, his mouth parted and panting, the flush covering his cheeks.

The way the flames on your bedside candle flicker across his beautiful, flawless skin.

Your hand travels from his hair to slowly inch down the side of his face. He was none the wiser to your less than pure intentions.

He absentmindedly leans into your touch, eyes lingering on yours. 

Slowly, the pads of your fingers draw a line down his nose, over his wet lips, down his chin, and then up his jawline.

You lean up from the bed, pressing your lips against his in a featherlight kiss.

A murmur against his mouth. “I do not want you to stop.” You pull his bottom lip into your mouth by your teeth. 

At the same time, you run your finger up the entire length of his pointed ear, curling around the top and gently pinching it with your thumb and forefinger.

The noise that tears out of Felix’s throat is a combination of a growl, whine, and moan all combined into one. 

With frightening speed and strength, he tears both of your hands away from him and pins them down to the bed above your head with just one of his. 

Felix sinks his teeth into your neck and you toss your head back with a cry of pleasure. 

His own hips roll against yours, both of you moan from the delicious pressure. The second rut against your clothes core is more desperate and animalistic. 

Lips detaching from yours, he licks down your neck, biting at your soft skin and making you keen. 

With his free hand wandering on its own, Felix slides his fingers under your shirt and caresses your bare skin. His touch leaves sparks of pleasure in their wake as they climb your body. 

The bindings that wrap around your chest suddenly feel like the most annoying piece of fabric to ever touch your skin. 

A sharp bite to your neck causes you to chirp a small squeal. Your good leg wraps around his hips and pulls him towards you  

The hard bulge in his pants presses against you. He sighs from the slight bit of relief the pressure brings. 

Felix grabs at your shirt. “Can I take this off?”

“Yes, please,” you pant. 

He tears away from you and practically rips the shirt over your head, tossing it behind him. 

Sitting back on his haunches, the cleric stares down at you hungrily. 

The blue irises you’ve grown accustomed to are almost black. Felix’s eyes rake up your skin, licking his lips. 

You sit up quickly, your fingers finding the end of your chest bindings. 

In the meantime, you attach your mouth to the base of his lean neck, sucking and biting your own marks onto his skin. 

Felix lets out breathy sighs, his eyes closing in pleasure, his mind getting lost in the feeling. His head tilts back towards the ceiling. 

“By The Six,” he whispers. 

He tastes so good, how is his skin this intoxicating? 

It takes several moments before your chest bindings are completely unwound from your body. The cloth is tossed to the flood. 

The cleric pulls back from your mouth to look down at you. He sucks in air between his teeth, both of his hands come up to cup your breasts. 

Warm palms massage over your skin, a chill rips up your spine. 

“Mmm…” you hum and lean back on your hands to give him more access. 

Felix immediately swoops down and envelopes one nipple in his warm, wet mouth. 

“Fuck,” you hiss and thread your fingers through his blonde locks. “Feels good, Felix.”

He keens at your compliment, his hand pushing on your chest to encourage you to lay down. You don’t argue, letting your body lay down while he continues to lap at your sensitive skin. 

So much attention is paid to your chest, you can feel arousal coating the inside of your cotton smalls. 

Wet, sloppy noises fill the air when he pulls back while sucking until his mouth detaches. It’s absolutely filthy and makes your brain dizzy. 

He switches to the other breast to give it the same sinful treatment. 

Your hips jolt and jerk around unable to stay still. 

The pleasure that you’re getting from his nipple play is insanely intoxicating. It leaves you breathless and wanting more. You need to feel his hands everywhere. 

You need more.  

Your fingers pull on his hair desperately when his free hand pulls on the other nipple, twisting and flicking. Electricity shoots down to your core. 

Eventually, his kisses trail down further and further. Felix’s tongue trails down your navel, swirling around your belly-button. 

“I need to taste you,” he growls into your skin. “I am ashamed to admit how often I thought about this.”

Cracking your eyes open was an effort, but you needed to see his face. 

He’s gazing up at you, his face hovering over your smalls. 

You gulp at his dark gaze. 

Where was your sunshine? All you can see is a wanton minx lingering near your more sensitive areas. 

While maintaining eye contact, Felix leans down and presses a searing kiss to your clothed core. 

Your lips pull into your mouth and you hold back a tiny whine. 

“How I have dreamed about having you under me, Y/N.”

It feels like you’re going to lose your mind. The timbre of his voice hovering above your most sensitive area will surely be the death of you. 

“Felix, please,” you beg. 

He smirks and looks down, fingers pulling your smalls to the side gently. 

“Look how absolutely drenched you are for me, Y/N.”

Finally, his fingers run through your folds, collecting your arousal up on the pads. 

“All for me,” he marvels. 

“Felix,” you whine. 

“I have to taste you,” his voice is gravelly. With no other warning, he leans down and licks all the way up your slit. 

The both of you moan, both drowning in pleasure. 

The next lick to your core is more frantic, his tongue explores your folds as if you might be taken away from him any moment. 

One of his hands ventures up your body to grab at your breast, pinching your nipple. 

His tongue laps around your entrance, feeling you clench around nothing from his teasing. 

A drunk smile appears on his face, his eyes glaze over and he licks at your clit over and over. 

Your fingers grab at the bedsheets, clawing at them in the throes of ecstasy. Back arching off the bed, you moan through clenched teeth. 

Felix’s hand on your breasts grasps a handful and kneads, it then moves to brush his thumb over your nipple over and over. 

And fuck , it feels so fucking good. 

His hips rut into the bed in time with his licks. He seems to be getting just as much, if not more , pleasure out of this than you are. 

Gently, he sucks on your clit and looks up at your face twisted in pleasure. A strong flush covers your face across your nose. 

He can’t stop admiring how you look. How absolutely gorgeous you are right now at his mercy. 

Felix’s eyebrows pull together in his own twist of pleasure. Harder and harder he ruts into your mattress, each thrust brings pleasure and relief. 

Every single one of your moans shoots right to his dick. 

“Felix,” you pant and look down at him. 

He hums into your folds, never once stopping the assault. 

“Fuck, I-I … hah— close... close…”

This only eggs him on more. His tongue continues its sinful figure 8’s on your clit with more fervor. 

Sweat beads at his hairline. 

His thumb still brushes over your nipple again and again. Circling and rubbing, forefinger coming around to pinch and pull.

It adds another layer of the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

Every nerve is alive under his touch. 

You twist and writhe under his mouth, murmurs falling out of your lips. 

“Felix!” you cry out and he moans into you again. 

His name sounds so fucking good coming from your lips. Felix just wants to hear you say it over and over until your vocal chords collapse. 

The knot in your abdomen is tightening more and more. 

One of your hands flies to his hair and holds tightly. You pull him impossibly closer to your cunt. 

Another deep moan vibrates against your folds. 

“Shit, ha — Felix, gunna—“

The cord within you snaps and you cry out, your entire body tenses and your release washes over you.

He laps at your folds eagerly, slurping any arousal that floods from you. His tongue lazily stimulates your clit as you come down from the intense high that he led you through.

Your grip on his hair loosens after a moment, he licks your folds one last time before pressing a kiss by your clit. 

Slowly, Felix moves up your body, his mouth leaving long, wet kisses along your skin until he reaches your mouth. 

When your lips meet, you moan softly into his mouth. The heavy haze of lust parting slowly as your lips slide over one another. 

With your free hand traveling down his body, Felix grabs your hand before it goes any further south.

You immediately speak up. “But I–”

“Nay,” he cuts you off. “Tonight was about you. Another time, perhaps.”

He smiles down at you with such sincerity it makes your heart sing. Exhaustion is beginning to pull at your eyelids, so all you do is nod.

Felix beams at you and kisses you again. This kiss is so tender. Each time your lips meet it’s slow and sensual. It’s a stark contrast to the searing kisses you desperately stole from him not even five minutes ago.

“Stay here tonight,” you whisper on his lips. “Please.”

His smile only gets bigger.

“As if I could ever say no to you.”

[yukina-otome]

Chevalier Romantic route rantings

Warning: This post contains spoilers about Chevalier Michel's route. More specifically his Romantic ending.

Sooooo, it is extremly rare for me to criticise Cheva's content. After all, as his absolute stan, i love everything this man does.

BUT i admit that I am not a fan of his romantic ending.

The reason is simple. But first of all a little summary of the events, for does who do not remember or for does who have not played the route but dont mind spoilers.

MC is with everyone at the battlefield. The campement where she is, is attacked and this is when the two ending branches.

In this I will only discuss the romantic one.

So, in the romantic ending, MC gets stabbed by a poisoned knife by the anti war faction and obsidian. They use her as a hostage and says 'if you want the antidote you gotta hand her off'. But Genius Cheva figures out the poison and have the antidote made badabim badaboum.

(Honestly I would have prefered it here if Clavis was the one who found the antidote, and Cheva being impressed by his brother's abilities, after all Clavis was the one who has been studying poisons. But this is not what this post is about so let's no dwell on that)

So MC is cured, Cheva goes to beat the anti war faction with his FIST, because MC says no Stabby stabby. And he somehow makes Obsidian sign a peace treaty and VOILA, war is over.

(Yes, the political plot of this game is extremely stupid, DO NOT start me on that, or this post will never end)

Soooo, MC and Cheva goes back to the castle, where MC is healing. Chevalier stays by her side most of the time as they spend quality time together. And before they know it, there only very few days left before MC has to choose a king, leave the castle and never see cheva again.

So MC asks Chevalier for one last favor, she wants him to dance with her. He accepts and they head to the ballroom where they have a very impactfull moment where MC tells him she is gonna choose HIM as a king and she tells him her reasons which leaves him speechless and i would say touched.

After that there dance ends, and MC start acting like Booboo the clown as she starts rambling, she tells cheva they should have a meal together sometimes before she leaves and turn away from him to hide her tears.

As of now, everything is fine. I have no objections to this developpement. But this is where it ticks me off.

Cheva hug MC from behind and literally ask her TO SLEEP WITH HIM!

Yes yes, he says dinner but he says he is famished and his hand touch mc's body subjectivly.

MC might be as dense as the mariana trench but she's not stupid and she agrees to the hanky panky.

And BIM BADABOUM they smash, in the trill of the action, mc asks him if he will remember her and he says NO which is obviously a lie. And that's literally it. They separate for a year and you guys know the rest.

Now you might ask, what do you not like about this, Yuki?

And i would say many things:

First, HOW DARE HE ASKS HER FOR HER FIRST TIME JUST LIKE THAT, MY CHEVA WOULD NEVER WTF. Remember everyone, this is not 21st century, it's literally around 1500 and around then a woman virginity was EVERYTHING to her. I was like well maybe the ikepri author created the ikepri universe differently and its not a big deal but silvio's romantic ending proved otherwise. I'm not gonna go into the details, i'll just say a woman first time is IMPORTANT. And Cheva most likely knew that. He would never ask her for it in such a way. Specially knowing he could not be her lover. It was one night only between them.

Also it is very irrational and the way cheva asked for it seemed calculated which i hate. I mean, there are no contraception during that era. Surely both knew what could happen after that night.

Then there is how that first time was written. It was only a few sentences and during the whole act MC was crying and all while Cheva was all smug saying 'You like that, don't you?'. I would have liked it if he showed some vulnerability in that moment. And don't tell me 'This is cheva we are talking about, he is not capable of doing that', he actually did in the dramatic ending.

This was supposed to be such an angsty dramatic scene, if only they gave it more attention it would have gave his route more dept and made the ending all the more satisfying.

THIS is how I think things should have happened:

-After the dance, MC still acts the same and says they should have a meal together.

-Chevalier agrees and says then let's have dinner together.

-MC accepts and they have dinner in his room. MC is nervous since this is her first time alone with him in her room since he knows of her feelings and it makes her hyperaware of him. Specially that whenever she look up at him she sees he is already staring at her. Like he wants to commit her to his memory.

-Cheva sees that and starts talking about a new book to calm her down.It works and soon enough they are sitting together on his bed and reading the book together in silence.

-Chevalier's reading speed is higher than hers and whenever he is done he just stares at her as he waits for her to finish the page.

-MC finish a page and look up toward Chevalier to see if he's done with it, but when she does he is already looking at her and there eyes meet.

-They stare at each others soul for a very long time in silence before they kiss, none of them knowing who made the first move.

-The kiss soon turn into a full makeout session on Chevalier's bed and the book fall to the floor in a tud.

-This bring Chevalier to his senses, it is not like him to act so irrationnaly.

-He pulls away from MC, but she pulls him back and that was all he needed for his logical facade to snap.

-They make love and as MC cry her heart out she sees that Cheva's usual ice cold expression is nowhere to be seen.

-His walls are completely gone and at that moment she has the REAL Chevalier in front of her.

She says she loves him but he does not answer her back. He knows that if he says it, it's gonna make even more difficult for her, so he just hugs her to him instead.

And that's how it ends.

What do you guys think? I'm really interested in you guys's opinion on this topic.

[misssalvatore1904]

The Original Faery

Prologue

I make my way reluctantly downstairs to where the party has already started. I hate dressing up for parties, but it’s worse now, I am expected to smile and dance and act like my brothers - Stefan and Damon Salvatore - are not dead and my best friend was not burned to ashes for being a vampire.

I disagree with my father often, but when he said that Katherine Pierce was an evil blood sucker, I was ready to kill him. She was kind and understood me in a way no one else did. And for her to be punished for what she is, is wrong. And to kill Damon and Stefan, his own children, for becoming vampires to be with Katherine was so horrendous. I haven’t spoken to Giuseppe Salvatore since the incident.

My anger at my father is not helped by the itchy, monstrous dress a maid forced me into. And the fabric cages that were the shoes that were already chaffing my feet. And when I see him standing at the foot of the stairs, with his cold glare piercing through me, all the anger at my father resurfaces.

“I’m pleased to see you can do one thing right.” He hisses at my as I come to a stop in front of him. He grabs my arm harshly and pulls me close so he can whisper in my ear: “ Embarrass me this evening and I will make sure it is the last thing you do.”

And with that we enter the ballroom as if nothing was wrong.

I sit down on a chair in a dark corner of the room as I let my feet take a break. I had been dancing with young boys my age and my feet were screaming at me to sit down.

I heave a sigh as I sit and think.

“Rough night?”

I whirl at the voice and see a gentleman sitting in a chair close by. He chuckles lightly.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

He had a faint European accent, dark brown hair and eyes of a soft hazel green. He looks expectant and I realise dumbly that I have been silent for a good two minutes.

“Sorry. Yes, it’s been what you call a rough night.” I say the last few words bitterly, glaring over at my father. I see him gaze at me curiously out of the corner of my eye. Then he chuckles again.

“Something funny?” I snap, furious that this man finds humour in my discomfort.

“I just thought that you American women were supposed to be well mannered mouth breathing idiots. In no way do you fit this description.”

I can’t help but laugh at this. “ Well I’m not a woman yet, so just you wait.” I reply with a grin. He returns it with a smile of his own, though it’s shaky, as if he hadn’t smiled in a long while.

“I’m Finn Mikaelson by the way.” He says, extending his hand.

“Cassiopeia Salvatore.” I reply as I shake his hand.

I spent the rest of the night sitting and talking with Finn, until my father pulled me away, claiming that I should get to bed, but he was not subtle in the way he looked at me.

He dragged me upstairs to his study and locked the door behind him.

“What did I say about embarrassing me tonight?”

I knew he didn’t want an answer, he was already cemented in his belief that I had somehow tarnished the name Salvatore, but I answered anyway.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Father.” I state.

“You were supposed to be mingling with the boys your age so that I could fix the public image of our family, that your brothers destroyed!” He all but yelled the last words, coming closer with each declaration. “You were supposed to fulfil your only purpose, which is to marry into a rich family and produce heirs. That is all you are good for.” He was right in front of me now and I tried desperately to hold back the tears threatening to fall at his words. “You are however also good at destroying everything you touch!” He shouts at me.

“I’m ten years old!” I shout back. “I shouldn’t be expected to marry, or even fix what you broke. Not Damon or Stefan. But you! You broke this family!”

Then, he slaps me. I cry out in pain.

In a whirlwind he is ripped off me and thrown into the wall. I gape in shock as he falls to the ground, along with the now shattered remains of a few pictures.

Standing before me was Finn Mikaelson, with veins beneath his eyes and the elongated canine teeth. Vampire. But I couldn’t care less about what he was I ran at him and hugged him, burying my face in his chest.

“Thank you” I whisper into his shirt.

“You are not afraid?” Finn asks. He seems scared of what my answer could be.

“There are worse monsters in this world.” I mumble. He holds me close as I cry.

Finn compelled my father not to remember this altercation. To only remember me dancing with all the young boys, then retiring to bed for the night.

While my father didn’t remember our argument that night, it didn’t stop him from finding other reasons to punish me.

It only got worse, midnight visits in my room after getting drunk at the bar and claiming that I had embarrassed him or somehow deserved to be punished. So he would take off his belt, and whip my back with it, until my skin hung in ribbons, and the maids had to bandage me up.

Finn and I still saw each other often. Going for lunch or just sitting in the town square and talking. I never mentioned my father’s wrath, or the reason he believed I deserved it.

But I asked Finn to talk about his life. And he regaled me with the stories from when he was human. He told me all about his family and how they became vampires. He told me how his half brother, Niklaus, was the original hybrid, and how he used these mystical daggers on his siblings when he got mad at them. Finn also told me how he had been entrapped by this dagger for almost 700 years before Niklaus decided to free him.

I did tell Finn about what happened to the vampires in this town, and how my brothers were killed for being sympathisers. He was empathetic, revealing that he too has lost a brother and understood my pain.

I was happy. Finn was my escape from the harsh reality I faced when I was at home. And it continued like that for six years. Until Finn disappeared without a trace.

At first I was angry, Finn was my best friend and was always there for me, how could he disappear without at least saying goodbye? But I soon realised that Niklaus must have come for him.

After this revelation, I dedicated my time to tracking Niklaus down. Looking to the witches that lived in the town. But when they couldn’t help me, I turned to the power that ran in my veins, the reason my father hated me. But that too failed me.

As I sat in my room, staring dejectedly out the window, my father came in.

“While you are utterly useless and unlovable, the young Gilbert boy appears to think you a worthy wife.” I must have been going insane because I thought I heard a note of pride in his voice. “His family will be coming over for dinner to discuss.. Arrangements.” He sneers at me “You will finally serve your purpose.”

“No.” My voice was quiet but firm. I wouldn’t let him tell me what to do anymore. “I will not marry a Gilbert.”

“You will do as I say.”

“Why should I? You will never see me as anything more than a reminder of what you have lost. You will never love me, never be proud of me. So I am done. Find another mindless puppet to play with.” As I try and walk past him, he grabs my arm so hard I cry out.

“You will not disobey me.” The pure rage in his eyes scares me to my core. I pushed him too far this time. In my panic I didn’t notice my magic surface, but I could feel it now, like electricity crackling beneath my skin. I felt powerful.

As my father shoved me back to my seat at the window, I exploded. Pure energy escaped me, rushing at the cause of my fear. As my magic made contact with is body, it engulfed him in a storm of fire.

His screams echoed through the house alerting the servants. They rushed up the stairs and they assumed it was the house and not my father that was on fire, they ran at me and helped me out in front of the house.

As I watched my home burn down, with my monster of a father trapped inside, I thought I would feel peace or safety now that the root of my troubles was dead, but all I felt was emptiness. Nothing. I was alone in this world and I had only myself to blame.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story😁

I think I’ll be making a second part to the prologue….

So stay tuned😉

[luvly-writer]

"But Oh..Cara mia"

Ch. 15 Repercussions are always messy

————————————

Dick Grayson x Latina! Reader

Warning: None

Author's note: I finally found some time and inspiration to write! YAY! You wouldn't believe how crazy the last few weeks have been. First, university has been absolutely insane causing my health to decrease a little, then, it's the birthday months in my family meaning that almost every weekend we had something, and finally, I got a new phone. I had my old phone ever since 2020 and it had been malfunctioning ever since January. Unfortunately, many of my notes were lost due to me forgetting to backup them, and within those notes, I had the sketch for this ENTIRE story. So cue all the time I spent crying cause I lost SO MANY of my notes, from my TBR to my fic drafts. But worry not! I am time to reread the story so that I can get inspiration and remember how it was going to be carried out. LOTS OF LOVE.

Taglist: @lorosette @nanas-teatime @prettyacademia00 @mxtokko @sarahkaliii @w31rdg1rl @eurydicegrimes @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @alecmores @dakotali @sadraven1992

Series Masterlist:

—————————————

You ran and ran and ran. Up the stairs, taking the elevator would give you way too much time to stress over the situation. You ran with Babs hand in yours, pulling her with you. You could hear her complaining because of her running in heels and that you were going too fast but those were being unheard of. You needed to get to your room before you'd burst. Finally, after it felt like forever you got to your room. You pulled Babs in and closed the door, locking it. You both inhaled and exhaled softly, a little out of breath. "Yn, I love you. You know I do, but fuck you for making me run all the way to here." Babara panted out successfully snapping you of the trance you were in. You had been staring holes at the door. She walked up towards you and pulls you back, "Hey hey, the door won't harm you, stop looking at it as if it will" she said softly and pulls you so that you are both sitting on your bed. You breathe softly and finally look at Barbara who is looking at you with so much intrigue. "Barbara.." you start slowly and Babs nods, eager to know what you'll say, "You will not believe what the fuck happened on that dance floor" you finish and Barbara squeals and laughs making you laugh as well.

--<3---

On the other side of the manor, Dick was desperately looking for Kory. He had run away from the ballroom straight to the gardens. "KORY!" He shouted as he searched for the girl around the gardens. Just as he was about to shout for her again, he finds her sitting in a bench in front of one of the Wayne manor ponds, staring at the fish in the water.

"Kor-"

"So," she says without looking at him, "finally done eye fucking Yn are you?" she finishes. Dick flinches slightly, not used to receiving such harshness from her. He slowly walks up to her, "I wasn-" he begins but is once interrupted by her, "Of course, you were, Richard!" She bites back standing up to look at him dead in the eye. Frankly, he is currently terrified of the girl in front of him. "Honestly, when are you going to stop lying to me! I am not stupid and I am quite sick of you believing I am." Kory crosses her arms and Dick finally answers, "It is a publicity stunt, Kory" and she huffs. "Oh yes, I am sure! That's what you always say but it's a fucking lie". Dick can feel his anger rising, "I am not lying Kory, you know that Bruce pulls this shit every time something goes wrong in a gala whenever Yn and I are there. The socialites-"

"The socialites can go fuck themselves, Richard! I may not be from Earth but I have been here long enough to know that for something to be a publicity stunt, it doesn't need the amount of intimacy you were both exhibiting! When will you come to terms with the fact that she loves you and that you-" screams Kory yet chokes up in the end, not wanting to finish her sentence. Finishing it would confirm the very same thing she has been trying to avoid, say delay, all this time. "That I might what Kory? Love her? You know that's a lie. I love you" Dick says and Kory rolls her eyes in frustration. "But you are noT IN LOVE WITH ME RICHARD!" She lets out. "You haven't been in a long time" and Dick just looks at her.

"Kory, what non-"

"But it isn't nonsense! It's true! She knows you better than anyone else, better than me! You both share this strange fucking sense of intimacy-"

"No we don't"

"Yes, you do Richard. I don't know anything about you any more than she does. For fuck's sake, I had to call you under the premise of training the Titans in order to actually hear from you. Something happens to you and you go running to her. Your face lights up whenever you see her and you search for her in every room! I tried to get in the way and make you see only me, Richard, I really did, but she shines so bright that you can't see anyone but her whenever she is present. What is the point of fighting it anymore?" Kory says defeatedly. Dick reaches out for her but she steps back, "Kore, don't...don't say that" he says as his eyes begin to tear up.

"Richard, but I have to. You haven't been mine for a long while now and I thought coming to Gotham with you might've changed that but it didn't. It just made it ten times clear who you belong with and surprise! It isn't me! I have tried everything! From sex to calls and excessive PDA, to trying to limit your contact with her and trying to make you leave, and even trying to make you cut ties with her, and wanna know something? NOTHING WORKED! It isn't healthy anymore! I am desperately trying to keep something that isn't mine and never will be! I am trying to save something that's already ruined!" Kory yells and both can feel the tears run down their cheeks. Dick walks up to her and holds eye contact, "I love you, Kory, you know this, you must, you have to..." he whispers and Kory smiles bitterly at him, "I know, Robin, and I love you but you don't love me in the way I want to be loved" she answers and Dick looks down in shame. "I am sorry," he tells the girl and she smiles at him, "I am sorry. I am so so sorry, Kory" he keeps on whispering and she pulls him for a hug. No matter what anyone else says, Richard Grayson has the biggest heart of all and even in the moments where she is breaking a big part of his heart, he still doesn't have it in him to hate her and shove harsh words her way. "I know, Dick, I know. Part of loving you is letting you go so that you can truly be happy," She pulls him back to look him in the eyes, "We are over, Richard. Our time has finally come to an end" she says softly and Dick nods.

"We had a good run, Richard, we really did." She says as both laugh, still teary-eyed.

"We are no longer two dumb teenagers in love" he says and she nods laughing, "Please, Kory, know that my intention was never to hurt you, you kno-" Dick starts but Kory cuts him off with a laugh.

"Oh I know, Dick, I know, I think one of the last people to know that you're in love is you," Dick goes to open up his mouth in denial but Kory shushes him with a glare, "Richard Grayson you better not try to deny it! Do yourself a favor and accept it" Kory says and Dick has the decency to look bashful.

"It's not that, Kory, it's just, I mean, me and her, I mean she and well, we aren't exactly on good terms or have ever been exactly on the best but no well yeah but-" he is cut off by Kory's laughter.

"My, is this real? Is the suave Richard Grayson finally made a mess by a girl? What a sight!" she says and Dick glares at her. "It's complicated!" he huffs rolling his eyes and she just laughs out, "Isn't it always?"

They both decide to sit down on the grass and stair at the water. They stay in silence for a while. It is broken by Kory who looks at him curiously, "Since when?" she asks and Dick looks at her confused.

"Since when have you known that you know, you love her?" she asks and he just shrugs.

"I don't know actually, one day the hate turned into something else and I was too much of a coward to acknowledge it." He says picking on the grass.

"So you ran back to familiar?" she says and he nods a little distracted, she hums in understanding. "You are an idiot, Dick" she says making the boy nod and laugh with her. "Don't get me wrong, that wasn't the entire reason, I do love you, Kory" he says and she nods once again. She needed to clear the air before finally leaving.

"You know, it kinda makes me feel a little better that you were a little conscious of your feelings for her but pushed them down because of how much you love me" she says and he gives her a tight smile.

"What now?" he asks, scared of what the answer might be.

"Well, I am going back to the Titans tower and probably taking a well-deserved nap. You should probably go find her" she answers and Dick laughs, "No, what about us now?" he asks once again and Kory looks at him, understanding his questing. "OH! Well, you can always come to help co-lead the Titans, they are a handful as they are, so help is always appreciated. As for us us? I think we can be friends" she offers and Dick smiles and nods, "Yeah, I'd like that" making Kory smile, "But not now, I need some time, plus, I think you have a certain someone that requires your full attention" she insists and Dick lays back and looks up, "Oh her....I am fucked" he says making Kory laugh. "Why?!" she says and Dick looks at her incredulously, "Have you met her?!?! This is the one person that has never allowed me to charm my way out and is the first to call me on my bullshit. I may be absolutely earth-shattering in love with her but she will rain a shitstorm on my ass!" he exclaims making Kory wheeze, "You said it! You love her!" she yells and Dick still looks desperate to get his point across. "Yeah, but she will kick my ass" which creates another round of laughter from Kory. "Why? She got you?" she asks, genuinely confused.

"Like I said, she will absolutely call me on my bullshit and scold me for hurting you. She's a girl's girl according to Barbara and Stephanie so putting you in between will definitely be on her list of reasons why Dick Grayson is an asshole and no one can convince me otherwise," he says mocking her voice and making Kory laugh again before he continues, "Plus, she will wholeheartedly fight me on how horrible I've been with her, aside from calling me a coward for denying it for so long, Kory I have more chances entering a cage fight with a tiger and a grizzly bear and winning than the hell she will put me through, which I deserve cause she deserves so much better than me, because of all these years. She will look at me and say 'i hAvE sTanDarS' which good for her, but not really good for me cause I will have to bust my ass to become the man she deserves" Dick finishes his rant and Kory stops laughing to look at him.

"You really are in love," she observes and Dick flushes, making Kory smile. "I think this will be good for you, Richard," she says as she stands up. He gapes at her and she shakes her head with a smile, "She has always pushed you to grow and be better. And now it seems she will do so once again" she tells him, making Dick stand up. She kisses his cheek and starts to leave, waving back at him. Dick waves back as he thinks over her last few words. Yn has always been the force to challenge him, make him push past his limits, and become better. Although the majority of the time, it had been through fights and constant clashing, she always helped him get better. As he starts to walk back to the manor, he feels a gush of wind in his side. He looks and lo and behold, Wally West is looking at him with a big smile. "Sooooo, I take it that went well" he grins at Dick throwing his arm around him.

As he explains what happened with Kory, Wally nods. "Wow, this is the first time I have ever EVER seen you handle things like an adult" he quips making Dick shove his arm off as he laughs.

"Hey!" Dick exclaims to which Wally answers, "You know its true!"

They both walk back to the ballroom., "So what now with Yn?" Wally asks carefully before they enter. Remembering how cozy the two were before the dance, Dick pulls Wally by the ear and slightly threatens, "Seeing as now I have to bust my ass to win her over, do NOT make it harder by flirting with her. Keep your hands and words away from Yn, I will break your legs" To which Wally snickers like a little shit. "Hey, it did the job of getting you to do something so fuck off," he says as he pulls his ear from Dick's grasp. The two enter the ballroom and laugh falling back into the boyish banter they were always used to. Dick can feel the questioning gazes of his family and decides to avoid them because in all seriousness, he had no clue how he can even begin explaining this.

--<3--

"SHUT UP!" screams Barbara as Yn finally finishes her story, nodding excitedly. Barbara's mouth is wide open as she processes what just happened, making Yn laugh. "I know! I don't even know how I am breathing! It was so intense and genuinely, a little hot too and it felt sooooooo right but soooo wrong at the same time you know!?" YN exclaims as Barbara nods, "Yeah cause Kory was there and oh my, they are definitely breaking up! Shit, Yn! This is messy!" she says and Yn nods with wide eyes. "I know! And honestly, I feel so conflicted! Because A) I don't like that a thrid party got hurt-"

"Even if she was a huge bitch to you?"

"Even if she was a huge bitch to me. And B) Barbara it felt so good, like I wanna scream into my pillow all night kind of good!" Yn finishes and Barbara laughs at her expression, "Bitch I sure hope it feels good, it isn't every day that someone tells you that they are afraid of who they will become if you are gone AND tells you to ask anything and it is yours, you know, especially FROM DICK GRAYSON" says Barbara, "The same Dick Grayson, whose middle name is casanova with commitment issues" she finished making Yn burst out laughing. Finally, they calm down and stay silent as they process everything. They were still in their outfits, with the exception of their heels as they both lay on the floor of YN's bedroom.

"You know, don't feel so bad about the Dick and Kory thing. I think everyone has been seeing that they were going to fall out at any given moment in the last few years. So I don't really think it was ALL your fault. You being included was more of a last straw kinda thing" says Barbara trying to reassure Yn, who in return looks at her and asks, "You think so?" Barbara nods and Yn stays silent for a moment. "But if they broke up, I am NOT being a rebound. Dick has to prove that this time it is legit! Cause I am not going back to the same hot and cold as always. I can't, Barbara, I cannot! I deserve better and I don't want a few months of love and then for him to turn back into the asshole that he is always with me. I am not going to be the second choice cause his first left. If Dick wants me, he has to earn me" she says confidently and Barbara beams at her. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you." She says and they both laugh. They begin to put on their shoes after finally feeling like they should go back to the ball. They fixed themselves up and walked back. Barbara kept teasing Yn over her situation with Dick and Yn, although she was heavily blushing, she laughed with her friend. As they entered, YN went directly towards Diana with a huge smile, they agreed that Yn would spend the next weekend in New York with her so that she could tell her all about what happened in more privacy.

As she walked back to where Barbara, Cass, and Stephanie were, Yn made brief eye contact with Dick. She felt her heart skip a beat. Dick smiled at her and waved. Yn nodded in acknowledgment and waved back. The night carried on without any other mishaps. Even though, everyone was dying to know what happened between them, they would have to wait until their next Diyn (ship name) meeting to know what happened so they let it slide for tonight and just enjoyed the gala.

That night, as Yn was heading for bed her phone dings. She opens it only to find:

Mi Picaflor <3:

The offer still stands. Ask for anything and it is yours. Goodnight, gorgeous.

--<3--

"Right now, I'm shameless

Screaming my lungs out for ya, not afraid to face it

I need you more than I want to, need you more than I want to"

[ikeromantic]

Yves, Ballroom, Candy Cane

Evie, being cool and sweet. Approx. 800 words. IkePri New Years Event story!

Emma stepped into the ballroom, her back straight, shoulders tight. She could feel the weight of expectation as heads turned, inspecting her, judging. They knew. It was a thought she could not shake. No matter how fancy her dress or fine her jewelry, the nobles could tell she was common. She took a shaky breath and tried to smile.

There was so much beauty here, she thought. Dresses made of rare silk and lace, sewn with gems. Diamond necklaces worth more than she could make in a lifetime of selling books. The feeling of being an imposter grew, the certainty that she did not belong. Her smile faltered, fell. 

Her eyes searched for an exit. No matter what Sariel said, this simply was not going to work. There was no way she could pretend to be -

“Emma.” A warm hand settled lightly on her forearm. 

She nearly jumped. “E-evie?”

A brittle smile sat uncomfortably on his porcelain-perfect face. His sharp gaze took in her expression, her posture. “This won’t do,” he tsked. 

“It won’t?” She had no idea what he meant, but her nerves were wound so tight she couldn’t gather her thoughts. 

“You look as if you want to cry and run.” His voice was soft, pitched for her ears alone. “A gentlewoman would be excited for her first ball. Nervous, perhaps, but happy.” He squeezed her arm gently. “Smile.”

Emma forced a false smile onto her face, and nodded. “Sorry. I’m just . . . I don’t know what to do. Everyone was staring. They still are.”

Yves gave a haughty sniff of disdain. “That is due to me. You are not remarkable.”  

“Oh. A-alright.” She wasn’t sure what to say to that. It felt like he was trying to reassure her by being rude. “Umm, so what should I do?”

He sighed, a pained expression flashing across his face before he resumed smiling. “Most noble women want to dance. Do you know how?”

She nodded. “Sariel made sure I had lessons.”

“Then come along. And look as if you want to do this.” Yves laced his fingers with her, guiding her out to the ballroom floor. Whispers and weighted gazes followed in their wake.

It took Emma a moment to realize what he intended. “Are you going to dance with me?”

Yves raised an eyebrow. “Yes. And you’d better not step on my feet. I refuse to look like an idiot in front of the peerage.” 

“I’ll do my best.”

“You’d better.” His expression softened for a heartbeat before his icy arrogance descended again. 

Emma settled into his embrace as gracefully as she could, and let him lead her into the first steps of this formal dance. His grip on her was gentle and firm. There was an unexpected strength to him, one that suited his elegance. His touch sent a wash of warmth through her. 

Yves watched her with his sapphire gaze. “You’re smiling. A real smile.”

“Am I?” She felt her pulse speed. There was something about the way he looked at her. Something new, or perhaps, something she simply hadn’t noticed before. 

He was silent a long moment as the music rose, filling the air. He spun her, and caught her, pulling Emma close for a moment. So close that she could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath his fine suit and feel the whisper of his breath on her cheek. “You’re very pretty. When you smile.” Yves said it so softly that she almost didn’t hear. As if the words were more for him than for her.

In a slightly louder voice, one more pitched to conversation volume, he added, “Next time, let me fix your hair. This style doesn’t suit you.” 

Emma nearly stumbled, the unexpected compliment followed by a criticism left her unsure of how to respond. “I, um, thanks?”

“Of course. I can’t allow Sariel’s protege to run about looking less than perfect.” His haughty voice belied the heat in his gaze, a flame burning amidst the icy arrogance of his demeanor. 

The song came to an end, the music dwindling into the chatter of the crowded nobility. Yves stopped, though he did not release her hand. There was a tension between them, words unspoken, emotion not yet acknowledged. 

Emma took a shallow breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Silly, to be so affected when all Evie had done was dance with her. 

Yves lifted her hand to his lips, brushing a gentle kiss across the top. The light touch sent a jolt of electric pleasure buzzing from that spot up her arm and through her body. She felt hot and cold all at once, a new tension coiling in her low belly. 

“Until next time,” Yves’ eyes were the blue of banked coals as he lightly squeezed her hand and then let go. 

She wanted to reach for him. To dance another song, a hundred more even, but he was already turning away. And all around them, whispers rose up. Cruel gossip and cutting laughter. But Yves held his head high, and so Emma did as well.

[chiimeramanticore]

Part of the Band - Chapter 12 - Tell Me The Truth

Chapter summary: Dook spends a day at home.

A/N:

halfway through writing this chapter I realized CDs weren't invented until like 1981 and weren't brought to America until like 1983 but I've been "fuck it we ball no post-upload edits" about this fic since day one so I didn't change it to a cassette. just assume this fic takes place in a universe where everything is the same except the CD was invented 5 years earlier lmao in actual news: we're finally entering an arc of the fic I've been waiting for for literally months. I've been sitting on this exact chapter for months. and after all that time I am still afraid the end of this chapter is gonna seem like I'm jumping the shark w this fic lmao. bear with me! I know what I'm doing! you just gotta trust me 👍 all that said I hope you enjoy the chapter as always! thanks for reading :]

Chapter word count: 2,173

<- Chapter 11 - Chapter 13 ->

Read it on AO3!

It's Sunday.

When Dook wakes up, Beach Bear is already gone. This isn't out of the ordinary by now– Dook knows Beach Bear spends his Sundays at the beach. It's sort of his thing. He could be gone anywhere between a few hours and and all day, honestly. Depends how the waves are, he figures.

Dook has come to take these days for himself. Write some music, clean up the place a bit... He owes Beach Bear at least that much for letting him live here for so long.

After standing in the kitchen idly eating an untoasted bagel, Dook decides that that's good enough to get to work. He turns his attention to the counter, sifting through the pile of notes, receipts, and other stuff they've left there over the week. He tosses what he knows they won't need, and organizes the rest.

As he lifts up a notepad to put it back in its drawer, Dook reveals a CD, still in its case. Scribbled onto the front in Sharpie: "Ballroom Dancing." This is the CD he saw in Beach Bear's car a while ago. He didn't know it ended up here. Beach Bear seemed embarrassed of it at the time, but... Dook eyes the radio next to him.

...But he doesn't have to know, right?

Dook pops the CD out of its case and into the radio's CD player.

The CD whirrs to life, and out comes the sound of Beach Bear. He plucks at his guitar a few times, warming up at first, before beginning to strum a song. He hums along in accompaniment for a while, and then begins to sing the lyrics. Dook recognizes this song– it's by Paul McCartney. But hearing it in Beach Bear's voice is a whole new experience... Though, he is admittedly aware of his infatuation with his voice.

Awareness doesn't stop him from being completely entranced by the recording, though. It's just Beach Bear and his guitar– a far cry from a finished cover– but the smallness of it almost feels more personal. More intimate. Like he's performing just for him.

But eventually, the song ends, and Dook is reminded how he stands in Beach Bear's house without him. Silence falls over the kitchen once more. Left with only his thoughts, Dook can only imagine one thing.

"Beach Bear can sing," he says aloud to himself. How come he was so nervous about this? He's fantastic!

He puts the CD on again, returning to cleaning as he listens. He should bring this up to him when he comes home. He should encourage him to sing in the band! That would solve their singer problem for sure.

Dook's cleaning eventually brings him to Beach Bear's bedroom. He hasn't been in here in some time... not since he slept here. Even then, it was only for a couple hours, and he wasn't conscious for most of it.

He hasn't accustomed to this room fully, even after all this time. Something just feels too intimate about it. Sacred, almost. Maybe he shouldn't clean in here.

Still, Dook finds himself stepping into the room, his feet meeting the plush carpeting.

The silence of the room hangs over him, the air still. The very act of being in here is a disturbance. The posters on the walls watch him. Dook walks over to the desk and runs the tips of his fingers gingerly over the top of a notebook left out there. His hand then comes to rest carefully on the top of the chair parked by the desk.

Old photographs are pasted just above the desk. Some feature Beach Bear himself, where others look like they were taken by him. He spots Queenie in a couple of them. There's a wolf, a dog, a gorilla... Is this the rest of the Wolf Pack?

Beach Bear himself in these images looks different, too. Tougher. Maybe even meaner. Dook remembers the day him and Queenie fought... the way he held her against the wall like that. The way they were both able to hurt each other. Did they learn that back when these photos were taken? How long has he been capable of that?

What would it take for him to do it again?

Dook pulls back from the desk, shaking the thought from his mind. It's not something worth worrying about. Besides, he shouldn't stay in here much longer.

·–—–·

It's been several hours, and the sun has begun to set. Dook has occupied himself with writing a full arrangement of "Ballroom Dancing." They've got a full band, and with Beach Bear singing, it would be something perfect to work on at band practice! He's almost giddy for Beach Bear to come home so he can show him the work he's done.

Almost on cue, Dook hears the door unlock and open. He stands excitedly, ready to meet him at the front of the room.

"Beach Bear!" Dook says enthusiastically. "I'm–"

"We need to talk," Beach Bear says.

Dook's smile fades, a pit beginning to open in his stomach. "Uhm– Sure, about what?" He asks, trying to retain some of the pleasant tone in his voice.

"I was at the beach today," Beach Bear says, "and you'll never guess who I ran into."

"...Uh," Dook's mind begins to race. Should he play dumb? How much does Beach Bear know? He probably knows everything, right? If he doesn't, maybe he can convince him he's done less wrong? No, that's a bad idea. Maybe this isn't even about what he did. He doesn't know it is. He doesn't know anything.

"...Fatz?" Dook offers finally.

"No," Beach Bear says, unamused. "I saw Mini. And we got to talking. She told me some real interesting stuff." His voice drips with barely concealed annoyance.

"O- oh," Dook says meekly, offering no other information.

"Where is that outfit you picked up yesterday, anyway?" Beach Bear asks.

"Uh–" Dook grabs the bag he left at the side of the couch, bringing it over to Beach Bear. He reaches inside, pulling it out just enough for him to show that it's real. "It's here, see? I got it yesterday."

"Okay, where'd you get that from?" Beach Bear continues, relentless. "Because according to her, you didn't spend the money I gave you for a costume, on a costume. What happened to it?"

"I..." Dook stutters a few times. "I have the costume. Are you gonna trust her saying that?"

"Mini's a real jerk sometimes, but she's not a liar, Dook," Beach Bear says. "And right now? I trust her a lot more than I trust you."

Dook feels a knot form in his throat. "I...!" Lying is only going to make this worse. "...I got the costume from Billy Bob and Looney Bird. We made it together."

"Where's my money, Dook?" He asks, relentless.

"I... I don't have it," he admits.

"What did you do with my money, Dook?!" Beach Bear takes a step toward him, towering over him. Dook steps back instinctively. His heart races.

"I- I–" He stammers. "I don't have it. I didn't... I was gonna spend it on the costume. I wanted to spend it on the costume, but I–" He stutters a few more times, unsure how to soften the blow. May as well just come out with it. "W- when you met me that night, and I wasn't doin' so hot, I– I was kinda... reliant, y'know? And I– I don't know what I was thinking that night, I dunno why I went back there. I dunno what's wrong with me. I love spendin' time with you, I've liked all the time we spent together, I just– It– It felt familiar. It was what I used to." The words spill out of him, hasty and messy.

"You... you spent it on booze," Beach Bear says. His voice is low, but his stature doesn't relax even a bit. Then, "You spent all that money on alcohol!?"

"I knew I shouldn't've when I did it!" Dook cries.

"That doesn't make it any better!" Beach Bear shouts.

"I know! I'm sorry!"

"And to find this out from Queenie, I–" He retreats a bit, if only to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe this! What were you thinking?!"

"I don't know!" Dook's voice breaks a little. "I don't know what I was thinking!"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I– I didn't want you to be upset with me...!"

"I am upset with you!" Beach Bear snaps. "I'm more upset that you thought you could just get away with it! What, that you could just sweep it under the rug? That I wouldn't notice? That it'd just be a funny story later down the line?"

"I–"

"Do you know what I could've done with that money, Dook?"

"I–"

"Do you know what I have had to do since then just to keep the damn house?! I had to go crawling back to my parents again!" He falters for a moment, as if he wasn't planning to tell him that. "I..."

"You–? You didn't have to do that!"

"Yes, I did!" Beach Bear says, just as angry once again. "I had to call them and– and all but beg for the money to keep the house ours! I had to– I had to tell them I was over the being a guy thing! I had to tell them I was wrong and delusional and everything else they wished I was...! Because of you!" Beach Bear pokes him forcefully in the chest. The tip of his claw is sharp.

"Beach Bear–"

"Because I trusted you!" He pokes him again, getting even closer now.

"B- Beach–"

"I liked you, even! I thought you were my friend!" He's practically on top of him now. "And what do you you do but spit in my face?!"

Beach Bear pushes Dook, who stumbles and falls to the floor. He isn't hurt, but he's terrified.

"Is... Is this what you were keeping from me?" Dook asks. "You said you weren't being truthful with me."

"Do not try to turn this around on me," Beach Bear says.

"I'm not tryin' to, I–"

Beach Bear sighs sharply. "I cannot believe this. I cannot believe this!" He turns, beginning to pace the distance between Dook and the front door. "Who do you think you are?"

Dook begins to stand again. "B... Beach Bear, I–"

"I can't," Beach Bear says. "I can't be here." He turns for the door once more.

"Beach Bear–?"

Beach Bear opens the front door, leaving the house. Dook scrambles to his feet, chasing after him.

"Beach Bear, wait!" He calls. Beach Bear is already getting into his car. "Wait, please! Don't leave! I'll– I'll leave instead! I'll go! Don't leave, please!"

Beach Bear pulls out of the driveway.

"Beach Bear! Beach Bear! No! Please!" Dook attempts to chase after the car, but it's too fast.

"Beach Bear!" He tries once more. But he's left alone in the street now. "B..." The words die in his throat.

He feels empty. He feels destroyed. This is all his fault.

·–—–·

Dook stares blankly at the papers he left on the coffee table. What he once was so excited over feels embarrassing now. It's been a few hours since Beach Bear left, to where, he has no clue.

He's considered what he should do when he comes back. Apologize profusely was the first idea, obviously. Maybe he could prepare some sort of grand gesture, like making him his favorite meal... but he's got no idea when he'll be back, and it would be a shame to let the food get cold. Maybe he should just leave. But if Beach Bear returned to find Dook gone, that might cause distress all over again. But to do nothing feels like he doesn't care...

The phone rings. Dook springs up to answer it. It's probably Beach Bear, calling to make up with him, right? Maybe chew him out some more, but at least he'll have the chance to apologize again.

Dook picks up the phone. "Hello?"

"What the hell did you do to him?" Queenie snaps.

"Wh– Huh?"

"What did you do?" She repeats.

"I–" He stutters a few times, recounting his memory. "When he got home, we argued. Obviously. Then he left. I haven't– I haven't seen him in a few hours."

"Well, what did you say to him?!" She presses.

"I didn't say anything! I apologized!"

"Well, you must have done something," she insists, "because he's in the hospital!"

Dook freezes. "He's... what?"

"He's in the hospital," Queenie repeats. "I don't know what happened yet, I just got a call now. We're leaving now."

Dook isn't sure what to say. He's in the hospital? What happened? What did he do? This is all his fault.

"Meet us there," Queenie says, and then she hangs up.

Dook holds the phone to his ear a moment longer, still stunned. Then, finally, he puts it back on the receiver. Guess he's going to the hospital.

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Pet Names

Rolan's pet names for his beloved. Mostly SFW. The last section veers into NSFW territory but no actual sex.

My dear

Amelie glanced across the ballroom and caught her lover’s gaze. It was Rolan’s first time among the elites of Baldur’s Gate---a fundraising ball for the city’s reconstruction hosted by the Portyrs. So far, so good. Mum’s chatting with the Dowager Duchess, and my grump was speaking to…someone but it looks as if he’s a bit distracted. Distracted he certainly looked as he walked towards her, wine goblet in hand.

“All is well, my dear?” he murmured, standing next to her. His tail lightly touched one of her calves. “I-I’m not sure how long we’re supposed to mingle.”

She chuckled softly. “I think you’ve done enough mingling for now, love.” He’ll need to do more later, especially with a few noble wizards here. But for now… “Shall we get some fresh air?”

He offered his arm, and she tucked her hand into his elbow. “As her ladyship wishes.”

“In public, I would prefer if we…were not so, erm, affectionate.”

“Oh.”

“No, it’s not…please don’t cry, my dear. What we have in private…it’s just for us. Do you understand? I want that just for us.”

“So you wish to hide me? Or more accurately, hide your ‘affection’ for me.”

“NO! Damnable woman, listen! It makes me uncomfortable. I can feel the stares, and it makes me want to tear my skin off.”

“Oh! Oh gods, Rolan, I’m so sorry. I understand now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, but please understand this---I am not ashamed to be with you nor will I ever be. You are my lady and will be treated as such.”

“You seem far away.” He said once they were on the far side of the balcony. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

When she caught his gaze again, she smiled. He’s concerned. He loves me. He adores me. And when I get home, I’m not letting him go again until the morning. “Oh, I’m fine. Trying to mentally keep track of who you’ve talked to and should be talking to—”

Amelie was silenced by a clawed finger on her lips. Rolan’s yellow eyes were full of mirth. “Enough of that tonight, Mia dear. Enjoy yourself. After all, the Mistress of Ramazith’s Tower deserves to have a good time and not worry about such things,” the joy in his eyes faded as he frowned. “Because she does enough already.”

She pressed a kiss to his finger and then took his hand and held it to her heart for a moment before letting him go. “If the Master of Ramazith’s Tower insists…”

“He does.” Rolan took a sip of wine and grinned. “Your mother will be making the rest of the introductions tonight, so please, my dear, relax and have a good time.”

Biting her lip, she tried and definitely failed to appear innocent. “One dance with me and it’s a deal.”

Rolan groaned and drained the rest of his wine. “You drive a hard bargain, madam. Fine, I’ll make a fool out of myself for a few minutes—”

She did not mean to laugh. Truly. “But you’re my fool and that’s all that matters.”

My brilliant, beautiful fool of a man.

***

My love

“My love.”

Amelie blinked at him.

Rolan raised an eyebrow, his expression more amused than concerned. “My love, did you cast a spell and polymorph into a cat?”

Maybe.

He sighed dramatically, hands on his hips. “Whatever am I to do with you?”

Stritch my ears! My head! MY BELLY!!!!

Chuckling, he bent and lifted his lover-temporarily-turned-ginger-cat and practically cooed. “You are just as lovely like this as you are normally, darling. And purring so loudly! Just for me!”

BELLY SCRITCHES!!!

Unfortunately for Amelie, the belly scritches came to an abrupt end as she changed back into her half-elf form. Thinking quickly, Rolan cast Telekensis and placed her gently on her feet. “Oh thanks, love. I thought I was going to crush you for a second there.” She nervously wrung her hands as she felt heat bloom on her freckled cheeks.

He took her hands in his, pulling her to him. “You know I love how you look---bigger, smaller, as you are currently, it doesn’t matter to me. What matters is that you are safe, happy, and well taken care of.” Rolan pulled her into a tender embrace. “Preferably by me.” Though she could not see it, she knew he was smirking.

She smiled at that. He’s so sweet. “Of course, love.”

He placed a slow kiss on her neck, just below an ear and then whispered, “I desire you. I crave your touch. I ache for you. Surely you must know?” A clawed hand trailed down her back to her plush behind. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. How could you think otherwise?”

“Knowing and believing are two very different things.” She sighed.

“Believe me. I beg of you, please believe me.” He pled softly, now cupping her face. “You take my breath away every moment we are together. Even when I think of you.” A grin slowly appeared, his eyes hinting mischief. “When this is all over, and assuming we all survive, I want to show you off at every function we attend. As Master and…Mistress of Ramazith’s Tower we are to make a certain impression, are we not?” Of that I have no doubt, but I’ve never been a wizard ball before? Wizard dinner? The only wizard dinner I want is something Gale makes, because goddamn he’s so good. “You will be dressed like a queen. No, a goddess. A goddess on my arm, Mistress of the Tower, and they will all be jealous. Oh yes, my love, they will wish they were you---so beautiful, so elegant, so powerful, so stunning, so adored.”

Good gods, Rolan. Suddenly feeling heat rise on her cheeks and bust, she inhaled sharply. “I-I…”

He barely held in a moan watching her blush, his hands back on her behind. “Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved, dearest. Please allow me the—”

“Oh hey you two! Lunch is almost ready!” Lia’s voice called from the hallway.

Once he could no longer hear her footsteps as she walked away, Rolan pressed several kisses to her lips, murmuring, “May I escort you to lunch, my lady?”

Oh. Gods. Amelie nodded and breathlessly replied, “Yes. Yes, you may.”

***

Dearest

“Dearest?” Rolan muttered sleepily, waking to find his lover no longer next to him. “Mia darling?” Slipping out of bed, he located the half-elf quickly---sitting in a window seat, bathed in moonlight. He nearly did not wish to disturb her because as always, to him, she took his breath away. However, he also wanted her back in bed with him. “Dearest?”

Amelie glanced at him with wide eyes. “Oh! Sorry! Sorry, I couldn’t sleep. I hoped I wouldn’t wake you, love—” She began to ramble but was silenced with a kiss. The kiss was short but shocking enough to quiet her.

He then sat next to her and took one of her hands in his. “Dearest, what’s the matter? Is something bothering you?” He worries. He worries so much that he can barely contain it, and when it becomes impossible for him to hold in any longer, the worry manifests itself in him not leaving my side and his tail touching me. Like right now. “What can I do?”

She smiled softly and caressed his cheek with her free hand. “It’s just been a long day, and my mind won’t quiet. It’s okay. Besides,” her smile grew wider. “It was nice watching you sleep, love. You looked happy. Like, really happy.”

“If I did, it is because I have you and my family. Having you, Cal, and Lia safe, alive, and happy means more to me than anything else. This tower. All my books and scrolls. My mind. None of that matters if the three of you aren’t alright.” He squeezed her hand, struggling to maintain composure. “Now please, let me help you, darling. I’ll brew the potion myself. There’s far more security here than at the Elfsong Tavern, so you will be completely safe as you rest. I’ve made a few modifications already with you in mind.” He seems very proud of that. “Mia, my dearest,” his expression turned rueful as he smiled. “You are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, but please indulge me and take the damn potion.”

She sighed dramatically and grinned. “Fine. Only because you’re making it and you’ll be here.”

“Obviously, dear. I live here.” He sassed as he stood and held out his hand for her. “And when this is all over, you’ll be living here too. I…I hope. If that’s what you want, of course. I wouldn’t assume—”

It was her turn to silence him with a kiss. She then rested her forehead against his. Luckily, we’re close in height. I’m an inch or so shorter. “I want to spend all my days with you---good, bad, everything. I want—”

“Darling. I-I think I know what you are about to say, but I beg of you, indulge me again and allow me to propose.” Oh. “Please don’t be sad, my love. I want to plan something truly amazing for us. I already have several ideas, you see, and I want it to be perfect. Not just for you but for me as well.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Oh fuck it. She smiled. “How can I say no to such a heartfelt plea? You may propose to me whenever and however you wish, Rolan love.”

Grinning, he kissed the knuckles on a freckled hand. “I promise you, sweetling, you won’t have to wait too long.” He teased with a kiss to her cheek before leading her to his study. “Now, about that sleeping potion for my future fiancée…”

He held me all night, telling me I was safe and how much he loved me as I nodded off.

He surprised me with breakfast in bed as he read. His tail---his beautiful tail---wrapped around a leg.

I could…we could…get used to this.

***

Sweetheart

“You’re almost there, sweetheart. You’re so close.” Rolan said, trying to keep his voice steady. Since the labor started several hours before, he had not left his wife’s side. “Soon this will all be over, I promise.”

Amelie nodded and then gritted her teeth in agony. Oh my gods. How am I getting this baby out?!?! Push. Push. Push.

Halsin’s eyes lit up. “I can see the head. My friend, it will be time to push and meet your child.” As he rearranged a few items near him, Countess Wildheart (only Mum, Rolan, and Halsin) offered assistance.

She rested her head on the pillows (Rolan arranged them himself) and turned her head towards him. “I love you.”

A tired half-smile tugged on his lips. “I love you, even though you’ve nearly broken my hand.” He teased, his hand in hers.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh hush, you ass—AH!” Amelie inhaled sharply and felt another contraction.

A big one.

“Breathe in, exhale, and push with all your might, Amelie.” Halsin said in a calming voice. “Soon your child will make their entrance.”

She pushed. And pushed. And pushed.

Until she heard a cry and fell back against the pillows, sweat pouring down her face.

Halsin beamed at the child in his arms. “A girl. You have a daughter, my friends.”

As he took care of cleaning her and cutting the cord (Rolan refused when it came up previously), Rolan wiped her face with a cool washcloth. “My love, we…she’s…I have no words. They are gone.” He began to laugh, tears forming in his yellow eyes. “There is only what I feel, which is indescribable joy that I have never felt before. The closest being when you returned with Cal and Lia to Last Light and our wedding day.” He’s trying to control himself because of Halsin and Mum. Oh, love…

“You did so well, Mia sweetie.” Countess Wildheart patted her daughter’s hand. “She’s beautiful.”

Halsin smiled as he placed the baby in Amelie’s arms. “She certainly is and is in perfect health.” He glanced at the dwarven noble. “Shall we tell the others?”

Time to let Mum be in her element as doting new grandmother.

Once the couple were alone (and Halsin guided me as she latched on), Amelie, though exhausted, felt the same as her husband. Indescribable joy. That sounds right. “Hello, my little love. I’m your mummy.” She glanced at Rolan and sniggered. Just a little. “And that sobbing mess next to me is your darling father.”

“Hush you! I’m simply…overwhelmed.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. “Cal and Lia are going to love her.”

She chuckled softly. “Love, they already do.”

He put his handkerchief on her bedside table and pulled his chair closer to the bed. Rolan sat and stared thoughtfully at their daughter as he smiled. After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. “Petra. It was Cal and Lia’s mother’s name. It would be fitting to have her back in our family, in a way. That is if you agree, dearest.”

His wife grinned. “Of course it is! That’s such a pretty name.” She turned her attention back to the baby. “Hello, Petra Wildheart.” As agreed upon in our marriage contract, our children will bear my name since Rolan did not and chooses not to have a surname of his own. “Rolan, Master of Ramazith’s Tower suits me well enough, sweetheart.” As you wish, love.

“Petra Wildheart, born of the greatest wizard and sorcerer of the age…” Something flashed in his eyes and then he appeared almost pleasantly surprised? Hmmm? “She’s got your nose. Your little nose---she’s got it. I-I didn’t think she’d have any of your physical features being a tiefling. But she does. Your nose.”

Oh come on, sir. “Rolan! Love, you are brilliant, but fucking hells. I’m her mum! Of course she’s going to have at least some of my physical features! Just because she’s a tiefling and I’m a half-elf doesn’t mean she won’t have any trace of me.” I’m laughing. I’m sorry. I’m not sorry. “Who knows…maybe her ears won’t be as large as a tieflings and be more like mine?” Amelie noticed Petra was finished, so she began to burp her. Thanks for the towel, love. “But it doesn’t matter because I’m her mother. She’s my baby. That’s that.”

Rolan groaned and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. “Yes, your ladyship, of course. If you say it, then it must be true.” It always is, and he knows it. “I was reading about the importance of skin to skin contact with infants. Once Halsin and your mother return—”

“I think he’s going to have me bathe, Rolan love. I feel gross.” She laughed and then pressed a kiss to Petra’s head. Darker strawberry blonde fuzz. So cute!

He nodded. “I know, sweetling. But fear not! Your dashing husband will spoil you in the bath once—”

“Once what, sweetie?” The countess asked happily as she and Halsin returned to the master bedroom. “Cal and Lia are over the moon and want to come in for a brief visit. Oh, and I sent sending spells to Nadia, Astarion, Jaheira, Minsc, Gale, Shadowheart, and to Duke Ravengard so he can pass it onto Wyll and Karlach. Withers said he’d deal with Lae’zel.” Wait, Withers talks to my mum like he does with Gale’s mum?!?!!? “Do you need anything else? Either of you?”

Before Rolan had a chance to snark on his siblings, they were already at the door and peeking in.

“Sooooo…?” Cal began, grinning.

“Zurgan. You visit with Petra, and I’ll see to my wife. She had a bloody baby, you know.” He grumbled, though none of the others took it seriously.

Sorry, love. We know you’re protective of me. Adorably so.

***

Sweetling

“What is my sweetling up to?” Rolan practically cooed as his wife placed the tray of chocolate chip cookies on the counter. Cal and Lia were down in the shop, leaving the new parents alone in the kitchen while their daughter slept in the nursery. His hands roamed her sides and hips, and she could feel his tail at her ankle. His tail is very…erm…long. It can do…so much…in so many situations…

She giggled. “Well, right now these just came out of the oven, and I need to let them cool.”

“Yes, yes.” He pressed sloppy kisses along her neck punctuating each word. “But. After. Madam.”

“Someone’s excited,” Amelie teased, smirking because she could feel the very large bulge in his trousers.

He let out of an annoyed huff. “I am always excited to see you. You’re my bloody wife.”

She bit her bottom lip, grinning. “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it. You ass.”

One of his hands cupped a breast. “But you’re just as excited, aren’t you, my pretty wife? I can feel it. I can smell it.”

Smell it? Oh. Oh dear. “Love, are you in a rut?” Amelie panted as his other hand reached under her dress and pawed at her smalls.

He stiffened but did not stop his movements. “I…yes. It came on very suddenly. Usually I-I…it’s gradual…not like this.” He let go of her and began to pace. “I need to get the potion. Can’t do anything before that. I-I must.” Rolan stopped and took a deep breath. “I’ll return soon, my love.”

As he turned to leave, she touched his arm. “Wait.”

Turning slowly around to face her, his brow furrowed. “What? I’m perfectly capable of getting you a contraceptive potion. My faculties haven’t all left me, woman.” He grumbled.

He’s going to think I’m mad.

“Or we could…not…do…anything…perhaps?” She offered him an awkward if sincere smile. “I don’t mind. This way Petra won’t be alone---they’ll have each other, like you do with Cal and Lia.”

My poor husband attempted to form words but found he could not for several moments. “I…you are mad. You…” Ah, so he does think I’m mad. “You mad, mad woman.” The grin on his face betrayed his serious tone. “Gods Mia, Petra is nine weeks old.” He said with a disbelieving laugh. “Are you sure? Truly sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be okay.” She smiled to herself. “I’ve got a good feeling.”

My very poor husband groaned. “A good feeling?! That’s…that’s not…That is not how that works, dearest!”

“Alright, but my good feelings saved the world, so I think I should be given the benefit of the doubt, love.” She wrinkled her nose and giggled, making him groan louder. It’s a valid point.

He ran a hand through his hair and undid the tie. “Zurgan. Whatever am I to do with you, my darling, precious wife?” Rolan growled, gripping her hips and hungrily kissing her.

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Amelie could not help but giggle. “Oh dear. I think the little Mistress of the Tower is awake.”

Rolan rolled his eyes and took a few deep breaths. “You see to her, and I’ll be with you in a few minutes. I need to…bloody hells…” Giving one more kiss, he turned and walked towards the bathroom, leaving his wife nearly doubled over in laughter.

Later then, my grumpy wizard.

[mrslittletall]

I got tagged by @heraldofcrow, thank you very much!

Are you named after anyone? Actually yes. A character from the old drama show Dallas. She died in the show. I don't know if the actress is still alive.

When was the last time you cried? Since the thing with my husband happened it is easier to ask when I not cry. I am crying a lot. I think the last time I really bawled my eyes out where after I failed Laxasia so much in Lies of P. Of course that was only the catalyst. I was upset about different things but that made me lie down in bed and cry myself to sleep.

Do you have kids? No. I wanted to have a child once. We tried for it. It didn't work. Then my husband got sick. I decided that I don't want children anymore. Next time at the gyn I am discussing solutions so that I don't have to worry to get pregnant. Sometimes I still feel a little bit sad about it.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Yes. I use sarcasm a lot. It just happens. I don't even know how to stop it.

What sports do you play? At the moment nothing, but once my husband is fine again, I hope we can pick up ballroom dancing agian.

What’s the first thing you notice about people? Normally I see someone in their face that I can focus on, like a mole or a wart or a scar. My eyes always go there first. Don't ask me why.

What’s your eye colour? Green.

Scary movies or happy endings? Both. Both are good.

Any special talents? I am good at organizing stuff. For some reason.

Where were you born? In a town in my home country of Germany.

What are your hobbies? Video games, writing, reading, drawing, collecting anime and manga, visiting the cinema (best way to experience movies), role playing.

Do you have any pets? Yes, my darling cats named Clara (the orange one) and Geraldina (the tortie one).

How tall are you? 5'7''

Favourite subject in school? I really liked English and French. English is not my native language, so not the English you native speakers imagine ^^

Dream job? That train has left the station. But if I could choose, I would like to work in a library. I am tagging... @justbabyme @modounbubble @nightmaredaisy

[welcomingdisaster]

I am OBSESSED with your M+M CoH retelling so I have to ask about but the blood so free ch 2

HIII!! <3 I'm so glad you like that one. I posted a snippet here but self-indulgently I'll share another.

“I remembered something,” Cáno says, “for a moment everything was clear. I thought I knew who I was, and how I had come here.” 

“Ah,” Maedhros says, “you sang in Quenya. By your pronunciation I am sure you are a Noldo, and likely close to me in age. What did you see?” 

Cáno thinks of it for a moment. All he can find is indistinct, jumbled thing, twisted over images with no meaning behind them. “Er,” he says, “a little boy building sandcastles, first.”

Maedhros raises an eyebrow. “You?” 

“No,” Cáno says, “no, not me, I think. He had blue eyes, and very fair hair. He—oh. There was a beach, and tall white lighthouses.” 

Maedhros shakes his head slightly, as though to say, I don’t know, and Cáno cannot blame him. There must be hundreds of places like that one. 

“Gems,” he says, “gems scattered along the shores. He had some on his castle.” 

“The Blessed Isles,” Maedhros breathes, “Alqualondë, almost certainly. The sand golden, then, golden and white? The light silver, or else gold?” 

“Yes,” Cáno says, “both, I think. I did not linger long. Next—oh, I cannot say the order. I remember again hearing the death-cry of my horse, and her blood sticky and warm against my skin.  I smelled smoke. I felt the—the claw force its way into my mouth. The dragon’s hand.” 

Maedhros holds him a little tighter. Rocks back and forth, as he might to soothe a child. Cáno reassures himself of his lover’s solidity, of the familiar smell of tobacco. 

“Then I remember also a ballroom. I remembered dancing with a friend. I knew suddenly that I had had a mother, once; that she was a craftsman.” 

[robinewe]

The Glass Slippers Part 2

A Gothic Cinderella Ghost Story

Part 1

The prince waited at the end of the entrance hall to greet the guests as they arrived. Each lady was introduced by the sound of trumpets, proceeded across the ballroom, and presented themselves to the prince. He kissed each one’s hand, politely smiled, and welcomed them to the ball. No names were exchanged, and every guest wore a mask over her eyes. Even so, the prince could tell that none of them were the girl he was waiting for, every time the trumpets sounded and a new lady made her way across the room.

She must have snuck in while he was otherwise distracted. One moment he couldn’t see her anywhere among the crowd, the next he turned his head and she appeared. She wore a silver mask over her eyes, but the way she reflected light around her and her pale hair, arms, and neck were nearly glowing was unmistakable. Her dress shimmered with each shift of light while she moved through the room, timid and light on her feet, which were covered in dainty glass shoes that made a pleasing noise against the tile.

Now that he’d spotted her he couldn’t tear his eyes away. He started towards her, hearing his father exclaim behind him, “Son! What are you doing?” the steward quickly after, “Where are you going, my prince?”

“I’m going to join the dancing,” the prince said over his shoulder. His father grinned, pleased, while the steward sighed with relief.

People stopped and stared as he passed. He was the only attendant without a mask, as it was pointless to hide who he was. The ball was in his honor, everyone knew who he was. But the ladies were supposed to be on equal footing while competing for his hand, with their faces hidden.

He reached the girl, standing out like a diamond among roses, and a circle cleared around the two. Cinderella watched him while he approached, and he met her eyes behind her mask. “May I have this dance?” he asked, extending his hand and bowing low in front of her.

The room was silent and still for a moment before she took his hand, and then the orchestra swept into a romantic waltz. The prince pulled Cinderella closer, and wrapped his other arm around the small of her back, giving her a smile. He led her in the dance, pushing and pulling her along with him, so graceful as her feet glided across the floor. She let out a nervous laugh, enjoying herself despite all of the eyes on her. She felt like she was floating, somewhere only she and this boy existed. Nothing, not anything that had happened to her in her life before, could touch her here.

***

Finally, both of them dizzy and tired, the prince led her outside to breathe in fresh air by the gardens. They left the guests tittering and gossiping behind their hands. Sitting down together, he gently tugged off her mask. Her face shone like the moon, revealed from behind clouds. But her brows were furrowed, and she looked worried. A shadow over the moon.

“What is the matter?” he asked.

She looked down at her hands in her lap, twisting diamond rings around her fingers. “I can’t help but think. What do you see in me?”

He plucked a strand of hair between his fingers, putting it behind her ear. “You’re absolutely radiant,” he said. She shook her head.

“But you’ve seen who I really am.”

“Who you really are?”

“A filthy kitchen maid. I’m not a princess, no matter how I look now.” She curled both her hands into fists. “I should never have left home. I don’t deserve to be here.”

She made as if to stand up, but Channing grabbed her arm. “No, please, stay! You can live here, with me, and you won’t have to go back to that life ever again!”

“Why me?” she asked fiercely.

“Because my father is forcing me to marry, and I think I’ve fallen in love with you!” He realized his grip on her arm had grown rather tight. He let go of her, and quickly stepped away, in case he had made her afraid of him. She stared at him in shock, and he continued, “And… I want to help you. I don’t want to see you cry ever again. I saw you underneath the willow tree and I couldn’t stand it. I thought my heart would break.”

She was crying now, in fact, and he carefully stepped towards her, slowly extending his hand until he could brush away her tears with a finger.

The clock chime startled both of them, and he jerked his hand back to himself. It began its long series of rings, twelve of them as it counted down to midnight.

Cinderella’s face had drained of color completely, white as a corpse as she stared with wide, dark eyes. “She’ll punish me,” she said, trembling, and then she turned and took off.

[crestwood-survivor]

Chateau d'Onterre: DAI's Haunted Mansion Pt. 2

Part 1 ended with the introduction of the magical elven box we can find in the Chateau:

We actually see many of these throughout the game, as chests that we can loot. This is the only one that’s sparking and spinning in the middle of the air. Considering where the Chateau is located, it’s possible that this box was found in the Emerald Graves.

The box has “attracted power before.” So were they hoping to somehow remove the child’s magical powers and contain it in the box? What power did it attract before?

Moving on to the bedchambers, we find a note written by a guest at the chateau:

“A hastily written note left on a guest room table:

Ma chere Colette,

I am very sorry, but we must depart sooner than anticipated. Night terrors seized my husband; he will not remain a moment longer. Honestly, I don’t know what he’s thinking, rushing us out of here so rudely.

I hope you will forgive me for not conveying my regrets in person, but due to the late hour we decided not to be a bother. I’m sure you understand.

Je T’Embrasse,

E.

Guests are having night terrors. We know that demons can interact with people through dreams, so that is likely the source of the nightmares.

If we continue to explore the bedchambers, we find the second torn diary page:

“I showed them. We had such fun, we did! Dancing and partying until everyone fell down; it was glorious! The best party ever! Father and mother went to their room when we were done. Mother was crying, she was so happy. I held out the present. It made me better, just like they said. 

I have not left the house. I’m still scared of what’s on the other side of the door. But… maybe I’ll go out tomorrow.”

Did anyone else get flashbacks to possessed Connor making Bann Teagan dance in Origins? That the child describes the guests as dancing and partying until they all fell down makes me think that this is a similar case of demonic possession. Based on notes we find later, I don’t think the child is possessed yet, but the demon is very close to possessing them.

Picking up a note in the formal gardens gives us the first set of instructions to find the key to the balcony with the elven box. After picking up the note, an ominous sound is heard and corpses start appearing throughout the chateau that we have to fight.

Multiple notes lead us around the Chateau, finding clues to the key. Returning to the ballroom, we find the final Torn Diary Page:

“I had to make myself breakfast this morning. It wasn’t very good. When I saw Mother and Father, I couldn’t stop crying. I don’t know what to do.

My friend says there’s a way to be less lonely. She says not to be afraid. There are other games we can try and I will feel better.”

At this point, it seems like everyone else in the Chateau is either dead or fled after the party. It’s possible that those who died are now the reanimated corpses we have to fight in the Chateau. Finally, the demon is trying to possess the child by preying on their loneliness.

On the second floor of the ballroom, we find the key to the balcony and a note titled “A Reminder”:

“A shakily written note:

There is no one left to remind me. I can’t trust the thoughts in my head. Some of them are hers. But these are mine:

Key to balcony. Do not use.

It won’t make you better.

They lied.

She lied.”

It seems that the demon has finally possessed the child. The demon is trying to get the child to interact with/open the box again. The child is now aware of its true purpose and has locked it away on the balcony and hid the balcony key.

Of course, we’re going to ignore all the warnings and go onto the balcony. 

We can enter another room from the balcony that appears to be Lord d’Onterre’s office. You have to either pick the lock with a rogue or interact with the box which will unlock the office. I had Cole with me, so I checked the office before interacting with the box. In the office we can find Lord d’Onterre’s journal:

“The journal entry is dated 9:27 Dragon:

That circle templar is demanding another payment. Greedy bastard. Taking advantage of us all these years, because we wanted to preserve our good family name. He promised to silence the mage once returned to his circle… but that doesn’t protect us from the templar.

I wonder, though. Was it enough? No. The mage was strong. Even I could sense it. It was terrifying. There is no way the child could break through. She doesn’t even have training. So long as she stays inside, everything will be alright.

No one will ever know.”

This man has been bribing a templar not to protect his child from the abusive circles - but to preserve his “good family name.” Absolutely despicable. Another mage was brought to the Chateau from the circle to try to suppress the child’s powers, probably using the box in some sort of ritual. Obviously whatever the mage tried to do failed.

Now that we’ve looked at every note in the Chateau, let's check out this box.

After we interact with the box, an arcane horror will emerge out of the fountain in the courtyard below. After we defeat it, Cole and Solas will make some comments:

Cole: “Only the anger was left. We made it stop.”

Solas: “Was it suffering that drew the spirit here, or cruelty? At least it is over.”

Some things to note about arcane horrors: Arcane horrors are pride demons that have possessed the corpse of a mage. 

Now that we’ve gone through the Chateau and read all of the notes, let's try to piece together what happened here.

The d’Onterre’s had a child, who ended up being a mage. Trying to avoid the shame of having a mage in the family, they tried a series of barbaric methods to suppress the child’s magic. It didn't work, and they resorted to having a circle mage perform some sort of ritual involving an elven box to contain the child’s power. The ritual also didn't work, and a demon attracted to the abuse the child is experiended began preying on the child. The child’s magic is revealed at a party, and something terrible happens (involving the demon and the child’s magic) and everyone in the Chateau either died or fled. The child was left all alone, and the demon convinced the child to allow it to possess them. After being possessed, the demon tried to get the child to do something with the box. The child understood the true purpose of the box and locked it on the balcony in fear.

So what does the box actually do? We know that it is elven, and that it has “attracted power before.” I believe that the demon that possessed the child was somehow attached to the box. That is why it tried to get the child to do something with the box, and that is why the arcane horror appears after we interact with the box. When the d’Onterres tried to use the box to contain the child’s powers, they actually ended up partially releasing the demon.

I say partially release because the demon keeps trying to get the kid to do something with the box. It needs the kid to fully let it free, and that could explain why the box is sparking and spinning around. It could be the demon trying to free itself.

Remember how I said that arcane horrors are pride demons that possess the corpses of mages? I think the corpse it possessed is the child’s. It is unclear how old the child was, the way they wrote makes me think they were pretty young. It’s possible they could have killed themselves to escape the demon, or they could have starved to death (all of the adults are gone) or died some other way. 

Without the child to possess, the demon is now stuck in the box until we show up and set it free. I don’t know why it couldn’t possess the child’s corpse until we set it free, maybe it wasn’t able to possess anything other than a living, willing mage since it was still attached to the box. 

That’s all I have to say. What happened at the Chateau is a real tragedy, and a great quest. Would love to hear anyone else's thoughts on it.