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climbthemountain2020 · 9 months ago

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Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met

Part 1/? | Ao3

I was momentarily and violently possessed by the spirit of Taylor Swift to write this Feysand

Biggest thanks to @witch-and-her-witcher @cauldronblssd and @rosanna-writer for the best betas a gal could ask for!

[In a world where the Archerons never lost their fortune, fate finds Feyre on the night of a masquerade ball.]

The sun was setting low and bright over the horizon of the lake while Feyre brushed out her hair, her hips leaned casually against the side of the stone railing of the balcony to keep her balance. Before too long, the nights would begin to bring a chill into the air and it wouldn’t be as easy to stand out here and marvel at the colors in the sky. But here at the end of September, the breeze was still balmy enough to skirt over her exposed shoulders like a soft blanket.

The upper register of the sky was turning a deep navy, the stars already sparkling like diamonds. They felt familiar and comforting to her, as they always did. Lower, the blues bled into a menagerie of lavenders, periwinkles, and the lightest, brightest pinks. She wanted to paint the colors so badly, lay them one by one onto a canvas until they merged together seamlessly. The colors reminded her of the smooth interior of a seashell her father had brought home once from a trip. Feyre kept it on her dresser, touching the glossy bridge of it every so often, holding it up to her ear to hear the sounds of the waves lapping the shore, though she’d never actually been to a beach herself.

She sighed, letting the arm with the brush fall to her side and flipping her hair back over a freckled shoulder.

The moon was going to be large in the sky tonight–a good omen for the masquerade in honor of Elain’s twenty-first birthday. If Feyre leaned far enough over the edge of the balcony, she could see the twinkling lights that spread across the entryway to the estate, glowing brightly and welcoming the already-surging crowds of nobles. Though she couldn’t see them from where she was standing, she knew from careful preparation how magical the lights looked, reaching criss-crossed over the main pathway up to the massive oak front doors, though Feyre couldn’t see them from here.

Despite all the shining luster, she felt her elation ebbing like the tide in her chest.

These hosted events were nothing new, but Feyre had trouble getting excited for them anymore. Something about them felt so shallow and empty–forced laughter, fake smiles–it was always the same. The same people, the same conversations, and the same…nothingness that followed.

Elain and Nesta enjoyed them well enough, though you might not know it by Nesta’s face or attitude. The two were born and bred for high society. In theory, Feyre had been too, but something had always been different. She’d taken the same lessons, been born of the same bloodline, suffered the same teachers, and fumbled through the same etiquette courses. But, still, something felt different about her.

A half-wild beast.

Nesta’s favorite insult. Yet, in the quiet privacy of her room, Feyre wore it like a badge of honor.

She would sit on her balcony often, long after the manor was asleep, and stare up at those same smiling stars, dreaming about the stories in her books, and wondering if, in some other lifetime, she was the one slaying dragons, riding horses, and falling in love. She dreamed of wielding the weapons that the guards tossed around so effortlessly in the yard, her fists clenching and unclenching with the want to hold them in her hand. She dreamed of the bow and arrows so vividly that sometimes she woke up feeling as though her arm had been drawn back at the ready, the golden eyes of some animal in the snow flashing brightly in her mind.

But, at the end of the day, Feyre understood her role. She knew her place here, even if she hated it. She’d have gone down swinging and fighting if it weren’t for her sisters, but she knew she’d never forgive herself if she ruined their chances at a life they wanted for her own selfish wants.

So, she allowed the soft dress to be pulled up her body, the corset laced so tightly she could barely breathe. She let the long, golden tresses of her hair be pulled into a braid–nothing efficient or practical, but wispy and loose and lovely. She let them apply powder and blush to her cheekbones, only to roll her eyes to herself knowing she’d be wearing a mask anyway.

Her mask was a glittering mass of crystals inlaid on the softest navy fabric, the tops of the gems twinkling brightly as she turned it in the light. She’d seen the mask in a shop in town and couldn’t take her eyes off of it. It had reminded her of the silent nights spent outside, and she hadn’t been able to leave without it. She may have hated getting dressed and paraded for these events, but at least she’d have chosen one aspect of her presence this evening.

She slipped into the satin shoes, and she listened to them click, click, click down the stone and marble of the halls on her way to the foyer.

The manor smelled magical, the air filled with sweet, sharp, and savory spices from across the world. Her father always returned from his expeditions with barrels of the best foods, cans of spices, and wooden boxes of the loveliest, most exotic teas. Their house regularly smelled of some beautiful delicacy or another, but on nights where events like this took place, the whole manor was awash in the smells, and Feyre always liked that best.

The loud rise of voices became nearly deafening as she reached the massive set of stairs in the entryway.

As she looked down, she could see Elain and Nesta already socializing and doing their duty. Elain was floating like a butterfly around the room, twirling her skirts without even meaning to and catching the wandering eyes of every eligible–and ineligible–man in the room. Elain was effortlessly beautiful and charming–a perfect fit in this life–all soft, rounded edges and sweet sighs. Her mask was a soft, brushed suede in a light brown, the gems rounded up and shaped to mimic the face of a doe. Fitting, for every bit of Elain was that beautiful, gentle, cushioned etiquette that high society expected of her.

If Elain was the cushion, though, Nesta was the pin.

Nesta had dressed in black and red tonight, the ruby gemstones of her mask catching the light and reaching out like the wings of a great creature around her face. Her silver eyes cut across the room, daring any man to come closer. She looked as though she was ready for war, and in truth, she might be. The expectation weighed heavily on Nesta to marry, and soon.

Even Nesta’s calculated coldness couldn’t combat the pressures of society for much longer. She may be cold, but with money and a noble name came the burden of responsibility. Even with her reputation, the men had been lining up for her for nearly two years already. The time she had left was running out. While Feyre knew Nesta did not care one bit for the implications of being an unmarried noble, Nesta knew the consequences for her family and her name were she to be labeled as unmarriageable, and she wouldn’t dare harm Elain’s reputation in such a way. And, in addition, Elain had been breathing down her neck, anxious for her turn and knowing that she could not step forward for a marriage offer until Nesta had accepted one herself.

Feyre sighed as she reached the bottom of the steps, turning immediately to the back walls behind the circle of pillars surrounding the foyer and leading out into the main ballroom. The estate was absurdly large–so large, in fact, that as a child, Feyre had spent years discovering rooms she’d never even seen before. It was a gross misuse of money, from her point of view, but it’s not exactly like they could give rooms to the needy. She had suggested it once as a child, and her mother had their governess strike her for it. Their mother might be long dead, but her lessons lingered into their lives.

As Feyre passed the great doors, the strung-up lights again caught her eye, glowing against the backdrop of the now deep-black sky with the woods behind them. Something stirred within her.

Go. Go see.

But she’d long felt that pull to the woods. She’d also long learned to ignore it for the sake of propriety.

She ribbed at Nesta and Elain often for their expectations, but she knew someday they would fall to her, too. She was nineteen now, and once her sisters had been paired off, it would be her turn to find a nobleman who she’d be handed off to and expected to run his home and birth his children until she died.

The thought was almost enough to send her running to the woods.

Feyre could barely hold a conversation with any of the insufferable, pompous pricks for more than five minutes; she wasn’t sure how she would ever be able to warm one’s bed long term. But she saw her life for what it was: a gilded prison where her options had been predestined, planned, and chosen for her the minute she was placed as a squealing babe in her mother’s arms and declared a girl.

Feyre grabbed a drink from a passing server, sipping it delicately and letting the bubbles settle on her tongue and in her spirit, calming her as she walked into the wide open ballroom and began to skirt around the walls. She’d need to limit it to just the one–she had a tendency to drink too much at these events, and she notoriously could not handle her drink well.

If Feyre was honest with herself, she had wondered more than once what it might be like to meet a handsome young man who was more than the surface-level idiots of the rich families. Not that she was one for a vulnerable moment, but as beautiful as these parties were, they were just the same, old, tired faces again and again. In her bed in the dark, she’d thought more than once what it might be like for a handsome prince like the ones in the books she’d hid away from her governess by shoving them in her mattress to come and whisk her away for something more–something wonderful. Not just for the love story, but for the adventure, too. They’d run off arm in arm, him setting her on a horse by his side to roam the wide world beside him, never behind.

She continued along the curved wall, watching the crowd of twirling bodies embellished in jewels and brightly embroidered threads. She could be in her room, painting the colors swirling together across a canvas, instead of being here and watching it all pass her by.

Abruptly, Feyre stopped in her tracks, the air stolen from her lungs as though by force. She’d been hiding in the near-shadows as the others danced in the light. But across the room, almost entirely encased in shadows of his own, a pair of violet eyes met hers.

Feyre felt as though she’d been punched in the chest, her entire world narrowing in on the singular raised brow attached to those beautiful eyes, staring directly into her soul as though asking have we met? He seemed to hesitate, to recognize her almost, his hand raising nearly imperceptibly as though to wave.

Had she imagined it?

She could almost hear the voice now as she took a tentative step in that direction, closing the gap as she made her way around the room.

Come. Come see.

Silky and smooth and low, like warm honey in a cup of tea, like the burn of whiskey in the swigs she’d stolen in her father’s office. He pushed off the wall and walked towards her, looking quickly to the sides as though to check if anyone else was watching. His approach caused her heart to thunder wildly in her chest.

Come see.

As they approached each other, the gap closing with each step, she was taken aback by his overwhelming beauty. His hair was the color of raven’s wings, softly catching the light of the chandeliers above. The rest of him that wasn’t covered by his mask appeared to be carved out of stone, his chiseled features sharp, but kind. Those beautiful violet eyes up close sparked like they held a galaxy within them, the glittering reminding her of the patterns of the gems in her mask.

This is the most attractive man I’ve ever seen.

His lips arched up at the corners as though he’d heard her.

Impossible.

He looked familiar as he passed behind each of the marble pillars lining the room, the swirling and twirling of dancers in her periphery not breaking her focus for even a moment. She was a woman possessed, all her energy focused entirely on this beautiful stranger, only steps away. She felt a strangely familiar comfort as they closed the last few feet between them. She was sure she’d have remembered someone like him.

“Hello, darling.” His voice nearly knocked her breathless again as he took her hand in his, sketching a bow as he pressed his lips to her knuckles delicately. The touch of his skin to hers was electric, the currents coursing through her veins like lightning and fire and shooting straight to her chest where they swarmed and tore like bees in a nest.

She must have gasped, her body reacting before her mind could catch up, because his lovely twilight eyes locked on hers, a brow quirking up again as he stared at her. There was something unidentifiable in his expression–something so wide open and unguarded and vulnerable that didn’t match his raised brows or rakish smirk at all.

Underneath all that, there was something like wonder.

Every so often, his carefully curated expression would tic just the tiniest bit, a strain of his jaw, a twitch of his brow, and Feyre could see something different hiding beneath. Something almost nervous.

“Hello.” Her voice was a curious whisper, full of awe and jittery trepidation, but the smile she was granted in return was as bright as the full moon over the lake outside the manor, and it felt especially reserved for her.

“What’s your name?” His voice was deep and rumbling, the timbre of it shooting to her ribs and tugging briefly, so visceral and real that she nearly stepped forward with the ghost of it.

“Feyre.” There was no use playing coy. She wanted to hear her name off his lips–had never wanted anything more than she wanted it.

She swore she could hear his thoughts twirling the name around in his mind, likening it to the tolling of bells. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

“Feyre,” he murmured, eyes still full of stars and staring at her. “Fey-ruh,” he mouthed wordlessly this time, as though tasting it on his tongue and savoring it. She shivered to the tips of her toes, her eyes tracking the shape of his plush lips as they moved around the syllables.

“Yes,” she said, embarrassingly breathless. “What’s yours? I don’t recognize you.” The corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. Feyre had never been good at the rules of high society, failing even the most basic points of etiquette repeatedly and fantastically. But he seemed delighted, and the thrill of it all kept her heart threatening to pound out of her chest.

“Rhysand. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Feyre.” She loved the way he said her name; she loved the way it fit with hers. Feyre and Rhysand.

Rhysand. Rhysand. Rhysand.

He still held her hand in his.

“Would you honor me with a dance, Feyre darling?” She nodded mutely, still struggling to find words in the wake of meeting this familiar stranger, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

He took her hand in his, his midnight black suit with silver embroidery glinting in the light and catching the reflections like beams of light. Rhysand. She tried the name in her mind over and over again until it felt like home on her tongue.

I could see myself calling him Rhys, warm on a couch, his lips on mine.

The thought came out of nowhere, startling her and making a blush race across her cheeks and up her ears. She must have physically flinched, because she could feel Rhysand almost shudder beneath her hand.

At long last, they reached the dance floor right as a new song queued up from the musicians, a light and sturdy waltz that would allow for space to talk between them. She placed her hands on his shoulder and arms, beginning the steps that she knew by heart. He kept time immediately, almost as though the dance was something he’d also grown up knowing.

“You’re not from around here.” Not a question.

“No, I am not.” He offered nothing more. She scrunched her nose, studying him, and he grinned down at her, his hair tumbling down across his forehead.

“Where are you from?”

“Somewhere further north of here. I’m here for business.” She wasn’t one to ask family names, lest she seem like she was throwing herself at his feet. But his words were so vague she couldn’t help but cock a brow at him. He smiled, a laugh on his lips.

“Hmm, family business. Sounds very serious.” The mocking in her voice was not lost on him, and his smile widened.

“It’s all a bit dicey right now. I’m a little out of my element.” She could surely understand what that felt like, nodding almost imperceptibly in agreement.

“Well, what part of business requires you attending a masquerade in the forest?” She couldn’t help but tease him. the words flit off her tongue before she could bite them down, but she relished his surprise. He seemed to enjoy the teasing.

“Just an errant invite to a nobleman passing through. I make it a habit to know the people in the important families when I travel. You never know what you may find.”

“Or whom.” The words were coy, and his eyes flashed momentarily with something akin to hunger before it cleared.

“This is your manor, is it not?” Perhaps he cared more for propriety than her.

“Yes. I’m Feyre, the youngest. The ball is for my sister, Elain. She just turned twenty-one.”

“Ah, and you?”

“Nineteen. Yourself?”

“A bit older, not in spirit, though.” His grin was heart-stopping, her breath catching in her chest at the sight of it. He was stunningly gorgeous, a work of art. Her fingers itched to paint his face embraced by the night sky, the stars humming and shooting past behind him as though they were alive…

Her thoughts were interrupted by his hands on her waist lifting her into the air as though she weighed nothing, her small yelp bringing yet another flush to her face. She’d lost her place in the dance while her thoughts had wandered, but he just chuckled lightly as he set her back down and they resumed. The music slowed to a quieter number and they readjusted their holds on each other to fit the new tempo, stepping close enough to feel his breath flit across her neck.

“You’re not at all how I imagined you’d be.”

“How you imagined?”

“Just the daughter of a noble family. You don’t act like them.”

She scoffed, then raised herself up a bit on her toes, arching her neck to place her lips closer to his ear, never breaking the slow rhythm of the dance. “Can I tell you a secret, Rhysand?” He shuddered lightly beneath her touch as they swayed.

“Anything.”

“I hate it here.” He laughed, something warm and welcoming blooming in her at the sound.

“I can see you somewhere different,” he said, voice still filled with amusement.

“Hmm, where?”

He pulled back a bit and pretended to think about it while she took in his face again, the mask doing nothing to hide the lovely strong jaw and high cheekbones, his dark golden skin nearly glowing beneath the chandelier lights. He looked like he belonged in the galaxies above them, flying through the night sky like some sort of Angel of Darkness in a painting. The thought brought a thrill to Feyre’s lower stomach that she’d only ever felt in the dark of her bedroom alone at night.

“I can see you outside, somewhere beneath the stars with a clear view of the sky.” Feyre could hear her own sharp intake of breath as she felt it, so she was sure he could too. Perhaps, it should be strange that someone she didn’t know at all could guess something so easily about her, something so intimate.

But instead of fear, the only feeling she could summon was comfort. Had anyone ever really known her? It was nice to be seen. It was nice to be known.

“I’d like that.”

The song came to an abrupt end, spooling immediately into another, more fast-paced dance. Feyre let the mischief flare to life behind her eyes as she grabbed his hand in hers.

“Can you keep up?”

His smile could rival the sun, and suddenly it was all she cared to see again.

He grabbed her hand, his skin warm and comforting against hers, and they launched into the steps for the dance, holding each other–perhaps a bit closer than was expected.

Song after song, dance after dance, the two twirled around the room. Feyre could sense time was passing, but she couldn’t find it in herself to track it or care, the world and people an inconsequential blur around them. They weren’t speaking with words, but it all felt like a conversation in and of itself, their bodies and minds somehow in step with each other, learning one another as his starry, violet eyes met blue. His smile crinkled around his lips, and left the smallest, almost unnoticeable dimples in its wake. Feyre grinned to behold it, and something told her it wasn’t a smile most were lucky enough to see.

She felt breathless, bubbly, intoxicated–and she knew that it was unrealistic to fall for someone so suddenly. It was something she expected of Elain, ever the romantic, but for the first time in her entire life, she imagined what it would be like if someone did make a bid for her hand.

For the first time, she thought about what it might be like to accept.

Please don’t be in love with someone else.

After what could have been hours, the songs began to slow again as the night began to wind down, the lights lower and the people quieter. Their hands regrettably dropped off the other, but Feyre wasn’t ready to let this go, not just yet. She leaned in almost imperceptibly, her whisper just barely a breath on her lips.

“Meet me in the garden? The back side of the house with the lake view.” Then, before she could view his expression or regret her actions, she walked off, very audibly complaining to her sisters that her feet hurt and she was off to bed.

Feyre sprinted down the halls, cutting corners so closely she almost slammed into the walls. She rushed across the marble floors, crashed into her bedroom doors, and flung them open and back shut with an intensity of which she didn’t believe herself capable. She shut and locked them behind her, kicking off her uncomfortable heels, ripping off the beautiful mask, and pushing her loose hair off her face as she strode to the balcony. She’d gone out this way in the night so many times it was like second nature to her now, the light breeze smelling of flowers and earth. She crept down the trellis, feet expertly catching on all the holds until she jumped the last few feet. Feyre skittered to the large stone wall to the garden, avoiding the gate in favor of scaling up the thick, twisted vines, swinging a leg over, and dropping wildly down to the other side.

Nesta’s words once again rang in her head, but if she could see Rhys again, even for a moment, then propriety be damned.

She turned to run but pulled up short with a gasp when she found him already there, nearly running into his chest.

“Hi.” The word was a breathy exhale on her tongue.

“I’ve been looking for you.” His words were soft and quiet in the night, a kind smile already on his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners in what appeared to be delight. Without his mask, she could see his lovely face in full, somehow even more beautiful than before.

“Would you like to walk? I can show you the lake.” It was one of her favorite places on the property. Elain favored the gardens, Nesta the copse of old oak trees that were older than the manor itself, but Feyre had always loved the lake. More times than she could count, as a child and even older, she’d had to be dragged from its murky depths. She loved to play in it, the time slipping away as she swam around, played with the fish, and even laid on her back just watching the clouds. Nesta called her a swamp monster, but she hadn’t minded.

Under the light of the moon, she led Rhysand to her favorite lakeside view, a small stone bench beneath the curtain of a weeping willow. Here, she couldn’t be seen from the house, and it was often she’d come here to paint, or relax, or just be left alone.

“Is this your favorite spot then?” He asked coyly, almost as though he’d heard her think it, as she grabbed her skirts up and sat down.

“I like to be alone, more often than not, and it’s easy to come here and buy some time unseen.”

“Unseen, hmm.” He sat beside her, the warmth of his thigh brushing against her own. “Did you take me here to kill me then, Feyre?” A laugh burst out of Feyre before she could stop it, loud and unrestrained as she raised a hand to her mouth. He was so funny; men were never funny. She should have been embarrassed that she’d guffawed like a goat in front of him, but when she looked up, his face was lit with an intangible sense of joy that stopped her short.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” The words weighed heavy in the air around them, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “I hope to hear it again.”

“You could.” She wasn’t sure what had come over her, the words out of her mouth before she could stop them with any sense.

“If I make you laugh too often, I think they require a proposal in these parts.” A grin split his face, but something about his tone felt serious to Feyre.

“Would that be so terrible?” His responding smile was sad, almost pained, as he grabbed her hand in his.

“Please believe me, Feyre, when I tell you nothing would please me more than to ask for your hand in marriage this very second. If I was able, I would have already asked your father.” The words froze and ached in her chest, making it hard to swallow, but she couldn’t look away.

“I wouldn’t say no.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to fight with himself over something. “In my current home, I am unable to make any propositions, and it would kill me to make you a promise I couldn’t fulfill. You deserve more than that. More than me.” It was the first true crack she’d seen in his mask, the first real show of that vulnerability that she’d sensed immediately. He huffed a mirthless laugh.

“What if I waited?” His eyes shot back to hers. “My sisters are not yet wed, and I cannot go before them anyway. What if we waited until your circumstances changed? We have time.” The hope and awe and wonder in his eyes was almost enough to unseat her entirely. His hand came to touch her jaw delicately, softly, as though she was something precious in his hands.

“I can’t ask you to–”

“I want to. Rhysand, I want to. This is crazy, I’m never this way. Truly, Nesta likens me to a beast more often than anything else. I don’t get along with others, but…” When she looked up again, he was staring at her like she’d hung the stars and moon. “You see me. I don’t know how I know, but I can tell. You see all that I am, here, now.” He nodded, brows deeply furrowed, as though thinking before he spoke.

“You would wait?”

“I would, unfailingly.” Something cracked wide open in her chest at the admission she hadn’t quite even felt herself deciding to make. Who was this man who had enthralled her so completely and utterly? And why did it feel more right than anything ever had before?

His eyes searched her face, as if looking for any reason to say no and failing.

“Would it be wildly improper of me to ask to kiss you?” His voice was as breathless as hers, as though they were speaking on sacred ground. She’d tipped forward a bit, leaning her face into his hand.

“It would, but do it anyway.”

“Can I kiss–” She didn’t let him finish as she surged up, pressing her lips to his.

The effect was immediate, sparks shooting off in her mind like a cracking piece of firewood. The tug in her chest became overwhelming as she wrapped her arms around his neck, his tongue moving against the seam of her lips as though asking for permission. She let him in, the smooth caress of his tongue against her own drawing a sound out of her that she’d never heard before. He smelled like jasmine and lilac as she ran her hands through his silky, inky hair, the motion drawing him closer as he ran his hands down her sides to hold her waist. It felt monumental, world-shifting, right.

The kiss deepened as he shifted her into his lap, his hands pulling, gripping, grabbing at every inch of her as they slid up her thighs to cup her ass. She ground down against him, feeling him against her and losing the fight against tipping her head back as his mouth left hers to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck. She gasped as she felt his teeth, feeling sharper and more dangerous than they were, skirting lightly over her pulse point, something deep and primal thrumming within her at the action.

He murmured against her, “Feyre, you’re my–” And she would have given him anything he asked of her in that moment. A kiss, herself, the entire world.

But, abruptly, the sound of laughter and shattering glass broke them apart. Someone at the party had dropped something on their way out, but Feyre and Rhysand stared at each other, eyes wide and wild, chests heaving for air as they broke free of the spell.

“Feyre.” The word was a prayer on his lips as he licked them, as though he were tasting her one more time.

She pressed another, more chaste, kiss to the corner of his mouth, smiling as he sighed against her.

“Will you write to me, when your circumstances change?” She asked. His face was full of such wide, open hope. She would wait, and she’d do so happily if there was even a chance of this being the future that awaited her.

“Yes, of course. I’ll call on you when all is settled. I will see you again.” It sounded like a promise, an oath. She believed him as she felt the surge of joy and anticipation welling within her, the feelings stronger and more potent than she had ever felt before.

They stood, so unwilling to untangle their limbs and let go. He walked her back to the stone wall, offering to give her a hand and help her up. She sat atop it, gazing upon him a final time.

“I am very glad to have met you tonight, Rhysand.”

“Rhys.” He sketched a bow. “Call me Rhys. I was enchanted to meet you, Feyre.”

“Goodnight, Rhys.” He smiled, and as she turned to quietly dismount the other side, she looked back a final time to find him already gone.

+++

Rhys stood on the stone wall surrounding the manor as the moon dipped low in the sky. The colors of the sun on the horizon would be coming soon, but he hadn’t been quite ready to go yet. Instead, he stood, shrouded in the dark, hands in his pockets and the entirety of his focus on a single balcony. The wall was large and sturdy, at least two feet across and spanning the entire estate.

Good, Rhys thought. There are predators here.

Through the balcony window, the gossamer curtains flowed in the breeze, the low, golden light inside highlighting the fuzzy shapes within. He could see movement, the motion he’d been waiting for since she left the lakeside bench. His breath caught in his chest as she appeared, her hair down from her braid, loosely flowing over her shoulders and back as she spun around the room in her nightgown.

Dancing. She was dancing.

For the first time in decades, Rhys felt something like tears burning behind his eyes. She was so incredibly beautiful there in the window, holding her arms out and mimicking the moves that they had completed together only hours before. He’d have stayed a lifetime if only to see her dance again, to see that beautiful smile light up her face when she looked at him.

He’d been a fool to accept her offer, but it had been so long since Rhys had felt hope. He’d been an idiot to come here in the first place, considering the circumstances, but he had to see her, touch her, know that there was something worth fighting for. If he was going to make it out alive, he needed hope.

Mate. My mate.

He’d heard her thoughts all night long, so open and honest and forthright, not even second guessing herself. She fit him so thoroughly, her thoughts often matching his as they flitted through his own mind.

She was perfect.

It had been years since the first time he’d seen her in his dreams, just snips and flashes of her running through the woods, sloshing through the lake, then more detailed pictures of her pranking her sisters and governess, painting the undersides of furniture and the trees of the forest so no one would see. It had been a particularly horrible day when he’d finally broken and gone to see her, the lights of the ball providing a convenient ruse.

He’d told himself to be aloof, just a visiting guest, only there to observe.

Then he saw her. The pull nearly painful and he was pushing off the walls to look for her the second their eyes met.

If he had suspected the mating bond before, he was certain now, the tether alive and glowing in his chest, though unsnapped. He wondered how it felt to her, a human, but they’d been sharing thoughts and emotions all night, to his great joy.

Please don’t be in love with someone else. Please don’t have somebody waiting on you.

Half of that promise he could fulfill–he would never love anyone but her, his mate, the female from his dreams. He would always belong to her, the visual of her pressed against his chest as they danced, her smile bright and warm and eyes happy to see him. There would never be anyone else for him but the human girl who was a dreamer, who wanted more for herself in this life than the pretentious, materialistic world of a nobleman’s daughter. He watched as she threw herself back onto her fluffy bed with a sigh, kicking her feet against it as he smiled.

It was time for him to go, to flee back beneath the mountain before Amarantha looked too closely into his absence. He wouldn’t risk Feyre, no matter how much his heart ached to be near her. Just this glimpse would get him through, get him one step closer, one move further into a future where he might fulfill his promise, might be able to come to her again. Might even be able to bring her back home with him. Home, to his family.

He gave her a final look, smelling that pear and lilac scent on the breeze and filling his lungs with it.

“I’ll come back for you. I promise.” And then he was gone.

#feyre archeron #rhysand #feysand #acotar #acotar fics #feyre and rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #Your Eyes Whisper Have We Met

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lu-lus-dicks · 11 months ago

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Idk what to call this so you make up the title

@huskers-bar x @nunalastor

Tags: enemies to lovers, angst?, eventual fluff, yearning?, soft huskers-bar, both mods are separate people, no beta we die like i do in this fic (not yet though), minor character death, ooc, au: hellaverse (hazbin hotel), nunalastor is head of the marketing department of the hazbin hotel (lucifer grabbed them randomly), jealousy?, huskers-bar is an employee at voxtek, lulu and angie as villains, lulu is a dog

chapter: 1/? Word count: 1,431

Featuring: babygirl anon and (eventually) @xxx-angie . I may add more along the way depending on who wants to be added. I can probably shoe-horn-in a few more characters

For the sake of not tagging people a million times, I will call nunalastor as a single entity nunalastor, traumatized mod dickmaster and cursed mod nun. and huskers-bar just husk. babygirl anon will be babygirl anon. i will be shortened to lulu but I don't appear in this fic yet. Angie doesn't appear yet, but he will be angie.

A/N: anyway this is 100% going to be a huskers-bar harem fic because i can write whatever i want. This first chapter kinda boring but it gets better (source: trust me bro). Lemme know if you'd like to see any changes. Anyway, goodbye for now. I have uni to get to so less frequent posting (sorry dickmaster, you'll have to live without any of my horrid art for a little while)

"Did you know that Alastor made a happy deer squeak during this scene?"

Ah, yes, the words that twist people's dreams into nightmares. Innocent innitially, and maybe even amusing for a good while, but the longer one lingered, the more their skin would crawl with irritation and burn their insides. Especially when one knew the context surrounding this particular phrase. And boy, did Nunalastor know the context.

"Another day, another inbox to slay, another heavenly lord to betray" Dickmaster accessed their and Nun's shared blog, unsurprisingly to hundreds if not thousands of asks invading their inbox, all of which were echoes of different variations of *thumps* and *squeaks*. If Nunalastor hadn't already grown accustomed to such deviancy, they would be horrified. Still, the depraved ideas these people came up with never failed to send shivers down their spine, and not the pleasant kind.

And why do they subject themselves to this? you may ask. It was simple. In exchange for free housing, food and supplies, Lucifer Morningstar, the devil himself and father of Charlie Morningstar had requested their help. You see, originally their blog was not this unfortunate cesspool of deranged demons who wanted to see the devil, overlords and sinners squirm under immense sexual pleasure. It used to be a simple marketing tool for the Hazbin hotel, but as all things in hell, it never goes smoothly. It wasn't like they had a choice in the matter anyway, refusing the king of hell's requests was not an option! His commands were absolute.

Dickmaster took one deep breath, running both hands through their hair and clearing their mind, preparing for probably several hours of torture that was going to be their asks. They poured themselves a drink, setting down in front of their screen. Taking a few moments to relish the silence, they closed their eyes and listened to the soft hum of their beaten up 1950's style computer, courtesy of Alastor's ban on Voxtek products at the hotel. Clicking on their inbox tab, they mentally braced themselves. even if they knew, they could never truly predict the horrors hell had to offer.

"time for #housekeeping" They declared, stretching their fingers, getting their reaction images on the ready and sifting through their own version of digital hell. It would only get worse from here.

As Nunalastor started to clean their digital home, erasing one cursed ask after another, responding to one alastor circus theory after another, One ask in particular caught their attention. It was definitely a surprise, and a welcome one at that. It stood out like a sore thumb, simple yet elegant, divine and a blessing among heaps of cursed messages that would have asmodeus and satan themselves shaking in fear.

"hi dickmaster" - anon

Nunalastor couldn't explain it. They don't know what came over them, but they felt a strange sense of attraction to this one particular anon. They were sweet, they gave them a place of solace from the dread that was piss kink headcanons and cursed deer facts, equivelent of the clogged up plumming disasters alastor had to fix with his bare hands at the Hazbin hotel. It was the piece of gold nugget hidden in a swamp full of moss and dog urine.

Dickmaster stared at the message for a good few seconds, really taking in the plainness and beauty of the two words before their eyes, appriciating all that message was as a small smile made its way up their face. This called for a special occasion. Dickmaster gripped their keyboard, nearly smashing it with the force. Their fingers danced along the keys and crafted a response like no other, one worthy of this random anon that managed to make their day a bit brighter.

"Hi babygirl" - Nunalastor

On the other side of the pentagram, a kind, sweet and not at all deranged huskers was scrolling through hells version of tumblr. Voxtek devices had proven to be quite useful in the underworld. It served as the main source of entertainment and escape for the lonely, not only for husk, but other sinners alike. Besides, being an employee meant he had extra privileges with Voxtek. Regardless, it introduced husk to the nunalastor blog, which was the best moment of their life (or lack thereof, considering they're dead).

They'd quickly grown accustomed to the undeserved hate thrown their way upon their first ever interractioin. Though they didn't understand, they could play along. They found strange comfort in the twisted logic that any form of attention was better than none. After all, being singled out meant they were special in the eyes of Nunalastor, right? that's how husk comforted themselves anyway. And they haven't seen Nunalastor actually reply to anyone with actual love before.

That is... until it happened. Someone who would later reveal themselves as babygirl anon, husks worst adversary and the unfortunate victim of lulu's slander showed up on their feed.

"hi dickmaster" - anon

"Hi babygirl" - Nunalastor

Husk stared at the screen in shock, their eyes widening and heart growing heavy. Countless questions and conflicting emotions swirled within them, each clutching their hold for attention. 'Is nunalastor serious? Do I not want them to be serious? Why can't I be treated the same? What did I do?' And amidst the chaos, one thought rose to the surface, crystal clear in Husk's mind.

'I want to be loved like that'

The frustration of being at the end of every one of Nunalastors verbal spears finally caught up to husk. Every small jab they'd written off as jokes suddenly felt like small pin needles scraping their skin. Unable to deal with the whirlwind of emotions and the confusion of it all, Husk sought solace in the one place they could always trust, the bottom of a bottle.

So they took a swig. And another. And another. Intil there wasn't a shred of emotion left to feel. Not a single thread of frustration left in them, not a nerve of anguish, not a line of confusing verbal spewage...

And not even a speck of self-restraint

"THEY JUST KEEP COMING" Dickmaster exclaimed, more like yelled as their inbox was flooded with more cursed asks at a rate faster than they could answer. At this pace, they'll be there all day, answering these asks like a poor overworked minimum wage employee at a call center.

"They'll run out of ideas eventually" Nun responded, nonchalantly, leaning against a nearby wall, sipping on a drink of their own. Nun watched as dickmaster struggled to find another reaction image fast enough so they could call it quits and leave the rest of the struggles for future Nunalastor to handle, or more accurately when it would be nun's turn to answer all the unhinged people in their inbox.

The hurried clicking of the keys on a keyboard could be heard throughout the entire room, bouncing off the walls, reflecting exactly how much infestation was actually happening in nunalastors inbox by the minute. "it would be great if you could answer a few you know, my fingers are dyin-"

And then it suddenly went quiet. The clicking died down and the unbelievably loud buzzing of their computer, along with the hitched breathing of Dickmaster was the only sound bouncing around the room. Nun of course raised a brow at this. "what's the holdup? we can't afford to take a break you know" they said, as if they were the one answering all of the asks in the first place.

nun walked over, curious as to what exactly had stopped dickmaster in his endless pursuit of emptying their inbox, considering they were always the more enthusiastic one of the two. "are you okay?" nun asked, half sarcastically. Their eyes landed over the current ask in their inbox.

"I wish you'd love me" huskers-bar

and suddenly the silence made sense. the pause had been a justified one.

dickmaster inhaled, followed by a deep and saddened exhale. they didn't want to take their eyes off of those five words. they could stare in awe and amazement at them for hours. it wasn't even the fact that it was just another ask that wasn't cursed, but because it was huskers-bar that sent-

a hand on dickmasters shoulder snaps them out of their daze, being brought back to reality, the pitiful reality. they were in hell for a reason, they reminded themselves.

"you remember our deal, don't you, dickmaster?" nuns voice cut through the buzzing, sounding deep, gruff, threatening and slightly saddened.

"yes of course" dickmaster turned back to the monitor, giving one last look at the ask before typing out what nunalastor has agreed would be the appropriate response.

"you'll get over it. #we are a huskers-bar hate blog"

#i'm kind of sorry but i cant take writing seriously when i called one of yous dickmaster askfdjaslkdfjoasidjgf #huskers-bar x nunalastor #i hope at least. idk i dont read this shit back to myself. my self esteem is low enough already #lulu is delulu #nunwhiskers

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oubliette-odette · 1 year ago

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The Reluctance of Love Pt. 1

I don't like the fated mates trope. But I think it's because I don't personally like how people write/interpret it (no hate, just not for me. Also I'm asexual so...I'm built different or something. shrug). So this is me trying to write fated mates my way.

Orc Male x Half-Elf Male, Fated Mates, Forbidden Love, Slow Burn Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28 Word Count: 2443 (average 18 min read) Content Warnings: mention of mating, nothing happens....yet ;) All orcish is from orcishdictionary.com, created by Matt Vancil. Not beta-read. Criticism is welcome, but be sure to distinguish criticism from hate.

My world shattered the day I saw him, my raebukan, my mate.

The pride of Orc tribes is centered on two things. The first being the pride of our warriors who defend and conquer in the tribe's name. The second, the pride of bearing and rearing many children together as a tribe through the groupings of mates. To ensure that all children be born strong, our bodies experience lordhovid - an intense physical pull that is described as a boiling in the blood that occurs upon seeing your mate. Lordhovid does not still until physical intimacy.

Most orcs experience lordhovid many times in their lifetime, gathering multiple partners that together rear large broods of children. The larger the brood, the greater pride the patriarch of the brood holds within the tribe and rises in rank of influence.

I, Drunrag Ularat, had never experienced lordhovid.

There had never been signs that I would ever feel the sensation of my blood burning for another. And while my brood brothers and sisters from my litter all began to bear children of their own, I remained. I remembered the way my broodmothers whispered to one another behind my back about me. I heard theories that I was unlucky, cursed, born dishonorably. My broodfather soon pretended that I didn't exist. My brothers and sisters did the same.

I tried to remain faithful that Gruumsh would change my fate, that I would lock eyes with a fierce orc-woman and feel the burn I heard so often about. But each looked back at me with only a coldness I had become too familiar with.

I left home, unable to bear the dishonor I continued to bring to my family. And I struggled through my young adult years earning my pay through hard manual labor. I learned to read and write in common to gain favor with those who hired me. I learned that my brute strength wasn't the only quality about me that could bring me honor. The older I got, the less I travelled, until I settled into a small merchant town on the coast, and worked in the forges during most of the year, crafting weapons and tools. The guilt and shame that I carried from my failure as an orc soon faded as the years passed and I settled into a rhythm that worked best for me in the quiet buzz of my coast town. I soon understood my true feelings from my childhood. I was relieved that I never had to juggle romance and physical intimacy. Even despite my lack of mate - I don't know that I ever really understood mating the same way as my tribe. It didn't make sense to me, and I didn't really want anything to do with it.

Until that fated day.

I had woke that morning with a pounding headache, and I remembered grumbling about it as I shuffled out of my room. The space was always cramped - due to my size - but it felt near claustrophobic that morning. I ran the back of my hand against my blurry eyes and blinked furiously as I peered into my food storage - only to find an onion as my offering for breakfast. I grumbled and reached for the snapsack I kept draped on my single chair and the pouch of coins that i shoved deep into the pockets of my breeches.

The morning was quiet, and the sea air was invigorating most mornings, but that morning, breathing it in only made me sneeze and the pounding in my head knocked harder against my skull. I groaned outwardly. As I walked down the cobblestone path towards the market circle, I felt a tightening sensation in the pit of my stomach with each step. Nausea overwhelmed me. Strange, since orcs have excellent constitution and I hadn't eaten a thing since the day before. I swallowed down the bile that built in my throat and forged ahead.

The market was always busy at any hour and I learned to know which vendors were more kind to me than others. It was still fairly common - and expected - to get strange lingering stares and off-kilter remarks made in my direction. I learned to ignore it, but today I already felt too unsettled to be able to shrug it off as easily as normal. I stopped by a bakery and exchanged my gold for a warm loaf of bread, then made my way down to where a stall was selling freshly picks fruits. Golden globes of fresh juicy fruit tempted me and I retrieved another set of coins before reaching for three shiny, firm globes into my sack.

As I deposited each one in one by one, I felt the tingle on the back of my neck that was someone was staring at me. With a fruit still in hand, I glanced to my right, ready to face a disgusted customer.

It was then that I looked up and met his gaze.

He was small. Maybe not by human standards, but I still considered most humans small - so he was also small to me. Willowy and thin, brown skin and long coppery curls, the ends teasing his skin around the base of his smooth, tantalizing neck. I spotted the soft pointy ears of a half-elf. Not quite as long and slender as an elf, but gently sloped up to a rounded point that poked through his mop of hair. Green-gold eyes - reminiscent of the fruit in my hand- met mine. They were large, curious eyes that looked back at me unflinching and kindly.

I couldn't look away. I didn't want to look away. He was beautiful. His lips were curled upwards naturally - like he always had a joke or funny story to tell. His lips parted as he gazed back at me, an open mouth smile just for me. There were no thoughts in my mind.

The burning began in my heart. A strong pulsing rush of boiling blood that started to spread and sear through every part of me. I stood there, unable to move and unable to look away from him. I felt so much joy, so much elation upon the sight of him, but it quickly was overrun with panic, confusion, and fear.

Never in the history of orcs had I heard of a male orc experiencing lordhovid with another male orc. It was common to have casual lovers of the same sex - but never mates. Mates were ones who promised children and the continued growth of your broods. I didn't understand - how could this man be my mate? I didn't want this. I was happy alone. Happy to be left alone. I gazed at him and the burning desire surged and bubbled until a loud, explosive breath escaped my lips. An exhalation of panic.

"Fuck." I breathed. I didn't want this.

"Sir, you alright?" The vendor asked me.

I grunted in response. I didn't break my gaze, everything in me was screaming inside me to take the half-elf and claim him here in the streets, in front of everyone. I hated that I even considered it. I didn't want that. My body and my brain remained at war, and I unable to move.

The half-elf's eyes narrowed. And he approached me slowly. The way he moved, the way his long legs and slender hips weaved through the crowd with ease, like water on glass. His eyes didn't leave me, and the walk towards me felt like it was a hundred miles between us. My breathing was growing ragged with each step. I was fighting everything not to run away...or run to him.

"I apologize if I have offended you." The half-elf said as he approached me. "I didn't mean to stare." His voice was gentle, smooth and rough at the same time. It reminded me of the sound of a harp, smooth and flowing out like song. I shuddered, my fists clenched. Closer up, I could see he had a spattering of freckles across his face, they were adorable and I wanted to spend the rest of my life counting how many existed on his body. I wanted to die for thinking of this stranger in front of me in such a base manner.

I blinked and swallowed heavily, my brain moving slower than normal. What could I do? What do I say?

The half-elf hesitated, reaching a hand out to me. I jerked back, fear and alarm and lust seizing me at once. He also jerked back. I saw that his hands were shaking. Was he afraid of me? I glanced up to his face again and saw that his eyes were wide and his lips were parting, he was breathing heavy.

He let out a heavy breath and whispered, "Can we go somewhere private? Something has come over me and I need your help."

Somewhere private.

Alarms bellowed in my brain. No. I can't be alone with him. I can't trust myself.

Before I could react, the half elf snatched my hand with both of his own. The warmth that radiated from his touch was cooler than the burning inside me and I felt my panic still. For how long I didn't know.

I let him drag me through the streets. My size didn't allow for a smooth walk, and I wasn't right in the head. I brushed and bumped against dozens of people. They likely glared at me, but I could only look at the back of my mate's head and wonder at how someone's hair could be so long and so curly at the same time and what it smelled like, what it would feel like against my cheek.

I found myself being pushed against a wall in a lonely street. I didn't know where I was. I looked down at the half-elf. His breathing was harder than before, and he stood very close to me. He only reached to my chest. My hands lingered close to his shoulders, eager to wrap around him. Around his waist. His neck.

"What did you to do me?" He said, an edge of desperation in his voice. "I don't know what I did to offend you...but please I beg you to remove whatever this curse is."

I may not be an honorable orc like my brothers and sisters, but hearing lordhovid be equated to a curse felt culturally offensive. It was true that I too didn't have any interest in these emotions, these urges. But it was the honor of an orc to experience this and feel the binding between one's self and their life-partner. And though I had grown to appreciate and become comfortable with my fate...I couldn't deny that there was a building excitement that I was finally feeling it with someone. The excitement also scared me too.

"Do you understand me?" He said pleadingly, and then he muttered to himself. "Damn, maybe he doesn't speak common."

"I understand." I managed to rasp out. My hands itched to hold him. I ignored it and wrestled through the rest of my words. "I - You are not cursed. What ails you also ails me."

"What is it?" He asked. "I'm feeling sensations that I am unfamiliar with."

"It is lordhovid. My people's mating instinct."

His eyes widened. "Why...why am I feeling it?"

I shook my head, "I don't know. This has never happened in our tribe. I am sorry."

"How do we stop it?" He asked. "Don't tell me I have to sleep with you?"

I looked away from his gaze, I couldn't bear to see him look at me with disgust. I felt a whimper escape my lips. It was too much to be so close to him and not hold him. I didn't want to hurt him, I didn't want him to be scared of me.

"I'm sorry." I breathed out.

"You...have you experienced this before?" He asked. "You seem more scared then me."

I shook my head. "I am krandad. Broken. I brought shame to my family because I was unable to mate."

"I see." He said, his voice sounding very calm under the circumstances. "And so now you experience your first...impulse...with me?"

I nodded. "I'm sorry."

He sighed. "Please stop apologizing. I'm starting to understand that this isn't really your fault."

I dared a chance to look to him. His hands were caught running through his hair, and he was also looking down. He was truly the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I don't know if the lordhovid would change that for me either. He was simply radiant.

"What's your name?" he asked. "If I am to sleep with you, I'd like to know who you are." He put a hand on his chest. "I am Altan."

"Drunrag." I said.

"Drunrag." Altan said, and a smile returned. My knees weakened when he said my name back. The orcish name on his tongue sounded like poetry, like art. Oh, if I could hear him say my name again and again and again.

"You...are not afraid of me?" I asked.

He shook his head, "I think I'm faring better than you right now actually." He laughed.

I had to close my eyes to his radiance, his laughter was too much and I clenched my fists.

"Sorry," He said. "I can tell that I'm affecting you."

"Not your fault." I breathed. "I should just go. I can't do this to you unwillingly."

"What?' He asked.

Before I could say any more. I surged all of my strength to rip myself away from the wall and I ran and I didn't look back. My body continued to burn, and I felt an aching inside me that stretched from my body and remained with Altan. It was trying to pull me back. But I would not go. With each moment I spent with him, it had only become harder to deny my body's instinct to mate with him. I didn't want to do that to him. He was too good

None of this made any sense. I couldn't experience lordhovid so late in my years. I couldn't experience it with another species and I certainly couldn't experience it with another man. I didn't even want to begin to process the anger I felt when I had finally made peace that I didn't even want to mate with anyone.

My broodmothers had been right all along. I was broken. I was flawed and I never would have brought honor to my tribe.

I didn't open the forge that day, but instead crawled back into bed where i remained shaking and shivering.

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tom-whore-dleston · 1 year ago

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Love Changed the Minds of Pretenders

Pairing ▹ Bucky Barnes x gn. reader

Word Count ▹ 1k

This fic contains ▹ angst, fluff, songfic, unestablished relationship, mentions of sex, mentions of Joaquin x reader, mutual ending of relationship, light beta reading (even though there are no explicit mentions of adult themes, I do not want minors or blank blogs interacting with this fic)

Summary ▹ Do you remember | The 21st night of September?

Notes ▹ I should be asleep right now because I have work at 7am but I just had a random burst of creativity and I needed to let it out. Anyways, this is my submission for @bucks-and-noble Summer Send Off. Thank you @buckets-and-trees and @sgt-seabass for creating this challenge and refueling my love for Bucky. And a special shoutout to the book club! I am so happy I met y'all and I am beyond grateful for the bond we have created 💖 Fun fact: This is my first ever Bucky fic woop woop!! Remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed! 😊

Prompt ▹ use a lyric [from September by Earth Wind and Fire] as direct inspiration for a theme/idea

September 21, 2022. 10:02 pm.

The night you met Bucky Barnes.

Of all places, you met Bucky at a bar. The same bar where your friend performed their first live show and they invited you to watch. You weren’t expecting to meet anyone that night. Your heart had been broken only a few weeks prior.

Everyone thought: Was he a rebound? A distraction?

No. He was so much more than that. It could have been easy to feel that way fresh out of heartbreak. Even more so when outsiders were constantly questioning what you and Bucky really were. But there was clearly a reason Bucky showed up in your life after this period of hurting.

Bucky gave you love and security. He made you feel safe when he took you to the movies, when he made love to you, when you slept peacefully in his strong arms. You always thanked him for the things he did to make you feel secure and loved. He’d reply with his typical phrase, “I’m glad I make you feel that way.”

He welcomed you into his home, his life, and his heart after many years of keeping the door locked and the key tucked away. Waking up and stroking your face before pressing a kiss to your dry lips was something that made your love for him stronger. Then after an hour or so of getting tangled between the sheets, you both would jump in the shower, gently caressing one another with soapy hands. Breakfast with Bucky was another tender ritual that you cherished. Whether it was at 10 in the morning or 1 in the afternoon, you never skipped breakfast with him.

He challenged your negative thoughts and beliefs. You and Bucky would stay on the phone until 3 in the morning talking about the universe, aliens, and other conspiracy theories. The two of you would ponder on the purpose of your lives and the ways of the universe. One thing you both were certain about was that you wanted your lives to be fulfilling and meaningful. Your world expanded and bloomed with beauty and wonder because of him. You wanted to be better and so did he.

Bucky made you believe in love again. And you made Bucky believe in love again.

As the months passed, everything was splendid. Perfect, even. But with perfection, there’s always something lacking. Of course, you wouldn’t have seen what was lacking if it slapped you in the face.

After 10 months of dating Bucky, you finally revealed your love for him. Now, Bucky wasn’t the type to say it. Heck, he didn’t even say “I love you” to his sister unless she said it first. Yet that wasn’t a deal breaker because he expressed his love in other ways.

“I love you, too. I know your feelings for me are strong, but I don’t know if I can give you what you want.”

It was understandable. He did mention in the beginning that he wanted to casually date. You forgot that you wanted the same thing. Man that felt like such a long time ago. Time really does fly when you start to fall in love. And hard you fell.

You hid your disappointment by making more excuses as to why being committed to Bucky would not be in the cards. First, there was the long distance. Then, there was the uncertainty about both of your futures. For a couple that talked a lot about your ambitions, you both lacked the confidence in where you would go in life. As the list of reasons piled up, there was one that made your brain fuzzy and your heart swell.

That reason was Joaquin Torres.

You met Joaquin through your cousin. There was an instant attraction between the two of you yet neither of you pursued each other. If you had gone for Joaquin, you would not have created the world you had with Bucky. So when your feelings for Joaquin grew stronger than your feelings for Bucky, you knew you had to take action before someone got hurt.

Contrary to your belief, no one got hurt. You were transparent with Joaquin about your status with Bucky, and he understood. When you revealed to Bucky your feelings for Joaquin, he too understood.

“Listen, angel, I know you. You know what you want in your life and you don’t let anything get in the way of that. I do love you, but who am I to stand in the way of living the life you want. You’ve let people tell you how to live your life for so long and now it’s my turn to stop that cycle. If this is what you want, don’t let me stop you.”

You and Bucky shared beautiful memories over the 10 months of being together, but the words he said to you on August 8, 2023 will always be ingrained in your brain for the rest of your life. That night was the last time you spoke to him and saw his face, even though it was over a video call.

“I’m grateful for having you in my life,” you confessed to him, trying not to cry. You couldn’t figure out if it was because you were surprised this conversation went way better than you thought or because you were saying goodbye.

Bucky grinned, “No need to get all sappy on me, angel.” You shared a final laugh together. “Well, if you ever find yourself in the city, you know where to find me.”

Part of you wanted to make a joke about how you’d run into him at the bar where you met, but you stopped yourself. Instead, you replied:

“You got it, Buck.”

And that marked the end of you and Bucky.

You and Bucky’s love was never meant to fail. Yet it was never meant to succeed. Perhaps it was just meant to simply exist.

But who knows, maybe that fateful night in August was not the end. Only time could tell. That was the beauty of time and the universe. You can plan and make certain choices, but ultimately, the universe will lead you to where you’re meant to be.

Now, it’s September 21, 2023. No, Bucky is not in the picture, but your thoughts are with him.

Do you remember? Yes, you remember. You always will.

Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

#bnsummersendoff #bucky barnes #winter soldier #sebastian stan #tfatws #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #angst #fluff #reader insert #no y/n

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mayze2 · 6 months ago

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almost nobody in the fandom talks about this (possibly scrapped) wh character & it made me sad so I drew them interacting w/ the main beta home rivals a bit :) I love you n your raggedy fashion sense forever Maisie! put some of my thoughts about this playfellow + beta home in general under the cut if you’d like to read

there really isn’t much about her (check the context links included in the post for more info) that’s been divulged publicly BUT based on their name + clothing I think she was inspired by a scarecrow (maisie -> maize/corn -> corn field -> scarecrows go in corn fields) (the bandanna/scarf, long sleeves, and over-shirt together are v reminiscent of a scarecrow)? I also think that, going by the explicit religious imagery that was in beta home, they might have also been initially created as an allusion to the Crucifixion of Jesus within the Bible — since scarecrows are often put up in crucifixion pose.

As for what role I think she would’ve played in the beta version of welcome home, I think they likely did something that Wally didn’t like (maybe questioning his authority somehow if we choose build off of the possible aforementioned connections to Jesus and the cross) that resulted in her being mangled by him or someone else under his command (Wally is heavily implied to have been the villain in beta wh, so him causing physical pain to others wouldn’t be surprising).

Personally, I ascribe to the theory of them and Wally having previously been cohosts in beta home, but because of a disagreement they had (about the neighborhood maybe?) she got brutalized somehow, and thus was tucked away into some abandoned corner of the show to rot while Wally became the sole host. This event would have probably been the cause for Maisie to discover the true nature of something (probably related to the neighborhood itself), and this information they learn would act as the catalyst for Wally’s downfall. Sunny would discover her somehow as a result of his snooping around Home to calm his suspicions about Wally, and through some convincing the two would work together to stop whatever Wally is doing and save their friends from him. That’s just my speculation though lol

Beta Welcome Home is a very interesting thing to me, because it’s so different from the Welcome Home we have now. I like seeing the contrast between the versions of the playfellows a lot, and it kinda makes me feel oddly nostalgic for WH during the fandom boom it had? It was a pretty stressful time, but the wondering about how characters might act in canon before their personalities were further demonstrated back then was fun. I guess beta home is kind of a way for me to experience that again.

#the nonbinary flag is just a hc since ive seen ppl use they/she pronouns for her!#the bi-gender hc was originally for canon Wally but beta can have multiple genders too.. we have enough transgenderism to go around #beta welcome home #maisie #beta wally #sunny songbird #welcome home puppet show #chezz.img #body horror #cw body horror #eyestrain #cw eyestrain #ask to tag

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tyson-turnpike · 1 year ago

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WELCOME HOME THEORY

Contains spoilers for Welcome Home’s October update!

In the new audio, it is listed that the jump cut cannot be deciphered. As we all know, WE can hear it (when it becomes real sounding). Sally talks about something out at night and the neighbors aren’t allowed out at nighttime.

This “monster” she mentioned could be Home…or even Wally.

However I have something I wanna throw out there: I think this “monster” is one of (or multiple) of the puppeteers or tv show broadcasters. Like them cleaning the sets and such.

I believe that the neighbors don’t know about the show (besides Wally and home), and instead of being puppets they are real living things that the show record to broadcast as a puppet series for children.

Wally knows this and knows something is off, which is why he is dying to hear us since he knows we hear HIM on the website. He doesn’t want to be some puppet show character, he knows he’s a living breathing creature.

Thought I’d just throw this out there to see what ya’ll thought.

Whole thing makes me think back to the old BETA drawings of Frank and Julie. They had silly drawings and next to them fully rendered versions listed as “alive” and the puppeteer is referred to as a “handler”.

#eddie dear #howdy pillar #poppy partridge #barnaby b beagle #frank frankly #welcome home arg #wally darling #sally starlet #julie joyful #welcome home theory

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currently-sunny · 22 days ago

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The parallelism of Wally's and Sunny's hairstyles (An elaborate -maybe not so deep- hair symbolism analisis)

I like how sometimes hair can say a lot about you as a personality. The time you live in, how you live and who you are. Both Sunny and Wally take the time so stylize their hair in a certain way, and i'm sure both take pride in it bc they are egocentric(/hj!). But the way they do it speaks differently about themselves!

(I like hair symbolism and, i'll be rambling a bit)

Sunny!

Sunny uses his hair down, brushed to the side and with a certain volume. He doesn't comb it in any way, just lets it hang loose as he goes on his day.

Coming to terms of the era (assuming it was still on the 60 and 70s), Sunny's hairstyle is not that common [correct me if i'm wrong], and i think of it as being very liberal with his appareance and a bit unnusual... different if you may.

For it to have that specific hairstyle, he follows certain steps to make it work, but isn't a strict routine because is not that deep. I think he was that way. With his own way of doing things but adapting to the circumstances and not worrying too much if the things work out in the end!

He's chill, but not carefree. He does care about things. And he likes to stand out for being himself!

Wally!

Contrary to Sunny, Wally has his iconic pompadour. Neat and tidy; it makes him look slightly bigger, even when he's short, and it's also centered instead of being loose to one side.

This was a very usual hairstyle to have at the time, but Wally's is considerably bigger (being for the sake of stylishation or not!). He was in for the rules and was very strict about them.

He also stands out, but not because he is different, but because how structured and well-mannered he is. He doesn't have a side, he is objective and centered about how to handle certain things on his surroundings.

The same way that with his hair, if something is out of the norm, he'll make sure to put it back on track, where it belongs...

#welcome home sunny #beta welcome home sunny #sunny songbird #beta welcome home #welcome home #sunny welcome home #wally darling #beta welcome home theory #beta wally darling #beta wally

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citrineaura · 1 year ago

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There you are! Welcome Home!

Masterlist for all Welcome Home theories/analyses made by me!

🎉🎈4 NEW UPDATES🎈🎉

For anyone new, I have to warn you that I personally like to think I may be reaching too far in some of these, so take this with a grain of salt should you decide to read it! This is all just for fun and none of this may even be remotely accurate guesses to the plot whatsoever!

I also wanted to mention, this space is made for those of you who are focused on the actual plotline of Welcome Home and genuinely want to discuss things as opposed to fanart, OC's, and all of that! Those things are delightful and all, but this is a blog where the actual storyline is examined! So for anyone looking for that, you have found the place!

Theories:

Official Welcome Home Theory

Who's really Who?

The Show Must Go On

The Enigmatic Nature of Wally's Eating Habit

The Tar of Wally's Anguish

Wally's Nocturnal Plea

Sally's Monster Allegory

Howdy's Holiday Hullabaloo explained...

Eddie and the suspicious Narrator

Eddie, Sally, and Poppy "Acting"...

Home: Victim or Villain? Why not both? [Most recent!]

[More to be added...]

The identity of "W" and their relationship with Wally [Most recent!]

Analyses:

Frank, Eddie, and Poppy are the only trustable characters

Poppy appreciation

Uh oh!

Wally's Halloween Costume

Beta Wally Analysis

Homewarming Audio = In depth

Did ya notice? Part 1 Part 2

Wally's Intelligence

I built this analysis brick by brick [Most recent!]

The identity of "Wally" and "WaLLy" discovered! [Most recent!]

[More to be added...]

#welcome home #welcome home analysis #welcome home theory #welcome home arg #welcome home fandom #welcome home wally #wally darling #barnaby b beagle #eddie dear #home #fyp #julie joyful #sally starlet #howdy pillar #frank frankly #poppy patridge #masterlist #discussion #opinions and commentary

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theaussiedragon · 2 years ago

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Who is Jake Lockley?

Slight smutt/fluff

There’s not much to say about Jake Lockley. He’s mysterious, a killer, an Avatar of Khonshu, jealous, protective. But he’s also just a man. A man who loves you with his whole being. When you walk through the door he would drop everything to greet you. He would rush to the front of the mind-space and welcome you home with kisses so fierce it takes your breath away.

He might be away for long periods of time, no thanks to his bird brain of a boss, but when he is here, he loves you. And oh does he love you. He gives you flowers he sees through the store window because he thinks you deserve ‘something as lively as you’. He would take you to the nicest restaurants with his questionable amount of money that he won't tell you how he manages to get, though you have a theory.

You can see his love for you in his eyes, the way they light up when you enter the room. The way he instantly perks up when you laugh. The way he kisses you as you lay under him, mapping every inch of your skin as if he could ever forget your body. He loves every inch of you. Your scars and imperfections are like constellations in the night sky, he could look at you forever if he could, and he understands how Steven becomes a blubbering mess whenever they see you. And if Steven could see you now, all spread out for them, for him, just for him, he would be a jealous bastard. But he is tucked away in the mind-space along with Marc, for this is his time with you, and he will take his time.

He nips and licks at the marks he leaves along your neck as you moan and whimper for him. “Mine” he thinks, “Only mine”. And just for tonight you are. Not ‘theirs’ but his. He is a selfish man. His whole existence is to protect Marc and Steven. Is it so wrong for him to want this one thing for himself? Even for tonight? The others can be pissed tomorrow for all he cares, all he can focus on now is how tight you are, how wet you are. How you call out his name and his name only.

His hands are all over you, a nonstop assault on your body as he keeps thrusting into you. A brutal movement you welcome every time. He holds you close as he whispers into your ear. “ Amor de mi vida*, te amo, te amo**”. He thrusts harder, more sporadic, he's getting close but he refuses to come before you. You are always first in his mind. First to open gifts, first to use the hot water in the shower, to get praise, to come. He won’t have it any other way. You are always first.

“Please, give it to me. I know you can”. He's struggling to hold on, going harder and faster, he sneaks his hand down to your clit and rubs fast circles to push you over the edge. And it does. You scream with his name on your lips, and that, just that makes him come after you. He slowly grinds into you as you both come down from your highs, foreheads pressed against each other as you breathe in the same air. “Te amo mas que a la vida en sí***” he declares as you start to fall asleep. He doesn't care if you hear or not, he will say it again as many times as he needs too.

Jake Lockley is many things, but most importantly, he is yours.

Beta reader: @einno-arko (tysm)

this is my first ever fic, please tell me how it went. Also requests are open for the moonboys, Poe and Miguel.

*love of my life

**I love you

***I love you more than life itself

#my writing #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #moon knight system #moonknight #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely x you #jake lockely fluff #jake lockely #moonknight x reader #moonknight x you #jake lockely smut

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tuhbanbuv · 1 year ago

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Welcome Home Bug Infestation Theory!

A lot of people (including me) think that something is up with Home, but I wanna introduce an alternate theory or idea because we're probably barely 1/8th of the way into the story and it's probably foolish to come to conclusions SO early.

This year's update to the Welcome Home website included a plethora of new content, including random gifs of cute little bugs! However, I started to get an idea...

A sudden infestation of bugs? In a studio that has been suddenly abandoned for seemingly no reason, with the official description of the project being "You are to accompany a colorful cavalcade of puppets as their beloved neighborhood begins to skew and distort into a nightmarish memory that they can barely recall." It feels like a recipe for disaster because there are a plethora of bugs that eat fabric like felt which is essentially THE PUPPETS' SKIN.

This is a carpet beetle. They are notorious for eating fabric, hence the name "carpet" beetle, and if you leave a bunch of stuffed animals or cloth in a corner to rot for a bit you'll be sure to find a bunch of their larvae stuck on them. Needless to say, they'd give The Neighborhood a bunch of trouble!

Here's some of the bugs from the website. While they're super cute and super stylized (actual bugs aren't this adorable), I can't help but think that they kinda resemble carpet beetles just a TEENY bit. Not a lot though, but there's more bugs than carpet beetles that eat fabric, like moths, cockroaches, silverfish, and even crickets!

While I don't know if the images on the About page are considered canon anymore, there's a lot of emphasis on decay in the background. While yes, Wally looks threatening, notice the lack of blood on his hands. He might just be a bystander. But there's also a trend of Wally perhaps putting the puppets back together. Huh. Also there's artwork of Frank, the residential bug lover, holding what looks like a censored letter, something that's associated with his love interest, Eddie, the mailman. In the clips on the website, Eddie is implied to do deliveries for Howdy, who basically sells everything to everyone. Frank would be curious and love the bugs, but if they're harmful or parasitic, they'd spread EASILY.

And Home might be as well. In the final recording, Barnaby and Home are talking about their day and joking around until they notice Wally acting weird. Home makes noises when Barnaby is asking if Wally is ok, but they don't seem to sound as threatening as they sounded in the beta clip of Wally singing to them on the first website. They seem a bit concerned as well. Maybe Home isn't intending to be bad, maybe that picture of Wally looking up to Home's eye isn't just Home keeping Wally stuck inside...

Maybe they're keeping something out. Maybe The Neighborhood got infested and Home, who presumably has control over keeping the doors and windows closed due to them being a part of Home, can probably keep Wally hostage to an extent if everyone else were infested, and maybe that's where the "isolation" part of the TWs on the About page comes in.

Maybe that's why Wally's posing with a headless Barnaby. He probably loses it after being "protected" by Home and discovers the replicas or backups of his puppet friends and tries to "fix" them.

That, and Wally's emphasis on having "more eyes than he used to" is interesting when bugs come into play. While people have connected it to the rush of fanart of Wally, what if this can mean something else? Maybe Wally found puppet back-ups of him or...he's talking about bugs that can also have more than two eyes, especially if there's swarms of them.

#welcome home #welcome home wally #wally darling #barnaby b beagle #howdy pillar #poppy partridge #sally starlet #julie joyful #frank frankly #eddie dear #theory #welcome home theory #clownillustrations

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hoperays-song · 2 years ago

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Sing 1 Commentary and Review Pt. 1

Like I said yesterday, I will be giving commentary through out the run of the movie here! Is this an elaborate plan to distract me from my fic being with my beta reader? Yes! Am I using it for content? Also yes! I will try to remember to include timestamps and screenshots. But probably will just end up doing screenshots most of the time, sorry. Welcome to the madness!

(There will be multiple parts because these take a while and also there's a limit of thirty photos per post so yeah. I got 9 minutes in? I talk a lot during movies ok? It's an AuDHD thing.)

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

I feel like now is as good of a time as any to mention that I despise minions (aka was forced to watch Despicable Me in art class way too much as a child). So yes, we're not even past the opening credits and I'm already complaining, welcome to watching a movie with me everyone.

Ok just noticed this for the first time, but Old Moon Theatre had lyres (a symbol of Apollo, the Greek god of music) and grape vines (a symbol of Dionysus, the Greek god of theatre) on it, which is just super cool!

I love the fact that Buster canonically talks to himself and narrates his own life. Like same bestie. Love this for you. You're in your delusion era rn but go for it mate.

Lesbians!!

(No I will not be taking criticism here. That pose is one of the gayest things I have ever seen and I just looked in a mirror.)

HE HAS APPEARED!!!!!

Ok three things. One, these cops appeared out of literally no where. Like we just did a circle around the boy and we did not see them. Can they teleport or something???

Also, two, what the hell is in that box? I'm typically not one to judge what random stuff you leave in an alley (yes, yes I am, but to be fair this is the cleanest alley I've ever seen), but is that just a box of cut up springs??

And for number three, you thought you heard someone singing??? You thought you heard someone singing and only spare one glance down the alley behind the bank during a spree of bank robberies??? Ok no, these cops are terrible. The bank being robbed is absolutely their fault, what the hell?!

Ooooo, eight ball keychain!!!

I mean... Johnny did warn them, ten seconds too late, but he did warn them. He's still absolutely grounded but you know, he tried. Also, I just realized they took the license plate off the truck for the robbery. Insanely smart. The best boys. I love them.

✨ 🎶He's a runner, he's a track star! 🎶✨

Also, apparently Johnny can catch up with a accelerating truck... ok then.

Glad to see this skill that I'm absolutely sure will be used again in the multiple other applicable scenarios. What was that? It never comes up again? Yeah, that seems about right.

Ok, how the hell have the not found these guys yet??? Like the rest of the gang are in disguises, horrible ones but still disguises, but Johnny wears the exact same clothes throughout the movie and is not hiding his face in the slightest. You're telling me no one, not a single person, recognized him???

Also, just how many vintage trucks are in this town? Like just look up the truck model and go down the list of all the one's owned in Calatonia. Boom, done. The police in this place suck at their jobs.

ROSITA!!!!

Ok, so the piglets are definitely around first grade judging by the alphabet and number chart on the wall. Also, a learning chart on the wall is so cute and sweet, I love it!

(Theory) So... we can all agree it's summer right? Because not only are Johnny and Meena home (ok Meena's home, Johnny's being a felon, but that's not important) at lunch time but so are the piglets. They for sure aren't in school yet. And yeah, I know they leave with backpacks later on but that could just be daycare (it's likely daycare). So, since a lot of daycares aren't open on weekends (or at least ones near me), Sing 1 starts in the summer on a weekend! That's cool!

Awwww Rosita. I'm so sorry honey. I love you, we all love you, and I wish I could say you have a normal, relaxing life after this movie but... I'm sorry. Not even close to one.

Ok wow, forgot how vertigo inducing this movie was. Wow.

Ash has arrived!!!!

Also, super interesting how Ash's guitar looks a lot more worn that Lance's. It has scratches and faded stickers while Lance's looks shiny and new here.

And Lance... ewww.

Fair man, fair.

And before people get on to my man Harry for kicking them out without pay by the looks of it, most restaurant gigs I know of are not paid, the musicians get tips and exposure, and I'm pretty sure there is not one single person in that restaurant soo... yeah. They weren't getting paid either way.

One of the best expressions all movie.

I'm gonna punt him. I don't care that he's been on screen for 10 seconds, I'm gonna punt him.

(Moments where Lance is puntable counter: 4)

And now we have everyone!!! Meena, welcome aboard!

Also that cake looks amazing. ...Hold up, I'm getting lunch.

Ok, I'm back! Let's dive back in to my lovely ramblings that are hopefully semi entertaining.

Oh boy, let's talk about the happy birthday scene. For one, Meena is a kid. Stop being mean to a kid.

For another, the rest of her family just stops singing??? Like excuse me, that's not how the happy birthday song works. I don't care if one of the singers is a grammy winner, you don't stop singing just to listen to them. It is a group effort. Either everyone sings or no one does. It's the birthday song rules people. They really put her on the spot here and I do not appreciate it, the poor baby.

So, Meena has tried out for choirs and bands before but it never worked out. That makes me think her social anxiety is not new and I am very much disappointed with her grandfather's perspective on it.

Oh great. He's here.

(Mike puntable moments counter: 1)

Their money must be different than ours since that is the design of a penny.

Also: (Mike puntable moments counter: 2)

OK. This is a straight up mugging. Why is no one doing anything?! Like excuse me?!?!?

Oh and now he gave the guy an asthma attack. Sod off Mike.

Why is everyone siding with the mouse man?????? He sucks??? Hello????

(Mike puntable moments counter: 5)

Ok, ignore the monkey man for a minute. The restaurant is legit named 'The Squids'. So do they own it? Do they work there? Was the founder a squid? What's the situation because I'm guessing the don't eat them since they are sentient.

For such a fancy restaurant, they have terrible taste in lighting decor. I'm pretty sure those are the same ones at my doctor's office.

Oh Eddie, my favourite trust fund baby of the series. It's so good to see you.

Ok, let's talk about the implications of what Eddie is saying here. He says that his dad has been paying for the shows. And Buster's theatre has been struggling for way more than one or two shows.

And I don't know about you guys but I personally wouldn't pay for my adult kid's friend's failing theatre more than once if it turned out to be a bust. It's a waste of money and have you seen today's economy. Now if that was my kid's partner? Different story. I would probably be more willing to pay for a few more for both of their sakes.

What am I saying here? Noodlemoon. They're dating. End of story. ----------------------------

I'll be right back with part 2!

(And 30 more screenshot taking up memory on my dying laptop.)

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